Baba and vegetarian food

The priest at the Kali temple where I want to conduct a shanti pujo for ma and baba instructed that I bring some food that they enjoyed along with flowers, fruit and their photos. Thinking of ma’s favorite food was easy, she loved dark chocolates. Without missing a beat, I said, ‘Done. Dark chocolate for her. No problem.” I scratched my head about baba’s favorite food. Baba’s favorite food or should I say foods were plenty and they were all non vegetarian dishes. Mutton, fish, chicken, eggs – that is what he truly loved. He was a connoisseur of fresh fish and good meat. But the dilemma is how can I bring a non vegetarian dish to a Hindu temple? So I called up my friend who is helping me organize the puja at the temple and asked her if I could bring meat or fish for him. She hesitated. Between the two of us we decided the priest may perform an ‘ashanti pujo’ instead of shanti pujo if I arrived with a plate of meat to offer to baba. We decided on some roshogolla instead, a quintessential Bengali sweet which baba loved also.

Baba’s joy was food. He woke up in the morning and instructed our household help what should be cooked for the day. He went to Gariahat market in search of the freshest catch or the choicest meat and the fish sellers knew him. They pointed out their best catch to him because they knew nothing but the best for meshomoshai (uncle). I have accompanied him to the market many times during my visit and I noticed true joy on his face as he looked at a sparkling ilish mach or glistening tangra. We have had our disagreements over food during those visits as well. I insisted I wanted to eat vegetarian Bengali food like alu jhinge posto or potol er dolma or kach kola r kopta or dhoka r dalna. And he wanted to show his love by buying lobster or best hilsa. He did not understand why I would like to eat lowly potol (a kind of a small green gourd) instead of kingly lobster. Ma took my side saying “Let her eat what she wants, what she does not get in USA! Don’t impose your desires on her, you glutton!” When I was little and we did not have money, we often had to resort to inexpensive vegetarian fare. The standing joke in our house was baba saying, “Aaj niramish hoye jak, dim er dalna.” (Let us eat vegetarian today. Egg curry.) Side note: Egg is not considered vegetarian in India.

After speaking to my cousin sister who will be with me during the puja, we decided we will eat ilish mach er jhol (hilsa fish curry) and shada bhat (white rice) after we come back home. Baba loved to eat and also loved to feed others. We believe he will smile down at us as we eat his favorite fish. And ma probably will look at him and shake her head, “Khali khaoa, khali khaoa”. (rough translation: all you think of is food)

Feed the hungry

During a tearful conversation about my parents on a video call this morning, Breshpati (Khushi’s mother) reminded me what ma often said when death was a remote eventuality, not a harsh reality as it is today. She said to us “When I die don’t do any rituals, just feed some hungry people in my memory.” I had completely forgotten her wish as I live through this haze of pain. Breshpati’s words brought back the memory of what she wished for. Both ma and baba started an NGO to help the under privileged about 10 years back. They went to villages, orphanages, schools for poor children and under funded senior living facilities with clothes and food. They ran this initiative for years till Covid stopped them.

Feeding the poor would, of course, be their wish. So Breshpati and Gouri talked among themselves about doing just that once Covid came under control. The two women decided that they will go to Bharat Shevashram and feed hungry children in memory of ma and baba. I, with the help from a friend, am arranging for a shanti pujo (a religious ceremony for the peace of their souls) in our local Kali temple thinking that would bring peace. But would it? And peace for who really? How could I forget what she wanted me to do after her death? I heard her words but must not have paid attention thinking we are far away from that scenario – death. Huh!

Coincidentally, my coworkers donated money to UNICEF and Care India to help fight Covid in ma and baba’s memory. I shed some tears at their thoughtfulness. One of Sean’s donors, pledged money to his organization for Covid help in India in their memory as well. I shed tears of gratitude. This is what would bring peace to them – feeding the hungry, helping the sick and maybe, just maybe a ritual Shanti puja in front of ma’s favorite – the fiery goddess Kali.

And after the pujo, I will donate to our local food bank.

Some unfinished business..

