"My mother is so famous now...i wish she was here to enjoy it."

Let me begin todays post with madri. And by that i dont mean mia madre, but mothers in general. For i firmly believe that even though my father is the one man who loves me the most in this world, ma is definately the one person i am closest to. Who's that one person you can shout at, get completely upset with and turn around and still have the audacity to ask for food ? Who's the one person who laughs with you, cries with you and even tries to console you to the best of her efforts. Much as I wish it was some handsome young man whom i just met, it isnt so. Its my good old Momma...Momma Mia !!!

But this isnt about my momma. Its about Kana mashi and her mother. For all non-bengalis, Mashi is bangla for auntie. Kana means 'corner' in bangla. But beware, kana mashi isnt the kinds who could be put in a corner. She hogs the limelight, if not by her vociferous declarations, then atleast by her impeccably loud manner of speech. My father often tells me the story of how her husband never learnt driving due to her continuous instructions. She, as i can make out has been the centre of many a joke in our family. And this sunday she decided to grace us with her presence. Let me go back a bit and tell everyone a bit more about her (i hope she or her illustrous son isnt reading this). So as i said, she is my mother's childhood friend. Kana mashi, as i can gather always wanted a husband who was an engineer and smoked (maybe like godfather...who knows ??? ). So to have a near brilliant husband from Presidency college (who is also the same batch as Amartya Sen) was definately not good enough. And to partially fulfill her wishes, she decided to turn her only son into an engineer. And the fact that he is an IIT, IIM graduate is not surprising. Thatz what he was geared for. She has an equally interesting daughter too and i dare say that i like her quite a bit. But this post is not about her family or our past together or her hunt for her future daughter in law. Its about mothers. And as i said earlier, specifically her mother.

I have met her mother quite a few times. Didu,as she was fondly called by her grand-daughter was quite a sweet little thing whose 'kheloom', geloom' accent seemed really cute to me. But didu is no more. Kana mashi's eyes well up with tears when she talks about her. Somewhere i can feel the pain. I have someone at Shantineketan too and i have to go there fast. I have a ' Dida' too. Time is running out for me too.

Didu was not doing too well. She had what is called an un-anticipatory angina problem. No one could guess how and when a heart attack would occur. Obviously, one couldnt leave her alone at shantineketan. Despite her resistance, she was brought to Delhi. I can understand her reluctance at coming to a place like Delhi. Why would anyone in her right mind want to leave a well built house on a bigha, surrounded by mango and jackfruit trees. There were the marigold, sunflower, juhi, chinarose, and rose plants too, but then everyone there has beautiful gardens. So why would such a person want to live in a south delhi flat with three rooms? Because now her only daughter feels that she cant live there alone. Its strange how once you grow old, all decisions concerning 'you' are made by your next generation. And sometimes, they dont even bother to consult you. Old age is such a pain. But i guess i am digressing.

Didu was really popular with her grandchildren and some of the neighbours who knew her. She longed for more company and would often get bored in the three bed-room flat. There were times she wished she could go back to her hometown where people knew her more. Whenever a bengali family would visit their house the atmosphere would change. Receipes were exchanged, bangla movies discussed, CPM and marxists ideologies challenged and all these discussions were always followed by nostalgic moments from past. Moments which at one point must have created histroy.
And so, despite her will she was brought to Delhi to enjoy the durga puja with her only daughter and her family. She couldnt stand her daughter anymore (and frankly i dont blame her...who can). Kana Mashi would often tell her what to eat, what to do, where to go, how much time to spend at a particular place. Frankly, didu was getting bugged. No one knew her in this place and she would get bored, home alone. And when her granddaughter mia would tell her that she could have ice cream or drive her to matri mandir or sit by her and chat endlessly , she would find some semblence of what seemed like happy times. It wasnt like she was unhappy, she was quite happy actually. As happy as a countryman would be in New York.

And then Durga puja was also approaching. Durga puja is considerably boring in a place like Shantineketan. Now you might ask why...afterall it is a part of West Bengal. Well for one, shantineketan predominantly consists of students, most of whom come from outside. And durga puja breaks leaves the town almost deserted, after all they would much rather be with their families in the warmth of their homes. And Kana mashi was i suppose a very active participant of the pujo preparations. Her daughter was a good dancer (like most bengali girls are) and son a very good singer (believe me, his immediate juniors and seniors dont know about this). And her husband...well, i dont think he had any particular skills except for an incredibly good sense of humour... seemed like a perfectly happy family!!!

