<p class="bodytext">The trip down memory lane doesn't disappoint. About three decades ago, my parents befriended a couple in our neighbourhood. The stately couple would walk past our house every evening with their Dobermans. My parents, avid garden enthusiasts, would spend their evenings tending to our garden. The couples met and quickly discovered a shared passion for traditional architecture and gardening. The exchange notes about myriad things--from the ancestral, traditional tiled roofed houses they lived in to the art of cultivating their sizeable compounds. A rare commodity these days among the burgeoning buildings.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their daily chats became a comforting sight for me to come home to after university. They soon became close friends. And later when aunty was alone, I shared a bond with her so special it is hard to explain. An avid reader and environmentalist she loved discussing and enjoyed reading my middles in the <span class="italic"><em>Deccan Herald</em></span>.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Unassuming, gracious, humble and extremely talented she is a model for young women who want to have someone to look up to. My mother and she were the best of friends and often spent long evenings chatting. She would sometimes stop by after completing her art session at an art gallery close by. Her paintings featured in a local art exhibition. Incidentally, my own daughter, as a school girl, documented her beautiful home for a competition on ‘sustainable building techniques and practices’. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Aunty had a calming voice and seemed to have simple and sensible solutions for troubling situations. When my father passed away, leaving a void in our lives, her words of comfort were a balm to my soul. I had called her, worried about my mother living alone--though my mother herself was a brave heart and did not fear being alone. Aunty was quick to reassure me, saying, "We may not have the speed to work, but we know how to manoeuvre our daily duties. I can understand how worried our children get thinking about us. Give mummy time, leave her be. All will be fine." Her calming words had a profound effect on me and soothed my frayed nerves. And yes, all is fine, just as she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Sadly, Aunty Leilamani passed away recently, leaving behind a legacy of kindness, wisdom, and substance. We will miss her, but her quiet presence will continue to inspire us. A heartfelt eulogy to Aunty Leilamani and all the unsung warriors at home. So long, Aunty Leilamani, till we meet again.</p>
<p class="bodytext">The trip down memory lane doesn't disappoint. About three decades ago, my parents befriended a couple in our neighbourhood. The stately couple would walk past our house every evening with their Dobermans. My parents, avid garden enthusiasts, would spend their evenings tending to our garden. The couples met and quickly discovered a shared passion for traditional architecture and gardening. The exchange notes about myriad things--from the ancestral, traditional tiled roofed houses they lived in to the art of cultivating their sizeable compounds. A rare commodity these days among the burgeoning buildings.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their daily chats became a comforting sight for me to come home to after university. They soon became close friends. And later when aunty was alone, I shared a bond with her so special it is hard to explain. An avid reader and environmentalist she loved discussing and enjoyed reading my middles in the <span class="italic"><em>Deccan Herald</em></span>.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Unassuming, gracious, humble and extremely talented she is a model for young women who want to have someone to look up to. My mother and she were the best of friends and often spent long evenings chatting. She would sometimes stop by after completing her art session at an art gallery close by. Her paintings featured in a local art exhibition. Incidentally, my own daughter, as a school girl, documented her beautiful home for a competition on ‘sustainable building techniques and practices’. </p>.<p class="bodytext">Aunty had a calming voice and seemed to have simple and sensible solutions for troubling situations. When my father passed away, leaving a void in our lives, her words of comfort were a balm to my soul. I had called her, worried about my mother living alone--though my mother herself was a brave heart and did not fear being alone. Aunty was quick to reassure me, saying, "We may not have the speed to work, but we know how to manoeuvre our daily duties. I can understand how worried our children get thinking about us. Give mummy time, leave her be. All will be fine." Her calming words had a profound effect on me and soothed my frayed nerves. And yes, all is fine, just as she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Sadly, Aunty Leilamani passed away recently, leaving behind a legacy of kindness, wisdom, and substance. We will miss her, but her quiet presence will continue to inspire us. A heartfelt eulogy to Aunty Leilamani and all the unsung warriors at home. So long, Aunty Leilamani, till we meet again.</p>
