Kolkata, India – Present Day Burdened with two overly stuffed suitcases, Maya emerged from the taxi, her sunglasses askew, embodying the quintessential overpacked American tourist. Despite only one year apart, her recollections of her formidable grandmother Savitri remained as vivid as the spicy scents greeting her upon arrival. Savitri had prepared for Maya’s arrival in the traditional way—by cleaning the house within an inch of its life and cooking enough food to feed an army. From her balcony, she vigilantly searched the lively street below for Maya, her elegance in a traditional saree eclipsing any fashion blogger’s ensemble. Maya’s taxi arrived at her grandmother’s well-preserved residence. Alighting, the burden of her expectations far outweighed her heavy luggage. Savitri descended the stairs, her agility defying her years, and they embraced — a silent proof of their bond. Kolkata’s humidity and Savitri’s fervent hug enveloped Maya, jeopardizing her meticulously styled hair. As they separated, the generational divide was palpable. Savitri’s gaze on Maya was a mixture of affection and mild horror as she took in the sight of her granddaughter, whose ensemble was a loud testament to Western fashion. “Good heavens, Maya! Did you raid a neon sign store for that outfit?” Savitri exclaimed, unable to hold back her chuckle. “You are twenty-four now. Have modesty in your outfits…such skimpy clothes? We have already evolved from monkeys and apes where it was okay to…” “Hello, Daddi! MY SOUL… ALL MY… MY GRANDMA…” Screamed Maya out of elation and excitement. “Do I look like a monkey to you, Daddi? Your granddaughter is a computer science graduate and earning a six-figure salary.” Maya grinned, striking a pose. “You know me, Daddi, always trying to brighten up the world—one fluorescent color at a time.” “And Maya, how is my daughter…Dr. Pari, your sweet mom there in LA?” “Mom is fine, Daddi. As usual, busy with her patients and hospital.” Inside Savitri’s house, a place where time seemed to stand respectfully still, Maya’s suitcase wheels sounded like a marching band on the quiet, polished floors. She was immediately fascinated by the rotary phone and the television that was a relic from a bygone era. “Wow, Daddi, is the TV black and white, or just covered in historical dust?” Maya joked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Daddi, how do you survive with these antiques?” “Very funny. These ‘antiques’ were good enough for your mother and are good enough for me. Besides, I don’t need technology to complicate my life. I have you for that. That TV has more wisdom in its antennas than any of your ‘smart’ gadgets,” Savitri retorted with a smirk. “And that phone has connected more hearts with its rotary dial than any of your social media.” Their banter was interrupted by Maya’s phone buzzing with notifications. Savitri eyed the device with skepticism as Maya began typing furiously. “What are you doing? Messaging the president?” Savitri asked, peering over her reading glasses. “Just updating my status, Daddi: ‘Survived the flight. Currently time-traveling in grandma’s living room,’” Maya replied with a cheeky grin. Savitri shook her head, smiling. “Why don’t you update your status to ‘Learning to make tea the proper way from my Grandma Guru’?” As they sat down with their tea, Maya couldn’t help but bring up her startup. “Daddi, imagine a platform that connects learners with teachers globally, anytime, anywhere.” “Ah, like a guru-disciple thing, but you don’t even have to meet? Fascinating. And how do you plan to ensure they don’t turn it into a dating site?” Savitri quipped, her eyes sparkling with humor. Maya sputtered on her tea, then laughed. “I’ll make sure to add a ‘No Flirting’ clause in the terms and conditions.” There was a brief pause as Savitri’s eyes averted to the photograph of her late husband on the wall. “Daddi, now look at me, not at Daddu’s picture,” Maya broke Savitri’s reverie. “Daddi, tell me about how Daddu kissed you. I’ve never ever heard anything about Daddu kissing you. My future husband and I are going to kiss each other a lot. I’m telling you.” “Oh, shhh. Maya, don’t you have any shame talking about these things openly?” Savitri frowned. “What has happened to this new generation?” “But Daddi, if Daddu didn’t kiss you in public, how would people know he loved you? You know, the expression of love is so important. Meri sharmili Daddi.” “There were those little things he did for me to express his love,” Savitri said pensively, her eyes glazing over as she was transported back to the heart of the 1960s, amidst the vibrant yet