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Mother was, comparatively, one of Naana Abba's youngest, so by the time I arrived, Begum Ammi was quite old. But she never appeared old to me. She was just olden. When I was five, I remember her emerging from her bedroom wearing a plain white cotton gharara, pink kurti, and pure chiffon dupatta, and proceeding towards the chaarpayi laid out for her in the aangan in the shade of the guava tree, on a sunny winter morning.
This was where she would sit and dress her hair. Her beautiful silver hair would be parted right in the center and then puffed up on either side before getting braided into a single plait at the back of her head that would become thinner and thinner going down until it was just a few strands below her waist.
We were not allowed to climb up on Begum Ammi's sacred chaarpayi. The obvious reason was that we would soil the pristine white cotton dupatta that she covered the bedsheet with. The not-so-obvious reason, which I learnt as I grew older, was that she was afraid the chaarpayi would be rendered najis - or impure. Begum Ammi was an awesome pious lady indeed.
I must have been twelve when I realized that Begum Ammi was not, in fact, her name. And I think it was around that time when I figured that all children did not call their maternal grannies by that title. The explanation I was given was that she was so young when she first became a grand mother that her sensibilities were hurt at the thought of being called naani. And of course, naani was too bourgeois a title for my Grand Mother Royale.
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Mother was, comparatively, one of Naana Abba's youngest, so by the time I arrived, Begum Ammi was quite old. But she never appeared old to me. She was just olden. When I was five, I remember her emerging from her bedroom wearing a plain white cotton gharara, pink kurti, and pure chiffon dupatta, and proceeding towards the chaarpayi laid out for her in the aangan in the shade of the guava tree, on a sunny winter morning.
This was where she would sit and dress her hair. Her beautiful silver hair would be parted right in the center and then puffed up on either side before getting braided into a single plait at the back of her head that would become thinner and thinner going down until it was just a few strands below her waist.
We were not allowed to climb up on Begum Ammi's sacred chaarpayi. The obvious reason was that we would soil the pristine white cotton dupatta that she covered the bedsheet with. The not-so-obvious reason, which I learnt as I grew older, was that she was afraid the chaarpayi would be rendered najis - or impure. Begum Ammi was an awesome pious lady indeed.
I must have been twelve when I realized that Begum Ammi was not, in fact, her name. And I think it was around that time when I figured that all children did not call their maternal grannies by that title. The explanation I was given was that she was so young when she first became a grand mother that her sensibilities were hurt at the thought of being called naani. And of course, naani was too bourgeois a title for my Grand Mother Royale.
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Some memories related to my naani - a lady of royal lineage of Lucknow, as was apparent from her personality. We called her Begum Ammi - and she was a complete darling to us. May Allah bless her soul.
ReplyDeleteMay Allah bless her soul. even i miss my nani she was also wearing gharar.
ReplyDeletefrom your this blog today even i am discussing about my nani with my appi and ammi.