Dearest Bhaloma,
As I sit to write this inconsequential blog, the only image that comes before me is the small bed in Ranchi and you in your white saree looking at the door longingly. Though age had taken its toll on your body, you remained the same Bhaloma I remember since my memory goes back. For me you were the epitome of everything good may be thats why I insisted on calling you Bhaloma instead of the more common Didima or Didibhai. To an ordinary observer, I do not know if this longing would make sense- afterall grandsons are supposed to be pampered and loved, Mamarbari is the place every kid wants to be in and be pampered. However, for both me and Mini, Bhaloma was something special, she was not just our grandmother.
Bhaloma would call me her friend and her discussions with me would be varied. When her health was reasonably well she would talk to me about the mystical life she had led. About how her Gopal had asked sweets from her or how she had a very strange experience about the cosmos. I do not know why she choose me over her other grandsons, but my talks with her were special. When she had come to visit us in Kanpur it was me, Bhaloma and Ma who spoke for hours together about Gopal- a subject which neither of us could ever be bored of. Her simple belief in Gopal and the results there of are something which might be the subject of another blog. Anyways to my parched ears, her words were like elixir as it reaffirmed my faith which most of the time I must admit is waning.The faith she epitomized was the one which had revolved around the belief of a Merciful One who climbed down from His Olympian heights and asked for Sondesh. A part of me will always yearn to have that mysticism which she had partake of but age and my eternal cynicism shall never allow me to do so.
Ranchi, since the time of my mind has developed its separate identity, has always been a special place. Everything associated with Ranchi, right from the train journey to the station itself, was special and no prize for guessing why. It was Bhaloma and the magic she could create with her love which needed to be felt, that had made Ranchi special. Back in those days, I remember looking up the train availability in The Statesman for Howrah Hatia Express as means to assuage my loneliness in Kolkata. Every holiday, every Durga puja meant a trip to Ranchi and invariably Bhaloma would always be there at the gate of K-125(the official residence of Boromama). There was no melodrama no superfluous show of excessive emotions- but Bhalo with her calm self could always make me feel the most special. During my school days the return journeys would invariably see me in tears, something which I have been able to control with the passage of age. However even now, return journeys from Ranchi see me moist eyed. I wonder how will I react now, if and when I make a trip to Ranchi ever.
Bhaloma's family was her life- she lived and breathed all over it. Maybe, it was a bit repressive for some, but everything or everyone who ever came in touch with her could not but be influenced by her personality. The neatness of the house, the orderliness of her surroundings always spoke of a mind which was intelligent and astute. Once she had told me how in Dhanbad she used to tie bunch of flowers around the house to make it more beautiful. It was her way of expressing her sense of beauty- that was something which was the guiding principle of her life. Whenever she came to visit us it was almost an unspoken rule that she will tidy up our kitchen and the larder. Our Pune house was the only exception, she was too old to climb the stairs.
Age and life experiences had started taking its toll on Bhaloma and towards the end of her life she had become confused about time and a bit garrulous. Her talks went on in circles and she forgot the time limit. Her temper did get the better of her at times, but it was "eso bhai" for me. Every telephone call ended with "kobe asbi" There were times I wished she ended her calls fast as I did not like the long talk, but now I wish I get to talk to her once, to tell her how she always managed to make sense. During the twilight year of her life her talk lacked coherence but yet whenever I asked her how she was it was her crackly laughter which said "Bhalo achi bhai'.
What was Bhaloma for me? I had started this post with the thought of talking about her character, her strength and to paint a picture of a woman far ahead of her time. But somehow I think my fingers decided to follow their own mind and I ended up talking about things which I had not even thought about. My last memory of Bhaloma was in hospital- she was in pain and most uncomfortable in her surroundings. Her mind was in disarray and she was just dimly aware of herself- there was anger and pain but she spoke. I do not think she recognised me, but I could but look at her and think this was the woman who had made Ranchi special for me. The last month or so was topsy turvy,there were days of brightness and there was days of sorrow. But never for a moment I realised her end was so near. Yes, I had spoken about her final journey but I had barely any idea about it- it was just a phrase that had come to me. I was dimly aware of the void that might be created post Bhaloma but my mind had not grasped it well. Last Sunday when Ma told me "Bhalomar tube khule dicche, ki holo.. " I did not realise what had just happened. I was aware of the intense emotions which somehow left me numb. The realisation came when I spoke to Mini and then it struck me- Ranchi will not be special for me any more. So Dugga Dugga Bhaloma, I do not want to write about how you will be in our hearts or in our minds I will just say there will be no more "Eso bhai for me"
As I sit to write this inconsequential blog, the only image that comes before me is the small bed in Ranchi and you in your white saree looking at the door longingly. Though age had taken its toll on your body, you remained the same Bhaloma I remember since my memory goes back. For me you were the epitome of everything good may be thats why I insisted on calling you Bhaloma instead of the more common Didima or Didibhai. To an ordinary observer, I do not know if this longing would make sense- afterall grandsons are supposed to be pampered and loved, Mamarbari is the place every kid wants to be in and be pampered. However, for both me and Mini, Bhaloma was something special, she was not just our grandmother.
