The scent of lavender infused with onions

She has always been paradoxical. A seventy-five year old woman with the most childlike demeanour. A graceful lady with the clumsiest walk. An Indian who eats roast potatoes with chopsticks. A humble and grounded lady with her head always in the clouds. My grandmother is perhaps the most admirable woman in any room.

Typically when referring to her I use the word ‘dadi’ which is the Indian term for paternal grandmother, but if you were to sit with us you’d hear me lovingly address her with funny contortions of the term such as ‘deeti’ or ‘deeto’. These contortions are representative of our relationship - unique, warm, and hilarious. She is a best friend and confidante to me, not the stereotypical stern and slightly dogmatic Indian matriarch that one may expect.

Her strength and resilience are unparalleled - from a battle with cancer to disappointments at certain maladaptive actions of her beloved children - my deeti has taken all hardships in her stride with a smile and a never say die attitude. The lessons she has taught me are innumerable, but some of them have become my mantras for life. For instance, she always says “No matter what you do, do it in moderation”. This lesson extends from how much cheese you consume in a day to how much time you spend working. A balanced life is a good one.

Another phrase she repeats (to the point that it echoes in my head) is “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”. This bumper sticker statement has actually become a rule of thumb, preventing me from ever dumping unsolicited advice and opinions on unsuspecting individuals. Turns out, the power of saying a good thing or paying someone an unexpected compliment is directly proportional to the benefits of withholding unexpected criticism (particularly on uncontrollable traits).

Deeti is the most optimistic person I know. No matter what happens, she believes with infectious conviction that things will work out for the better. Of course this means that I have always leaned on her in moments of hopelessness, ranging from a bad argument to an unprecedented pandemic. Not just for me, deeti is an agony aunt for all and sundry: distant relatives and close friends. Regardless of who you are, dadi will spend hours talking to you, spreading sunshine and sprinkling hope.

She’s incredibly stylish. Even if she doesn’t have any concrete plans, deeti spends at least ten minutes every night picking out her outfit for the next day. Her clothes are always well ironed, her linen always freshly washed. She loves to eat and is very particular about her meals. They must always be gluten free and accompanied by a few slices of onion. She’s equally particular about her signature scent, Yardley English lavender. Perhaps this is why no matter where I am, if I catch a whiff of lavender or smell an onion, I think of my deeti and smile.