Remembering Azutsa.

My Grandparents make an interesting topic of discussion any day.

Though both of my Grandfathers passed away too long ago so I never really knew them.

They were casualties of the Naga Freedom Movement in the early 60's; a war unacknowledged but of much consequence to the many lives affected. At least, they died for a worthy cause. Both of them, I am told, were admired and respected in our village, for they were self-made, strong and wise.

I didn't know my paternal Grandmother at all. I don't even have a photograph to remember her by. All I know of her is through my father's memories of her. But she was a strong lady who brought up seven children, four of them her own and three, her husband's children from an earlier marriage; all on her own in a time of war and the harsh times that followed. She passed away when I was two or three.

My Maternal Grandmother is the one person I remember the most, though we didn't get to spend much time together. 'Azutsa' we called her. (Nobilü was her name, literally translated as "Only daughter"). That's "Grandma" in Chokri Naga language. We belong to one of the Naga tribes of the Hills of Northeast India, a small and unique group of people. We are mainly agriculturists. My grandparents were and most people living in the villages still are. Those of us who have moved to the towns and cities have lost touch with the old ways; except for enjoying the festivals and food and of course, the exquisite rice beer which no one refuses.

Azutsa used to brew a fine beer in her big kitchen and whenever we went to the village, (our visits were rare though) she would sit us in her lap in turns and feed us the delicious rice cakes from which she brewed her special beer.

Mom would admonish her initially but join us eventually and would even take a few sips out of  Azutsa's mug when we weren't looking.

Azutsa was a spirited lady, tall, energetic and with a smart retort for every query.

After all, she was the only and favourite daughter of the Village's wisest Chief and later became wife to one of the Village's wealthiest.

Unfortunately for her, four daughters later, the Naga Freedom movement erupted and the Indian onslaught turned her life upside down; Besides wiping out all her material belongings, she was left without a husband and four very young daughters to fend for.

But Azutsa did not give up. She rebuilt her life and sent my mother, her youngest daughter to school (My mother is the first female graduate in our village by the way). Her other daughters had chosen other courses of life. Life was a struggle for Azutsa and her daughters as greedy male relatives forcibly took over the land that was her inheritance. However, her hardwork and never die spirit ensured a roof over their head and food on their table. She somehow managed to put my mom through school and college. When mom finished college Azutsa encouraged her to find a job and stay put in the Capital town of Kohima, with strict instructions to make a good life out there. 

But mom came back to our village and taught in the village school until she got married.

After mom got married and I was born, we moved to Kohima for good and Azutsa came to visit us often but she never stayed more than three days.  She would get bored after fiddling in mom's kitchen garden for a few days and say her paddy fields were missing her. Early next morning, she would be gone.

As we started school and then college, we saw less and less of her.

She was growing old and she couldn't take the five hour car journey to Kohima because she would get carsick. She would to say she'd rather walk like she used to but now old age would not permit her to make the day long journey on foot.  And we would not let her do that but it was hard for us to plan a trip to the village so often. So we would barely see each other once a year.

Azutsa always sent glad tidings and sweet smelling rice after every harvest from her granaries and we would send her sugar. Besides the car sickness, Azutsa hardly got sick or even if she did, she wasn't one to complain so no one knew. My aunts kept coming in to town with some ailment or the other, but never her. In fact, as she grew really old, my uncles had to stop her from going out to the fields since they were a good two hour trek from the village. But Azutsa loved to be among her green fields and wood apples and peaches and no one could keep her indoors.

In 2002, while doing my undergraduate studies in Delhi and I would call home for news once a month. On one such call, dad informed me that Azutsa was gone. It was a sad day for me.

She had gone to check on the streams feeding water to her paddies, in spite of my uncles' telling her not to since it was raining heavily. She suffered a fatal stroke out there in the woods and they found her in the evening among her beloved greens, peacefully dead.

Azutsa wasn't a millionaire and you wouldn't hear about her in the papers but she was special. 

I have an old photograph of her taken sometime in the early 90s. She is holding her favourite mug and smiling into the camera while trying to keep the sun out of her eyes. Azutsa always had this sparkle in her eyes and it was infectious. She never told us what we should be doing or not doing but led by example and did what had to be done. She earned her place in Society and was well respected. She never complained or boasted but somehow got her point across.

Most of all, she had much laughter to share. And she taught us to 'never give up'.

She had this ability to smile through adversity and not get embittered by the harshness of life. 

I am proud to be her granddaughter and more so, when the elders of my village remark that I have my Azutsa's spirit. I know I will be just fine in life if I were to inherit an ounce of that spirit. 

My mother thinks I do. As for me, I dare to hope.