Today, August 6, is the birth-date day of my paternal grandmother whom we addressed as Mamma in our Ranoi home and earlier in the Soddo home. She had the curly, curly hair that kept me in suspense for decades, as to where it came from. My dad, her first-born took up a job in Africa, serving the British in Uganda. He went to Africa. My eldest two brothers and sister were born in Africa. Mamma knew English because as per my knowledge she was brought up in a boarding in Bandra-Mumbai, probably near Mount Marys. Our neighbour in Ranoi would bring her letters to write and read... She used to work the kitchen-gardens that Goa is well-known for. She also reared goats. When I expressed my desire to have one of my own, she turned a deaf ear. Childhood hurts buried deep inside. My friend and Ranoi next-door neighbour would amaze me by calling his goats back to himself from a distance of more than 70 metres by whistling... Before the age of 10 when she would take me to Ranoi to stay with her... My mother used to sew. Quite often. I wanted to learn at the age after 10, possibly 15... when I had already manifested my desire to become a priest in 1976... She declared, Tuka machinacheruch dovortole. They (the priests) will restrict you to the machine. My mother kept silent.
Posted on: Wed, 06 Aug 2014 12:02:05 +0000
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