Planning what to eat is a big part of our routine. We have masti treats like bhel puri and hapus amras; divine shrikhand-puri from Panshikar (actually it was amrakhand—shrikhand with amras and saffron strands, OMG) and Amma’s favourite sweet corn vegetable soup and soft Singapore noodles, remembering family treats at Kamling at Churchgate. Every evening, we go to the terrace for some hawa khana. Amma sings her favourite songs. Then I join her, and we sing together bandishes she has taught me, including Phagwa Brij dekhan ko chalo ri in Raag Basant, and Binati suno mori in Raag Bageshri. We are both currently learning Mharo pranam by Kishori Amonkar in Raag Yaman Kalyan, from YouTube.

I phone Amma’s friends so she can catch up with them. The crushing reality is, at 97, not a lot of your friends are alive. Amma is exceptionally lucky that at this age, she can see, hear, walk and even climb steps, but most of her friends, the few who are still alive, live in a fog. I call Lakshmi Pachchi', a vivacious relative. “I’m constantly getting transferred,” she says, half-complaining, half in jest. She spends her time shuttling between her adult children in Mumbai and overseas. “They have a three-bedroom flat, so they are in one bedroom, their kids are in another bedroom, and I’m in the third bedroom. We hardly meet or talk. There is a lot of silence,”  she says. Lakshmi’s experience reminds us how lonely ageing parents can be when living in their own homes with their own families. So living with the family being heaven versus living in a senior citizen’s home being hell, is certainly one of the biggest lies going around. It just depends. Next, I call Radhikaben, a fun-loving Gujarati former neighbour. But she kept asking, “Kon che?” (Who is it?). Amma kept repeating, “Hu
Induben chu. From Mayur building. You used to come to our house…,” but Radhikaben remains in a fog. She can’t hear--or remember. After five minutes of this, we sadly cut the call. I don’t call any more of Amma’s friends, it is too crushing for both of us. 

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Bathing Amma is a special privilege of love and trust not given to many—how many adults are comfortable bathing their own ageing parents? Those who can afford it, usually outsource it to a maid or nurse. Then I apply aloe vera to Amma’s body, and give her a foot massage before she sleeps. There’s something incredibly beautiful about watching your Ma sleep deeply like a baby in your home. I feel very blessed.

Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist. 
Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com