traditional surroundings of Indian society. Savitri: A Woman With Hope The 1960s, a time etched with the hues of tradition and burgeoning modernity, saw Savitri’s story unfurl—a narrative not just of personal resolve but of the collective struggle of women venturing beyond the thresholds of their homes. At the tender age of twelve, she united in matrimony with her husband, a boy of sixteen, his future shimmering with the promise of education. Such was the custom of the times, where the bonds of wedlock were often forged between the innocent and the youthful. As years unfurled like the petals of a blooming flower, Savitri’s husband, adorned with the cap of academia, stepped into the world of employment, securing a position as a clerk in a government bank. Yet, the fruits of his labor were scant against the hunger of household necessities and the dreams of their three children. Savitri, whose spirit burned with an unquenchable flame, balanced the scales of familial duties and personal growth with grace. She pursued her education, a ray of hope in the dim halls of struggle, eventually enrolling in a nursing course. This decision, however, sparked a tempest of disapproval within the confines of her family and the whispers of society. They chorused, “A woman’s place is not within the realms of healing and care outside her home!” Yet, amidst the tumult, a dialogue of defiance and determination unfolded. “Why do you pursue this path, Savitri?” a relative inquired, veiling concern with skepticism. “Because through this path, I seek not just to heal others but to fortify my family with dignity and independence,” Savitri replied, her voice a blend of resolve and tranquility. “It is not just for me, but for the future of our children.” Amidst the societal fabric of India, where the threads of custom wove the roles of women within the confines of domesticity, Savitri dared to dream. With the support of a husband whose progressive views were as rare as they were precious, she embarked on a journey that would challenge the very foundations of conventional norms. Her aspirations led her to embrace the role of a doula nurse, a vocation that transcended the mere profession to become a hope of empowerment. Savitri’s adeptness in aiding women through the sacred act of childbirth was not just a skill but a calling. “Your hands bring forth life,” a grateful new mother once told her, her eyes reflecting the myriad emotions of relief and joy—a sentiment echoed by many whose lives she touched. However, this path was strewn with obstacles. Women, especially those like Savitri who dared to step into realms of working women dominated by men, or into roles outside their expected duties, faced a barrage of challenges. Discrimination and skepticism were constant companions. “A woman’s ambition leads to the disintegration of the family,” the cynics whispered, their words like thorns on Savitri’s path. Yet, it was her husband’s unwavering support that served as her shield. “Let them talk,” he would say, his voice firm yet gentle. “Your work saves lives, brings new life into the world. This is our contribution to a better future.” Savitri’s defiance against the shackles of societal expectations was not without its trials. Rebelling against her family’s conservative views on a woman’s place in society, she often found herself isolated within her own kin. “Why must you insist on this path? Is what we provide not enough?” her relatives would question, their inquiries masked with concern but laced with judgment. “It is not about sufficiency,” Savitri would reply, her voice steady as the resolve in her heart. “It’s about fulfillment, about contributing to the world in the way only I can. My children will grow, knowing their mother stood for something greater than herself.” Savitri’s journey was fraught with tribulations, yet her resolve remained as steadfast as the mountain against the howling winds. Tragedy struck with cruel haste when her husband, a mere forty years of age, succumbed to a terminal illness. The already meager family income evaporated like dew in the morning sun, leaving Savitri and her children enveloped in the shadows of uncertainty. But the light of Savitr’s spirit, undimmed, guided them through the darkness. With unwavering dedication, she adorned multiple hats: from a nurse in the bustling environment of hospitals to a doula in the quiet of her home and to a nurturing mother. Her hands, skilled in the art of healing, brought solace and relief to many, earning her accolades not only from those she served but also from the medical fraternity. “Savitri, your hands are blessed. You