-Karthik Gurumurthy

After reading Vijaysree Venkataraman's essay about her grandmother , I'm struck by how profoundly it illustrates our modern disconnection from the wisdom that sits right beside us. This piece exposes a troubling irony: we've become addicted to Googling everything while completely overlooking the living archives in our own homes—our grandmothers. I no longer have my grandmothers with me, but if you're among the fortunate ones who still do, please don't make the mistake so many of us have made—don't take them for granted.

Vijaysree's detailed portrait of Paati reveals the extraordinary complexity hidden behind what we dismiss as "ordinary" grandmotherly duties. This woman followed intricate ritual purity practices, mastered zero-waste cooking decades before it was trendy, created signature spice blends, provided hospitality to countless guests, and somehow found time to learn English through correspondence courses and maintain detailed family archives. Yet we saw only the surface—the good cook, the kind smile, the reliable presence.

What strikes me most powerfully is her Paati's role as family historian. She systematically collected and organized letters, photographs, newspaper clippings, and graduation pictures—creating a careful archive of her family's achievements. She celebrated her daughters' education and careers precisely because she understood what she herself had missed. She was already doing the work of preserving family memory; her family just wasn't paying attention until it was too late.

Vijee's list of unasked questions haunts me: What was Paati's first phone conversation like? How did she experience the changing world around her? What was her childhood in Nemmeli? These weren't just casual curiosities—they were windows into how someone navigated massive historical changes, adapted to new technologies, and maintained resilience through circumstances we can barely imagine.

Vijee reveals how her Paati lived through World War II (hosting evacuated relatives), India's independence, technological revolutions, and social transformations. She witnessed her family's rise from village life to urban prosperity, managed complex households, and quietly enabled others' success. Yet we treated her historical perspective as background noise rather than the primary source it was.

Time has a way of slipping away faster than we realize. Dementia, illness, or simply the passage of years can close these windows of opportunity forever. The conversations you think you can have next month or next year might not be possible then.

The real tragedy isn't just losing these stories—it's that we actively chose to ignore them while desperately seeking wisdom everywhere else. Our grandmothers are walking repositories of resilience, adaptation, and practical knowledge that no Google search could ever provide. But we'll only discover this if we start asking questions while we still can.

Your curiosity about her life might be one of the greatest gifts you can offer. These women often spent their lives celebrating others' achievements while their own stories went unasked about and unrecorded. Your questions might help her see her own life's value in ways she never considered.

Don't let her become another story of wisdom lost because we were too busy looking everywhere else for answers that were sitting right beside us all along.