Moujji, when I remember you

Our elders were people of great virtue. Even after passing away, they never stopped watching over their families. In difficult times, they would guide us by appearing in our dreams. That was their way of staying with us and making sure we were never left alone, even after death. Recently, I had a dream where my late grandmother Shamali Begum, affectionately called Moujji, spoke to me. She asked me to tell her son, my maternal uncle Ghulam Ahmad Mir, why he cut down the pomegranate tree—locally called Dae’n Thaer—in the park. Next day, when I called my Mamu up about it, I was recalled of everything about my grandmother who was an elderly role model in the village.  When I think of my grandmother, I remember her as a perfect mix of warmth, affection, wisdom, and love. At home, we simply called her Mouj. But in the entire village, everyone knew her fondly as Appa—someone who was dear to every family in the neighborhood. I have often heard the village women call her Haejj Baye. That was because she had performed Hajj at a time when people traveled by ship, long before air travel became common. I lived most of my bachelor years at my maternal uncle’s house in Nowpora Jagir—known locally as Kronowpur. I consider myself lucky to have lived so close to my maternal grandmother for nearly 20 years. She was much more than just an elderly at home. To us, she was like a queen to whom everyone would go to, not only for blessings, but also for advice in daily matters.  Those were indeed wonderful days. The whole family would gather in my grandmother’s room. We would sit around her and share our feelings openly. That room felt like a place of peace, and we called it Majje Hunde Kuhtte—meaning, grandmother’s room. In those days, joint families were common. My grandmother would always advise my maternal uncles not to split up, but to stay united. Her room was a place of wisdom, good judgment, and guidance that held the family together. In many ways, it felt no less than a queen’s throne, where we learned the lessons of life. Today, such joint families and rooms of wisdom are rare. But back then, that room kept us bonded. Though my grandmother, Mouj, no longer lives with us, that room is still called Majje Hunde Kuhtte. My grandma passed away on 18 January, 2018, but months before her death, she told us each day that when she died, there will be too much of snow outside. And exactly the same happened. When she breathed her last, it was indeed a harsh winter going on and outside so much of snow had accumulated. I vividly remember, after my grandma’s death, when we opened her trunk, we found quite a bit of cash that everyone refused to take. Eventually, the entire amount left by my Mouj was distributed among her grandchildren. Today, around a decade has gone by, but those two fifty-rupee notes of hers, are as intact in my purse as they were then. Those two fifty-rupee notes are a token of life for me from my grandma, whom I was so deeply attached to. My Mouj was a great lover of Haakh, green collard. She would prefer it regularly in her meals and would often say that Haakh Che Nader Ta Bebaakh (means, green collared is powerful and harmless). Waiting up too early for Tahajjud prayers, offering namaz five times a day, reciting the holy Qur’an daily, eating simple food, etc were some of her sweet habits that I have often seen her busy with. In fact, it is because of her sweet habits that she died over 100 years of age without ever having consulted a doctor or taken medicine.  Unlike grandmothers in the current scenario, she was altogether a different character. She would treat all her grandchildren equally and never show any prejudice at any stage. She never preferred her daughter over her son’s child. To her, all were equal. What I have found to be the biggest quality in her was that as Baed-Hash (grandmother-in-law), she would often advise her daughters-in-law to be kind and show mercy towards their daughters-in-law so that everyone feels happy and bonded in the family. Though my grandmother lived simply, her wisdom and kindness made her the richest person in our village. There are still my grandma like elderly living in our society but the height of the problem is this that these elderly citizens are completely ignored by us. Need of the hour is to recognize our elders and use their wisdom and experience to face life’s challenges. The author is a regular contributor to GK’s Senior Citizens’ Lounge & hails from Sopore