From our man in India

Man walks to the barber through rush hour traffic.  Out of 8 million ways to die, man feels like he has escaped 6 million of them.

Man has random thought on Day 5 – Is every f:@($ing family as fiercely funny as mine?

Startling notion passes through man’s head – My lime rice is better than my Mom’s. To his surprise, he is not incinerated by bolt of lightning.

Man has family in India.  Man has family in the US.  Man learns unwanted lesson – he cannot do justice to both at the same time.

Man’s Peddamma passed away in India.  She was a force of nature.  She was a pain in the ass (all forces of nature are pains in the ass).   Peddamma and Peddananna were like one of those large banyan trees, which provided shade and sustenance to a large extended family (10 aunts and uncles, 33 first cousins).  Man’s immediate family had even more special treatment.  His Dad is the youngest of the 10 siblings.  Grand Dad died early, and Peddamma and Peddananna raised his Dad to manhood.  That seamlessly extended to man’s sister and him.  Till they were about 10, they resided under his Peddamma’s stern and attentive hand.  However, for a long while now, his life and his Peddamma’s life did not intersect except for short periodic visits.  He left the protection of that banyan tree years ago.  She had been ailing for a long time.  And she was 92.  So when she finally said the big Enough, man felt reverence, and affection, but little pain.  Her passing was sad, but it was in the natural scheme of things.  It was not a tragedy.  If anything, the moment called for a celebration of her life.  My Peddamma lived a big life.

Meanwhile.  In the US.  God liberated a beloved aunt from her pain.  In return her family had to let her go.  To the Sweet Hereafter.