Bhaloma would call me her friend and her discussions with me would be varied. When her health was reasonably well she would talk to me about the mystical life she had led. About how her Gopal had asked sweets from her or how she had a very strange experience about the cosmos. I do not know why she choose me over her other grandsons, but my talks with her were special. When she had come to visit us in Kanpur it was me, Bhaloma and Ma who spoke for hours together about Gopal- a subject which neither of us could ever be bored of. Her simple belief in Gopal and the results there of are something which might be the subject of another blog. Anyways to my parched ears, her words were like elixir as it reaffirmed my faith which most of the time I must admit is waning.The faith she epitomized was the one which had revolved around the belief of a Merciful One who climbed down from His Olympian heights and asked for Sondesh. A part of me will always yearn to have that mysticism which she had partake of but age and my eternal cynicism shall never allow me to do so.
Ranchi, since the time of my mind has developed its separate identity, has always been a special place. Everything associated with Ranchi, right from the train journey to the station itself, was special and no prize for guessing why. It was Bhaloma and the magic she could create with her love which needed to be felt, that had made Ranchi special. Back in those days, I remember looking up the train availability in The Statesman for Howrah Hatia Express as means to assuage my loneliness in Kolkata. Every holiday, every Durga puja meant a trip to Ranchi and invariably Bhaloma would always be there at the gate of K-125(the official residence of Boromama). There was no melodrama no superfluous show of excessive emotions- but Bhalo with her calm self could always make me feel the most special. During my school days the return journeys would invariably see me in tears, something which I have been able to control with the passage of age. However even now, return journeys from Ranchi see me moist eyed. I wonder how will I react now, if and when I make a trip to Ranchi ever.
Bhaloma's family was her life- she lived and breathed all over it. Maybe, it was a bit repressive for some, but everything or everyone who ever came in touch with her could not but be influenced by her personality. The neatness of the house, the orderliness of her surroundings always spoke of a mind which was intelligent and astute. Once she had told me how in Dhanbad she used to tie bunch of flowers around the house to make it more beautiful. It was her way of expressing her sense of beauty- that was something which was the guiding principle of her life. Whenever she came to visit us it was almost an unspoken rule that she will tidy up our kitchen and the larder. Our Pune house was the only exception, she was too old to climb the stairs.
Age and life experiences had started taking its toll on Bhaloma and towards the end of her life she had become confused about time and a bit garrulous. Her talks went on in circles and she forgot the time limit. Her temper did get the better of her at times, but it was "eso bhai" for me. Every telephone call ended with "kobe asbi" There were times I wished she ended her calls fast as I did not like the long talk, but now I wish I get to talk to her once, to tell her how she always managed to make sense. During the twilight year of her life her talk lacked coherence but yet whenever I asked her how she was it was her crackly laughter which said "Bhalo achi bhai'.
What was Bhaloma for me? I had started this post with the thought of talking about her character, her strength and to paint a picture of a woman far ahead of her time. But somehow I think my fingers decided to follow their own mind and I ended up talking about things which I had not even thought about. My last memory of Bhaloma was in hospital- she was in pain and most uncomfortable in her surroundings. Her mind was in disarray and she was just dimly aware of herself- there was anger and pain but she spoke. I do not think she recognised me, but I could but look at her and think this was the woman who had made Ranchi special for me. The last month or so was topsy turvy,there were days of brightness and there was days of sorrow. But never for a moment I realised her end was so near. Yes, I had spoken about her final journey but I had barely any idea about it- it was just a phrase that had come to me. I was dimly aware of the void that might be created post Bhaloma but my mind had not grasped it well. Last Sunday when Ma told me "Bhalomar tube khule dicche, ki holo.. " I did not realise what had just happened. I was aware of the intense emotions which somehow left me numb. The realisation came when I spoke to Mini and then it struck me- Ranchi will not be special for me any more. So Dugga Dugga Bhaloma, I do not want to write about how you will be in our hearts or in our minds I will just say there will be no more "Eso bhai for me"
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