Written by: Mitali Sapra
Artwork by: Ece Cosar
On August 7th, 1937 at exactly half past noon, a gregarious soul blessed us with her presence—my grandmother, Mohini Punjabi. She was born in modern day Karachi, Pakistan. She always described her family as “stinking rich.” They had everything anyone could wish for and more— servants, a mansion, chariots; you name it and they had it. She never wore the same piece of clothing twice— that’s how rich they were. But everything changed over night. In 1947, India finally gained independence from the British, but with it came the partition of the once united India into Pakistan and the present day India. There was turmoil and chaos everywhere; people who had lived peacefully next to each other for years started to kill each other all in the name of religion. My grandmother and her family had to escape overnight and leave everything behind. Whenever we asked her about it, her body would become stiff and her voice cracked up. They had to escape on blood-covered trains with hundreds of dead bodies. Just listening to these stories gave me goosebumps, and she had to experience it all at the mere age of ten.
When they arrived in India, they had almost nothing left. Furthermore, at that time they were a family of eight, which went on to be twelve, with my grandmother being the third eldest sibling. Her entire world turned upside down overnight, but that did not stop her and her family from going on. In 1957, she was accepted into one of the most prestigious medical schools in India. It was still very rare for a girl to go to college back then, but she couldn’t care less about what society had to say. She paid her way through college by tutoring high school students and simultaneously taking care of her younger siblings and studying medicine. My grandmother was an industrious and independent woman, and once she set out to do something, there was no coming back.
She also met her soulmate and the love of her life in college—my grandfather. It was the cutest love story ever; it was love at first sight! He was the captain of the football team, and she was a medical student. He fell in love with her the first time he laid his eyes on her. She was two years older than him and did not belong to his caste, but that didn’t stop them from wanting to be together. Their age and the cultural gap were the primary obstacles to their love story; however, after finally convincing their parents, they were able to get married in 1963.
My grandmother went on to become one of the best doctors in her field. She soon became pregnant, but that did not stop her from taking a job as a gynecologist in a village that lacked one; it was her dream job. Nonethelessshe later had to sacrifice her dream because my grandfather’s job required them to move and so she did. They moved to Jaipur, a town in the state of Rajasthan. My grandmother became a physiologist and lecturer in the same college she studied at. Everyone questioned her ability to work and manage her children at the same time, but she knew she had it in her. She single-handedly raised and educated both her children. My father to this day still gives her all the credit for his success in life; he truly believes that she is the reason where he is today.
My grandmother always earned more money than my grandfather, and he took pride in it; every morning, she used to drive herself to work when there were few female drivers. She also earned another degree at the age of 50 and soon became the head of her department and the best professor that college had seen. My mother was a student in her class of 170 students, too; she described my grandmother as a force to be reckoned with. She was stern and intimidating but one of the best professors my mother had; her aura was unparalleled. Her presence lit up the entire room; everyone would always burst into laughter followed by tears and an intense stomach ache—that’s how funny my grandmother was. She was definitely one of a kind.
My grandfather passed away in 2004, and my grandmother lost her soulmate. My father always said that she never really remained the same; something in her changed. But she never let anyone see her in a vulnerable state; she always presented herself as the strong and persistent woman she was. When my father asked her to move in with us, she declined the offer. She did not want to leave the house she and my grandfather had built and lived in for thirty years. Soon her memories faded away like an unfixed photograph. She was diagnosed with dementia, but she still refused to take help or depend on anyone. I did not get to spend much time with her. It was as if she could see us and hear us but not comprehend any of it; it was hard for my father to see her slowly fade away. She was always physically present, but my father said that it wasn’t really her- the strong, persistent woman who fought her way through life. But even at her most vulnerable and lowest point in life, she did not have to depend on anyone; her pension took care of all her health care charges. She lived in that house until the day she died. On February 1st, 2019, her soul physically left us all behind. She may have gone, but she continues to live in our hearts through these inspiring stories. My grandmother was a hard-core feminist even before it was cool.
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