The Story of the Present Past
By Adrija Jana
My earliest memory with you is a dark room.
Why a dark room?
I had already had my share of eggs, but wanted more. Father scolded me, so you saved a bit from your share to bring it to me when everyone was asleep. In fact, you did it multiple times. Even when the roles were reversed and I was now the one giving it to you, you still asked me to eat first. I remember.
I think my fondest childhood memories, and that also make me feel a bit silly, are how I would run to you with every injury, big or small, internal or external. If it was a bee sting, I would lie beside you for hours listening to stories while you rubbed turmeric on the sting. If it was a stomach ache, I would still lie beside you for hours, listening to your healing songs while you rubbed oil on my stomach. All I needed as an excuse was a stomach ache to be let off from studying for the rest of the evening.
You would be the first one, and more often than not, the only one to speak up for us when father got scary angry. And I was a very naughty girl, so that happened a lot of times. How you magically appeared every time, everywhere, I still don't know. I used to think you were a fairy.
You knew when to give in and when to be firm. That's why, when I started crying for a saree even before I could even wear one, you bought one and hid it for me in your cupboard, so that no one would scold me. You hid it for 13 years, before I was finally ready to take responsibility for it. Still, you can now ask anyone around me, no one would tell you that I'm a spoilt or arrogant girl. You made me feel beautiful, inside out.
Oh, how I long for those carefree days whenever I think of you. When I see the piles of books, copies, zoom meetings, GCR assignments always awaiting me, I wish there was an excuse that could take me to you. But now it is no longer my parents asking me to study this and that, or go here or there. It's my own self doing that. You're no longer reclining on your easy chair watching T.V. in the next room, waiting for me to come sit by you.
Your little girl grew up. I miss you, Grandma.
There were only two things you ever wanted. To go abroad with me and to see my wedding. Why didn't you wait a little longer Grandma? I will be going abroad for my studies soon. Oh, how I wish I could keep the promise I made to you! I almost want to go back and warn the five year old me not to make promises she can't keep. But the smile those words brought about on your face- I would do it a thousand times over.
Some days are never meant to come back.
I know, I know, you will be there. When I go abroad, and at my wedding.
You know Grandma, I still like to look up at the moon like we used to do when I was young. And the moon fairy you told me about? I promise I can see her too.
Grandma, is that you?
Adrija Jana is a passionately creative writer based in India. She mostly creates poetry pieces based on her personal experiences as well as social issues she is passionate about. Her work mostly revolves around protest against period poverty, marital rape and advocating for freedom of choice, apart from emotional self-lived experiences. She is inspired by writers such as Margaret Mitchell and Rupi Kaur, as well as the minutiae of everyday life.
Apart from being a writer, Adrija is also a Spoken Word Artist, Theatrecian, Filmmaker and creative researcher, and all her work is woven together by common themes. She believes that creative pieces that let the innate imperfection shine through truly touch hearts.
You can reach out to Adrija or read more about her work on her instagram account- @adrija_jana2004