“You are supposed to let the Lasagna rest”. My grandmother yelled at my phone. I looked up from the book I was reading suddenly taken aback, but Grams was unaffected. She didn’t realize that she had disrupted the quiet of the room. She was unbothered still looking at the Lasagna recipe. It was 9.10 P.M and I rose to give her nighttime medicine. I took out the pills from her pill case and went to her with a glass of water.

“Grams”.

She did not hear me. Too busy scrutinizing the recipe.

“Grams”. This time I tapped on her shoulders gently. She raised her head taking out the earphones.

“Huh! What Ella?”

“Take your medicines”. She looked towards my hands, quietly put down the phone, and opened her right palm. I gave her the pills which she ingested silently but I can feel deep within her the resentment and disliking for modern medicines. All her life she has tried her best to recover herself through home remedies as much as possible. But there is no home remedy for dementia. It took me pleading persistently, begging, and at times little scolding her to get her habituated to the medicines. She needed them more than she realizes. Upon reaching an age in which you refuse to adopt new additions to life, any major or minor changes upsets you, and accepting that your well-being depends upon the bunch of colorful pills is a living condition, not all are willing to accept.

She picked up the phone and went back to enjoying the wormhole of YouTube videos. This was a new addiction. In trade for accepting an all-new set of rules asked by the doctor, I tried to make her comply with the magic of the internet and it worked. She couldn’t escape its captivating charm any more than a child and became addicted. It was a proper mode of distraction. Sometimes she would not leave my phone for hours and I have to fake network failure or any other measures to detach her. After my nagging for every two minutes, she finally went to bed. I pulled her blanket over her and she dozed off within minutes tired of chatting, media usage, or just being old. I turned off the lamp on her nightstand and went to my room.

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Grams sometimes have trouble sleeping due to late-night screen time. She wouldn’t leave the phone until it is past her bedtime. I am to nudge her every five minutes to put it down until her hands finally get tired. She would then have loads to talk about her anecdotes. Sometimes she would repeat them all excited, other days she would forget that she already had narrated the tales to me half-a-dozen times and tell it like this is the first time and I would just nod my head. And sometimes she would try to remember her stories very hard but just cannot put her finger on it. This irritates her, I try to help by mentioning the important words that might trigger any crucial or small part. On some days it works, on others, it doesn’t. And when it doesn’t, all she is left with a confused and curious look on her face which reminds me of how a squirrel hides her nuts in the ground and afterward gets frustrated digging around, unable to find them. At least she has me to help with the digging.

Grams had lived in this house for numerous years now. This was the house my Grandfather bought after their marriage and died in. I lived with her till my high school days and then went to the city for college. My very successful and very busy parents are living their very successful and very busy lives in the city also. I hardly ever lived with them. When she was alone my parents invited Grams to come and live with them which she straightly refused. They didn’t have much time for other people besides themselves. She would be lonelier among them than she was here, in this house. After my studies were over, I lived in the city too with friends working there, until one night I received an emergency call from the town hospital. They contacted my parents first, but they were unavailable. Mine was the second number she has gave as an emergency contact. At 1 A.M in the morning, I rushed to the town, my mind in a horrid state, my feelings disrupted.

Turned out that she forgot to take some important meds which caused some serious pain in her heart. Thankfully, she only had a minor pain which she mistook for a heart attack. My parents who later were planning on coming, hearing about the heart attack changed their plans upon learning it being something else. They just could not cancel their prior commitments and risk being called unprofessional, as there was no emergency now. The doctor informed me about how important her medicines are and how skipping them even for a day can cause major problems like this. He also suspected that Grams might have dementia as she is showing clear signs of it, but she refuses to cooperate. I had to coax her like a child then she finally submitted. Her results were affirmative. It was on that day I realized that I couldn’t leave my grandmother alone. Not every time I could get lucky to hear of a false alarm. So, I packed my bags and moved back to my childhood and summer home with her.

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On Monday morning I drove her to her doctor’s appointment. She wasn’t exactly a fan of her check-ups. She sometimes even chides Dr. Fell whom she has babysat in her early years. He also humors her. Then I drove her to the reading club at the library, I made her rejoin and worked quietly on my laptop in my car. This keeps her in touch with the group of friends she was losing connection with. When I moved in back with her, I realized all the problems she has been facing lately. She couldn’t tell about the locations of the aisles in the store she had shopped all her life. Often misplaced batteries, remotes, and keys, kept spices and condiments in one place and looked for them at another, had trouble remembering and pronouncing hard words, and had sudden mood swings among other things. She even had trouble following a normal conversation with me once in a while. The medication she started after I begged her, helped a lot but couldn’t reverse the effects of old age.

