The Portrait of a Ladyâ is the story of the author and his grandmother. The grandmother appeared to be so old that he could not imagine her being young and pretty, someone who had a husband. She was short and slightly bent. The author had seen his grandfatherâs portrait, an old man with a turban and a long white beard covering his chest. To the author, his grandfather didnât seem like a man who could have a wife and children, but someone who could have lots of grandchildren. His grandmother used to move around the house in âSpotless Whiteâ with her one hand resting on her waist and her other hand counting the beads of her rosary. In the initial days, the author and his grandmother had a good relationship. She used to wake him up and get him ready for school and she used to pack the things required by him for the day and walked him to school everyday. She used to visit the temple that was attached to the school. They both used to come back home together with stray dogs roaming around them while his grandmother would carry the stale chapattis to feed them. Soon, the parents of the author, who went to the city to settle in and called them. As they reached the city, his relationship with his grandmother took a turn. Though they shared the room, there bond grew apart. He started going to an English medium school and she no longer accompanied him to school. There were also no stray dogs who roamed around them while walking back home. She used to ask him about his day and what he had learned. She didnât understand anything as everything was in another language which she could not understand. She didnât approve of the new syllabus that he was studying because she thought that they did not teach him about God and the scriptures. And they didn't see each other as much. As the days passed, he grew older and soon went to a university. He had his own room and this made their relationship more complicated. She stopped talking to everyone and spent her whole day sitting at her spinning wheel. But, she loved feeding sparrows in the verandah at dawn, breaking bread into pieces and feeding it to the birds was her daily routine. The birds would sit on her legs, her head, and sometimes even on her shoulders. Soon, the author decided to go abroad for further studies. She came to the railway station to leave him off. She was not sentimental, continuously recited her prayers and she kissed him on the forehead. After five years, as he returned home and she was there to pick him at the station She clasped him within her arms and didnât say a word. One day, she didnât recite her prayers but instead collected the women of the neighborhood, got a drum and started singing. The next morning, she was ill with mild fever. The doctor said that there was nothing to worry about but she was sure that her end was near. She didnât want to waste her time talking to anyone in the family anymore but spend her last hours
reciting her prayers laying on the bed. She died and so her body lay on the bed, lifeless. As they prepared for her funeral, they saw all the sparrows sitting in the verandah around her, mourning her death.
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