Durga puja often holds a special place in our hearts. It's significance changes as we grow older, but nevertheless remains an integral part of any bengali, wherever he might be. For three days, you'd want to forget your tensions and worries and enjoy. Didu had her share of fun too. Even if kana mashi didn't have the energy or enthusiasm to stay up all night to watch bhoomi play, she did! And lo-behold, she enjoyed them immensely...aain't that cute? But alas, three days were over and it was bijoya dashami. Everybody was busy paying their obeisance and bidding their final farewell to maa, with heavy hearts. Didu was just staring at all the unknown married women who were busy putting vermilon. They would often ask didu to keep guard, give her their purses and shawls to hold. Some would sit with her and chat till their turn came. There is something very endearing about the way granny(s) talk, something that makes them appear very cute.
All kinds of people would chat with Didu. Mrs. Rakshit would tell didu about her sons. The one in bangalore, who was quite smitten by a gujarati girl and had decided to marry her. And the one in the armed forces. She desperately wanted a daughter-in-law with whom she could discuss about 'chocoree' ,'macher muro' and of course 'uttam kumar'. A bit immature, she was always very excited about everything. In fact was quite proud of her elder son's love marriage, after she learnt that vrinda belonged to a affluent background. Not that Rakshits were in need of money, but nevertheless didn't ever think of possessing farm houses. Her obsession with bride hunting might have been curtailed, had Mr.Rakshit spared some time for her from his busy schedule of adda and chess.

Mrs. Rakshit : Ki aar bolbo maa, aaj kal kar mey ra...aakhadoo. Dekhchi to...aapnar natnee anek bhalo. Amar choto tar jonno ekta bhalo mey...

Didu : Maa, eto tara kisher ? Ja hobar, theek somaye hoye jabe.

Mrs. Rakshit : Tara na maa. Choto tar jonno ekta bhalo bangalee mey...nahole jodee oo kono panjabi ke...

Didu : Aar otto bhebe kaaj nei.

Mrs. Das (waving frantically) : Eei Sadhona, line e esho.

Mrs. Rakshit (disappointed...i mean, who wants to stand in line) : Aashi maa...

And then there was Mrs. Sen, who was often the head of most committees. Responsible, serious, sensible...she was always someone everybody could count on. She was amongst the last ones in the que, waiting to touch Ma Durga's feet and put vermilion on her. While doing so, she left a small diya (lamp) near Ma Durga's feet. No one really noticed it. Soon, everyone was putting vermilion on each other and it almost seemed like holi. After the rituals were done with, everyone went to go out for some snacks. Didu was all alone and thought it would be a good opportunity to get near the idol of Ma Durga. With great difficulty she managed to climb up and touch Ma durga's feet. She failed to notice the small lamp kept near the feet or when her saree had caught fire from it. When she did notice, flames had almost covered her. Even though she was given first aid as soon as possible she didn't survive. Vijaya Dashami this year meant two farewells for Mashi. But what followed was horrifying. Police investigations, various visits to morgues and memories. Kana mashi would rewind the day again and again and think, "what if i hadn't taken ma to the pandal"..."what is Mrs. Sen, hadn't kept the lamp"..."what if someone had noticed the flames much before"...what if???

I suppose destiny cannot be avoided. I have never seen tears in Kana mashi's eyes (in fact she's the kinds who'd get you to cry)...but when she related the entire incident to us, she just broke down. Anyone would. I suppose the most painful thing to be taken away from anyone is their mother and in such a horrible manner. Maybe there is such a thing as fate.

Incidentally, the entire durga puja society members now know their family. There are now rules regarding ques, lamps etc. Everyone now knows about kana mashi and her mother. The south delhi police stations know about them too. Hospital and morgue officals know about them. People back home in shantineketan and calcutta know about didu and the incident too. Loads of people visit their home now to express their regret and sorrow, people whom didu would have loved to meet and interact with. In fact it was some sort of local news that made didu famous. Except she is no more to enjoy her new popular status !