Machine Gun Maami and Grandma Maami

The first time we saw them were when the Grandma Maami and her husband boarded the train at Palghat and immediately saw her husband get into a scuffle with the hot and rude foreigner lady in our compartment over her appropriating the windows seats reserved by them. While the senior uncle got ballistic with their hapless son helplessly trying to make peace, the old gentle lady was keeping her peace.

The second full day of the journey while engaging in one of our conversations on Advaita, Mandukya Upanishad, Matrix movie and GTA San Andreas the Grandma Maami overheard our discussion on the Butterfly Dilemma and joined in to our great joy. Apparently a great follower of Ramana Maharshi and a disciple of Nochur Venkitaraman she was apparently reading some works on Advaita at the very moment of our discussion and the serendipity was too intense even to risk violating her husband’s strict orders not to talk to anyone. A pleasant conversation ensued that could be continued only in the fag end of her journey nearing Mathura where we conversed freely on our travels and destinations and matters of mutual interest. An intensely private and serene woman she greatly reminded me of my own maternal grandmother who passed away several years ago.

However the more prominent character of this story boarded the train only that night at Coimbatore and though her entry was rather subdued the rest of the days and nights were dominated by this feisty old lady, whom we dubbed “Machine Gun Maami” for her rat-a-tat talkathon with the poor Grandma Maami. In the previous blog I have already told about how she terrorized several unreserved encroachers for daring to sit on the compartment floor blocking their access. This fiery temper came to full stride on the second night of our journey to New Delhi, the night when we passed through Maharashtra.

That night several unreserved passengers fell victim to the sheer fury of this indomitable little old woman who yelled and scolded the hell out of the unreserved passengers who dared sleep on the corridors blocking the passage of these women to the toilet. She did have merit in what she is saying, one is after all well aware of the several unscruples committed by unreserved passengers in harassing bonafide passengers. One particular person tried every trick in the rule book and then some to ward off the scoldings of this Maami, but who stands a chance in front of Machinegun Maami in full throttle. Sleep deprived as I was already cramped up in the Side Lower sleeper berth, in an Indian Railways that has always been adversely prejudiced towards people of a loftier disposition, it was a night full of entertainment to make the sleep deprived train journey much more bearable.

This tirade continued throughout her journey even until her departure stop at Mathura. Even though at times she did seem to be an overbearing, unreasonable and insensitive senile old lady, her final moments of interaction with us gave glimpses of a soul much more loftier than we had ever imagined. While my friend, Jayan the Photographer congratulated her on her bravery in handling those intruders, she said all was in jest as part of one enjoying her retired life. Her answer to Jayan’s question of what profession she had retired from left us speechless and awestruck.

“Housewife Aayirunthen. Full life naanoru Kaaidi aayirunthen. Ippo thaan viduthalai kedachathu.”

“I have been a housewife all my life. Nearly all my life I served the life of a prisoner. Now only I secured my freedom.”

Simple words from a simple woman, but has the depth and weight of a lifetime of truth. The story of every Indian woman, a life of servitude, first serving her parents, then her husband and then her children. Having dutifully completed her penal servitude upto what we believe the maturity of her children as adults of their own means and death of her husband, who loving while he may be in his own means was the enforcer of a harsh life of servitude for her. Now unshackled by all such duties she is finally free to live a life of her own, starting at roughly 70+.

Understanding this perspective it is possible for me to empathize with why she had been a terror through this trip. A lifetime of suppressed rage and humiliation venting its way out towards those who threaten her few years of freedom and happiness. A lifetime of things unsaid finding its way out in a torrent of conversation that swept the gentle old Grandma Maami to the heights of exasperation. Empathize though we do with her, I am still thankful to Jayan that he only chose to express his admiration as the train chugged into the Mathura Station. Else we too would have been victims of Machinegun Maami.