The current leg of my India trip has brought me to Lucknow. For a quick geographical lesson, it’s a large city in Northern India.

For people who have known me for a very long time, you will know that Lucknow is where my mother grew up, and that I spent a lot of time in Lucknow when I was little.

If you’re close to me, you also probably know that my Nani’s old house is my very favorite place in the world.

I have fond childhood memories from Nani’s house The house was absolutely gorgeous – large, Spanish-style, made of red brick and sandstone, with brightly colored bougainvillea creeping over the stark white arches and circling around the columns of the house. The memories are numerous: Riding scooters through the house in the early mornings with Nikhyl, trying to avoid scootering into people (We usually weren’t very successful). Reading Archie Comics on the playroom floor. Climbing up on the roof with Rohan and Shefali, with my tiny five-year-old self struggling to pull myself over the air conditioners, as they got in the way of getting to the front part of the roof (This usually ended with either Rohan or Shefali picking me up and plopping me on the other side). The whole family piling onto Nani’s bed, eating cheese toast and fruit, glancing up at Nani’s massive photograph wall. Nikhyl, Rohan, Shefali, and I setting up mattresses in Sharad Mamu’s and Sabina Mami’s bedroom in the back of the house, playing board games and huddling together at night to sleep. Eating meals in the grand dining room at the front of the house. Seeing lizards crawl into the house and scurry behind the paintings, never to be seen again. Watching Rohan and Nikhyl play cricket in the pebbly driveway. Meeting my cousin Raman for the first time, when he was a little under two months old. Dancing to ABBA with the whole family late into the night (This is the reasoning for my obsession with the musical Mamma Mia!). Rohan, Shefali, and Nikhyl taping my mouth shut. (Not necessarily a fond memory, although I can find it somewhat amusing now).

And of course, the swing in the front yard. If you’re either (a) friends with my mother on Facebook, or (b) have been in my bedroom before, you know what that swing looks like.

If you don’t, here’s a picture.

That swing was old, rusty, and creaky, with a hard wooden seat, but I used to spend hours on the swing in the bright Lucknow sunshine. I can still picture it now – me in a summer dress with my long hair tied up behind me, Mom pushing me, smelling the fragrant lemon trees behind me, and, of course, Nani calling out from the porch, with her cup of afternoon chai, telling me to be careful.

As you can probably tell by the word vomit above, I spent many wonderful summers there.

But soon, things changed.

Nani was diagnosed with cancer when I was seven; during one of the last summers I spent there. She was given only about a year to live.

The house was sold when I was eight years old.

Nani passed away when I was eleven, living over four years longer than the doctors had originally predicted.

It’s been a very bittersweet experience, being back in Lucknow. We drove past the house this afternoon, although I wouldn’t have recognized it if Mom and Sharad Mamu hadn’t pointed it out. The house looks completely different now. They have moved the location of the main gate and put up a massive wall around the property.

It also happens to now be pink.

But I digress.

I’m thrilled to be back – but I miss Nani so much. She was an incredible woman. She was the matriarch of our family, a strong-willed yet loving woman. A strong advocate for women’s rights, Nani grew up in a family of empowered, free-spirited women, and she encouraged me to never let my gender hold me back. Nani showed me how to live life to the fullest because she did till the very end.

Letting go is never easy, but it’s an unfortunate part of growing up. I wish I could go back to the house and relive all of those memories from when I was a child. More importantly, I wish I could have gotten to talk to Nani about my debate career, my music, my love for history, and my desire to go into international relations. I think she would have liked reading this blog and hearing about my life at Oxford.

At the same time, however, I would like to think that Nani knows all of those things, and I certainly hope she’s proud.

Thanks for reading, friends.

Love,

Tasha