Threads of Love: The Women Who Shaped My Life

The women in my life have been the steadfast anchors of my journey, shaping my identity, nurturing my spirit, and illuminating the path of my existence. They challenged my perspectives, broadened my horizons and encouraged me to chase my dreams. Their strength inspired me to be brave and their camaraderie reminded me of the importance of human connection and what it means to be a woman, in all walks of life.

Not only my pillars of strength but also the vibrant threads weaving the tapestry of my existence. Their importance transcends words, and their impact on me is immeasurable. 

The only woman who had never scolded me, never pointed out my faults and always flooded me with nothing but love, my grandmother. She was a powerhouse - everyone listened to her. She had a way of making people see things her way without deserting their own opinions, she was the first woman I ever saw running a household on her own. Widowed at a particularly young age, with a 19 year-old son and 4 married daughters, she had a lot to handle. Yet, she held her head high and got her son married with hard earned money and had a commanding presence wherever she went. Not the kind of command in the sense of fear, but in the sense of respect. 

From the very beginning, my mother, with her boundless love and unwavering support, instilled in me the values of compassion, resilience and kindness (although, I'm still working on the last one). She was my first teacher, my first home, my first love and my first best friend, teaching me not only the alphabet but also the profound lessons of empathy and optimism. As a daughter who had her mother’s look but father’s personality, my mother’s unwavering kindness and devotion to her religion were something I never understood. Yet somehow, I always attributed her beliefs and wishes to the good health and peace in our family. 

My sister, who walked alongside me as my companion in laughter and tears, somehow always managed to guide me through life, while still learning about it herself. Her mistakes became my blessings as I would always have that one person who was always one step ahead of me and would always be there to hold me, in case I fell. Despite only being 8 years older than me, she had the knowledge and patience of a saint - being the strongest pillar of support to our parents and the most boisterous sibling with her energetic personality and ability to fill a room with her presence. 

Chapter 1: Grandma's Apron

I can still vividly remember the smell of freshly cooked Indian curries. The sound of the kitchen timer and the warmth of my grandmother's smile as she held out a worn, turmeric-dusted apron for me to put on. The kitchen was her domain, where she transformed the simplest ingredients into delectable dishes that held the power to heal a troubled heart or celebrate a joyous occasion. My grandma's love was kneaded into the dough, seasoned in the spices, and layered in the sweet delicacies. She showed her love through her culinary creations, teaching me the secret ingredient was time, patience, and a dash of affection.

As a child, I stood on a wooden stool beside her, my little hands making irregular shaped rotis alongside her experienced ones. She never rushed the process. The rhythm of her rolling pin was calming, and her stories, a mix of old family anecdotes and secrets of the heart, were my lullaby. The love she showed was not just in the food but in the act of sharing it, for the essence of her wisdom was not just in what she made but in whom she made it for.

As I grew, my grandmother's wisdom became a guiding light. Her stories of hardship, triumph and family taught me the power of perseverance and the beauty of storytelling. Her recipes’ warm embrace and never ending blessings were the embodiment of comfort and tradition, grounding me in my roots.

The echoes of the weathered wooden walking stick tapping against the floor and her impassioned exchanges with the milkman, once disregarded, now resonate in my memory with an ache for their absence. Her bangles, delicately brushing against the bedsheet to smooth its creases, seemed to beckon me to share in an afternoon slumber. Yet, my regrettable choice of television over her company remains an irreversible error, as she has transcended into the celestial expanse. The laughter lines that crinkled by her eyes and the floral embroideries adorning her garments, once animated by her graceful movements through the room, now find a silent repose within my closet. Her warmth, akin to sunshine, harmonised flawlessly with the reverence she commanded within our expansive Indian family. The girl who once played with toys has grown into a woman yearning to nestle within her embrace. The routine yet fleeting phone conversations, the embraces of departure, and tears of elation are now confined to the realms of memory, becoming enduring elements of a relationship that outlasts time.

Chapter 2: Mum's Garden

Our backyard was an ever-changing canvas of colours and fragrances, a testament to my mother's love for the earth. It was a place where life bloomed and where she, my sister, and I grew together, side by side. My mother's green thumb was a magic wand, coaxing life from the soil, nurturing it, and watching it flourish. I remember always being astonished at her ability to grow luscious greenery from a handful of discoloured roots through which she showed me that love isn't just in the blossoms, but in the daily care, the unwavering patience, and the ability to see beauty in imperfections.