bring life and hope to many,” remarked a doctor, admiration lacing his words as they stood in the corridor of a hospital. “It is my duty and my joy,” Savitri responded, a soft smile playing on her lips. Despite the societal turbulence, Savitri’s journey as a doula was marked by triumphs that reverberated through the communities she served. Her dedication and skill in providing doula services not only garnered respect but also slowly changed the perceptions of those around her. The very family that once questioned her choices now looked upon her with a sense of pride, witnessing the tangible impact of her work. Her efforts bore fruit as her children, nourished by the values of hard work and integrity, soared to great heights and flourished in their respective fields. Savitri’s eldest daughter, Pari, through sheer merit, got into medical school. After completing her MBBS, she ventured to America to further her medical studies on a full scholarship, while her other children excelled in engineering, carving niches of success in their chosen fields. Even as the seasons of life turned, bringing Savitri to the autumn of her years, her dedication to aiding women in childbirth remained unyielding. In her eighties, she still receives calls, a testament to her enduring skill and compassion. Savitri’s life was more than just a chronicle of personal achievement; it was a reflection of the shifting sands of time, where the courage of one woman laid the stones for the path of many. Her story, intertwined with the struggle of women in the ‘60s who sought to carve their identity beyond the confines of home and hearth, remains a luminous example of resilience, love, and the unyielding power of the human spirit. The Jesting Between Two Ladies “Daddi, will you be forever lost in your thoughts?” Maya’s gentle nudge brought Savitri back from the depths of her memories, the vividness of the past fading as the present moment beckoned. “Our tea is getting cold.” The humorous banter between the two set the tone of Maya’s visit. Over the next few days, their conversation flowed like the Ganges—sometimes smooth and serene, at other times turbulent. Maya shared her dreams of her startup, a tech company aimed at bridging educational gaps with innovative software. Savitri listened, her brow furrowed in concentration, not understanding half of the jargon but appreciating the passion behind Maya’s words. As the days passed, each moment was a blend of learning and laughter. Savitri’s stories from her nursing days, filled with wisdom and wit, fascinated Maya, who shared tales of her own adventures in the tech world. Despite their occasional clashes over fashion, technology, and lifestyle choices, it was evident that these two strong-willed women had more in common than not—their resilience, determination, and the ability to laugh at themselves. Even as Maya tried to teach Savitri how to use the laptop, leading to a series of hilarious misadventures that included accidental video calls and emails sent to unintended recipients, the duo found joy in every mishap. “Perhaps I should start a blog about my tech adventures with you, Daddi. ‘The Digital Guru and Her Analog Apprentice,’” Maya suggested, laughter in her voice. “Only if I get to write a post about modern fashion according to Maya: ‘How to Blind Your Enemies with Your Outfit: A Beginner’s Guide,’” Savitri shot back, joining in the laughter. Their time together was proof of the power of family, love, and the universal language of laughter. They navigated their differences with humor and grace. “Education, huh? Back in my day, we valued the lessons learned outside the classroom just as much as the ones inside,” Savitri mused one evening as they sat sipping tea on the balcony, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of gold and crimson. “That’s exactly it, Daddi! My software isn’t just about traditional learning. It’s about real-world applications, making education accessible and engaging for everyone,” Maya explained, her enthusiasm infectious. Savitri nodded, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead. “And how do you plan to make this dream a reality? Passion is a flame, but it needs fuel to burn.” The question hit Maya harder than she expected. Her initial excitement about her startup had been tempered by the challenges she faced—securing funding, building a team, navigating the competitive landscape. Yet, Savitri’s straightforward question stripped away the complexities, reminding Maya of the core of her mission. “I…I’m not entirely sure yet, Daddi,” Maya admitted, her voice softer. “But I believe in