The tears that keep rolling out every time I think about her now despite my trying to hide them is a tribute to her love. She was my younger mother literally. But just six years older. And me her fan always for her passion in everything she did. She is My Didi. Our Didi for the three of us younger siblings. One who was an umbrella for us when we were young. With always a hand on my shoulders.
Feeding me while I would get ready for school, packing my tiffin before she left for her school. Making aata (wheat flour) halua for the four of us when our parents had gone out socializing in the evenings. The activity all hushed up and everything put back in place neatly before they returned so that they wouldn’t know. Till one day we were caught as they returned earlier than expected and our cooking experiments ended for life. And she leaving ten days back when we had never expected her to for that faraway land leaving us devastated.
Our Childhood
Except Didi who was born in Calcutta, we the other three were all born in the land of Buddha and Lord Vishnu, Gaya. My father being in the Railways we had a small railway quarter in a huge colony. The best part was that there were no restrictions on our garden space as long as it did not encroach on the garden space of our neighbor. So we had quite a large one covering the front, the sides and at the back as well.
My father had a passion for gardening and he was so dedicated. So we the family and mostly the four of us siblings had the pleasures of our life. A flower garden with all the seasonal ones and the roses in all the colors we could imagine. All growing but always being monitored by us including watering them in the evenings.
And his favorite pass time after office hours especially the days when he had evening or night duty was growing all seasonal vegetables. In all the varieties that we could imagine. You name it and you would certainly find it growing in our home. And he was a great cook as well dishing out the best of Bong dishes using them. Fresh and refreshing. And the eggs from our quite a big poultry that was again one of his passion ventures.
Like father, like daughter
Didi, the railway man’s eldest daughter was very much like him. With similar nature and interests. Except that she could laugh out loud while my father we probably had never seen doing that. He was a little more reserved and quiet.
And Didi quietly took on after her early marriage to the love of her life, the mantle of carrying forward the legacy of my father – his love for nature, plants, flowers, vegetables, fruits, cooking and more importantly being the human being they both were. Full of simplicity, passion and compassion. And they left their earthly abode in a similar fashion. In a matter of few minutes, without warning and without bothering any of us.
Didi. A Word So Pure
Didi meaning elder sister is a word so pure. And when said it comes out right from ones heart signifying love, admiration and respect. And as they say, if you carry your childhood with you, you never become older. That’s exactly what my Didi was.
Always full of life and so excited when it came to India, cricket, food, nature, gardening, music and world affairs. She would call me up without fail when India was winning a cricket match whatever time of the day or night it would be. We would talk quite often because our likes were so similar. And her cooking just out of the world. Always trying out something new. And the cake I would wait for every time she came visiting us in Kolkata for a few days every year. Never ever again.
She loved nature around her
And loved her flowers
And her roses
Growing vegetables her passion
And Mangoes. She just couldn’t resist..
She loved to cook
Her Alu, Mooli & Sattu Parathas were just bliss and in fact every dish she cooked was just so yummy. Be it mutton, fried rice, bengali chicken and numerous fried chicken variety and so much more of all Bong food. And then the Gulabjamuns just like my father used to make and we used to have one after the other competing with each other.
She loved her home and family dearly
And Sarees, her favorite indulgence
Chiku. Grandma’s heart & pride
Travel fascinated her
She loved travel but couldn’t travel much. Having been detected with rheumatoid arthritis during those early years of her life, those Penidure LA injections every month with thick needles that pained us as much as it did to her till she was 23 years old did affect her mobility.
But she was always so strong and loved every moment of those holidays she took. Be it the Bombay Pune belt, the hills of Uttarakhand and Himachal, Orissa, Uttar Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh, Kolkata and the beautiful Sunderbans delta. And the one that we planned together to Amarkantak.
Her eyes would light up the moment she heard we were planning a holiday and would be so eager to know the complete plan. And I still remember that evening in the mid sixties when she had discovered the mole on my left leg big toe and so happily announced, Bapi you are going to travel the world. With her good wishes I have been able to travel a bit in the years gone by and during all my solo trips and our trips together she has been always virtually traveling with me and us.
Our Brother-Sister Bond
I was in class XI when Didi got married and I cried and cried for days together. Before that she would be the first person I would confide in when sad, when something went wrong or there was some good news to announce. And I remember my brother-in-law Aloda telling me repeatedly to stop crying and that my Didi would always be mine as she had hugged me tight.
But that morning on the 30th of January forty seven years back, this is exactly how I had felt as I returned home after the guard had flagged the green flag and Deluxe AC Express had zipped away from platform number two of Gaya railway station.
Hindi was a language we loved to talk in once in a while between ourselves having been brought up in Gaya in the state of Bihar, a place we love and are so proud of. And we spoke that afternoon as well when she had called up to enquire more about the earthquake in Tibet.
Can’t imagine I will never receive a call ever with Didi flashing on the screen and her first sentence on most occasions, Kya re kya kar raha hai ? Meaning hey what are you doing, with that tone of love always. Nor will I ever receive those Facebook notifications which always brought a smile on my face. She was my Biggest Fan week after week on my Travelwisesr page and really loved my travel blog.
But I know she will be reading every bit of what I write on my blogs and posts from up there. And will be traveling with me everywhere that I go, seeing every photograph and enjoying every moment with me & Sharmistha whom she loved so dearly and writing those heartwarming comments that showed her happiness on a virtual holiday with us. And she would probably be humming this ad song of ours as well that she always loved.
The likes on my posts may not feature anymore but her love will be in my heart as I continue in this journey called life. With my Didi with me always as she takes her final footsteps today towards heaven.
Life is precious. Live it like never before. And do pray for My Didi!
