Ageing gleefully, the Beeji way to a long life
Following the translated instructions that I read from my tablet, the maid prepares a batter of ground oats, fresh yoghurt and dried herbs. She drizzles a little oil on the heated skillet and pours a ladleful of the spiced up batter on it, spreading it lightly to make a pancake. As I reach out for the tangy, tomato chutney in the fridge, I catch a glimpse of Beeji seated on the dining table, waiting expectantly for her breakfast.
She had earlier frowned at the idea of starting her day with an unappetising bowl of oats, prompting me to think of an interesting twist to the bland meal that would appeal to her taste buds and yet conform to the guidelines dictated by the family physician.
Beeji, our maternal grandmother, is visiting us from England, where she lives with her family. Her genial manners coupled with a winsome sense of humour have endeared herself to all. We look forward to her visits and try to make her stay comfortable in every way, good food and companionship being an integral part of it.
I carry the plate to the dining table and am suitably rewarded with a flurry of blessings in Punjabi as she bites into the savoury chilla.
However at the end of the meal, my heart sinks as I notice her gazing at the box of laddoos on the table.
I must dissuade her, but a direct reminder of her diabetic condition may hurt her, so I try a different approach.
“You know what Beeji, a few of my friends have completely eliminated sugar from their diet. I too am planning to step away from the sugar jar for good. Yes, it won’t be easy, but I am determined. One has to sacrifice for good health,” I say.
Expecting the usual response, “This is your age to eat, we are the ones who should abstain”, I am thrown a little off balance, as she replies with a mischievous glint in her eyes ,“Of course you may! You have an entire lifetime ahead. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t know how many days more in this world. So I might as well eat to my heart’s content.”
The octogenarian’s logic is hard to refute!
I begin to wonder whether to match wit or give up my cause, when she adds for good measure, “In any case, yours is a generation brought up on skimmed milk and controlled portions. The smell of desi ghee heating is enough to drive you miles away. I seriously doubt your digestive prowess. You may abstain. I understand my own system and know how far I can stretch it.”
She breaks a laddoo into half, placing one half on the maid’s palm and leaves the table, biting into the other half and adjusting the crisp white dupatta on her head.
Though concerned for her health, I can’t help marvelling at her zest for life, unaffected by time. Undeniably, her life wouldn’t have been a troublefree ride, for it seldom is for anybody. Yet one would never find her sitting alone, dwelling upon the negatives. The way she revels in simple pleasures lends buoyancy to her character that draws people towards her.
THOUGH CONCERNED FOR HER HEALTH, I CAN’T HELP MARVELLING AT HER ZEST FOR LIFE AND THE WAY SHE REVELS IN SIMPLE PLEASURES