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| Manju & her mother Nirmala |
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| Anandam - Manju's grandma |
A tribute to my cousin Nirmala, as recounted by her daughter Manju.
“A mother’s love is the purest gift life can give — gentle, selfless, comforting, and endless. Even when she is no longer physically beside us, her love continues to guide us every single day.
When I hear the word “Mother” or “Amma,” two people immediately come to my mind — my Ammumma (mother’s mother) and my Amma. As a child, I used to call my Ammumma “Amma” and my own mother “Baby Amma.” The reason behind that is actually a very small but precious memory in our family. I have heard that when my elder brother Manish was told there was a baby in Amma’s womb when she was expecting me, he started calling her “baby’s Amma…*Baby Amma.*” Somehow, that name stayed, and even I grew up calling our mother “Baby Amma.” These may seem like very small things, but today they are some of the most precious memories I hold close to my heart.
Since my Amma was working, it was mostly my Ammumma who took care of us in our younger days. Slowly, all of us moved back to Kerala except my Amma, as she continued working in Mumbai and Chennai. Maybe that is also why many of my childhood memories are more closely connected with Ammumma, while the memories I have with Amma, though fewer, feel extra special and deeply precious to me.
My mother was not just a parent to me; she was my strength, my comfort, my safe place, and one of my biggest blessings. Whenever she came home to visit on her days off, she would make my brother’s and my favourite foods with so much love. She would even prepare separate dishes for each of us, making sure both of us got exactly what we liked. She also never forgot to give me pocket money whenever I needed it, no matter what.
Those moments always felt extra special and remain very close to my heart. Along with those beautiful memories, I also remember our small fights, silly arguments, and little moments of irritation — things that once felt ordinary but today make me smile and miss her even more.
She also loved my friends dearly and treated them like her own, always making their favourite foods, talking to them with so much affection, and making everyone feel welcomed, comfortable, and cared for. That was just the kind of person she was — someone who spread warmth and love wherever she went.
Even after my marriage, whenever she visited Mumbai, one thing she loved doing was shopping for me — especially choosing earrings and dresses. She somehow always knew exactly what I would like.
No matter how busy she was, she would never miss calling me — at least three or four times a day — just to check if I had eaten, reached safely, or simply to talk to me and her grandkids for a few minutes. At that time, her constant reminders to eat on time and take care of myself used to irritate me. Today, those calls are what I miss the most.
As I grew older, I began to understand the depth of her sacrifices and silent strength even more. Today, my feelings for her are filled with gratitude, admiration, and longing. You only realize with time how much of your comfort and happiness came from a mother’s quiet presence.
My Amma always wanted to enjoy life to the fullest. She loved people, food, shopping, and creating happy moments for everyone around her. Even today, I sometimes feel that if she had taken a little more care of her health, she might still have been here with us. That thought stays with me often.
I was 33 when she passed away, and she was only 58. What I wish most is that I had more time with her — more conversations, more memories, and more moments of her together with my kids.
A mother’s love never fades. It lives within us — in our habits, our values, our strength, and the love we share with others.
In loving memory of my Amma — forever loved, forever cherished, and forever missed.”
Manju’s text left me feeling felt her emotion so strongly as she has expressed her love for her mother & grandmother who are long gone. I know people will love what she has written.
In her text, I see the same sentiment of someone we loved who once physically took up space in our lives and then passed away and the effects that creates. The void created gets filled by memories, snippets of emotions and flashbacks, aha moments and the lingering & desperate gaps. Nirmala or Manju’s baby Amma was Nimmichechi, my cousin. I spent a fair amount of time with her while she lived with us for a while in Mumbai.
Find the story I have written about Nimmichechi’s wedding day while I was still a baby here.
Lekha - 6 months in - Chapter 3 - The Chronicles of the Youngest Child
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