For Guddi

“ Hunne nahin jee, Hune mein Ketan da kaam kar rahi Han.”

Fear not my comrades, this is not some strange Martian dialect, it is Punjabi, simply written in English (the English language has its own advantages). Punjabi is THE medium of conversation in my family. What else do you expect from a family, which took refuge in Delhi after the violent amputation of Pakistan from India.
We began as a bunch of refugees, in the settlement of Karol Bagh, we had nothing but this plot of land. Even then, we did not have the resources to build a house, my Grandparents started with laying down the bricks for what is now my houses main living room. They had one small room, and five little children to take care of, my elder Bua (Hindi for Aunt) being the eldest of the lot. My youngest uncle was quadriplegic. He could not walk. He is not there anymore. Currently 3 generation of us Kapurs live in that house.
Bua was always the mother figure among the siblings, her name is Neelam, but the family calls her Guddi (How cute!). Now, Guddi, sounds like a name for someone who is short and frumpy. Bua is anything, but short and frumpy. A tall, imposing woman, who towers over most men and women her age (she will be sixty-two this month). A strong headed, woman, who can brave a storm better than any man with her mettle can. She can carry you through the worst phases of your life, with the fortitude of a rock. A woman, who embodies all the qualities of womanhood.
Bua moved back with us after a failed marriage. Perhaps, the most terrible phase in anyone’s life, predictably, she was shattered. Yet she rebuilt her life, slowly and steadily. She began from scratch, with the support of her family, and an amazing set of friends, she started life from a clean slate, and mind you, she did a Fucking great job of it.
Bua said above quoted line yesterday morning, to my Grandmother. I was a little surprised at the priority that was I. More than flattering, it was thought provoking. Bua has always given priority to me, my work, my needs, above everything else. It was only yesterday, for some reason, that her behaviour became very evocative.
After we lost mom, Bua took up the role of the matriarch. For some unfathomable reason, it was not hard for me to accept her the way she is. She is loving, affectionate, tender and caring. She went out of her way to look after me. Heck, half the aunts today don’t even acknowledge their nieces and nephews. She loved more than any mother could love her own child.
I owe a lot to Bua; she has been the one from whom I have borrowed a number of qualities, strength, fortitude, and resilience in the face of adversity, selflessness and the ability to give without asking.
Bua has proved it, in her own iconic sort of way that being a parent is mere title ship. Many, who have the title, fail fall short of doing anything a parent should, yet those, who have not been given this title, by the lord, fulfil it better than most.