*A Special Granny Story

When I was born, my parents told me I came into the world with a red bindi on my forehead. It seemed like a nice tale at the time, however it was not until I was an adult that I truly understood the omen of my birth.

I have been fortunate to have been born into a Jamaican family that was mixed with many different cultures.

I have often written about my maternal grandmother Granny V, but in my formative years, I also spent a great deal of time with my Indian Granny, “Gheeta Mittani”.

Gheeta Mittani was as strict as any nun, she spent most of her days taking care of her grandchildren and making her own bread and roti in the kitchen. Whenever my parents had pressing engagements to attend to, Granny Gheeta’s house was my refuge. I was not fond of going to her house because she was unusually strict, it was like attending school seven days of the week.

Most of all, I thought she was quite weird, she would make us sit in lotus style on the living room carpet and read stories. Sometimes she would just create a classroom atmosphere where all her grandchildren would have to partake in a “school’s challenge”. Quizzes, that were designed to exhaust the mind.

The reasons why I thought her most weird was because she wore several yards of material all the time. She constantly fiddled with her long waist length hair and she had an affinity for curry that I found a bit strange eventhough I was only two years old. As a young child, I did not know that this was my Granny Gheeta’s way of exposing me to my culture.

Some of the excursions we took included regular trips to the local jewelry store. Granny Gheeta could spend hours in a jewelry store, Insisting, "Nothing but the finest 24 karat jewelry would do for my grandchildren."

She taught me about Indian gold, sapphires, rubies and diamonds. Commenting, "You shall have rings on your fingers, bells on your toes, making music wherever you go."

During my early childhood days, Granny Gheeta was often heard urging my mother to pierce my ears. Granny Gheeta’s truest joys were to see her grandchildren adorned in jewelry and finery. At first, I thought the yards of materials she wore , were her feeble attempt at designing make-shift gowns. It wasn’t until I got older I realized they were saris, part of her heritage. I must admit it was quite embarrassing at times, since I would be the only child in kindergarten with a grandmother who paraded in a sari from dawn till dusk.

After my parents were divorced, I did not see much of Granny Gheeta, but now that I am older, I realize that she was always around. Growing up, most of my dearest friends were Indian or of Indian descent. My inclination to study paranormal activities are traits that have been passed down to me from my Indian Granny.

My obsession with becoming a Guru, through reading palms, tarot cards and meditation are traits that have been associated with the Indian culture.

There were times in my youth that I spent hours wrapping myself in cloth and painting red and yellow dots on my forehead with cutex, that made everyone chuckle with insane laughter. I didn't know it then, but it was my way of feeling connected to the culture. Like the old Jamaican saying, "You can run, but you can't hide."

This was definitely true in my case, the days Granny Gheeta and I spent together in the kitchen making dal poori, channa, roti and curry and masala sauces have not gone to waste. During my childhood, and as an adult I too have an affinity for curry like Granny Gheeta.

Although my biological parents were not together anymore, Granny G devised clever ways of trying to see me. Once, she showed up at the Market where my Nanny and I were shopping, just so she could get a glimpse of me. I had not seen her in a few years, but I knew it was her, Who else would be parading in a sari in a Jamaican grocery store?

At every turn I made, like the Pink Panther she peered out from the fruits and groceries to get a good look at me. I would yell at my Nanny, “Look ,it’s Granny Gheeta!”

She would grab me by the hand and whisk me away.

Many years passed until I saw her again. When I was in my early twenties, I had the good fortune of spending a weekend with Granny, where she taught me how to wear a sari, how to make mango laasie and how to act like a true Jindian.

I still remember her saying, “My, how you have grown, If I saw you in public, I wouldn’t recognize you, where’s your bindi?”

I answered simply, “I outgrew it Granny G”.

She woud respond, “You no outgrow your bindi, you hide from your bindi. Too much western world. Overexposure!”

My relationship with my Granny Gheeta was most unusual. Not so much on the earth plane, but on a spiritual level. Throughout my entire life, she surrounded me with my Indian heritage. She magnetized people and circumstances that would expose me to my heritage, while revealing facts about herself. I must admit, that most of my life I had absorbed the European-Jamaican culture of my biological mother’s family, therefore, it made me a tad ambivalent to embrace the other side of my heritage.

My Granny Gheeta came from a noble heritage of Dignitaries and Politicians, and made sure that I was exposed to the most prestigious Indian families living in Jamaica. During childhood, I frequented the Officer’s Club with my biological father, while he attended to army business, I played in the sandbox with Dignitaries' children, young shieks, princes and princesses, all from Indian countries. Back then, it really didn’t mean anything to me. But now that I am an adult and my Granny “Gheeta Mittani” has passed on, I realize that she was right beside me all the time. Reminding me to live like the Indian Princess that I was born to be. Eternally chanting, “Pria, baby! Remember the bindi.”