When I was very young, I came across the word ‘eulogy’ and asked Gumma what it meant. She simply told me that I would do hers and laughed her laugh.

Gumma has always been a fan of my writing. But I fear that now, when it counts most; I will fail her.
Because words are never enough to describe the way you feel when someone you love is no more?
How do you summarize and honour in five minutes 93 years’ worth of life so well lived ?

I don’t think that words can convey emotional depth. But I think that they can quite accurately describe actions.
And you can infer what you will from the descriptions of those actions.

When I was young my playground was her bed, my storybooks the products of her imagination. And believe me there was never a dirth of stories I still remember her story about the Black Hand and though it scared the living daylights out of me I made her tell me the story ever so often. Dad used to get mad at her and tell her that psychos and mass murderers were created by grandmother's who told their grandchildren scary stories

She was always there to entertain me at first and then my brothers. And for each of us there was a new set of stories. Minutes spent engaging and amusing us turned into hours, turned into days, turned into years and changed to suit our interests and maturity.

Gumma was a voracious reader and hence she was an encyclopedia of information and a treasure trove of anecdotes. I must add that she also added her own spice and zing to all her stories sometimes modifying history to make it a little more interesting for a little child.

Gumma’s most enduring characteristic was her love for animals. My father and all of us children have gotten our love for living things from her, but it’s not half as passionate and intense as hers. She wouldn't sleep if there was a lost kitten mewing somewhere at night and has on so many occasions sent dad in the pouring rain to rescue some kitten

Gumma had a way with animals. All of her dogs though fatted on chocolate ice-cream lived far beyond the normal life expectancy of dogs. Even now at the age of 93 there’s a stray cat lounging around the house. And God help anybody if the cat is not fed on time

Gumma loved the architecture of old Bombay. In the early 1970s when dad was a little boy she used to take him to Ballard Estate and Fort to show him the grand buildings constructed during the British Raj. Once she took him to Bassein Fort where they also visited the Bassein Market. They came back home with four little chickens. Unfortunately all the chickens grew up to become roosters and awoke the neighborhood with their crowing. Gumma had to get rid of her poultry farm when neighbours threatened legal action

Gumma never got over my grandfather's death. I could sense that because of the way Gumma used to avoid talking about him. I remember sitting in the balcony in the evening with her once and asking her a lot of questions about him and his sports and her life with him. I stopped when I realized she was quietly crying. She never really made her peace with his passing, she never stopped thinking about him and loving him. She used to sit near the door to the balcony in the evenings and pray for him. More than 20 years after his demise, she was still praying for him

All through her years here best friend was her sister aunt Edna. They would talk on the phone everyday for hours. Conversations invariably ended abruptly with "Eddie the fish is on the stove and is burning bye bye bye bye"

Most children grow up thinking their dad is the bravest, gutsiest person on earth. Not me. Gumma’s outspokenness, honesty and guts were in a league of their own. When we were small I remember her playing hell into political candidates who came canvassing for votes. She would give them a dressing down on why their party's policies were lousy and would end with "I will never vote for you" . Cheryl and dad would get mad at her but her usual response was "they must be told"

Gumma lived a long but very full life. She has 4 children and 7 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. She had 6 dogs, 4 official live-in cats, countless stray cats who came by for food, hamsters, and, well, a full menagerie of rescued birds and animals to love and cherish and she did. Every day of her life.

She spent all her time and ability making us smile and laugh and dream and dare to be who we wanted to be. She taught us honesty and how to stand up for what we want and how to love and how to, quite simply, just be.

Now that she is reunited with grandpa and all her little furry friends I hope that, in its own time, Grief does not sit too heavy on our shoulders and instead morphs into something else, something which allows us to remember her and celebrate her life and aspire to love and live and laugh the way she did – unashamedly, unabashedly, unrestrainedly – fully.

Godspeed Gummy Bear.
You will live in us forever