Life & Times of Sati

Sati had that peculiar habit of sprawling her puffy lips all over my face once a day. I felt helpless in her manly grip and longed for my mother to intervene and rescue me from imminent asphyxiation. I cried my heart out but Sati only budged once she was through her regimen of marauding through baby meat. My senses defeated me for almost ten minutes after the holocaust and once they returned, I thanked my stars for seeing me through such a gruesome act of unilateral vendetta.

I grew up with Sati. I started liking her eventually, called her 'Daadi (Grandma)' and planted a kiss on her right cheek before I left home everyday for the next seventeen years. She advised me never to kiss loved ones on the left cheek nor leave home without kissing them. She always had her own nebulous reasons to prove her obfuscating hypotheses but I hardly believed her. Whenever I questioned her dubious knowledge she retorted, 'Anpad ka bhi dimag hota hai, munna (Even an illiterate has brains, little fella)'. I left no stone unturned to lambaste her beliefs and lampoon her wisdom; nevertheless, I dutifully complied by her wishes.

Sati had a penchant for cooking and stuffing me with the delicacies she prepared. I grew obese by every passing hour but mother did not seem to mind it at all. My parents were either too modest to point out the shortcomings of immaculate Sati or refrained from doing so out of sheer respect for the old lady, I reckon. (more...)

Sati was equally curious about my career plans. She wanted me to become a doctor and a policeman and a soldier for she thought I would save lives thus. I got annoyed at her idea of choosing three professions simultaneously and openly mocked it. I made it very clear to her that I neither liked the sight of blood nor liked getting killed in the prime of my youth, that I was contemplating a happily-married-ever-after type of life and she better not mount her own plans on me.

We had a fascination for Sati. Her well-being was an equally important variable for measuring the overall health of our family. We got quite used to the scent of mustard oil and sweat emanating from Sati that lingered on in the rooms for almost the entire day. I called her trademark smell 'obnoxious' but my father clarified that it was the hallmark of sincerity, dedication and hard work. She wore a bright yellow tunic everyday and smeared her forehead with a pinch of vermilion. Her graying hair did not quite blend with the thick shot of vermilion and lay silently on her scalp, defeated and neatly wedged by a bottleful of mustard oil. I wondered who her husband was, for I had not met him even once in the sixteen years of my existence. I questioned her once about the whereabouts of her family but she just winced and never answered. Hearing an array of disconcerted questions coming from me, mother showed me out and embraced Sati like a child. Sati sobbed incessantly for hours after my undulated spree of circumstantial investigations, which I vowed never to repeat again.

I could tell Sati was the happiest person on earth the day I got into the best engineering college. She said that she knew I will pass the admission test for she had prayed for me all these years and her Bholenath would never let her down. I guffawed at her idea of picking up on God for everything, sweet or sour, in life. My comment did not go well with mother and she promptly tapped me on the shoulder.

I had my share of ideological differences with Sati but I treated her no less than my own family. I felt cared for every time she showed up with a glass of water at bedtime; she had a calmness about her which can only be experienced and cannot be put into words. I could not imagine my life without Sati. She was a person who garnered cheer even in the autumn of her life and made my day.

While in college, I longed to meet my family and called home several times a day. I chatted with Sati but could not answer most of her queries regarding my professional studies as the telephone bill hit hard on my pocket. Nevertheless, I disgorged latest gossip from the college grapevine and swore by Bholenath umpteen times that I was still single; she considered courting a woman without the consent of one's parents, a blasphemy punishable by God Himself. Sati promised me a sumptuous meal the day I would return home during semester break, only if I studied hard for the examination. True to my self, I let out a hyperventilated laugh and mocked her idea of bribing me to studies with chocolate candies.

Semester break ushered my sanity deprived self to a state of normalcy after almost a month. My heartbeat too dropped down to a normal 72 beats per minute signaling the end of one of the most grueling period in a student's life. After living an unsocial reclusive life for a month, I was raring to meet my family and, of course, Sati.

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I pressed the doorbell and waited eagerly for Sati to open the door. But it was mother who did the honors and ushered me in. My eyes searched thirstily for Sati and ears waited impatiently to hear her voice. I sensed something amiss. Mother handed me a note which was written in my father's hand and undersigned as Daadi. Mother beckoned me to read the contents and left the room. It read:

“My dearest Munna,

Your Daadi’s time has come; she is going to finally meet her Bholenath. She might not open the door, the day you come home but she will continue to live in your memory forever and keep watching you from up there. You have been my support and a reason to smile for all these years. You have treated a social outcast with dignity and returned her self-esteem which this cruel society had stripped her of.

May God bless you. And never kiss your loved ones on the left cheek.

Your loving Daadi.”