Granny, the unsung Covid warrior

Radhika Singh

At 86, when my grandmother came down with Covid, our initial reaction was of outright panic. She is overweight, has weak lungs and what may medically be called a frail heart. But she also possesses unshakeable faith, an indomitable spirit and a perpetual quest for knowledge. During this illness, while we fretted on how to reach out to her and comfort her, she found herself becoming increasingly self-reliant and enjoying her solitude. Tasks like bathing, cleaning her room, organising medicines became everyday adventures. We would make frantic calls if she wouldn’t answer her phone on the first go, only to find her busy cleaning her temple for morning prayers. We would worry when she would be active online at 2 am, only to be admonished by her later about our constant anxiety. She was engrossed in a particularly engaging interpretation of the Ramayana, she would tell us, and lost track of time.

My granny has always liked a full house, and has openly received the love of daughter and daughters-in-law alike, been adored by her grandchildren and is now doted upon by her great-grandchildren. Her heart is full of love and her pantry, full of food, so it’s no surprise that everyone constantly wants to be close to her. But as Covid hit, and we all worried about the implications of the ensuing isolation, she got busy preparing herself for her ‘tapasya’. She turned inwards like never before. Read. Reflected. Ruminated. There was such a visible change in her way of talking, such peace in her voice and clarity in her words.

Today, she narrated a story to me over the phone. At the time of marriage, Goddess Parvati was the epitome of love; coy, homely and caring, but wise beyond her years. Lord Shiva, on the other hand, was a ‘vairagi’, a wanderer, and could not be tied down. She, who was a nurturer and caregiver, soon started feeling desolate in his company. What was to be done? She told the Lord of her predicament, who smiled knowingly, and flung his ‘trishul’ down. It landed firmly at Kashi. This is your abode, he told her. Here you will be worshipped as Annapurna, the Goddess of food and nourishment, and all of humanity will feed at your bosom. Those who invoke you will never go hungry.

At the end of her story, she lovingly told me that those like my mother, who have taken to feeding people during this pandemic, are the embodiment of Ma Annapurna. Love and respect them, she said, and value the nourishment you get from your home and kitchen. My grandmother is a terrific storyteller, and this is but a small example of the everyday wisdom she has been imparting to us through her tales. At 86, she has truly emerged as the hero of her own story and there’s a lesson in it for all of us.