In that garden, other than devil's ivies, ferns and palms, my mother's wisdom bloomed as well. She taught me the value of hard work and the importance of nurturing relationships, both with people and the world around us. Her laughter echoed through the garden as she shared stories of her own childhood and the lessons she'd learned from her mother. The garden was not just a place for plants; it was a sanctuary where we laughed, cried, and learned about life. The balcony, covered in flowering plants, twinkling fairy lights and drying clothes, became my sanctuary as I spilled the secrets of the day that passed and worries of the days that were to come. 

My mother never once made her daughter’s feel like we needed to rely on anyone or have an ultimate goal of marriage. Being raised in a South-Asian household where there is immense pressure to do well and get married once studies are finished, she always encouraged me to make a life for myself first before someone else joins it. 

Her calm and collected nature juxtaposed my fiery and loud personality as she pacified an uncertain girl with a plan that I knew would work, because she had guided me to it. Always being the voice of reason, my mother walked around the house in a nightgown, wet at the belly after she washed the dishes and soldiered on matter what. Now, as a grown woman, I feel aggressively protective of her and am willing to support and lift her up in any possible way that I can, just like she has done for me my whole life. 

Every birthday and every prayer, I have always selfishly asked for one thing - for no one to have a mother like her, except me. In every lifetime. 

Chapter 3: Sisterly Bonds

Sisters share secrets, dreams, and an unbreakable bond forged through a lifetime of shared experiences. My sister was my confidante, my partner in crime, and my mirror. She showed me that love isn't just in the words we say, but in the silent understanding that comes with a shared glance or a comforting hug during the toughest of times. 

Although we fought so much that every morning started with a physical fight while our parents were off at work - with our 8 year old brother watching. He would be the one to give our mum “the report” as he would simply put it as “they fought like cats and dogs.”  The tiniest squabbles would turn into hysterical arguments with both of us hurling insults as if we hated each other with everything we had, maybe in that moment we did. But we always had our endless inside jokes, late weekend nights where we’d watch our favourite movies and give each other the knowing look which signalled, “do you wanna open the bag of chips?”

As someone who has never been too big on hugs or sharing feelings, her knowing what I was feeling and what I needed was the greatest blessing. She was there during the ups and downs, as her love played the role of a quiet strength, a promise that no matter how far we roamed, how much we fought, we'd always have each other. 

The day our parents told me she was getting married the following year - I had felt a strange numbing in my body, unable to react or respond for a couple of seconds. A heat of uncertainty rushed to my face as I began to realise that meant I would only have her as just my sister for a year. After that, she would gain two more roles as a wife and daughter-in-law, which didn’t seem like a big change at the time as she would live with her husband only 10 minutes away from us. But the feeling of not having her home, not having an added hand of support and not having the freedom to just go to her room (which had now become mine) was too much for me. Now I am “the oldest child of the house” and it was now my job to be the guiding hand for our brother - I feared that I could not be as wise, smart and strong as she was but I would do everything to make sure my family didn’t feel less than without her. 

Although that is something I will be attempting to do for the rest of my life, I will never forget those years spent with her as a little girl, who would fight, play and go on mini adventures with her didi. 

Chapter 4: Lessons in Resilience

These remarkable women taught me not just about love, but about resilience too. Through life's ups and downs, they displayed unwavering strength, overcoming challenges with grace. 

My grandmother's apron, my mother's garden, and my sister's laughter were more than just symbols; they were reminders of the love and strength that have woven their way into the fabric of my life. The lessons they taught me were not spoken; they were lived, and I carry them with me every day.

In the quiet moments of my life, I still find myself in the kitchen, missing my grandmother’s voice, as I knead the dough just as she did. And, in the company of my sister, I am reminded that love is an unspoken promise that we'll always be there for each other for the rest of our lives - a promise even greater than that of a marriage. 

The women in my life have shown me that love is not just in the telling but in the showing, in the everyday actions, and in the deep bonds that withstand the test of time. Their stories are woven into the fabric of my existence, a tapestry of love, resilience, and the enduring power of family.