How an album of my great grandmother’s paintings helped me piece together a portrait of her

My maternal great grandmothers were named for precious things – diamonds and gold. I met Hirabai, named for diamonds, several times as a child, and never met Sonabai, named for gold. But thanks to things Sonabai left behind, I have a better sense of who she was than who Hirabai was.

Hirabai Ajinkya, my mother’s maternal grandmother, was frail, almost wraith-like. I saw her a few times a year when I’d tag along with my grandmother to visit. I don’t recall having a conversation with her . After a greeting upon arrival, I usually wandered around the house on Hughes Road and returned only when I was told it was time to leave.

Even though Sonabai Kothare, my mother’s paternal grandmother, died well before I was born, she always seemed present. I heard lots of stories about her. But more importantly, in the house in which she’d lived in Girgaon, I was surrounded by things she’d touched and changed during her life.

A beautifully embroidered tiger head. Exquisitely painted glass panes on three-paneled units that could be used as stylish room dividers. I remember spending hours wondering how on earth the eyes of the people painted on those panels followed me no matter where I stood...

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