I learned that she has reduced meeting her friends and easily forgets any appointment fixed earlier. Dr. Fell told me that under such conditions people start withdrawing from society and remain in their shells and it is exactly what she was doing. She would turn down an invitation and wouldn’t contact any person except for a few very old friends. I established contact with all her friends and made her visit them. I make sure she meets them at least once a week lest she starts forgetting them. Now I drive her to all her appointments and to her friends. Never mind how busy or tired I am, I always take her out on Sundays to nurseries, parks, or just a stroll across the town. When she gets tired which, she usually does, we sit down, get a snack, take some rest and go back home. I won’t let her drive anymore. She couldn’t tell one street from the other of her own town. She gets irritated sometimes and, in her anger, calls my attempts pathetic failures to rejuvenate what is lost. But I do not say a word because she needs someone to hold the mirror of the past in front of her. I am afraid of seeing her lose herself. Sometimes I shudder about thinking of how she might be living if I hadn’t moved back.

Back at home while I prepared dinner, I gave her food blogs on my phone to keep herself entertained. These days she has taken to watching a lot of cookery videos although she hardly cooks anything now. Just watching them is like having some sort of attachment to the fabulous cook she once was. Now she gets tired if she has to stand for more than 10 minutes. I never enjoyed cooking myself and had I been alone than would have lived on taking outs, instant noodles, and cold pizzas. But Grams in her age needed food she could digest easily, rich in proteins and vitamins and that didn’t ail her body much. My cooking methods baffle her but she is kind enough to keep it to herself. Many times, she instructs me on how to prepare proper meals. I try to make everything I could without setting the house on fire. She laughs at my frugal attempts, and sometimes I do it on purpose to make her laugh. After dinner, we settled for an old movie of her choice. I have collected 40 – 50-year-old movies and let her choose which one to see on the days she is interested and happy.

I try to get her involved in as much as activities as possible. In the evening after most of my day’s work is finished, I had scheduled different games, puzzles, and quizzes. I had fixed Fridays for Sudoku and Tuesdays for crosswords. Sometimes she gets agitated and throws away the dice or cards, and screams that this is too much for her, and we take a break. I understand her agitation, if it annoys me at times then how much it must have annoyed her all the time. I just can’t imagine what is it like to be her these days. To calm her I stir up a conversation and talk about her college days, or about the memories she feels happy about. This sometimes works in my favor sometimes I lose her to a glorious past. I can feel her slipping away often as if for some brief moments she along with her precious memories is tucked away somewhere safe. In someplace out of the grasp of this world guided by some angel, and when the time is right, she will get them back and all will be right again. I continuously ask her to read and write her name, and her address, When I see she might get angry or upset, I back off. I prepared her a diary with all important contact details, phone numbers, and our pictures in it and posted a big read-this poster on the wall adjacent to it. If she can’t remember at least, she will be able to read it. On my phone, I have saved pictures of Grandpa, my parents, and all of us from Christmas dinners. Every now and then I see her looking at those pictures, smiling, with her eyes wet.

This week Grams was quite excited. On Thursday, Violet, her friend’s granddaughter was getting married. Grams has placed the invitation card on the top of her bureau and asked me to remind her about it if she forgets. In fact, I was also so excited to see her so enthusiastic. But on Thursday morning when I was on my way to pick up her favorite olive-green dress from dry-cleaning, I received a call from an ad writing agency. They really liked my application and wanted to do an in-person interview. But they asked me to come by 1 P.M. If I cleared it then I stand a chance to work for a reputed agency, with the benefit of remote work. I agreed. But I had to hurry. The ceremony will start at 5. P.M. It was 10.30 A.M now. I calculated that if I leave now and then I will reach the city in two hours by car. I drove home and gave Grams her clothes. She was happy to find them so shining.

“Umm Grams.” I hesitated a little to tell her.

“Yes, Ella.”

“Actually, I just got a call from the agency I told you about, they have called me for an interview.”

“That’s great news, honey.” She said excitedly.

“Yes, it is. But they have scheduled the interview for today. I have to go urgently now.”

“But”, she began but I stopped her. I know she would try to stop me if I let her talk and the interview was important.

“Listen, Grams, I know it is quite sudden but I promise that I will come back in time for the wedding. Okay, I promise. But I really need to go.”

