My Paati did this thing where she would delete her messages if they went unanswered. You typically had a 24 hour window to respond before they vanished.
“If I see a blue tick, I delete,” she succinctly said, when I asked her why. Honestly, I respected that.
Going through our chat after her sudden passing last week, I was struck by how many times I had been subjected to this passive-aggressive treatment. Through the tears, I found myself laughing.
It made me more grateful for the messages that had escaped erasure. A significant part of our relationship existed online after I left for college. Paati’s proficiency with technology was something I had taken for granted. Scrolling through 10-years-worth of WhatsApp messages made me realise how lucky I was to share such rich correspondence with my grandmother.
I kept up with birthdays in the family through her DPs and she was unerringly the first one to message me on mine. From exam results to internships to jobs, no achievement - small or big - went unacknowledged. When I got my first COVID vaccination shot, she sent me a selfie of her drinking filter coffee to celebrate.
On festival days, she would send pictures of her deities and share details about what she had cooked. Funnily enough, almost each year I received wishes on Gandhi Jayanti and a query over whether I was planning to watch the Ben Kingsley movie.
Paati rarely forwarded links or videos, but would often share pictures of something that caught her attention in the newspaper. A floating bridge in Surathkal that could hold 150 people. Wordle removing insensitive words. Bappi Lahiri’s love for bling.
My cousin Kshitij and I got on a call after her passing and we spoke of how her messages were essentially mini-newsletters. From her upcoming travel plans to movies she had watched on TV to checking in on us, she covered a lot of ground in a few sentences.
One of my favourite messages that I came across was one she sent me a few years ago, documenting her struggles with the set-top box. Paati had realised that she was paying for a lot of TV channels she never watched and decided to get them cancelled. She arduously made this list and had my Tata make one for the surplus channels on his TV. When I was visiting her in Bangalore during one of my college breaks, she made cross-check this list. It was simultaneously maddening and hilarious. A few weeks on, she messaged me saying how some channels she watched had ended up being removed and how she was trying to get them added back.
Another Hall of Fame exchange was the time she posted a picture of a box of dates on her WhatsApp Story. When I alerted her to it, she told me she had meant to send it to the house-help to buy. After telling her that ‘no I actually can’t delete it for you,’ I sent her step-by-step instructions (with screenshots) on how to take it down. I was more proud of myself than her, when she managed to do so.
I found Paati was often more expressive on text than in person. She once shared a picture of herself wearing a sari that Kshitij got from his first salary.
“Looking so nice Paati,” I said.
“Pati r sari,” she promptly replied, with a laughing emoji.
It’s something I couldn’t have imagined her saying in person.
During Covid, we would often do family Zoom calls where it fell on my Paati to make sure Tata and she joined. Or if we were compiling a video message for a celebration, she’d be the one to ensure their videos were properly shot and shared.
During one such family Zoom, I must have said something about her technological prowess and how Tata would be lost without her. After the call, she messaged me saying how that compliment had meant a lot to her and made her feel great. It was a type of vulnerability I wasn’t used to from Paati.
There were so many instances when she’d forward messages of praise she had received, like the one below from my uncle.
“I just had the gajar halwa. It was the best I have ever had. Wish I had carried more.”
Reading messages like this pained me. For someone to value praise this much showed they hadn’t received enough of it.
I hope she knew how loved she was. I hope she knows I’ll keep revisiting our chat.
Consumption Corner:
Listening: On repeat for the past week.
Watching: I finished Season 4 of The Bear a couple of days ago. The show doesn’t hit the levels it did in the first two seasons, but there are a couple of incredible episodes in the new one. Episodes 8 and 10 are masterpieces.
Reading: Derek Thompson is one of my favourite writers on the Internet. His essays on science, media and politics have helped me understand the world better. He recently left The Atlantic and moved to Substack. Add him to your subscription list.