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Thursday, 29 August 2013


Both my grandmothers told stories of India. My Dadi of the village she grew up in and the places she lived in with my Dada who worked for the Survey of India. Her stories were of Allahbad, Ahmedabad, Chittagong, Calcutta. My Nani's stories were of Old Delhi with names like Matya Mahal, Chandni Chowk and vacations in Simla and boat houses on Dal Lake, Kashmir.

Their post-Partition stories were of places closer to home (Pakistan), places I knew but it was always the stories of India that captured my imagination. In their stories, India took on a character so diverse and mysterious that my mind raced to keep up. I would love to spend time travelling India to see all the places my grandmothers mentioned but I am sure the reality will not match my mental images. The era that my grandmothers talked of is long gone, and so are the ladies who weaved those stories for me. The places they spoke of seemed far away and magical because of the wistful timbre that my grandmothers' voices took on when speaking of them. Their stories were of a time when photographs were scarce though I now wish that they had had pictures to show me. Would we be better able to chronicle our time because of all this technology or perhaps because we can show pictures, we don't take the time to tell as many stories?

1 comment:

  1. I like to hear stories from when my parents were young and what funny things they used to do.