Chhaya di had a battered aluminium sauce pan. It was blackened at the base , had several dents and bruises all over, and the handle was broken. If I remember correctly. it leaked at two twin holes, where the bolts had been earlier.
Of all her worldly possessions , which were meagre, this one object stands out in my memory. Why ?
I think it is because , it symbolised Chhaya di most. She was down and out, but not broken . She was the living example of a fighting spirit, never giving up in the face of hardest of adversities.
So, whenever we visited her , tea would be boiled in the said sauce pan , taking care not to let all the frothy goodness escape from the bolt-holes, then it would be rinsed and scrubbed, and french toast would be fried in the same pan.
Chhaya di was a nurse. Retired as a matron. She was the eldest sibling in a house full of countless members. She was the first one to acquire a diploma , and first to leave the fish pond filled village , and squalor filled home , for the city.
She earned money , and sent back home . She would proudly recount the achievements of her younger brothers, jobs, marriages, kids. She , herself , continue to live the life of severe austerity and denial, that was almost shocking.
She would deny herself holidays, new clothes , anything that smacked of indulgence. What might come across as miserliness to us , was the only way of life,she permitted for herself.
She saved every penny, so she would live a life of comfort with her brothers' family, post retirement. She saved so she could travel to vaishno-devi some day. She saved for a tomorrow that never came .
Post retirement, her sharp tongue led to numerous tiffs in her brothers' household, till she was told in no uncertain terms, that she was no longer welcome there, fat purse notwithstanding ( another example of money not being able to buy you everything in this world).
Disillusioned, she came back to the city, to be diagnosed as a case of disseminated carcinoma of the bones. She had multiple fractures, was confined to the bed for most of her illness, and all her life's savings evaporated in her hospice care.
She passed away a broken being , literally.
All her life she dreamt of living with her family, none of whom were present at her funeral. Her pyre was lit by a kindly neighbour.
As fate would have it, that day fell on the eighth day of the Durga Puja , so all the Gods were in attendance.
Of all her worldly possessions , which were meagre, this one object stands out in my memory. Why ?
I think it is because , it symbolised Chhaya di most. She was down and out, but not broken . She was the living example of a fighting spirit, never giving up in the face of hardest of adversities.
So, whenever we visited her , tea would be boiled in the said sauce pan , taking care not to let all the frothy goodness escape from the bolt-holes, then it would be rinsed and scrubbed, and french toast would be fried in the same pan.
Chhaya di was a nurse. Retired as a matron. She was the eldest sibling in a house full of countless members. She was the first one to acquire a diploma , and first to leave the fish pond filled village , and squalor filled home , for the city.
She earned money , and sent back home . She would proudly recount the achievements of her younger brothers, jobs, marriages, kids. She , herself , continue to live the life of severe austerity and denial, that was almost shocking.
She would deny herself holidays, new clothes , anything that smacked of indulgence. What might come across as miserliness to us , was the only way of life,she permitted for herself.
She saved every penny, so she would live a life of comfort with her brothers' family, post retirement. She saved so she could travel to vaishno-devi some day. She saved for a tomorrow that never came .
Post retirement, her sharp tongue led to numerous tiffs in her brothers' household, till she was told in no uncertain terms, that she was no longer welcome there, fat purse notwithstanding ( another example of money not being able to buy you everything in this world).
Disillusioned, she came back to the city, to be diagnosed as a case of disseminated carcinoma of the bones. She had multiple fractures, was confined to the bed for most of her illness, and all her life's savings evaporated in her hospice care.
She passed away a broken being , literally.
All her life she dreamt of living with her family, none of whom were present at her funeral. Her pyre was lit by a kindly neighbour.
As fate would have it, that day fell on the eighth day of the Durga Puja , so all the Gods were in attendance.
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