My Late Sister Guddi (nee Nilima Aggarwal — an Ode)
Today the second of three elder sisters nicknamed Guddi (meaning Doll) but formally christened Nilima (derived from blue — reflecting the purity, freshness, sincerity and openness of the sky and the sea) would have completed 78 years — before one starts wondering as to what is so significant about this — let me confess I had originally thought of writing this on her eightieth birthday two years hence which would have been an opportune time, but considering the uncertainty of the times that we live in (the affect compounded by a series of tragedies each more unexpected and more colossal than the earlier), it seems that there is no better opportune time than now. Bottled up desires and unexpressed feelings have a way of leading to a life time of regret over missed opportunities, which in many cases never present themselves again.
Well to come to the point — Guddi Didi (who was seventeen years elder to me) was essentially my Godmother and I was lucky and fortunate to have been able to spend more time with her than any of my other siblings (some of whom departed for the heavens untimely, way before their time had come) — she was a friend, guide and confidant impeccably and delicately packaged by Almighty God in the guise of an elder sister.
Undoubtedly Nisha Didi (the youngest of my four elder siblings) was my soulmate and the darling of the family, a fact which Guddi Didi herself admitted unhesitatingly and ungrudgingly admitted. In fact when Nisha Didi passed away suddenly both of us, on umpteen occasions, would talk about her endlessly with moist eyes and quivering voices reminiscences on her paralleled glory. On the few occasions when they were both present on Raksha Bandhan, they would indulge in playful and seemingly intense banter on who loved me more — with ultimately Guddi Didi disarmingly admitting — “Teri Sagi Bahan to Nisha hi hai” (your real sister is only Nisha). The fact remains she missed the all — pervading presence of Nisha Didi as much as I did — if not more — for not only had she spent more time with her, both of them shared a most intimate bond. Of course, one common factor being the bottomless love and unbounded affection they shared for me — their kid brother in whom they indulged endlessly.
Jokes and semantics apart, for close to half a century (she passed away about a week before I had turned fifty) she was a constant presence in my life. I have fond memories of her dropping me off to school, putting in the extra effort to distribute goodies to my friends on my birthdays, constantly checking up, without sounding intrusive, on my progress, helping me find my footholds in the University (which she knew like the back of her hand having spent a greater part of her life there — both as a student and later on as a Lecturer) and whatever you would expect a God mother or soul sister to do.
The fondest memories I have of her are her telephone calls at the seemingly unearthly hour of 5.45 a.m. on all my birthdays to convey her wishes and bless me even if I was in a deep slumber and sounded irritated, for that was the time I was supposed to have been born — she forever wanted to recreate the thrill and excitement of the moment every year. Here again she and Nisha Didi, if I may say so, indulged in some kind of healthy competition. Sadly, confined to bed and gradually reduced sensibilities put paid to this practice in the last almost a decade of her life and her journey to the heavens obliterated any hope of the same being replicated again. Howsoever irritated I may have been by the call at a seemingly insane hour — I surely have been missing that for almost two decades now and every year on my birthday I simulate that call and get invigorated by the pleasant memories.
Even when I would get back home after appearing for my professional examinations, it seemed some kind of intuition or fortuitous planning, that as soon as I reached home the phone would start ringing and it would be Guddi Didi enquiring about how it had gone and in case I sounded somewhat disappointed and forlorn, she would most reassuringly say “Forget the past — think about tomorrow — in the end everything is going to be O.K”. Such was the pragmatic world view of life reflecting an infinite ability to deal with each day as it comes.
Often times in winter she would call me in the morning and ask me to drop by on way back from office in the evening and she would have prepared the most delectable Gajar Ka Halwa which she would indulge me in generous proportions — mind you in her own words her cooking skills, to say the least, were highly suspect but the streaming hot Halwa served in thick winter with that extra but of affection thrown in for good measure would scarcely make you believe that. On other days when I would reach unannounced, she would serve me crisp toasts liberally layered with butter and a fair sprinkling of my favourite Aloo Bhujia — a somewhat surprising concoction which was nevertheless music to my palette more so for the liberal dose of love, care and earnestness with which she went about making and serving it.
Family members both immediate and extended, tell me that Guddi (as she was lovingly called by everybody) was a veritable tomboy in school and college — with a below average academic record in school — surprising given that she had a stellar career as a Lecturer in one of the premier colleges of Delhi University a prankster, prone to sports and the centre half of the school Hockey team. In fact my eldest sister Sushma Didi who had a distinguished academic record herself (before unfortunate circumstances intervened) was many times to put it bluntly, ashamed to be seen walking with her, given the gargantuan difference in their academic capabilities and achievements. Apart from being the veritable tomboy, she was unconventional and non-conformist to a great extent, of course, without compromising on societal mores and basic values.
I am told by some sources that at various times she nursed ambitions of becoming a Nurse — a reflection of her intensely helpful mind-space considering her penchant for being of service and helpful disposition to anybody and everybody. Of course, this got due expression in her chosen career of teaching Mathematics, mostly at Miranda House in the University of Delhi where not only her unorthodox teaching methods but also her ready accessibility and intensely caring dispensation with a balanced and friendly demeanour elevated her to the level of almost being worshipped by the students. Much to our chagrin and annoyance, at the attention being deflected from all of us, she would always have a couple of students sharing their personal problems with her, confiding in her and she had endless energy and unbounded enthusiasm to listen to them and explore all options towards providing them at least a ray of hope, if not a solution.
