Photo: With my ‘ammaji’ and younger siblings in 1996
Sustainability is a buzz word these days. Strangely, the more I am delving into the realm of sustainability, the more I find myself missing my grandmother. Had she been alive, she would have celebrated her 106th birthday!
To me, sustainability as a philosophy, encapsulates the natural laws of being and belonging. It is about forming deep connections within humanity and rediscovering our connection with the nature and every living being so as to nurture a sustainable present and future for the planet Earth including biological and ecological homeostasis.
However, as I observe the world around me, I realize that as a collective human race, we are drifting farther away from being sustainable. Ironically, my grandmother, from a bygone era, lived a far more sustainable lifestyle than any of us modern prodigies. If she were alive today, what invaluable lessons would she impart? What wisdom could we glean from her life? Let me try to ponder and share few nuggets of her life wisdom:
- Connect with Nature:
Each morning, my grandmother would step onto the Earth, barefoot, and offer her prayers:
“Dharti mata tu badi tujhse bada na koye, udhh savere pag dharoon vaekundha vasa hoye.”
“Mother Earth, you are the greatest—our universal mother. As I place my feet upon you each morning, your touch will guide me to the heavenly realms.”
Her generation understood the profound connection with nature. She served the natural world wholeheartedly— her everyday routine included praying to trees, and feeding animals. BTW, we didn’t live in a barn. 😉
She had a song for every season, time and occasion. Thus, celebrating the power of nature and our interconnectedness by humbly acknowledging being part of the intricate web of life – from the mightiest whale to the tiniest snail.
I can’t help, but smile, remembering the song she used to sing (loudly enough) while bathing, as if evoking the sacred waters of the Ganga, Jamuna and Saraswati, to thereby purify her. Today, I recognize that these rituals were more than mere tradition; they were a deliberate act of communion with the natural world.
2. Inter-connectedness of being:
I believe, my grandmother was the last generation to enjoy the richness of large extended families. Picture this: More than twenty siblings, cousins, children, and grandchildren all coexisting under the same roof, guided by a patriarch or matriarch. Yet, this communal way of life faded into memory, beginning from my parents’ generation. Indians have always boasted of their big families, but it took three generations for the concept of nuclear families to become a reality in the globalized India.
My grandmother wasn’t adulterated by individualism. She thought of everyone, including every person who met her. She was connected with her whole family, a pivot that bound us all. Beyond family, her life was intertwined by the social fabric, be it neighbourhood women, or her community at the temple that she would visit. She engaged with a genuine interest be it the postman, milkman, or vegetable seller. She knew them all by name and understood their lives intimately. In return, they recognized her—a familiar face in their daily routines.
Today, I find myself barely acquainted with the people who deliver my Amazon packages, milk, or groceries. They remain faceless, devoid of personal connection. In this age of convenience, we’ve inadvertently lost the human connect—the very essence that once bound communities together.
3. I have enough:
My two teenage daughters constantly complain that they don’t have enough clothes, footwear, accessories, bags etc. I fail to persuade them that the pursuit of endless consumerism knows no bounds. We’ve been conditioned to believe that more is always better—a relentless craving for accumulation in our times.
To drive home my point, I shared a simple truth: My beloved “ammji (grandmother) lived her entire life owning just three sarees at any given point of time, and that was more than sufficient. My daughter’s reaction was akin to hearing a story of an alien from another planet rather than their great grandmother.
The first question that popped up was: “Was she poor?”
I chuckled and replied, “Ah, far from it!”
For my ammaji, those three sarees were a treasure. Even if her children bought her a new one, she would promptly gift it to the first person she would meet. Her contentment flowed from a deep well of gratitude.
“God has been kind, I have enough.” She would often say.
What we perceive as “less” today was her abundant sufficiency. That’s how much humanity has metamorphosed within a span of three generations. We’ve lost the mindset of gratitude—the simple acknowledgment that we are enough as we are. Today, there’s never ‘enough’ despite we being much more privileged. There’s a lack, a need, a hurry to be someone, to reach somewhere, to own something. The hunger for more remains insatiable so much so that we are eating our own planet, the one place we have to live.
4. Zero wastage:
Allow me to introduce you to my grandmother’s remarkable routine where nothing could ever be wasted. Vegetable peelings found their way to the cows, while leftover bread crumbs were fed to the birds, crows, and dogs. She would be happy when the food she had put was eaten by them.
