Learning what truly matters in life
Lessons from my late grandmother
This past Saturday marked 18 years since my paternal grandmother passed away.
In many ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. In others, it feels as if no time has passed at all.
Ba (Gujarati for “grandmother”) was like a second mother to me. I still recall those languid weekend afternoons at her and Dada’s (my grandfather) house in Northern California, watching as the two of them chopped okra or shelled pigeon peas, all freshly picked from their garden. Hindi soap operas played in the background. An aromatic medley of spices — cumin, ginger, garlic, cardamom — always lingered in the air.
Back then, these moments felt so mundane, so uneventful. Now, I cherish the profound meaning they held — the bridge between two worlds, old and new; my grandparents’ unwavering commitment to their culture and customs as they created familiarity within an unfamiliar country.
As I get older, I find myself thinking about Ba whenever I’m emotionally stuck. When there’s a problem I can’t seem to solve or an issue that stresses me out, I look to her for guidance. I consider what she might’ve done or which values guided her own actions in moments of uncertainty.
She taught me many lessons in the 11 years I had with her — how to speak Gujarati, how to care for my hair and skin, how make round rotlis (or, more accurately, round-ish ones).
The most important lesson, though, was the importance of relationships — pouring into your people and prioritizing connection with those who matter.
In terms of wealth and social status, Ba had very little. She’d received only a 2nd grade education. She grew up in the 1940s and 1950s in a small village nestled within the fertile farmlands of Gujarat, a state in western India. As we know, women at that time had hardly any say in their life trajectory. (And, sadly, this is still the case for many.) Ba spent most of her childhood tending to livestock, preparing meals and perfecting recipes, and mastering the myriad tasks associated with becoming an eventual wife and mother.
At 16, a few years after India’s independence from British colonial rule, Ba married Dada. They lived in Dada’s ancestral village, Sampura, for 30 years before immigrating to the U.S. in 1981. She spent her remaining years largely serving others — her four kids, her husband, her extended family, and her community. It was in this service that her legacy took root.
To this day, when people reminisce about her, they talk about how she showed up for them — the way she made them feel.
“Oh, she made the best khaman/muthia/patra. I’ve never tasted anything like it!”
“She was there for me when I was recovering in the hospital.”
“She made our family feel so welcomed when we moved to the U.S. and didn’t know anyone.”
No matter what, Ba always made time to be there for people. For her, wealth came in the form of social capital — the connections she sustained with those in our Gujarati community.
Ba remained a true symbol of strength, someone who showed up in tough times and never turned away from others’ pain. She took an immense amount of pleasure in hosting others. We’d have mehmaan (guests) over every few days, sometimes several times a week. Ba would spend the day cooking up a feast — rice, dal, two or three shaaks (vegetable dishes), rotlis, and often ras (sweet mango pulp) for dessert.
Feeding others was her love language; the primary form through which she expressed her affection in ways words fell short.
All of the time she invested in others returned tenfold during her cancer battle in her final years. So many people came through for Ba. We had visitors nonstop when she went back and forth between home and the hospital. Over 1,000 people came to pay their final respects when she passed.
Though Ba has been gone nearly two decades, I still learn from her each day. I’ve realized that I want to place more of an emphasis on connection — deep and intentional connection — in my life. To keep in touch more frequently with friends and relatives and old acquaintances. To show up fully and authentically in these relationships.
There’s so much vying for our attention these days, much of it trivial. Many of our connections have become surface-level. We squeeze in time to see people between errands, meetings, and a million other things that occupy our endless to-do lists. (Very guilty of all of this myself!) We look for things to fill this connection void in our lives, but everything falls short.
But we can and should fill this void with purposeful human interaction. Be there for people. Listen. Ask them questions about their passions, experiences, dreams. If you have the bandwidth to help them in some way, do so.
The connections you forge now — the bonds built on trust, depth, and mutual respect — will matter more throughout the rest of your life than achieving any accolade or material item can even come close to. Never forget that.
Take care and until next time,
Brina
P.S. Shout-out to my parents for helping me fact-check the dates and details above :)
🌹Tuesday Tapestry Reflection
What do you want to be remembered for? How do you typically show up for those who matter to you? How can you be more intentional in your efforts to connect with them?
👋🏽 Welcome!
… to newest subscribers Risha, Anshu, Manish, Michelle, Sadi, Judith, and Shelia. I’m thrilled to have you all along for the journey!
🎨 Content Corner
YouTube video: The best anti-aging advice from an 84-year-old
Song: “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom” by Selena (This lively throwback track has been stuck in my head since Friday. Thanks, bro!)
Instagram Post: We all know what triggers are, but did you know that they have an opposite? Here’s a little guide to glimmers!
Book: Moving on Doesn’t Mean Letting Go by Gina Moffa, LCSW (My friend Gina has been doing AMAZING work within the grief community. Her newly-published book is an empowering and compassionate guide to navigating grief’s complexities.)
Movie: Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani (A progressive, hilarious, and heartfelt film — I love how many stereotypes it tackled! And can we talk about Alia Bhatt’s stunning sarees?!)
⚡️ Happiness Hack
I’m always looking for ways to cultivate a healthier headspace.
One thing that’s been helping me lately is keeping a special album in my phone for kind messages I’ve received (praise from a colleague, loving words from a close friend, a sincere expression of appreciation from a family member).
Whenever I feel crappy, I’ll look through the album and re-read these DMs, texts, and emails. It’s an instant mood booster and shifts my mindset to a place of gratitude.
This post came off as from the heart. Made me think of my maternal grandmother who also passed away about 2 decades ago. I need to write about her. She was a very respected and strong woman and I share many of her traits I’m told. So thank you for this.
Yes, living 7000 miles away from family hurts and we feel more isolated as time goes by. I think this is a curse of sorts for those of us here in the states. The pandemic revived many of those connections but only temporarily.