Being the first female in her generation to learn driving she would gladly and happily ferry all and sundry around on whatever errands they would require with a readily helping hand to boot — this habit continued till even later in her life and only bouts of illness and gradually receding mental/physical sensibilities put that to a stop.
A woman of very limited needs you could see her gracefully clad in crisp cotton sarees or spotlessly clean salwar suits — which were her favourite outfits — although her wardrobe was neither huge nor fancy her sartorial sense, matched by a calm demeanour and caring outlook was the envy of whoever came into contact with her. As for indulgences, she never had any taste or desire for jewellery and her favourite outing was a quite family outing at the Minar Restaurant in the outer circle of Connaught Place, New Delhi with a standard menu of Dal Makhni, Aloo Gobhi and a Crispy Tandoori roti, with a chicken dish became a part of the repertoire when the children got older. In fact soon after she completed her earthly journey, in a bid to keep her memory fresh we all converged at the same place with the same menu and reminiscenced about the golden moments spent with her.
In spite of a totally unenviable medical history — the result of a series of medical disasters, botched up surgeries and the resultant complications when she want under the knife and bouts of general anaesthesia on countless occasions, her spirit remained undaunted and she brought up her children — Manish and Girish in the manner only she could do, mixing indulgence with sternness, academics with the extra -curricular, balancing the needs and responsibilities of her chosen career and towards the extended family with that of her children — whom she brought up with the warmest tender and loving care in a blissful home with more than a little help from her husband Om Parkashji (who joined her in heaven just a couple of months back).
Not only that she was always available to render the helping hand and provide a shoulder to lean on and provide succour whenever in need — whether family, friends, students, colleagues or seniors. Indeed her stature in Miranda House where she spent a life time teaching Mathematics was to be seen to be believed — loved and adored by her students, endeared by her colleagues and respected by her seniors — who invariably sought her counsel on ticklish and thorny issues. In fact she and one of our cousins (who went on to have a distinguished career at IIT, Kanpur) were the true inheritor of Pitaji’s (Late Principal Shanti Narayan’s legacy) in their commitment and devotion to teaching in general and mathematics in particular.
As for Pitaji she was more than a son and in fact his confidant, more so after the tragic and untimely departure of Nisha Didi to the heavens. She even co-authored some of his works and was a keen collaborator in most of his activities — it was only later in life when familial responsibilities took more of her time that her professional involvement waned but what was admirable was his devotion to him — taking care of his personal and medical needs and even nursing him dutifully when he was bed ridden either at home or in the hospital something which, I readily, yet regretfully admit, both of us brothers were tragically and radically found wanting at.
She was also the first in the family whom I called upon knowing of my clearing the Chartered Accountancy Examination and when I went to her house on the way back she was visibly excited and happy and after the mandatory warm hug and loads of blessings she asked me to leave immediately for home where everybody including Pitaji, Bibi (our mother), Nisha Didi and everybody else were awaiting eagerly — with the caveat that she would join as soon as Jijaji came back from office — which she did and we really had a fun-filled, joyous evening that day.
She was the quintessential Grandmother to our son Suhail, in whose development she played a major and defining role right from the day he was born, from accompanying us to getting him admitted to the play school and later on the regular school to keeping track of his illnesses, injuries and all other issues, that are an integral part of bringing up a child — her experience in bringing up two boys and her practical approach did come in handy. In fact on many of these occasions we would sometimes encounter some of her students whose love for her was to be seen to be believed. On many occasions when we left him under her care, Suhail would eagerly look forward with expectation at the thought of the pampering and goodies which he was sure would come his way. On other occasions when we were in office (which was a fair distance away) and Suhail met with an injury or suddenly fell sick or had some other urgent needs, by the time we reached home Guddi Didi would invariably already have done the needful — got him the requisite medical attention and taken care of his needs such was the bond that Suhail shared with him — a reflection of her personality which embodied unrequited love and deep-rooted care and understanding. As an aside, when Suhail, in a most dramatic mutation of genes, was struggling with Mathematics( a subject over which our family seemed to have a proprietary right), it was Guddi Bua’s (Aunt’s) support, patience and effort that helped him ultimately come out with flying colours — even though by that time her sensibilities had somewhat suffered the ravages of time.
It has been more than a decade since she departed for the heavens, while her children Manish and Girisih serve as true remembrance of her vibrant self. In my solitude, I do really miss her — specially in times of distress or to share my feelings. Her departure was also somewhat all the more poignant to me as it signified the passing away of the last of my siblings leaving me in somewhat lonely. However, my family and friends have tried to make up for their absence and done so admirably. Of course, most of them miss her as much as I do — if not more.
Guddi Didi hope you are well in heaven having the Company almost the entire family of people whom you loved and admired and joined lately by Jijaji and am sure having a whale of a time — something which in my weak moments makes me feel terribly, lonely and endlessly drown in envy. But the thought of your smiling face, loving and calm dispensation and the sweetest memories bring forth a sense of calmness and serenity — that is what you would have wanted me to do. And, of course the motif that you give me :
“Lord help me to remember that;
Nothing is going to happen to me today;
that you and I together can’t handle”.
To conclude I would like to share something which I told her in one of my most intimate conversations with her.
“I asked God for all things,
that I may enjoy life;
God give me Guddi Didi,
to enjoy life and appreciate all things”.
Miss you Guddi Didi — hope you and all of the others are happy and enjoying each other and true to self you are taking care of everybody.
