Of riches and soft palms

 Recently  I read somewhere , if one has to know ( which one shouldn't actually) how hard a life one has led , one just needs to touch the hands . Palms to be precise . 

This is our homegrown "princess and the pea " test . 

If you are a princess , and are free of all the drudgery that a household entails , i.e., you have adequate help or resources thereof , your palms will be soft .

Otherwise , your hardened , calloused palms have an interesting tale to tell .

However , like all rules , it has exceptions . 

My grandmother was born with a silver spoon. Both the men in her life , i.e, her father and her husband, were landowners . Jobs like sweeping , mopping floors and milking the cows were tier three jobs . Meant for the lower caste women or men . The upper caste servants were given the cheerful task of washing clothes and cooking food . 

Procurement of Pooja materials also entailed a screening of the caste hierarchy . 

As she grew older , various shades and grades of daughters in law entered her home and hearth and managed the supervision of cooking , feeding of the babies etc . 

That left her free to do an equally challenging and time consuming job . Pooja . 

That left her hands were seriously calloused . 

One would ask why ? 

The Pooja room , a large cemented cavity roughly 15 foot * 10 foot in dimensions , had to be washed daily . Then mopped dry . All Gods and goddesses , their brass statues were immersed , washed , scrubbed . Fresh flowers were woven into garlands and fresh Bel and Tulsi leaves sorted . Fruits for offerings , washed , chopped etc . Ghee lamps were scrubbed with ash , daily , till they shone . When lit up, they reflected the flames in a thousand tongued splendour and bewitching aroma . 

This process was repeated twice. Once in the morning, when the deities awakened, and once at night , when they had to be put to sleep. 

All the water for this purpose was hand drawn by her . No one else could do this . Not even us , her numerous progenies or grand progenies .

Drawing of water for Pooja was a back breaking, soul crushing job of using a prickly coir or softer hemp rope ( no short cuts of contaminated pulleys here ) to dunk , fill and lift a small brass bucket , carrying roughly 1.5 litres at a time . Hundreds of this bucket of water were drawn , almost daily .

The Pooja room was a parallel household were Gods were bathed , fed and put to sleep . Daily . 

The sheer hard work put into this , and the colossal web of rules that governed it ,is unimaginable in today's day and time. All this had to be done by a fasting matriarch .

That pushed my grandmother's first decent meal of the day to 3 in the afternoon . 

When the world was napping after having twice filled their tummies . 

Having lived  a major portion of her life , governed by the pointless tyranny of religious rituals , she had realised the futility . 

Being  blessed with an extremely sharp intellect , she realised that only education can free us , womenfolk . She shielded us , her grandchildren , under the guise of "going to school' , 'pursuing studies " , and her own daughter in law ( my mom ) , by saying "she was just a kid " " needs to look after the children " , thereby swallowing the poison of centuries old tradition , herself , like a steadfast Shiva . 

No one , after her demise , has had the need or compulsion to go through this mindless rigmarole of Pooja Ghar . 

In her lifetime , we shifted to a town , then to a megapolis , and the number of her Gods dwindled . The multitude of leaves and flowers required for Pooja too , became scarce . Hence , when she passed away , she had to contend with just half an hour of hushed chanting in front of a drenched and bemused looking statue of a brass Shiva and couple of Durga photos . 

Quickly adapting , she was a living epitome of the wisdom laced words " Yatha Shakti , tatha Bhakti " ( loosely meaning , you have to worship as per your means )

Before she passed away , she stayed in an ICU for two weeks , hooked to ventilators . Having worked all her life , she gave up even  her breathing to machines . Another two weeks in a step down ICU , without the ventilatory support . During these four weeks , her skin moulted , and became smooth and callous free . For the first time in her life, the heels were crack free . 

When she passed away , she was adorned as a bride in Bengali custom , red alta on feet , hands , huge red bindi on her forehead , white and red saree . She went back to her creator , as she had been sent here . Callous free , petal soft hands and crack free heels .