Nani

 

Sarla Khanna, later Tandon, was born on 7 Jun 1937 in Katni, Madhya Pradesh. I knew her as Nani, and she passed away nearly 5 months ago on 10 Jan 2026 in Goregaon, Mumbai, in the room she had occupied since 2022, with the exception of a few days in hospital in 2024.

Nani had the privilege of being born to a family that believed in educating their girls. After showing early signs of academic brilliance, she was applied for admission to the haloed Lajjha Shankar Model High School in Jabalpur, which didn’t admit girls as a matter of policy. Nani’s father insisted on an evaluation, the results of which left the administration no choice but to admit her. So she wouldn’t be the only girl in a school full of boys, four fortunate other girls were also admitted to the school that year.

When Nani graduated high school, the furore was even more severe. She committed the cardinal sin of scoring a 100% in Hindi, hitherto deemed a mathematical impossibility. When enough academicians cried foul, the matter made its way to the state legislative assembly. After debate and deliberations, a prominent jurist was appointed to oversee a re-evaluation by a panel of three. Unsurprisingly, the result stood.

Nani loved music, and excelled at singing. During evening singing lessons at home in Jabalpur, Nani’s younger brothers played the fool (they still do), but Nani would swat them away and continue on undistracted. In her last few years, she often struggled to recognise close family members, but she could still always tell you the lyrics, the artist and the composer of some random song from the 70s. Two days before she passed, as my mom tried desperately to keep things cheerful, Nani managed to muster up what was needed to join my mom in a song.

Nani was an educator, in personality and in profession. When she was still in school, and her family gathered around the radio for a cricket match, she would lay out a sheet of paper, draw the layout of the pitch and mark the various positions for the benefit of the others. Nani received a B.Sc in Chemistry and an M.Sc in Physical Chemistry from the Robertson College in Jabalpur (now known as the New Govt Science College). Soon after, she joined the Mohanlal Hargobind  Das College of Science and Home Science, Jabalpur’s faculty of Chemistry. 

Nani married Nana on 21 Jun 1961 at Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh, where both had relatives. As was customary at the time, Nani quit her job and moved to Bharatpur, Rajasthan where Nana worked as a lecturer. After a visitor pointed out the absurdity of someone with Nani’s qualifications choosing to be a stay-at-home wife, Nani applied to a lecturership at the govt. college, where she was promptly accepted. Over the course of the next three decades, Nani graced numerous colleges across Rajashtan, as lecturer in Bharatpur, Udaipur and Bhilwara and later as HoD, vice principal and principal in Alwar and Kota. 

Nani retired as principal of Gori Devi Girls College, Alwar in 1995. She had looked forward to the celebration for months, and the life beyond for years. She had a vision of spending the golden years at leisure with Nana, taking long morning walks and traveling on a whim. In a cruel twist, Nana suffered a massive heart attack just days prior, and the next few years were marked by a slow, painful and imperfect recovery for Nana. 

Growing up I spent one half of each summer at Nani’s in Alwar. In that small town, you didn’t have to look far to see the impact of her and nana’s work as educators. Every time we went into town, whether to the vegetable mandi or the cloth market, we were interrupted by strangers coming up to Nana or Nani, falling to their feet out of respect, and thanking them for their role in educating them or some relative of theirs. 

By the time I got a hold of my bearings, Nani was already past her most magnificent. I knew her as the grandparent who inexplicably read 5 newspapers a day, national & local, Hindi and English. Potbellied from the hypo-thyroid, irritable from the hyper-tension, providing the detailed background on all the actors and singers who showed up on the TV in the evenings, treating matters of national and geopolitical import with a personal emotion. She teased her ageing husband, calling him Cassius for not being as much of a music nerd as she was. When he’d had enough, he would respond by abruptly breaking into some unabashedly romantic melody from their youth. She would blush before chastising him for misbehaving in front of the grandkids.

When she wasn’t busy commanding the household or marshalling the college, Nani and I developed a ‘partners in bullshit’ sort of relationship. She indulged my extensive repertoire of fart and toilet jokes. We made silly and irritating names for everyone in the family, and she would solemnly use only those in her conversations with everyone. Every afternoon we would pull my mom’s leg for wanting to nap for “just 10 minutes”. 

Nani was often direct, even blunt. In the 90s, after babysitting my sister and I for a week while our parents travelled, she told my mother upon her return, “your son’s entire universe revolves around just one thing - food”. Chubby little me turned red, but could not disagree. One summer my adolescence and Nani’s personality clashed particularly hard. Just as we were leaving back for Noida, she apologised to me tearfully. My mother was shocked, but also a little jealous – Nani was softer as a grandma than she’d allowed herself to be as a parent.

Nani’s cooking was the stuff of legend. Whenever mom wanted to cook something special for us, she would try to “do it the way Nani does.” Dad for his part, has expressed disappointment with every gatta curry other than Nani’s since 1986, apparently they all suck by comparison. 

In 2008, poor health and their children’s insistence caused Nana and Nani to move to Mumbai, where the rest of us lived by then. If I had to find a definitive marker, I would say that’s when old age truly began for them. Out of their element, and dependent on their children – I can’t imagine that sat easy for either personality. 

After a tough couple of years, and two long stints in hospital, nana passed away in 2011. With nana gone, Nani seemed to let go of her trademark zest for life. With each passing year Nani grew quieter, less able to move around, and less inclined to do just about anything. By the time covid came around, we were used to seeing Nani mostly in her bedroom. July 2022 found her in ICU with H1N1. I arrived on day 4 of her stint in ICU, and went directly to the hospital. The doctors told us she’d be gone by the weekend, but they were obviously unfamiliar with Nani. She fought through 30 days in the ICU, and lived for 4 years beyond their schedule. 

We love you Nani, and we miss you. I can’t say with honesty that I believe in any version of the afterlife, but I can tell you that you live on in our hearts. We will remember you and we will tell your story any chance we get. You continue to inspire us, and remind us that the pursuit of perfection is an end unto itself. 

You also remind us that a life lived fully will humble even the most brilliant and amazing. Those of us who are fortunate will live that full life, and with time and age, will eventually find that humility.