Ajji's stories

My earliest memories of ‘learning’ are the stories that my grandmother would tell me. Her stories taught me so many things- they helped me learn that kindness is paramount, that compassion makes us human, that hard work leads to success, and that we must not judge people based on appearances.  Most of my value system, as a child, was built on these stories.

My maternal grandmother, or ‘Ajji’ as I would lovingly call her, was a very simple, but a well-read woman with an air of calm and wisdom about her. She had received very little formal education but her books were her treasure. Most of her stories would revolve around mythology. She would tell us stories of kings and queens, some evil, some kind. She would tell us stories of the Gods, from the Sanskrit texts that she would read in the temple. And some stories that she had heard from her parents and grandparents. These were the stories that I found the most interesting- they had been handed down from one generation to another and had also changed along the way. She acknowledged that they had changed and would also add, ‘it is the nature of a story to change based on who tells it and the time in which it is told’.

There was a learning at the end of each and every story she told and that was something I would wait for, patiently. As the hero beat the villain and conquered all, I would wait for the last line. My grandmother would end all of her stories with ‘And the moral of the story is….’. Only then the story would feel complete and meaningful. When I think about her stories now, I wonder if all the learning follows the same pattern. I wonder if we keep looking for meaning or a conclusive learning out of each experience. Perhaps, we are hardwired to look for something positive in every experience. Perhaps, it is the years of conditioning and listening to stories.

In the years that followed, I went to school, studied different things. I changed my mind about what I wanted to do and then changed it again. One day I wanted to be a doctor, another day, I wanted to be a choreographer. Even at that time, my Ajji’s stories stayed with me. I went through a phase where I was unsure about who I wanted to become. I was only in middle school, but the lack of a goal, an ambition would bother me.   I would talk to her at length about all my confusion and disappointment. She would say ‘It’s okay if you don’t know if you want to be a doctor or a lawyer or a clerk. As long as you know you want to be kind and help others, you will be fine.’ This is exactly what her stories had taught me over the years. While formal education gave me sensibility, her stories gave me sensitivity.

I recently came across a few TED talks about the power of stories, and I couldn’t help but think about the stories, my Ajji’s stories, that shaped my life. As I read more about identity, I realize that her stories, through the years, have inspired me to explore my identity, while reminding me of what's truly important.

Ajji passed away years ago, but her stories live on. Just like her stories, she has become a part of my identity, the one that I cherish the most.