Sewing Life by Shweta Bose
Grandma had a sewing machine. She stitched life together. Stitched values. I was her assistant. I use to sit on a stool and look from a distance. She worked with that indomitable grace. Those rays of sun brightening her grey hair. Adorned her head like a halo. She stitched clothes for the maid and her children. When Ma Durga arrived with grandeur; Grandma sewed glistening attires for the 'Help'. Grandpa screamed 'don't go beyond your limits.' Grandma gasped and then went back to her deeds. She stitched up clothes for the new-born's. All the little ones that were born in our lane. Her son thought it was extravagance. She must stop at once. She took out all her savings from her old biscuit box. Made tiny clothes with that money. Never asked anyone for a penny. She stitched beautiful embroidered blouses for Mother and her friends. She insisted, Mother should break the norms. Whatever she earned from stitching wedding clothes she gave to me and Mom. Compelled us to visit Circus and Fairs. Why should boys have all the fun? That was my Grandma sewing her own fantasy land. No Patriarchy ever broke her back. Firmly with her spine up straight she sat through the strife. Spinning out life. Never counted the coins only counted the love earned by her clothes.
She is a stay-at-home mom with a passion for English Literature. Always had an intense love for writing Poems and Short stories. Being an ardent student of English Literature she intends to keep writing for life. Also pursuing her creative urge of herbal soap making. Just completed her Masters in Education as well.