Seven cups and love

My uncle and aunt got married on Oct 20, 1997. I earned a new family that day. It was a bumper prize for a 4-year-old me -- two aunts (thanks to Chinni didi)? Na, elder sisters? Not sure how I defined those relationships then. But I remember being happy and excited at the prospect of visiting them or them visiting us.

My first tryst with a tiny box that housed eye lenses; many different shades of nail polishes (there was one that was colourless and yet delivered a star on each nail, that sat beautifully on my little fingers) were all thanks to them. Oh, how can I forget that magical make up box that seemed to open up wondrous things that gleamed and seemed magical for a kid then!

In between those experiences, there were two people -- Rao aunty and uncle (as I called them long before my brother and uncle and aunt's kids were born. Then they added terms like 'thaathu' into my vocabulary). 

Saraswati Rao Aunty, a constant presence, was probably my first close brush with what I would later learn was termed a 'disability' in the world's way of christening things that seem to not be as per their charted rules. 

She limped when she walked. And yet, she was always so active! She wore some of the most beautiful sarees I ever saw and went to work confidently. Because, why not? They also had a love story that was my pathway to understand more about paper sweets, gongura pickle, and broken bits of Telugu that I was proud of sharing with one of my closest school friends, much later.

This afternoon, aunty passed away. Just when I was returning from Mumbai after grandma's death, I had visited uncle and aunty. While I took the lift down after bidding them goodbye, with a bottle of homemade pickle that they gave us with love, some part of me rejoiced that not all was lost. I still have grandparents-- in them... Thaathu and ammamma!

And today, she is gone. Freed from oxygen cylinders, constant falls and age-related issues that cropped up over time. 

I will miss your calls on my birthdays, anniversaries and messages during all the festivals, aunty. I will miss the way you called me 'Divya'. I will always remember how you gifted me a pair of gold earrings for my wedding saying "Nakli hai. Tum pehen sakta hai." 

Diwali this year and all the years that may follow will never be the same without you... and the sweet box full of seven cups and love.

Here's hoping you are in a better place (if there ever is another place). 

As the flames consume you, I will cherish the memory of you, in all the bittersweet glory that a life must entail!

Cheers, aunty! 

Love,

Divya