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Shyamolima Saikia


The earliest memory I have of my maternal grandma is of her pure white, silky hair. Besides this, I recall her creased but tender skin, most obvious in her hand, with its numerous criss-crossing lines. A particular moment that lingers in my mind is a remark made by my then little brother, who one fine day expressed a naive though heinous desire. He had said, “Grandma’s skin is so soft and tender. I shall make a towel by cutting off her skin after her death.” We had laughed out loud at his fanciful remark but the gruesomeness remained in my mind. The image of Grandma now brings back memories– right from her persona to the ambience around her house. From her manner of keeping herself clean, her sense of humour, the time spent with us grandchildren, the innumerable tales which she would spin while sitting with us, my memories travel…