this. Il’l find a way.” Savitri reached over, her hand covering Maya’s. “Then you will,” she said simply. “But remember, no amount of success outside can replace the peace you find within. Don’t lose yourself in this chase.” Their conversation was interrupted by the shrill ring of Savitir’s rotary phone—a sound so out of place in the digital age that Maya couldn’t suppress a giggle. Savitri shot her a look that was half-annoyed, half-amused before answering the call. As Maya watched her grandmother navigate the conversation with a mix of stern directives and tender inquiries, she realized that despite their differences, they were both driven by a deep-seated desire to make a difference. The Business Plan After three days of adjusting to the rhythms of Kolkata and indulging in her grandmother’s culinary masterpieces, Maya was ready to talk about her startup with Savitri. “Daddi, I want to share this with you before I talk about it to anyone.” Maya began, her laptop open and ready. Savitri eyed the device warily. “Is that thing going to explode with information?” Savitri joked, settling down beside her with a cup of tea, her curiosity piqued. Maya laughed, clicking through her presentation. “Only with the best kind of explosions, Daddi. Promise.” As Maya walked Savitri through her business plan, her enthusiasm was palpable. She spoke of a digital platform that would revolutionize learning, making quality education accessible to anyone with an internet connection. Savitri listened intently, her expression a mix of pride and bewilderment. “It’s like you’re building bridges across oceans without the water ever touching you,” Savitri remarked, genuinely impressed. “Exactly! And these bridges can help anyone cross over to better opportunities,” Maya replied, thrilled at her grandmother’s analogy. However, as they delved deeper into the details—financial models, marketing strategies, and technical infrastructure—Savitri’s brow furrowed. “But Maya, where does the money come from? Magic?” Maya’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly. She had some savings but not nearly enough to cover the initial development phase. She hoped to attract investors, but the task was daunting. Seeing her granddaughter’s crestfallen look, Savitri leaned in. “You know, in my nursing days when we lacked resources, we pooled our skills. Maybe you need a partner. Someone who believes in your dream as much as you do.” “Daddi, I know I can confide in you,” Maya said hesitatingly. “I know someone who is a good friend of my friend. He also lives in Kolkata and runs his own company successfully for five years, training people for interviews in big tech companies.” Savitri raised an eyebrow, her protective instincts kicking in. “And who is this person? Does he have a good heart? Can he make a decent cup of tea?” “His name is Rohan, Daddi, and he’s not what you think. It’s just business. He is a young entrepreneur with experience in ed-tech.” Maya further talked about Rohan and his ideas and ambitions, which were intertwining like the code of a complex program. Laughing, Maya reassured her grandmother that Rohan was indeed a decent human being, though his tea-making skills were yet untested. But as Maya spoke of her plans to meet Rohan and discuss the startup in detail, Savitri’s smile faded slightly. “Daddi, I want you to meet Rohan. I need your approval before I even collaborate with him. I know you have seen the world, and you have the right wisdom to guide me to pick the right partner in this business venture.” “Be careful, Maya. Business and friendships are like oil and water; they don’t always mix well.” Maya nodded, understanding Savitri’s concern. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the break she’d been looking for. Partnerships and Peril The next day found Maya and Savitri in the thick of preparations for Maya’s meeting with Rohan. Savitri, ever the strategist, had turned the living room into a makeshift war room, complete with sticky notes and charts that Maya was fairly certain had nothing to do with startups but looked impressively complicated. “Remember, Maya, a strong handshake says ‘I mean business,’ but a cup of good tea says ‘Let’s make this work,’” Savitri advised, wielding a teapot like a general brandishing his sword. Maya, meanwhile, was trying to condense her business plan into something that didn’t resemble War and Peace. “Daddi, if I can get through this presentation without tripping over my words or my feet, I’ll consider it a win.” The day of the meeting, Rohan arrived at Savitri’s doorstep looking every bit the tech entrepreneur, with his