She was quiet for a few moments then she replied “Fine, but Ella please be back in time.”

“I promise.”

I collected my files and left. “Drive safe, honey” I heard her shouting as I closed the door. I smiled in response.

My itinerary was quite clear and simple. I left town by 11.0 clock It took me two hours to reach my destination. I finished my interview with a positive response and was back on the road by 3 P.M. But luck wasn’t on my side. A very bad accident between two trucks happened an hour ago at the route which has caused huge traffic. I wanted to race back but I was pacing at the speed of a turtle. Around 4.30 P.M. I was still miles away from town. I called Grams who was all ready now and was waiting for me. I told her it would take me at least an hour to reach her. This news did not please her. I can feel Grams’ tension building up I asked her to be patient, the cops have been called and once they come and clear it up, I will be there in no time. Half an hour goes by and there is still little to no advancement. By 5.30 the cops had arrived and the highway started clearing. I called Grams to let her know that I would be there soon enough.

“Ella you are late now, by the time you will come home it will be dark. We are late sweetie.” She sounded upset.

“I am sorry, Grams. You will miss the ceremony because of me.” I apologized. “Please wait for a few minutes I will be soon there.”

“Ella please do not drive in a rush. It is dangerous. Drive carefully. And you do not need to worry. I will drive there in my truck. You should come straight to the venue”

The idea of her driving was not at all comforting and I opposed it.

“No Grams, don’t drive. I will be there quickly. Or why don’t you call any of your friends” But she stopped me.

“Ella relax, I haven’t forgotten how to drive. I will be fine. I will see you there.” Saying this she cut the call.

Thinking about her driving was very unsettling. I drove as fast as I could. It was late and dark by the time I reached. I rushed to the venue first. I just needed to make sure that Grams was there. Then I would go home and wash the road trip off of me. The hall was filled with well-dressed guests and was dazzling with many brilliant lights. I, in my pants and the checkered shirt, was the odd one out. But that was the least of my concerns. I just searched around looking for Grams, but couldn’t find her. When I asked her friends about her, they told me she hadn’t arrived. I quickly called her but her number was off. I tried many times but she was unreachable. My worries reached their heights. I drove back home hoping to find her there but the door was locked. Our neighbor told me that she saw Grams leaving an hour ago in her old truck. They even chatted a bit. But where was she? There was a wedding happening in town. Everyone will be busy with their own errands. What do I do? I started driving here and there hoping to find here anywhere. I was at my wit’s end and about to call the police when I saw her old truck on the outskirts of the town. I rushed there. Grams was sitting inside in her green dress quietly looking out in the distance.

“Grams” I yelled.

“Huh”

She looked at me puzzled, unable to understand what is happening.

“Grams, what are you doing here? How did you even get here? You are at the far end.”

“I. I was just driving to the town square, but I just couldn’t remember where to go, …. So, I kept on driving and I don’t know how I came here.” She still looking around confused.

“Why didn’t you call me then?” I asked.

Picking up her phone She replied blankly, “There is no battery.”

I started “See this is exactly the reason I didn’t want you to drive. Think of what could have happened. Grams you have got to be careful. She looked at me with a face that told me that she does not wish to be this way and there is nothing she can do about it. And I couldn’t stay mad or angry at this poor state of her.

“Why don’t we go home? I will drive.” I suggested, controlling my nerves that was slowly settling down. She needed rest.

“But the wedding.” She objected.

“Forget about the wedding. You need to relax.”

“No, the wedding is important, we must go.” She said in an authoritative tone.

I couldn’t deny her so we went. This time she followed my car behind in her truck. We attended the wedding with me looking like a tomboy. Some people smiled while others rolled their eyes. I didn’t care. After dinner, I parked her truck in the parking and took her home with me in my car. I will collect it tomorrow.

In bed, I kept tossing and turning, and couldn’t sleep thinking about today. When I checked the watch, it was 2’O clock. The lights in the hall were on, I turned them off and went to Grams’ room. She was soundly asleep with the blanket at the bottom of her bed. I climbed into her bed, wrapped my arms around her, and sobbed silently. At her age, I know I cannot expect a miraculous change for her to be back to the woman she once was. I also know that her condition will worsen with age, day by day, year by year. And I have to live under the fear that one day she would look at me and give me the reaction she gives to strangers.

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Shafaque Taha is an emerging writer with an MA in English Literature. Her work has been featured in Kitaab as the Editor’s pick, Kashmir Lit, and LaVafara. In her free time, she likes to read and binge-watch.