This week I received a photo from India of my brother, Mark, with Savitri.
When we were children in India, Savitri used to help my mother around the home. In Hindi we called her our "aiyah". She was part of the family. We loved her and she loved us. Over the intervening forty years we have remained in touch. On any visit any of us make to North India, we make our way to Savitri in her little village. My memories are of my Mum and Dad being terrific with her over all these years - praying and giving and writing and visiting...
She is the mother of a great nation now. 72 years of age. Six children, sixteen grandchildren, four great grandchildren. Mark writes that "Savitri enjoyed sitting there, holding our hands and relating all the family news to me. She was tearful at several times when she was expressing her love for our family. I think she said that every night she goes to bed and prays for each of us, kissing our photos."
How do you like that? The ironing and the cooking have become the praying and the kissing. Hang on a second?! I seem to remember plenty of kisses back when I was a kid :)
POSTSCRIPT - a few months later I was able to visit Savitri