My grand­mother

The Borneo Post - Good English - - News -

My grand­fa­ther passed away be­fore I was born but my grand­mother is still alive. She is seventy-two. She is tall and healthy. She hardly looks sixty. She has pre­served her health in a won­der­ful man­ner. She is still en­er­getic and works the whole day, I have never seen her idle.

She has still all her teeth and nor­mal eye sight. She is an early riser. She gets up at 3 am and never misses her bath sum­mer or winter.

She is very pi­ous and reli­gious-minded. She tells the beads daily for a pretty long time both in the morn­ing and evening. She is very spar­ing in her diet. She takes only one meal a day. At night she takes only a glass of cow’s milk.

She fasts on ev­ery Tues­day. Sun­day is her day of com­plete si­lence. She is a tee­to­taller. She is a strict vege­tar­ian. She washes her clothes her­self. She is very sim­ple in her dress. She is a stranger to mod­ern toi­lets and make-ups. She hates mod­ern fash­ions. She goes to the tem­ple ev­ery morn­ing and evening. She gives away some money in char­ity ev­ery day. She is good and sweet and has a be­nign in­flu­ence on the fam­ily.

Though a pic­ture of sim­plic­ity her­self she adorns and trans­forms ev­ery­thing she touches. Our house looks pic­turesque, and all on ac­count of her. She is a born artist. She is very good at em­broi­dery. Her em­broi­deries are the talk of the town.

She is very good at knit­ting too. Show her a sweater or a blouse of the most in­tri­cate de­sign, she will pre­pare an ex­act model of it once she has seen it. She is a ge­nius. She spins yarns of the finest qual­ity. She is a very good cook. There is a real art in all that she does.

My grand­mother loves hard work. She milks the cow, churns the milk and pre­pares but­ter. She cooks food and serves it to all the mem­bers of the house­hold. She is the last to take her meals. She takes the sim­plest food. She is very eco­nom­i­cal in ev­ery­thing.

She man­ages all the house­hold af­fairs most ef­fi­ciently. Her word is law for us all. We dare not go against her wishes. My fa­ther lis­tens to her sug­ges­tions. My mother dare not of­fend her. She rules over our hearts by her lofty char­ac­ter and unique qual­i­ties of head and heart.

She is the very em­bod­i­ment of all wom­anly virtues and graces. Her very sight pleases ev­ery mem­ber of the house. Her love is ever sought by me. Ev­ery morn­ing as I get up, I touch her feet. She show­ers bless­ings on me. I re­gard her bless­ings as an ar­mour for me against all evils and mis­eries of the world.

She is full of hu­mour. Some­times we tickle her van­ity and she tells us funny sto­ries of her younger days. She talks about the im­mod­est be­hav­iour of mod­ern girls and the fash­ions they in­dulge in. She can­not bear the sight of a mod­ern girl cy­cling or sit­ting in a cinema hall side by side with grown-up boys.

She hates girls go­ing to ho­tels or restau­rants for tea or lunch. She hates the signs of a girl with her hair cut, nails pol­ished and face pow­dered. She is deadly against higher ed­u­ca­tion and un­char­tered lib­erty to grown-up girls. She laughs when she sees a grown-up girl dressed like a boy and go­ing out with grown up boys.

I love my grand­mother with all her virtues and faults. She is a true pic­ture of an In­dian wom­an­hood. She is my idol. I wish I may live up to her ex­pec­ta­tions so that she may one day feel proud of me.

Sub­ha­sish

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