The last in person image I have of my mother is when Ryan and I were getting in the car in August of 2019 to head to the airport. She was standing at the door, tears in her eyes, waving goodbye. We waved till we could not see each other anymore. I told her I will be back in May of 2020 to celebrate my 50th birthday with them. So it was just a matter of few months till we see each other again.

My last interaction with baba was an awkward hug at the Kolkata airport when I repeatedly told him to take care of his health. And to him too, I said, “See you in a few months.”

They wanted to plan a big party for my 50th and I said a hard no. Although in my mind I knew if they were determined to throw a party they will, my ‘no’ would have no value.

Covid attacked the world. We did not see each other for my 50th birthday but we lived in hope. 2021 brought so much promise. And then it took them away. There are a few unfinished business that were not taken care of though.

I requested that they buy me a couple of Kashmiri shawls for my birthday. Baba loved to buy clothes for me, their son-in-law and their grandkids. Ma did too but she felt my father’s tastes were superior to hers so she allowed him to make the selection. Baba went to Kashmir Emporium in Dakkhinapan to buy the shawls. I got to see them via video call. They are beautiful. They were hoping to give them to me for my birthday when I went home. The shawls are now sitting in the closet waiting for me. The ones who bought the gifts with so much love aren’t around to hand them to me. But their love persists.

Last Christmas I wanted a gift of a family portrait. Despite Ryan’s reluctance, we all got dressed up, went to a studio and got a professional to take photos of us. I ordered a couple of extra prints to take home with me when I went back. They are lying in an envelope in my closet. The ones who had requested the prints and who would have proudly hung them on their wall are not around anymore. I realized there is absolutely no one left who would treasure our visits or our photographs.

I was told to bring a bag of dark chocolates, cans of tunafish and a bottle of advil. Those were standing orders. Whatever I brought on top of those were surprises. Now there is no need for any of those things.

There are these unfinished transactions that we did not have time to finish. I will keep the extra photographs and eventually when I go back I will wrap the shawl like I wrapped their love around me. They do not need the photographs any more as they live in our memories and our hearts now. Sean and I both cried tonight talking about their sudden departure and then laughed too at memories of their constant bickering.

I believe that is how life will be from now on.

The “goods” in the week of May 17th.

Again, it feels quite morbid to find the “goods” in a week when baba died. Thinking about the “goods” is therapeutic though and it shifts my focus away from sorrow.

Baba’s end was peaceful. Like ma, he went gently into the night.

He never had to know that ma had passed away.

He was in his own home cared for by people who cared about him.

My friend from Hyderabad called long distance to arrange for steady supply of oxygen cylinders to make sure baba could breathe.

My friend’s husband, a physician, took baba’s caregiver’s call at any hour and guided him over video call. He took charge of my father’s well being and did his best to help him recover. When I approached my friend regarding his fee they declined.

My cousin registered him for health department in case he needed readmittance to hospital.

My friend from school and her husband stayed in constant touch with the caregiver, ready to help.

A friend from social media who I never met in real life jumped into action making calls for oxygen.

I write all this to show that people fought with him and for him.

My flowers look beautiful and there is not a single weed in sight. Weeding, watering and tending to the plants have been truly comforting.

Sahana graduated from college with magna cum laude in both her majors.

I went to Sahana’s graduation and met my big, beautiful family that I married into. They held my hand, lend a ear and just loved. I could give my mother in law a hug after over a year.

Ma and baba would be happy to know I am enveloped in love and kindness by friends and family near and far in my time of need.

Graduation

I did not feel an emptiness in my heart when the black and yellow school bus swallowed my 5 year old Sahana to take her to her first day of kindergarten. I must admit I felt a sense of relief instead of sadness at the separation. I was relieved because little Sahana could not wait to get to kindergarten and start a new life in a new country. We had just moved to United States right before she started kindergarten. She was trying to understand and get acclimated to her new environment and she was looking forward to making friends in school. After kindergarten, there were other transitions – finishing elementary, moving on to middle school and then high school. High school years passed in the blink of an eye and a beautiful morning dawned for her high school graduation. She got admission to the college she wanted to attend.

Right before she went off to college, I had pangs of separation, of course. However, seeing her eagerness to experience college made me happy. She could not wait to leave home. And I was simply in awe of this young woman who was ready to move on and embrace a bigger universe.

