Muthaka. That's what I called her for the seventeen years I have known her. The old, limping, obnoxious milk delivery lady who always came by at 3 in the afternoon and screamed out 'Haal.' Whenever I was at the grandparent's on a holiday, I would go running before Grandmom could reach the gate only to get admonished by Muthaka.

'Nachige ilva ninge.'

'Yaake?'

'Chadi haaki yaake horage bartiya?'

'Nimge yenu. Nimge nachige idre neev bai muchu hogi>

That's always how it was. My shorts and her anger.

If I were collecting milk from her during the rains, she would also add a 'Mela hoga. Beel beda' (Go slowly, don't fall) as she walked away and continued muttering to herself. Grumbling, always grumbling.

When I was much much younger, I thought she always mumbled something evil to me and told Grandad as much. He would just laugh and tell me to ask her myself why she mumbled those evil thoughts.

Even as I went from becoming a chubby kid to the gawky teenager to the kurta-clad, heels swinging college student, I would still wear shorts at home and would still run to collect the milk. And yes, get admonished by Muthaka. But in my kurta-clad, heels swinging phase I saw less and lesser of her. Till yesterday.

I was walking around in the backyard as usual. And I heard the familiar 'Haal' ringing out loudly in the garden and the clinking of the wrought iron gates.

I ran. 'Grandma, I'll get the milk.' I yelled out.

'Thank you' I called out after her as she handed me the two packets of milk and limped away.

'Ivatu yena chadi haklila?' Why haven't you worn shorts today she smiled back

'nange gothirlila neev bartiri antheli' I didn't know you'd be coming and I walked back to watch Grandmom brew tea.


As I sat watching 'Once upon a time in Mexico' Grandmom walked in and casually said, No milk today so if you have to make coffee at night, use the milk powder.

Muthaka passed away in her sleep last night .