A WORD (OR TWO HUNDRED) FROM THE EDITOR

 I’ve written about Sunanda Nag, my parents’ dear friend, before. She stepped in as surrogate Dida (maternal grandmother) after my parents passed away, writing to our sons every month. For over 20 years now.

 And they wrote back. They had to be cajoled (read bribed or bullied) on occasion when they were younger, but then it became a cherished routine – the writing and sharing of thoughts and feelings.

She provided a safe space for teenage angst to vent, explaining our point of view to them, but always, firmly in their corner.

She kept pace as they transitioned into young men, being their sounding board as they wrote to her about friends and jobs and life in general.

She did the same for me – anchoring my sense of home that was threatened by physical loss. I think of aunty as a sutradhaar in our lives. The word is used for the teller of stories in plays, the one providing a sense of continuity between scenes, its literal meaning being the holder of strings.

Our letters are a form of leisurely conversation, meandering over several letters. We exchange recipes and jokes, we discuss everything from life under COVID restrictions to women’s place in society. As a former advertising copywriter and now a certified counsellor, she is well-positioned to shed light on how things have changed for women – or not.

I called her recently to wish her on her birthday and was concerned at her sounding slightly breathless. She was fine, she assured me.

“I had just come in from my walk and was washing up when the phone rang, so I had to run to grab it!”

Which, of course, led to us talking about the current emphasis on doing just that – washing our hands – when we come in to avoid bringing in and spreading infection from possible contact outside the home. It was something she grew up doing, she reminded me.

“When we came in from playing or spending time with our friends, the first thing our mothers told us to do was to wash our hands and feet and change our clothes. Only then were we allowed a snack before settling down to do our homework. Now it’s a radical ‘new’ idea!”

Dr Shuvendu Sen had also written about the efficacy of the simple act of washing one’s hands in his book, Why Buddha Never Had Alzheimer’s, about posters in physicians’ lounges reminding them that washing hands saves lives. “Way back in the mid-nineteenth century, the pharmacist AG Labarraque provided the first suggestion that hand decontamination can significantly reduce incidences of puerperal fever and maternal mortality.”

While cases drop and the number of vaccinated Canadians surge, we should remember those basic, simple rules.

Call your parents (or your favourite aunt or uncle). They’ll tell you that many things are not radical new ideas, they are just plain common sense. Chances are they’ll not be able to resist adding that sometimes parents really do know best. And you know what? They’d be right!

 Shagorika Easwar