My Family Unit
Everyone's childhood is different. Some people have trouble fitting in, some come from broken homes, and some are popular and flourish. The constant of my childhood was knowing that, as soon as I opened the garage door, I would be greeted with hugs, kisses and a plate of cookies! My grandma, Biji, was always there to make sure I knew how important my arrival was. Then I would sit down and eat cookies with Biji and Papaji (my grandpa) while watching the Cubs and telling them all about my day. Having two parents that worked full-time, we never had a babysitter. But there was no need, as Biji and Papaji lived with us — and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Most of my non-Desi friends would go to visit their grandparents. My best friend had a great-grandma that lived by herself until she was 95. She lived in the same house that she was married in, the same house she was widowed in, and I dare anybody telling Nana Jones that she needed to be looked after! But I always wondered if she got lonely. I'm lucky in a way that, in addition to growing up with my paternal grandparents and a grandma in England, my friends' parents and grandparents treated me like their own. It was my own experience with Biji and Papaji that made me appreciate the way we do it — the Desi way.
Biji
Biji was one of the smartest ladies I knew despite her lack of actual education past eighth grade. She had the type of real-world “street smarts” that can't be taught. I knew early on that if I had any ailments, I should go to Biji. She would surely know an old-world trick that Western medicine missed. She was a teacher, nurse, babysitter, second mother and someone who loved me unconditionally. I couldn't leave the house without some food in my belly. If any of you have experienced this, you know just how annoying that can be when you are in a hurry. Now that it has been five years since her death, I look back at that and smile at how much she loved me.
Biji was the easy one. She just wanted to love us so much that she was willing to keep our secrets, even from my parents. But Papaji was the one who would say, “Did you do your homework? No more TV until you finish.” Make no mistake, though: he was also a softy. He would tell me about World War II or how India simultaneously sided with the USA and the USSR during the Cold War, and he would teach me how to be a compassionate human being. My sisters and I would tickle Papaji's feet after he took out his dentures, and I dare you to replicate a funnier sound than a grandpa laughing with no teeth! He was my hero and I was his latu putar.
Biji and Papaji with my sister and brother-in-law
Then, one day, Papaji was told he had months to live. He was placed on hospice care. As is the case with many people on hospice care, the doctors recommended that he go to an elderly care or assisted living facility. The thing is we knew we owed Papaji more than that. He deserved dignity in death. He deserved to be surrounded by loved ones. Papaji passed away at home five years prior to Biji, but in those five years, I learned a lot about how much she loved Papaji and how much both of them loved all of us. Here I thought I was lucky to have them in my life, but I realized quickly that being my grandparents full-time and living with us restored their dignity and gave them the love they needed to keep going. That is what family is, and I'm proud to say that in Desi culture, we do not throw our loved ones away.
Images: Blogger's Own

Satnaam Mago
Author
Satnaam S Mago is a Chicago sports fanatic who loves to watch sports and read a good book, but he most of all enjoys his nights out with friends and family. Educated in business marketing, Satnaam is an account executive for a logistics company...but perhaps missed his true calling as a journa...