BRIGHT SHINES THE LIFE IN THE LOVE OF DEAR ONES
Today is my mother's 87th birth anniversary. Here she is being helped by me on her final earthly birth anniversary last year to cut her birthday cake sent lovingly by her grand-daughter, Pritha Chakrabarty..
Ma had been confined to bed since 20 November, 2013 after suffering a cerebral stroke that paralysed her right side and impaired her speech. Since then, through many ups and downs, she had rallied fine and remained in good spirits by the grace of Thakur-Ma-Swamiji-Gurudev.
A versatile woman of multiple talents, a designer, an exquisite singer, an artist, a poetess, a danseuse, an amateur theatre actress and a mother with a flowing heart for all, towards the end only the last attribute distinguished her as she yet drew to her the family, far-flung and receding to the remotest ends of the earth.
Sometimes early in the morning I heard her sing a Tagore song in perfect tune which humbled me and gave the lie to all my musical pretensions. A brilliant conversationalist who held the audience enthralled with her humour and captivating talk, in the last five years of her life she lay in silence listening to more pedestrian talk of ours.
Our relatives were really nice and they gave her the care and affection that is not always the fate of all to receive. Her loving daughter and son-in-law did more than I have seen anyone do for their dear one. In this she was blessed but, yet, sometimes she used to ask me when Thakur would take her away. After all it had been a paralytic confinement to a Fowler bed for over five years and the days passed by in the care of others for one who had always been so independent.
I offer my prostration at her feet today and pray that Thakur-Ma may forever be by her side, for who else is there eternally in this 'evanescent world of dreams'?
Written by Sugata Bose
Today is my mother's 87th birth anniversary. Here she is being helped by me on her final earthly birth anniversary last year to cut her birthday cake sent lovingly by her grand-daughter, Pritha Chakrabarty..
Ma had been confined to bed since 20 November, 2013 after suffering a cerebral stroke that paralysed her right side and impaired her speech. Since then, through many ups and downs, she had rallied fine and remained in good spirits by the grace of Thakur-Ma-Swamiji-Gurudev.
A versatile woman of multiple talents, a designer, an exquisite singer, an artist, a poetess, a danseuse, an amateur theatre actress and a mother with a flowing heart for all, towards the end only the last attribute distinguished her as she yet drew to her the family, far-flung and receding to the remotest ends of the earth.
Sometimes early in the morning I heard her sing a Tagore song in perfect tune which humbled me and gave the lie to all my musical pretensions. A brilliant conversationalist who held the audience enthralled with her humour and captivating talk, in the last five years of her life she lay in silence listening to more pedestrian talk of ours.
Our relatives were really nice and they gave her the care and affection that is not always the fate of all to receive. Her loving daughter and son-in-law did more than I have seen anyone do for their dear one. In this she was blessed but, yet, sometimes she used to ask me when Thakur would take her away. After all it had been a paralytic confinement to a Fowler bed for over five years and the days passed by in the care of others for one who had always been so independent.
I offer my prostration at her feet today and pray that Thakur-Ma may forever be by her side, for who else is there eternally in this 'evanescent world of dreams'?
Written by Sugata Bose
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