sleek laptop bag and a look of cautious optimism. Savitri scrutinized him from head to toe, her gaze lingering on his shoes—a true test of character, according to her. “Welcome, young man,” Savitri greeted him, a twinkle in her eye that could either be warmth or a warning. Rohan smiled, extending a hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mrs. Bose.” Savitri chuckled, ushering him inside. The meeting began with formalities and pleasantries, but as they delved into the nitty-gritty of the business plan, Savitri couldn’t help but interject with her own brand of wisdom. “And what about the competition? Have you considered a strategy for that? Savitri said, flexing an arm for emphasis. Rohan glanced at Maya, unsure. “Best not to question. She’s undefeated,” Maya shrugged, whispering. The conversation took a turn when discussing the financials. Savitri, with her practical mindset, couldn’t wrap her head around the concept of venture capital. “So, Rohan, you’re telling me people just give you money in the hopes you’ll make more? Sounds like a fancier version of gambling to me,” Savitri mused, sipping her tea thoughtfully. Rohan, ever the diplomat, tried to explain the intricacies of startup funding, but Savitri waved him off. “I understand enough. Just remember, if it all goes south, Maya can always restart.” As the meeting drew to a close, Savitri pulled Maya aside, her expression a mix of pride and concern. “He seems like a smart boy, but remember, in business, like in card games, always keep an ace up your sleeve.” Maya hugged her grandmother, grateful for her support. “Don’t worry, Daddi. Between your wisdom and my tech skills, we’ve got a whole deck of aces.” Rohan, having overheard the exchange, smiled. “I’m beginning to think the secret ingredient in this partnership isn’t the technology or the business model—it’s Mrs. Bose’s wisdom and positive demeanor.” Laughter filled the room, easing the tension and sealing the partnership with a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect. As Rohan left, promising to send over his notes and ideas, Maya and Savitri sat back, a sense of accomplishment filling the air. “See, Maya, everything’s falling into place. Just remember, if Rohan ever tries to take control, challenge him, and put your foot down. Works every time,” Savitri said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Maya laughed, shaking her head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But if it does, I know who to call for backup.” Maya felt a renewed sense of purpose. She was embarking on a journey filled with unknowns, but with the unique blend of old-world wisdom and new-age innovation, she was ready and confident for whatever came her way. The Storm Before The Calm The days following the meeting with Rohan were a whirlwind of activity. Maya found herself plunged into the world of startups, a realm where ‘pivot’ wasn’t just a term used in basketball, and ‘burn rate’ wasn’t something you worried about after a spicy meal. Her partnership with Rohan brought new energy and ideas but also its share of challenges. One evening, Maya was engrossed in refining her business plan at her grandmother’s house when an abrupt power outage cast them into darkness, enveloping the humid night around her, punctuated only by sporadic lightning. Savitri remarked, her voice slicing the gloom, “Ah, the ideal setting for ideation—reminds me of our candlelit childbirth adventure.” Maya, fumbling with her phone’s flashlight, couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, if we can navigate this startup like you navigated that delivery, we’ll be in good shape, Daddi.” The power outage turned out to be a blessing in disguise, forcing Maya to step away from her laptops and rely on good old-fashioned conversation with her grandmother. In the glow of the flashlight, ideas flowed freely, unencumbered by the constraints of slide decks and spreadsheets. It was during this unexpected brainstorming session that Savitri had an epiphany. “Maya, what if you integrate traditional teaching methods with your digital platform? Like virtual reality field trips to historical sites or live cooking classes?” Maya’s eyes sparkled, her mind alight with endless potential. “Daddi, you’re brilliant! A flawless fusion of past and present.” Their enthusiasm was palpable, embodying intergenerational collaboration’s power. Yet, as Maya explored executing Savitri’s concept, a forceful knock disrupted them. Rohan appeared at the door, soaked and more distressed than ever observed. “Maya, our funding’s collapsed,” he announced, water dripping onto the