It was the usual Saturday afternoon. I had my grandma and mother around. And of course, what better than post-lunch at noon, when if you somehow make grandma sit there for a few more minutes, you might get a story or another out of her world. I would love to see, hear, listen, and try living through those experiences. She told me about a lady who was like a mother to her. She always calls her Bhabhu. So, Bhabhu was not a relative. My grandfather had come to this new village for his job, and they were renting a house from Bhabhu’s relatives. She lived in the same building as my grandma’s, and she was the landlord’s relative. Bhabhu owned a few rooms in the building. 

And this random lady was what my grandma still years later recounts as a motherly figure who helped raise her kids alone away from home. If you know me or read a few stories, you would know how much I love hearing and telling stories of good people. So, Bhabhu never went to live with her sons in the city. She stayed back in the village. She would wake up early, make lunch and dinner, and start weaving the wool on Charkha. She used to go to the farms and collect falis, vegetables, corn, and groundnuts. And send them to her sons and daughters. She once asked my grandma to accompany her. But my grandma was a newly married young woman, a little naive and still learning to manage the household. So, she ended up plucking a few falis only. And Bhabhu was like, kid, I will get these for you myself if even after all this effort you will pluck only a handful of falis. She did not allow my grandma or my Jiji ( my grandma’s daughter ) to make pickles from chilly. She would get scared that these kiddo people might hurt their eyes, lest they might apply these hands to their eyes. On a side note, the same thing my grandma does for me now; I am not allowed anywhere near chillies. 

Bhabhu was a strong support for my grandma. Sometimes she had to visit a doctor or run a few other errands. And Bhabhu took care of my Jiji when my grandma would be away. Bhabhu is no more, but my family is still friends with Bhabhu’s family. Every time they visit the village, they come and meet my grandma. And my grandma is still so grateful for Bhabhu, who helped make her life so much easier. She was a mentor to grandma back then, and I love how her eyes lit up when we talked about Bhabhu. Bhabhu taught her all the rituals, festivals, recipes and methods. 

So many stories and so much love and care for a random stranger Bhabhu showed a random stranger, my grandma, or as I prefer, our Choti Bai ( our kiddo girl )!