Missing from earth but not my memory

L-R: Rustam ji Taraporevala, Julia Dutta, Erica Taraporevala

The one missing from the picture above is Sengupta aunty. 

The beautiful, vivacious, talkative, forgetful but forever young lady, Anima Sengupta, mother of my school friend Erica Taraporevala just left planet earth on 7^th May, 2015.

The last time, I met her was when I wined and dined with the entire family at their lovely residence, at Nagar Road, Pune, two years ago. Sengupta aunty and I engaged with talking about the days, we all lived very happily in the LIC Colony, Borivali, Mumbai. We recalled, while her daughter and son-in-law went to bed upstairs, about the times when in that colony was a little town made of Bengalis who had come to live from different parts of India and of course Bombay. Did I remember, Bhattarji uncle, and his pure Bangal accent and the way he made us laugh? Of course I did! When he related the story of the young boys playing in the football field had gathered with mock show of fearlessness, rolling up their sleeves and tucking in their lungis (football was played in lungis, the national dress of Bangladeshi men in the 50s) to fight against establishment, but no sooner had the police come to lathi charge them, they fled so hard that some of the boys even went bottomless, because, their lungis had dropped off and they did not even realize it!? And just as in those days, we all laughed so much, Sengupta aunty and I cracked the night air with our giggles.

And of course the time, she went to Juhu beach and the naughty wave came forcefully in and grabbed her set of Made-in-London dentures, the whole set, leaving her toothless but not humour deprived. Sengupta aunty and my maternal aunt, my mashi were very good friends and often when school broke and I returned home to a snack before dinner, Sengupta aunty was in our house chatting with my mashi.

“My God, Mrs Shyam, it is late!" She gasped, "Erica must have come home too. Let me rush back!”

This time too when we met, we talked of the past and memories filled like never before. Talking to her made me realize that she filled up a void in my heart - when she and I talked, it was just like when I lay on my diwan in the drawing room and my mashi sat after dinner on the sofa and we chatted about this and that, people from the past and incidents etched in our minds.

That luxury is now lost. The moments of togetherness as niece and aunt, are gone forever now. Sengupta aunty was a great story teller, and so is her daughter, Erica Taraporevala.  Like mother ; like daughter.

And I, will always miss the closeness of that hour when we talked, just like I talked with my aunt, my mashi. The door to that story in my life is forever closed now.

Goodbye Sengupta Aunty! I know you are having a great time out there, meeting up and talking about the past on planet earth with all those who left before you, from Borivali LIC Colony Bongo Samaj!

Ebar janai propam!

R-L: Sengupta Aunty, Rustam ji Taraporevala, Persis, Erica, Mrs  Freny Ginwala , Natasha.

Old wine tastes sweet, sometimes.

Visiting a place you have left behind or people you are no more in daily contact with, because they are no more a part of your life, causes both a feeling of happiness as well as sadness. Let me explain.

Many moons ago, I came to stay in a city which was buzzing with life. Over the years, it made me, molding me from raw and ready clay to a finished good ready to take on the world. The city was Bombay.

I can’t say I was ever in love with the city – who can really be, if you have come from the laid back life of a small town, picturesque and beautiful. Yet, the cement blocks of which I was going to see a lot in later years as well, grew in me and the people became my family. Yes, they say, in Bombay, you do not need your family; your neighbours make up for your family.

After thirteen years, I escaped to another place, close to Bombay, where the quality of life resembled what I had left behind, long ago. So, why did I return to Bombay after eight years out of it?

I longed to be in the hustle bustle of daily life, waking up at 5 am to take a train at 7 am to reach my work place at 9 am! Five years and I was done.

One day, I sat and calculated the number of hours I was on the road and it worked out to be like this: Out of 12 months in a year, I was only living 8, because the rest of the time I was travelling! It hit me like a bolt from the sky and I said to myself – Hey! I am not going to live like this anymore.

Just at that time, love came knocking at my door and I opened it to find that I was already flying out to another place, a place I was going to call my home.

Fifteen years in one place, changes you, for better or for worse. But it has contributed more to me than I can measure. Delhi is my jaan, my love, my life now.

Returning to Bombay, only recently, I realized that I was tremendously happy to be there and it almost seemed that I would return, just like I had many years ago, after living 8 years in a place which gave me, ease and a good lifestyle.  But early came a few warnings!

Friends and family I left behind years ago, were lukewarm.  They were also busy – Still! Even over the weekend, they did not have the time to meet. I understood! Isn't Bombay the place, where you promise to meet friends almost every week but can make it only once every other year? So why blame them; I am forgotten not because there is a problem with me, but because, life is so fast, it is like the old cassette we used to have, where you overwrite and everything is wiped out. So too me.

And there were a few new associations which were so warm and welcoming that I almost stayed behind. But good providence and past experience warned me of the devil within and the carrot that always hangs before a donkey, before it makes another enormous mistake!

I think that creative upheaval is a very positive thing and it pushes you beyond yourself to achieve new dimensions. This is exactly my point of view why I upturned my life so many times for a new place where I could start from scratch once again. But this time, I was shy of it.

It is indeed hard to create your stability with a city. It takes years to do it. And once it is cemented, then, it is foolish to ruffle up everything and start all over again.

There might be a home for me out there, but really Bombay, I am done with you and while I enjoyed my years with you, indeed, you are only old wine that tastes sweet, sometimes.

Photo credit HERE