New Year 2024

Last year was full of new adventures, amazing food and hosting intimate dinner parties. There were several trips far and wide to some amazing places that I had never been to- cobblestone streets of Saint-Paul in Old Montreal, the crystal clear water with the lush mountain backdrop of Moorea in French Polynesia and the ritzy resort in Punta Mita. I’m so grateful for all the fun memories made with friends and family over weekly runs, random brunches/ dinners. It was an okay year for reading too, not my best but I read 33 books, which is the lowest number of books I have read in the past few years. I’m planning to rectify that in 2024. My favorite book of 2023, if I had to pick one was ‘A Tale For The Time Being’- it was mind opening!

Now that I have given a little recap of 2023, I want you to know that this blogpost is not about last year, it’s about my Grandma who left us on January 1st, 2024.

I woke up on the first day of this year to the messages of my Grandma’s passing away unexpectedly in India. Mrs. Asha Kachru was my last surviving grandparent, my Nani ji. I’m still fighting back tears as I write this but truth of the matter is that I have been wanting to write about her for a while. Simply because Indian women in India for the longest time have lived in the shadows of their husbands or their family and often remembered as such- somebody’s wife, somebody’s daughter, somebody’s mother. However, like everyone- they all have their stories of individuality and aspirations that often go unheard and although I didn’t get to spend too much time with my Grandma, I did spend enough time with her to get a glimpse of the Asha that she was.

Asha in Hindi means hope and I hope this blogpost does justice to my memory of her. My Nani ji was born in Kashmir, a state known for its beauty and conflict. However, she left Kashmir when she was still quite young. On my last visit to India, she told me the story of how she never wanted to leave Kashmir- she had her friends there and more importantly she loved the sites of Kashmir, she knew nothing could top the natural beauty- snow capped mountains, the fresh air, pristine lakes- of a place like Kashmir. But in search of new opportunities for her brothers, her family had decided to move out of the state and therefore, she left her beloved Kashmir and then eventually got married at the age of 16. Her husband, my Nana ji- Mr. Durganath Kachru, was an ambitious man- not only was he a freedom fighter, he went on to become an IAS officer receiving accolades and awards for his service from India’s first Prime Minister- Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru and later from his daughter Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. My Nani ji was there by his side every step of the way- attending functions, hosting guests, making friends wherever she went. They lived a very comfortable life with housekeepers, chauffeurs, cooks and gardeners. I remember hearing stories about how lucky they were to return back to Kashmir when my Nana ji was stationed there for his work. I wish I could remember the summers I had spent with them in their Kashmir house but unfortunately I was too young when they lived there.

After retirement, my grandparents moved out of Kashmir to Jammu (not too far from Kashmir) and that’s where my memories of them begin. Me visiting them with my parents and brother every summer, my Nani ji blasting her radio throughout the day, singing along songs of old Indian movies. I still remember her telling me (probably the only Indian woman I know of that generation who has ever said this) how she hated cooking- she used to say it was the worst and I would giggle every time knowing my Mom (her daughter) absolutely loved to cook. My Nani ji was one of a kind- I would see her with her friends making clever jokes and laughing uninhibitedly. She said she didn’t care to travel the world (even though, my Nana ji had traveled half of it on his Diplomatic Passport) she always said she was happier with her friends and family. Moreover, she said she had seen Kashmir and what could be more beautiful than her beloved homeland.

My Nani ji didn’t get to finish her education because she got married at very young age but she read her Hindi newspaper everyday. She also used to subscribe to a comic book- Chanda Mama- that she loved dearly. She knew all about current politics, movies, actors- she kept herself very well informed and she passed down her love/passion for politics to her children too (or at least to my Mom).

My Nani ji was sweet, funny, calm, smart, honest and a beautiful soul inside out. She lived her life on her own terms, up until the end she lived in her own house with a caretaker. India for me will never be the same without her- without her waiting for us to come back from our adventures, listening to our stories and sharing hers, commenting on what we brought back from shopping trips and joking about my distressed/ripped jeans. I wish I had spent more time with her and asked her more questions and that’s something I would have to live with but I will always cherish the time I got to spend with her. I’m lucky to have had her in my life, lucky to have learned from her that there’s more to being a woman than just cooking, and lucky to have learned at a young age to lead a simple life enjoying good music, good reads, good times with friends/family and good food (preferably made by others :)).