(This story was written and submitted by Devan Balakrishnan, who is now based in Dubai but grew up in Kerala, India. Through this story, he takes us back to his childhood memories of his grandmother in Kerala.)
There are some memories that never fade. They become a part of who we are, quietly living in our hearts, no matter how many years pass. My grandmother is one of those memories.
In the early 1980s, whenever the jackfruit tree in her village gave its biggest and sweetest fruits, she never thought of keeping them for herself. Her first thought was always of her grandchildren in Trivandrum.
The jackfruit she carried was no ordinary fruit. It weighed around 15 to 18 kilograms. Yet, early in the morning, she would lift it onto her head and begin one of the hardest journeys anyone could imagine; not because she had to, but because she wanted to bring happiness to us.
Those days were different. There were no mobile phones or ways to call and inform someone about your arrival. We never knew when she was coming. There was no message, no phone call, and no warning that Grandma was on her way. That is why, every time we saw her waiting near the junction, it was a complete surprise and a moment of pure happiness.
Her village had no proper roads. The four-kilometre walk to Murukkumpuzha Railway Station was through narrow paths that crossed paddy fields where rice plants were cultivated. The paths were uneven and difficult. Along the way, she would meet stray dogs, watch carefully for snakes crossing the narrow trails, and sometimes cross small branches of rivers that came in her way.
With the heavy jackfruit balanced on her head, she walked patiently through all these challenges. After nearly one hour of walking, she would finally reach Murukkumpuzha Railway Station.
When the train arrived, she would carefully place the jackfruit inside and begin her journey to Trivandrum. After about an hour, she would reach the city railway station. But even then, her journey was not finished.
She would once again carry the jackfruit and walk towards the city bus station, where she could catch a bus to our place. By around 3:00 PM, she would reach the junction where our home was located. There, she would sit and rest beside a small shop, enjoying the shade while waiting for us to return from school.
At around 3:30 PM, my brother and I would leave school and walk home. Suddenly, there she would be, our grandmother, standing near the small shop with the biggest smile and the biggest surprise waiting for us.
We were always amazed to see her there because we never knew she was coming. The happiness of seeing Grandma unexpectedly is something I can still feel today.
We would run to her, touch her hands, hug her, and kiss her. Her clothes carried the familiar smell of Cuticura talcum powder that we loved so much. But mixed with that was another smell: the natural scent of a long journey under the sun. After walking from the morning, carrying such a heavy jackfruit through fields and roads, her clothes carried the sweat and tiredness of her effort.
To us, that smell was not unpleasant. It was the smell of love, sacrifice, and a grandmother who had travelled many kilometres just to spend a few moments with us.
Together, we would walk home from the shop, carrying the precious jackfruit. Looking back now, I understand that the jackfruit was never the greatest gift she brought. The greatest gift was herself: the time she gave us, the effort she made, and the love she carried all the way from her village.
The part that still amazes me is that she would not stay for long. On the same day, she wanted to return home because her hens, sheep, cow, and her other children were waiting for her. With a smile, she would begin her journey back.
As children, we never understood how difficult those journeys were. We only knew that Grandma had come, and that meant happiness.
More than forty years have passed, but I can still remember the smell of her clothes and the comfort of being near her. The fragrance of Cuticura talcum powder takes me back to those afternoons when we waited for her without knowing she was coming.
My grandmother passed away in 2019, but she has never truly left my heart. I still remember her every day. Some nights, I find myself thinking about her smile, her hands, her kindness, and those long journeys she made for us.
As a child, I thought she was carrying a heavy jackfruit.
Now I know the truth.
She was carrying love.
And no distance, muddy path, stray dog, snake, river, train, or bus could ever stop her from bringing that love to us.