We drove her to her college, got her settled in her dorm room and then it was time to say goodbye. We all went down the stairs of her dorm together. She stood on the pavement as we got in our car and started to drive away. I looked back to see her lone self standing on that pavement waving us good bye. I felt this immeasurable emptiness in my heart then as she got smaller and smaller in our rear view mirror till we turned a corner and we couldn’t see her anymore.

Four years have passed since then. In her junior year she waved us goodbye at the airport and boarded a flight for Madrid, Spain to spend her junior year abroad. While I was sad to see her go I was, however, more excited for all the adventures that awaited her out there. And adventures she had, the first being losing her luggage after she landed in Madrid. She arrived but her luggage did not. That unpleasant experience, thankfully, was followed by mostly fantastic experiences, knowledge, travel and friendships.

Covid 19 struck when she was in her 7th month in Madrid. She had to pack within 2 days to board a flight home. Her senior year in college was spent at home, in her room, taking classes via Zoom. She handled everything with mostly good spirits, hoping she would be able to graduate in person. That did not turn out the way she had hoped.

But today is the culmination of all her hard work and her resilience after being robbed of a senior year experience. Today she graduates with a college degree, magna cum laude in both her majors, with big dreams to give back to the world that has given her so much. My heart explodes with pride, love and joy as this young woman emerges in the world with so much potential.

Congratulations Sahana!

Meditation

A friend suggested I meditate to calm my mind during this distressing time. Since ma left, I have been sitting outside by the flowers every day in the afternoon when Kolkata falls asleep. And I have thought of ma. That has been my meditation. Some thoughts brought tears and some brought laughter.

As I sit outside, nature unfurls it’s palm to show me the treasure that I missed when life was normal. I watch the frenetic activities of the romantic cardinal couple who flit from one bush to the next whispering, rather loudly, sweet nothings to each other. The baby bunny who lives under the bush pokes out and then tries to hop away when it sees me. But my still form instills some confidence in it, so it stays out and twitches it’s nose in the air. Today, a little white butterfly flew close to me and I wondered if all these life forms are bringing ma’s energy to her daughter thousands of miles away? The sun-kissed, lime green leaves of trees have kept me company during these sessions, the cerulean blue of the sky sent a message to be patient. The beautiful flowers that friends have sent in their kindness constantly remind me that my mother would want me to appreciate the beauty of life.

I have meditated with my mother’s thoughts. I have not emptied my mind and focused on a chant, or a point on the wall. Before the frantic fight for baba’s recovery starts the next day, these quiet afternoons have been my solace.

I have not had time to meditate after my father’s passing. I believe my system is in a state of shock and the practicalities that face me now are keeping calm thoughts at bay. I know I need to focus on both their memories to feel some peace. The hurt, however, is too recent, too raw. I am counting on the age old adage, time will heal.

He has no one..

This post will be one of the hardest to write, but write I must or else I will explode in pain.

A few men came in to our house to take baba’s body to the crematorium. Since he was still mildly covid positive, the Kolkata Municipality, which takes charge of such situations, took his body for last rites. I was on video as they prepared him and started taking him down. I heard one man say to the other, “So sad, he has nobody around.”

That hit me like a brick. He has so many people who love him. Not only his daughter but extended family, friends in social media. His friends constantly reached out to me, organized help, was ready to do anything for him. His nieces and nephews, which include my friends, were coordinating oxygen refills, organizing cash when needed. In his home, he was cared for by Gouri and Mashi who have cared for him for many years. Even at the hospital he called out for Gouri. Gouri was standing right by him when they took him. He has people. Nobody could be there with him at the end but he did not have much consciousness to acknowledge the absence according to his caregiver. He became drowsy and went away gently like ma.

Those words of the municipality workers hurt. They haunt me still when I think about it. This Covid has caused so much devastation. I think being alone at the time of one’s last breath and helpless daughter/s or son/s (many, many like me all over the world) looking on via video are some of the most heart-rending consequences of this disease.

My big fat Bengali family is partying hard somewhere…

Elizabeth Kubler Roth On Death and Dying has written, “The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.”

