My work exposes me to folks hanging by a thread throughout these unprecedented instances. Loss and illness of family members, being sick and remoted, monetary loss or social isolation, psychotic breakdowns in household or a beloved one ending their life, gauging which one would weigh heavier. Despair, anger, home violence, crime and a sheer lack of humanity, which one wants fixing first. Who suffers extra, who’s extra destroyed? How will we ever wipe away the recollections of this time that left a gash on so many hearts?
I misplaced my maternal grandmother throughout this unforgiving time. A girl who bore seven youngsters and gave each waking second of her life, from 4:30 am each single day, to prepare for the Jain temple, carry out prayers, boil water and methodically pressure it via numerous hem layers for consumption. And have meals cooked earlier than a parade of intruders as her 30 grandkids barged in and not using a bathe to take a lick of her handmade jaggery, solely to be chased out with out touching (which was a cheerful sport for us) till we showered, to 10pm for a household that I felt was effectively worthy of being a village in quantity!
She lived having adopted each Jain faith precept to the core, fed and nurtured everybody who she a lot as glanced upon, jangled the keys of her “anaaj ghar” quickly as she noticed a beggar via her window and ran down three flights of stairs to feed them, whereas by no means consuming a morsel herself previous 5pm lest she harms a dwelling factor unknowingly. She lived with 100 folks round her, and left us endlessly on the shoulders of barely a number of for a fast cremation throughout a curfew.