The old cardigan pink!

 Today, in the morning, I was talking to my mother on the phone. She's visiting my sister these days. She said, she forgot to bring her sweater along, as didn't have an idea that it would get colder so soon. She was planning to buy a new one there. "But the ready-made ones these days have no warmth", she sighed.

"It's getting cool here too", I said. But the place where I live has coastal climate. So no matter the winters, here the fans hover over the heads 24/7.

"I don't have any sweaters", I told her. "I don't remember the last time I purchased one for myself. I wear jackets or shrugs, if going on vacations to cold places", I added.

"Well, I will make do with a shawl", she said.

"Mom, I have only, the old pink cardigan. The one Aaji (My father's mom) had knitted for me. Pink with red borders. She had knitted a thin one as I had told her that here, we don't really require to put warm clothes on".

"You have it with you still?", asked my mom.

"Yes, Ofcourse! I have kept the set of sweater, mittens, cap and socks too. The one she had knitted for my elder one", I said.

After our conversation ended, the thoughts of my Aaji were still lingering in my head.

I remembered how her cupboard used to be filled with colourful wool balls. She wasn't a fan of exclusive sarees but would be excited to buy wool and rich fabric. She was a master in knitting and stitching art.

During holidays, Aaji used to teach us to knit too. "Ek ulat, ek sulat (the basic garter stitch)", she used to say. And we knitted tiny sweaters for our dolls. She had a library of books on knitting and stitching. Whether it was Marathi or English, she could read it all. She had completed her education until first year of Science. But as she got married, couldn't graduate.

However, her collection of books, be it art or detective series, was humongous.

She also taught knitting to women around, and for free. It was her hobby that made her happy. She never wanted to make it her profession. Though she would've been not less than a Ritu Kumar.

Her ideas of clothes were ahead of her era. My sister and me had best of skirts, tops, sweaters, just like those in the British or American magazines. The globalisation hadn't swung in as yet, so these designs weren't common in regular shops at all.

I don't remember buying a sweater all those years. I always wore what Aaji knitted for me. Pull overs, button down, cardigans, shrugs, poncho, you name the style and I had it in my wardrobe.

She left this earthly abode before my younger one was born. He never got to wear the warm clothes knitted by my Aaji. And I was clueless, where to buy them for him.

She was the one who kept us warm through the winters, with cosy sweaters and cardigans, also her interesting stories she would share, patting us gently with her oh-so-soft hands.

'Wrinkled,

She was now old 

With greys of maturity 

Hands trembling, but fate lines secured 

Her life had been brimming!'

The wrinkles on her face and hands were not the sign of old age, but they were the witness of her life's journey, her experiences, which she shared with us and they acted like a lighthouse, guiding our ships.

I opened my wardrobe and ran my hand over the old pink cardigan.

Weather got colder

And I reached for the old cardigan

Soft woollen feel

And the memories spun,

You knitted it for me

To keep me warm through the bleakness 

It wasn't just the wool

Each weave had your love and tenderness, 

As I wrapped myself up

In that old cardigan pink

Tears rolled down my eyes

As the anamnesis cache filled to the brink,

Grandmothers are darlings, is doubtless, 

If not you, your reminisces with me, nonetheless!

PC: Pinterest

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 'Grandmoms are moms with lots of frosting' - Unknown. 

For the prompt 'Knitting'.

If you like my blog hit the heart button ♥️, there's a comment box for suggestions and comments, for more, keep following!!!