floor. “The main investor withdrew.” “Why?” “It’s not you,” Rohan hastily explained. “It’s the societal prejudices deeply ingrained within the industry, Maya. Your American upbringing faces scrutiny and underestimation by investors and peers alike. Your proposals face harsher critique compared to your male peers or females raised within Indian culture.” “So unfair?” “Your vision is seen as ambitious,” Rohan replied. “Yet, doubts linger about your capacity to withstand pressure from afar living in America, especially in a competitive arena for a young woman.” The words stung Maya and even more so Savitri, because it was a reminder of the invisible barriers she fought to overcome. Upon hearing the situation, Savitri felt an old, fiery determination rekindle, reminiscent of her challenges in nursing. “Maya,” she spoke with a mix of comfort and conviction, “recall, you’re part of a lineage of barrier-breaking women. It’s not merely about disproving skeptics; it’s forging paths for future generations.” The revelation struck deeply, making Maya’s aspirations feel overwhelmingly burdensome. Savitri, the constant ray of resilience, welcomed Rohan indoors to prepare tea, her universal remedy for life’s sudden squalls. “Rohan, tea first,” she suggested, aiming to soothe his rain-soaked distress. Gathered at the kitchen table, the reality of their precarious startup, deprived of funding, settled in. An oppressive silence hung, pierced only by rain’s patter against the windows. Savitri’s voice, firm and certain, broke the silence. “In my nursing days, setbacks were not the end but a call to innovate and uncover new solutions.” Her statement lingered, offering both a challenge and hope. Maya’s despair began to morph into resolve. Inspired by Savitri, Maya felt her determination cement. This was more than her own ambition; it was a fight for every woman who dared to dream after her. “You’re right, Daddi,” Maya declared, her voice imbued with fresh determination. “Our mission was to innovate learning. We’ll use this hurdle to fuel our creativity and resilience.” Rohan left, and the partnership was halted; however, Maya and Savitri devoted their night to fervent planning. Maya strategized on bootstrapping, engaging smaller investors, and initiating a crowdfunding effort to sustain her vision. “Maya, why not mention your startup in your… what’s it… your BLOOOB?” “It’s ‘BLOG,’ Daddi.” Their laughter dissolved some tension, yet unease lingered. Then, against the odds, came a breakthrough. The day after Maya blogged about her startup, a notable tech company amplified Maya’s narrative, igniting a surge of support and investment that revitalized her venture. The crowdfunding campaign soared beyond expectations, propelled by a community as passionate about her mission as she was. It was a victory for Maya. For Savitri, it was her journey all over again. They celebrated joyously, with Maya expressing profound gratitude. “Daddi, your wisdom, support, and tea were indispensable,” she said, emotion enriching her voice. Savitri’s smile, under the gentle light, was knowing. “My dear, you’ve reassured me about the future. Together, we’ve merged past and present, demonstrating the boundless potential of intergenerational collaboration.” “Daddi, what do you say to joining me in the USA, not just visiting, but really engaging in this venture I’m forging? I need your wisdom and pragmatism. You’ve been crucial to my journey; I can’t imagine continuing this without you.” Savitri, who’d been sipping her tea, set her cup down with a thoughtful expression. The idea of leaving India, her home for all these years, was daunting. “Move to America now? At my age? I’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” Savitri quipped, yet Maya noticed her intrigued sparkle. “You, Daddi, will be the trendsetter the tech world never knew they needed,” Maya assured with sincerity. “Besides, we need your tea to fuel our late-night brainstorming sessions. More than anything, I need you. Daddi.” Los Angeles, One Month Later On their first morning, Maya decided to introduce Savitri to the quintessential American coffee shop. Savitri eyed the menu suspiciously, a bewildering assortment of sizes and variations. “Grande, Venti, Trenta—sounds like a dance routine rather than drink sizes,” Savitri muttered, causing a few raised eyebrows from nearby patrons. Opting for safety, she ordered a “chai tea latte,” only to be met with something that tasted like spiced water. “Next time, I’ll teach them how to make a real chai,” Savitri declared, much to the amusement of a barista who promised to take her up on the offer.