I had enthusiastically watched my grandma making pickles, naturally fermenting them under the sun.
“These are your body’s best friends.” She would say.
At night, when the entire house had retired, she would stick certain labels on her array of coloured glass bottles, and keep them in her closet.
Since I slept with her I would see her doing it almost every day.
“What are these?” I would curiously enquire.
She would generously smile and say,
“You will get to know when you grow up. Just remember these, too, are good for your health.”
***
Years passed. We moved to the big city but grandma continued to stay in the village. Neither we could convince her to come over to our place nor could we spend days with her. In fact, our pressing schedules turned our happy world upside down.
Soon the news reached us. She had left for heavenly abode.
“This box is for baby,” the caretaker uncle gave me an antique box, “and, amma had insisted that nobody should touch it.”
With a heavy heart, we returned to our pigeon-hole.
To alleviate the grim atmosphere I opened the box,
“Not now! Grow up a little more. Learn to take more responsibilities. Then, you can open it.” How could grandma read my mind?
And, from that day, the box found its place in my closet.
***
I grew up. I went out for work. My daily routine became hectic and chaotic. I completely forgot about my grandma’s coloured jars.
Ambuscaded by promotion, salary package, better career options, and motorised dreams, I found myself suffocating. Panting for breath, I became the cursed millennial. Finally, one day, breaking all the inhibitions, I visited a psychiatrist.
“Switch off the gadgets. Switch on fresh air and open spaces. Is your house in your village still habitable?”
“Unfortunately no!”
“Then go to some less crowded places. BUT NOW!”
***
While packing my suitcase I suddenly remembered my grandma’s treasure chest. I took them with me and decided to open them amidst nature.
Surrounded by wild animals, under the night sky and crickets and owls conversing, I sat on a chair on the balcony.
I unbolted the box.
Finally, I could see the tinted bottles.
“These are potions for your good mental health. No one talks about it but it is of utmost importance. Take out the one which you need it the most, right now.”
And, I took out the yellow one.
“Happiness Potion” it read, “Do what makes you happy.”
Inside the bottle were some handwritten notes of my grandma. They truly uplifted my mood and shifted my focus from the unhealthy to the healthy.
***
On return, I resigned from my job. I began to pursue my passion. And, I felt happy. The chaos subsided and I found freedom.