I edited a story this week about a woman who found rebirth through a pregnancy during the pandemic. I tried hard to understand how she felt and yet, the concepts of motherhood were so alien to me. I have never been a mother. I will never be one. I had a mother once. I will …
I have always been called the oldest among my cousins because the truly eldest of my generation were so much older than the rest of us, the sons of my eldest aunt, that they were not a part of our childhood gang. It was almost as though Gonuda and Manuda should have been our kakas …
On the 24th day of my pandemic isolation, I learned my Pishi, my auntie, had died in her home in Kolkata. The news was not wholly unexpected – she had been ill and suffering for many months. But nonetheless, a dread bore down on me so hard that it made me wonder if I …
Continue reading “Remembering Pishi: I’ve lost a role model, confidante and second mother”
Shonakaka with me, (from right), my cousin Jayanta, my brother, Shantanu, my cousins Sudip and Suman at our grandfather’s house in Kolkata. Circa, 1968. The last time I saw Shonakaka, I knew he was ill. Gone was the mirth; his enormous zest for life reduced to a meager smile. At a family gathering in New Delhi last …
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