An Ode to the Old Women in my Life

2/2/11

**The following piece is a conglomerate description of a few special old women I've known in my life.**

She wore a long maxi with a long shawl draped around her shoulders and over her head. Her ears framed with holes around the perimeter, were no longer adorned with tiny gold earrings, instead holding just a large gold stud with a vertical chain draped over the top of her ears. I'd always thought those were the most elegant earrings, even though they felt out of place on me. To me, they'd always been a bold fashion statement, one particular to my grandma. A statement that easily rivaled Marilyn Monroe's brilliantly red lipstick.

After dinner, she would sit with one leg curled under her, chewing supari and chunna. Staining her wrinkly lips with an autumn orange sheen. This ritual was one I'd seen many times--tiny vials and jars were removed from a small silver box with great care. The shiny green paan leaves were unfolded, glossy side up, and the various concoctions spread onto them. Once this was done to her satisfaction, she would slowly chew each morsel, savoring it. I'd asked once if I could try some. I couldn't.

Despite her age, her calloused hands were precise and nimble. She could out chop my mother any day. The kitchen, actually any part of the house was her domain. The grace with which she stirred the pots, the speed with which she was able to mix the exotic blend of spices--her innate ability to add the precise approximation of salt and cloves--I swear it was intuition. A mere drop of any gravy or dough gave her enough hint to determine what was missing...