It was a lazy summer afternoon. My grandmother Kusum Vankundre, in her 80s, was sitting and knitting a toran (decorative door hanging) on a chair next to me. I was at home enjoying the vacations from college. The weather outside was too hot to step out. Mumbai was reporting a temperature of 39.7 degrees Celsius – the highest in a decade. A bit groggy after lunch, I was walking along with my grandmother, as she journeyed down memory lane.
“I was born in Vadgaon, a small village in Maharashtra’s Satara district. There was a very old Jairam Swamy temple with 33 koti gods [33 kinds of Vedic deities]. The school I studied in used to gather in the temple’s huge campus. There was so much space to play. After classes we would play hutuhutu, kabaddi, langdi. On the festival day of Nag Panchami, a few girls would play phugadi (a folk dance) and sing. My four younger sisters and I would have such fun.
“The school was only till Class 7. After that I learnt knitting and stitching. I also helped on the farm. My father had one. Sheti hoti, pan mumbai la kaamala hote. Office madhe kaam karayche, peon mhanun [He had a farm, but he used to work in Mumbai. He worked as a 'peon' in an office]. Our family lived in the village. The land was our own. We still have it. My brother looks after it. Three acres are there. In those days eight people owned the land together, my father, his brothers and relatives. Must have been some 23-24 acres then.
“These eight owners had kept two Maratha labourers on wage to do the sowing – millet, groundnuts, green gram. We used to harvest groundnuts, pluck chickpeas, or collect vegetables when they were grown – vangi mhana [brinjal], pavtachya shenga [sem beans], harbharyachi bhaji [chickpeas]. Doing all this work, I never noticed when I turned 20.
“Soon, discussions for my marriage began. A proposal from Mumbai came and my marriage was decided. In 1965, we all left for Mumbai. Me, my mother, father and siblings, uncles, aunts, all of us went. From Vadgaon to Rahmatpur by bus, and from there on a night train to Mumbai.
“It was my first trip away from the village, and my first time in Mumbai. Mumbaichi gardi pahun thode gadbadlyasarhe jhale [Looking at the crowd in the big city, I felt overwhelmed]. On the second day there I got married and I came to my in-laws in Andheri. My mister [husband] was from Karnataka. He worked as a lineman in an automobile company. I started jewellery work, weaving mangalsutras. That is how our married life began. Two sons, one daughter. And now two granddaughters and two grandsons.”
I asked my grandmother: “And you have been outside Mumbai too, haven’t you?”
“Kanyakumari, Calcutta, Jaipur, Kashi, Kashmir. And even Singapore and Nepal with your grandfather.”
But which was your favourite trip, aaji?
“To Kashi, the one I went to with my mother and sister, 30 years after coming to Mumbai. An all-women trip. My sister-in-law would go on these often. She told me about it and asked me to join. I agreed.”
What did grandfather say? Weren’t you scared? I had questions. The story my grandmother was telling me was getting exciting. All my life I had seen her as a gentle, kind, endearing old woman, who cooked, knitted, smiled and served her family. Someone who had always stayed at home, a homemaker in all senses of that word. But now suddenly, I was learning about this brave, incredible adventure she had undertaken with her mother and sister three and a half decades ago. I wanted to know more.
“Kaay naay, jaa mhanun sangitla. Tyanchi bahinach na ti, bahini barobar jaates tar jaa. Tya baaykaanchi sahal hoti, te yeu shakat navte. [Nothing. My husband said, go. It was with his sister, right? If you’re going with my sister, then go. It was an all-ladies trip, so he couldn’t come. And I longed to go. There was no fear or anxiety]. Phiraayla jaaychay mag bhiti kasli vaatnar [Why would you be scared if you’re going to travel?]
“I was 50 then. Shaalan aaji [her sister] was two years younger. My mother must have been about 72. Pahili loka katak hoti na re. Aata amhi kasa katak nahi aahe yevda. Aamchi aai katak hoti shevat paryant chalat hoti changli. [Earlier the people were hardy and robust. We aren’t that sturdy now. Our mother was strong and she was walking till the very end.] There were 45 of us ladies on that bus that we had booked for 15 days. My two sons together gave me 4,000 rupees to afford the trip. We visited Kashi, Ujjain, Mathura and 27 such places of worship…”
I was ready, with eyes wide open, for yet another grandmom story…