“Ancestors are happy today,” she would declare.
In her eyes, dogs and crows symbolized our forebears. Even the flour that fell on the kitchen slab was carefully collected and offered to the ants. Dare any one of us leave food on the plate! She scolded us, reminding us to respect the “anna devta”—the deity of food.
I smile as I recall the values she was brought up with a hundred years back, automatically designed in a way that led to zero wastage. Today, we cognitively read terms like sustainability and minimalism, but often fail to understand and embrace them as part of our daily lives.
5. Repair, recycle and reuse:
In India, I would say, we still believe and follow the sustainable ways to repair, recycle and reuse. It’s an inside joke that we won’t throw even a handkerchief until we have used it as a rag. For me, two compelling reasons drive this mind-set: First, the ready availability of affordable human resources for repair and recycling; and second, the deeply ingrained Indian ethos of maximizing the utility of everything we possess.
The only difference is that while my grandmother would repair and recycle herself, I outsource these tasks today. I fondly recall wearing handmade woolens made by my mother for all my childhood & teenage. Today, the allure of handmade goods has waned, partly because as a mother, I lack the skills, and on the other hand the market offers a plethora of convenient alternatives at varying prices. Thus, it’s easy to buy than create, reuse, repair and recycle. This is an offshoot of growth based economy that we are splurged with choices and abundance of goods.
As the world chants the mantra of repair, recycle, and reuse, the real challenge lies in acquiring the necessary skills. These abilities were once woven into the fabric of our existence, passed down through generations. But are we up for the task? Are we ensuring that our children learn to mend and repurpose with their own hands? As a parent and a fellow human being, I recognize my own incapability and responsibility in this endeavor.
6. Gift economy:
When Charles Eisenstein explained the concept of the gift economy in his book “Sacred Economics,” I could almost envision my ‘ammaji’, grinning from ear to ear.
“What I practiced throughout my life,” she would have said, “the world knows it as gift economy!”
Indian culture thrives on the spirit of giving, but it’s not a mere exchange—instead, it’s cyclic in nature. One person gifts another, who, in turn, gifts a third person, until eventually, someone circles back to the original giver. It may look a little complicated like that, let me bring my grandmother to the floor.
Ammaji would generously gift her daughters and grandchildren, ensuring that the women and children in our family received blessings during countless festivals and rituals. The rules of who could gift whom were—and still are—stereotypically followed. In Indian custom, daughters receive gifts from their parents and brothers throughout their lives. (Honestly, I once detested this tradition, but today, I grasp its origins even though it feels out of sync with our changing times.)
Through this simple ritual it was ensured that my grandmother received gifts from one and would gift another. She was a medium like everyone else. This social structure supported the women, providing them with a steady stream of resources through the gifts received.
While, the sons inherited the family name and wealth. These customs ensured that daughters remained connected to their birth families, supporting them during pivotal life events like childbirth or their own children’s weddings. Thus, Indian families stood united, woven together by bonds of kinship and mutual support.
Fast-forward to today: Women are independent, working, and forging their paths. The very bedrock of these customs has eroded. Moreover, our social fabric has frayed, and extended families often exist in name only. The burden of adversity now rests squarely on the immediate family, which may comprise a mere two to ten members—quite a contrast to the sprawling clans of yesteryears.
These six lessons if, we can somehow reintegrate in our lives, we will be closer to leading a sustainable way of life. To me, sustainability isn’t an abstract concept—it’s woven into the very fabric of our daily lives. It thrives in our interactions, our communication, and our shared experiences. I strongly believe, the disconnect at intrapersonal and interpersonal level be it with our own self, or with another living being or with planet Earth extrapolates into the global crisis called Climate Change.
For Sustainability to become part of our lives, again, we need to encompass our connection with everyone and everything—both living and non-living, thus hereby, beginning the connection with our own self. Sustainable living is a harmonious dance of compassion and being truly alive thriving together alongside every being, with the Planet Earth (and not humans) taking the centre stage.
I have many lessons to learn from my grandmother. Her wisdom echoes through time, urging us to tread lightly, to cherish what we have, and to nurture our world. And in doing so, I begin to honor my grandmother’s legacy—one stitch at a time, one conscious choice after another. To begin with let me reduce the number of night suits I have, to three.
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