It was the break of dawn; a time of rest and slumber for the people in the small town. But not for the lone young woman who was in the throes of pain. Labour pains had begun more than twelve hours ago, but had yet to cease. Beads of sweat lined the forehead of the gynaecologist in charge. This was not just another delivery, for it was her daughter who lay on the operation table. She prayed for the umpteenth time and chided herself for daring to oversee her own daughter’s delivery. Her fear for her delicate daughter’s well being had made her take that decision but now she regretted it. Waiting outside the operation theatre would have been a better and rational choice.

Finally at 4:30 am, the event occurred. A bawling, red faced infant came out of the struggling mother. All that the woman saw was a head full of hair, before she fainted. As the proud grandmother nestled the baby in her arms, she heaved a sigh of relief. And that was how I entered the world.

My grandmother was not quite like any other woman. Born in a lower middle class family and the eldest of three children, she was always a brave and a determined individual. She constantly strived to be the best in everything and achieved her goals with great passion. Almost her entire education was on scholarship and the total money spent by her family for her medical education amounted to just 80 rupees.

The practice in those days (1930s) was to get the girl child married off at a very early age. But my great grandfather believed in empowering women and so he motivated his daughter to study further. She went on to become a gynaecologist and secured a prestigious job in a private hospital. She married an ophthalmologist and bore four children, the favourite one being my mother. A successful career and a happy family enriched her life. But in a twist of fate, the private hospital had to shut down suddenly. It was then that my grandmother began her private practice. She was always honest and gave more importance to people than to money. Her aim wasn’t to make money but to serve people. Day and night, she strived hard to establish a successful practice and to cater to the needs of her family. She put food and sleep on the backburner while she worked round the clock. She wanted her offspring to lead a happy life and created a strong foundation for the same. She achieved great name and fame in the little town where she lived.

She was finally content at the ripe age of seventy two and let her elder daughter take control of the hospital. By then she had secured her offspring’s’ future. But all the negligence about her health began to take its toll on her and she fell sick often. She breathed her last in April this year. Her death has had a major impact on our family. I, in particular feel that it is ironic that she died in my birth month. I feel that I have a legacy to uphold, a legacy of passion which I shall showcase in my chosen field of journalism.

(Deepika studied at SSN Institutions, Chennai, and is now at the Asian College of Journalism).

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