Ammamma

- November 11, 2024

Ammamma. The word itself evokes memories for us. Her passing is the passing of a part of our childhood which we (my cousins and I) cherish. This is a piece for her. Ammamma is a telugu word to address mom's mom.

Ammamma lived in Chikkadpally, an area in the older part of Hyderabad, in one of those houses with multiple door entries, many windows in every room, and washroom that’s outside the house.

Like Ammamma, the house was open, warm and welcoming. Anyone (whom we know ofcourse) could come inside and stay there as long as they wanted to. This was the 90s and perhaps due to the times we lived in, people were trusting of each other, children grew up in multiple households (grandparents’, aunts’, uncles’..). In our household, while there was emphasis on studies, there was emphasis on having fun too – be it watching movies, playing in the gully, studying and going to tuition together, or watching the Sunday Jungle Book together. Ammamma played a pivotal role in taking us to movies, narrating Tenali Ramakrishna's stories and making us laugh. She was the light-hearted adult that we rarely came across despite life not being rosy for her.

Losing her husband (my maternal grandpa) in her early 40s left her with a resolve to take care of her children with the love she always had – she never beat or raised her voice while raising her children (i.e., my mother and her 6 siblings). She took care of anyone who spoke to her – be it the gully corner kirana kottu uncle or our tenant, Uma aunty. Her passing left a void in their hearts too and in the past few days’ rituals after she breathed her last, the people whom she left an impact on, visited us many times and shared her impact on their life.

What she is for us was documented in a book titled Anantha – a life of love and laughter. The book has our memories written. I’ll share about the book in another post but this one's about what she left behind: stories, laughter, and love.