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.
|My grandma: Dr Susheela Desakavalan|
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 family’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.