Leaving on a Jet Plane, Don’t Know When I Will Be Back Again
A tribute to my grandma
When I talk about my maternal grandma, I have this vivid image of her wrinkled skin. As a child, I used to play with it by stretching it in various directions, which is not something I am proud of.
But she was always caring, just like all other grandmas. This created a notion for me in my teens of a secret society where all grandparents decide what to do with their grandchildren.
Anyway, she was a lady from 1950s India, and it's tough to imagine Indian society in those days. Regardless of the societal system, she achieved success on her own terms and proudly entered the millennium.
I faintly remember how she was telling stories to me and my younger brother during our childhood. Now it seems that the table has turned.
The Departure
On an unknown day, she asked me about my experience traveling on a plane and I realized that day she had never been on a plane in her entire life.
This is not particularly noteworthy today, but consider the 1950s, when air travel was a luxury for the elite.
For her, sitting on that aisle or window seat was not less than traveling to an unknown place, perhaps into space or further.
