Chempakam Aunty

I always have knwon Chempakam aunty as “aunty”. She was a constant presence and comfort during my childhood and she was there for small and big events of my growing up years. She was Raghu’s amma if I needed to reference her to my parents and for them she was Mrs. Raghavan, for my sister Deepti, she was aunty (but she called uncle as Raghu papa!)

She passed away in her own style and her own terms, last week, as independently and as quietly, without bothering others, at a 103 years of age. What a life she lived. Like her son and ny friend Raghu says, she leived life on her own terms. A doctor from those days, aunty was there to treat our colds and cough. There she would be with a cotton swab on a stick, ready to paint our throat with an antiseptic solution. I used to hate that thing but she would come over or call me over to her home for the treatment. I believe that because of that me and my sister never had any problem of having tonsillitis, which was very disappointing because after the removal of the said tonsillitis all patiets ate only ice creams till it healed. Talk of opportunity lost! My sister’s hand got caught on the door once and her little finger was hanging just with a portion of some skin. My mother and aunty rushed her to the local general practitioner, who wanted to try a kind of a gum to stick the finger together and I suppose aunty took the risk to go ahead with it along with my mum and voila, my sister has a perfectly functioning and feeling little finger.

Aunty was very versatile, she would stitch and smock dresses and night gowns for me, we went shopping for my clothes to Karol Bagh. I specially remember the time when Kaftans were in vogue and I wanted to buy one. She and I made a trip to Karol Bagh, Brighways, bought a brown coloured Kaftan and ate “chola bhatura” at Roshan Di Hatti and came back home happy. I never had anyone to go to a movie with and there are times when Raghu thought that the movies I wanted to see are romantic mush and refuse to accompany me. I have seen one of my favorite movies with her “Umraao Jaan” and that movie and the outing stays with me even today. The other one she and I went to see was actually a romantic mush “The Love Story”, a Hindi movie which now I feel was such a bore.

My father used to look up at uncle as a father figure, a senior colleague, both being practicing lawyers and uncle a retired Justice. Having Raghu and aunty and uncle nearby was rather comforting, though Raghu was the most silly and irritating charatcter in those days and I talking about the late 70s and the 80s. After Raghu got through the Indian Administrative Service, uncle retired and they moved to Bangalore form Delhi. For every celebration, be it Onam, Vishu (uncle would give me one rupee coin equal to my age every year), my attaining puberty, embarrassing as it was while one is a teenager, it is an occassion celebrated with a lot of pomp, aunty came with a big cake with Raghu tagging along with that smirk on his face, that said “now is revenge time”. On the festival of Holi, me and my friends Monica and Nirmal would want to amke sure we put colour on Raghu because he decided it was a silly ritual. However, when we went to his home, aunty graciously opened the door and told us where Raghu was 🙂

How time flies, today I am at the age at which aunty was when I knew her. She raised all her children to be successful and independent human beings. She lived independently, nourishing the community where she lived after retirement. She touched souls wherever she went, she cooked, cleaned her home, was alert and had an opinion about national and international affairs. She lived big and she passed leaving a lot of love behind. Much love to her wherever she is.