REMEMBERING MY SISTER
A bubbly teenager, a pretty woman transitioning into a graceful elder, this is what stays in my memory. Though I would like to forget the last four, or five years when she suffered from the ravages of Parkinson's disease, watching the slow deterioration and increasing suffering of someone who was lovable and whom you loved. That was my sister who passed away one could say peacefully on 10th January 2023. We console ourselves that when the end came it was sudden and at home, but a loss is a loss that can never be recovered. Her mental faculties had not suffered despite the disease; at her age of eighty-three, she could converse on the phone, though with a distinct slur.
She was a very caring person, and that stood out in the way she interacted with people around her. I can still visualize her sitting by my side whenever I had my asthmatic episodes as a young boy, not knowing what to do except be there and by her presence afford some relief. She was timid by nature and I feel that could have been due to the fact that my mother was a very strong personality and was overtly overprotective where her daughter was concerned. A latently talented person who showed promise in music and dance could never achieve fruition. She was married at the age of seventeen as was the norm during those days and for a woman, the avenues for self-development more or less came to an end as she settled down to the duties of a housewife. Going away from home to set up her own at that age must have been very difficult, but things settled down with a supportive husband.
I remember that after my father expired, my mother and I along with my grandmother moved to Madras to complete my schooling. She and my brother-in-law were there to stay with us and help cushion the loss before they moved to Calcutta. It was there that she spent a long time with her family. She adjusted to the new life and found her bearings in what should initially would have been alien surroundings. She spoke Bengali fluently, and when I look back, I am inclined to believe that Calcutta did feed her with some fodder for her latent interests. I know she was very happy there, perhaps the best period of her life.
It was during my five years stay at IIT Kharagpur that I got to know her even better for I used to visit Calcutta at least once or twice a month during weekends and stay with her. I remember the puja holidays spent at her home. It was a very happy period. In my fourth year at IIT, I was down with typhoid and spent my recuperation time with her. I can never forget the concern with which she took care of me.
She was eleven years older than me and so when she was married, I was only six years old. In a photograph sent to me by my niece, I can be seen sitting behind her during the marriage ceremony. It did bring back a flood of memories. Yes, I can still recover some of those memories though it was a long time ago. The marriage was held in our village Gopalasamudram and practically the whole village turned out and sat through the night to listen to one of the top Carnatic musician’s nadaswaram recital which was arranged on the occasion.
I can keep writing about her, but it is not my intention to write a biography. I have only touched on those recollections that came to my mind immediately and I do not want to dilute my remembrance of her with long-winded narrations. I still want to remember her as that bubbly teenager, a pretty woman, a graceful elder, and someone who exuded love and compassion.
When the end came, though it was sudden she was blessed, since it was in the home of her son and while on Facetime with her daughter who resides in Chicago. It’s only memories that stay with us while she makes her way to the land of the Gods.
