Roads less traveled..

My grandmother died at the age of 108.

She just lay down and died. She was never bedridden, and never sick, as far as I could remember. I was a third year medical student and had come on vacation. I used to sleep on the floor, on a paya (mat) near her bed. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I heard her call me. She said she  was not feeling well, and said,” Mone,Go and call Achan ”

The church was very near to my house, and I ran to the priest’s home.Fr Kallukulam was well known to us, and he didn’t waste time to dress up and came with me in his sleeping dress. Valyammachi was bit short of breath and my parents were near her saying” Easo Mariam Ouseppe, ente athmavinu koottakaname” ( Jesus,Mary,Joseph, be companion to my soul). She received the koodasa ( last sacrament) from the priest.She knew very well that she was on her final trip. She kept on repeating the chants till her last breathe. My father was holding her hands when she left us. It was the most peaceful death I had seen.

Valyammachi ( Grandmother) used to go to the church for the morning mass at six, most of the days. My house was in a large compound and most of the backyard was full of coffee trees. They grew there from times I could remember. I don’t see any coffee trees in that area these days. During season, it was a beautiful sight when coffee trees were in bloom with thousands of little white flowers. They looked like jasmine flowers. And the air was filled with the pleasant fragrance. The weather was different too. It used to be misty during the flowering season. And when the seeds finally ripen, the trees were heavily laden with those  cherry colored fruits. Squirrels and birds used to flourish on them. We never bothered about them, because they would just suck the pulp of the fruit and leave the beans on the floor.

My grandmother's main activity was collecting the coffee beans from the ground. She would start at one end of the yard, sweeping off the  kariyilas ( dried leaves) with a small stick and would collect the beans in her madikkuthu. By the time she finishes, she would collect at least a pound of those beans. She would then spread them to dry in the sun. Once ready, she would take it to her bedside, where she used to hide it away from my mother. Valyammachi had a brother at 100 years, who used to come to attend the Sunday mass at our church. After the mass, he would come to visit his sister, when she would secretly handover her collection of coffee beans to him. We all knew about this, but acted as if we didn't.

She made no demands. Occasionally she fought with my mother for nothing and then would refuse to eat what my mother cooked. There was a chilumbi puli tree behind our home. Studded with fruits. She would pick the young fruits and make her own thoran and then eat her meals. Or else, she would get up at late night ,when everyone used to be asleep, and would sneak in to the kitchen, and steal the food from the Uri. ( a hanger made of coir ropes)

She was a member of the Franciscan commune and used to wear a big’ venthinga’ around her neck. Once in a year, they had a special prayer gathering. I used to remember the day precisely because, after the mass, they used to serve breakfast at the Parish home. I used to accompany her for the mass, only to take part in the breakfast, of appom, mutta roast and boiled bananas. The next day if she asked me to accompany her, I would refuse, because there would be no breakfast.

Valyammachi started off the growth in our family.When she was young,my grandfather had died, leaving her with the responsibility of the family,long before I was born. She made  Uzhunnada ( small rings of fried urud dal flour) and achappom and used to sell it at the perunnals( feasts of saints) at the church. She also started off a small business  at the market, which my father took charge of, when he grew up. The rest was all his efforts. He was her only son, carried all the burdens, and he brought up his family of seven sons, now mostly engineers and doctors, and in addition, took care of his sister and her family as well. We all lived together as a big family.

 My grandmother’s three brothers,  all lived beyond hundred years. They all used to come to visit her, by walk, from distant places. I remember them as tall and thin, with no bulges in their bodies. They worked hard, lived their hard lives, and lived longer and peaceful lives. I have seen the depth and intensity of relations in them. The values in life which I keep, probably was handed over by them. It is easy for me to understand hardships, and realize the value of hard earned money, not the one which we see these days. Now a day, money is just brought in, in containers and distributed. People are under stress to hide and handle the loot. It is effortless, so they can just sit and eat, and develop bulges all around, and die younger.


Social isolation and the feelings of loneliness it leads to are common problems for old people living all over the world today. There has been a fragmentation of the families and older people are neglected and left behind, put  in a home and put them away.It was impossible to think this way in our society. Old people were lovingly and respectfully taken care of by their children.
Times have changed.Now everyone is interested in one subject above all else: themselves.