I will take time off from my usual grief journal and write about a scenario which could be happening behind the veil, who knows? My aunt died yesterday in her sleep. My father died a few hours ago. The death march in my family continues. Anyway, I think all my family members over the years who have said sayonara are having a raucous get together somewhere without us who are still limited in our physical being. Although I was an only child, I grew up in a loud, boisterous family with grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins. And when we got together the decibel level generally reached an unacceptable level for neighbors. In a middle class Bengali family, there was always a lot of food, sweets, snacks along with more than a generous amount of teasing, shouting, loud conversations about who can eat how much and laughter. My aunts did the cooking, my mother held court in a semi languishing posture because she was self proclaimed lazy. She provided the entertainment.

I think all my departed family is together now, partying hard…..somewhere.. There is the same raucousness, same loud teasing, same laughter. Food? I don’t know.

Sahana was waiting for her final grade in college. She was on tenterhooks because this grade was going to determine if she would graduate with magna cum laude. Well, she did. Because of the tragedy in our family, her achievements have not been celebrated like they should have been but she knows we are immensely proud of her. When she found out she will graduate with a magna cum laude, she said, “Oh mom! Can you imagine how much bragging didiya is doing up there to her family? Oh she will be obnoxious about it. She was always so proud of my academic achievements and talked about it to anyone who would listen.” When she said this, dadai was still breathing. But I am sure baba will look on with his usual beaming face as ma tells everyone how brilliant Sahana is.

It was a happy vision – ma with her youthful energy which she had lost towards the end, talking to her siblings, aunt and parents about her grand daughter’s achievements as her siblings try to pretend that they are as interested in it as she is. 🙂

I wrote this before baba joined them. Now everyone is welcoming him into the party.

“Arre Gautam, esho esho.”

Baba

Baba liked to get things done. He was an organizer. He liked to take care of banking, paying bills, buying the freshest fish, the best vegetable. Once he organized everything and made sure all under his care were comfortable, he looked around with a beaming, satisfied smile. He was a fixer of things. If something needed to get fixed, he would get it fixed. And he loved animals. He loved them with all his heart. He made sure the stray dogs in his neighborhood had food and vet care when they needed it. Going out with him was a challenge as he was the pied piper of Kolkata. His brood of four legged friends surrounded us trying to give hugs and kisses, while demanding biscuits of course. Baba would always go to the local pan shop, buy packets of biscuits, distribute them evenly before going on his way. The same protocol was followed when he came back home.

Baba died a few hours ago. He put up a valiant fight against Covid 19, but Covid won. After ma’s death 9 days ago, I dreaded breaking the news to baba. His own health was so fragile that I decided not to give him the news. I hoped he would recover from this disease and I will break the news gently when he could handle it.

Well I don’t have to any more. He went away to join her and continue the constant bickering that was left incomplete in this life. I heard that the day they were going to the hospital, ma was scared. He was sick himself, but he sat by her and stroked her arms saying not to be afraid, he will be there with her.

I wonder if she was afraid on her own, and he knew she needed him to be with her. I want to believe they are together, fighting, bickering but still comfortable in each other’s company.

And just like that, within a span of 9 days, I am an orphan who could not be there to hold their hands for the last time.

Guilt

The seven stages of grief elude me. Is guilt one of them? If it is then I have arrived there. I am at the phase where I am questioning myself if I could have saved ma if I had made different decisions? Am I even that powerful or that thought is pure hubris? A couple of friends had given different suggestions of hospitals, I chose one and both my parents were admitted there. There was and continues to be a huge shortage of hospital beds along with ICUs, so I opted for one where 2 beds were available and ICU option. The hospital was horrible and today the government closed it down as they were fleecing people without providing service.

Did ma die due to their negligence? Is that kind of thought useful? I don’t know. I keep telling myself I made a decision and I paid a steep price for it. It is on me. Ma always said “Do your best because that is the best you can do.” That was her mantra. That mantra is ingrained in my brain and I tell my children the exact same thing. Ma knows I did my best with the information and ability I had at the time, being thousands of miles away. And if she died because of my decision of choosing that hospital, I hope she knows how helpless I was and sees my love and desperation to save her and baba.