A eulogy for my grandmother – Ninety-five years lived to the fullest

I found out less than an hour ago that my grandmother had died. I have many fond memories with her; some of my earliest memories no less. I spent more time with her than with any of my grandparents for various reasons, and did she always have stories to tell! I also saw with her how life changes people over decades in a way that I had not seen with anyone else. As we grow older things appear to change faster. It also becomes clear, in the best of ways, why old age is so often compared to childhood. My grandmother saw three distinct worlds within her country. She was born in British India, early enough to have grown up and made plenty of core memories from before independence. Then she saw a new country form, struggle and thrive. Of late, she was immensely critical of the hard-right government in power. She used to reminisce about one L.M. Stone who was her teacher until he returned to England in 1945 at which point she and her friends had pitched in to buy him a little present. In…

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