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 had contracted the virus. How would I ever go home … Continue reading Remembering Pishi: I’ve lost a role model, confidante and second mother
We all lose people we love, people who are integral to us. We cannot escape loss. I will never know what it must feel like to lose a child but I know the sorrow of a mother or father’s death. Today, my father-in-law, Edward Duffy, died. His wife, Jean, and his seven children are in that unenviable position today of realizing they will never see … Continue reading Ed Duffy. Unforgettable.
The film “Aradhana” had just made its big splash in 1969 when my family returned once again from a soujourn in America to India. As we settled back to a middle-class existence that back then meant ration cards and standing in line for water, the songs of “Aradhana” blared on speakers at street stalls. We had a radio at home but half the time we … Continue reading Rangakaka: Remembering a colorful life
I’m at work today, on Thanksgiving, surrounded by news that projects mankind in the worst sort of way — war, murder, rape. But I am also heartened by the best of humanity. I was especially reminded of that as I wrote a CNN story about a Holocaust survivor who met his Polish Catholic rescuer for the first time since the war ended. The survivor told … Continue reading On Thanksgiving
I turned 51 today. Last year was the milestone year. The big 50. I felt OK about it. 50 is the new 40, my older friends told me. I celebrated with a big party. My brother came from Canada, my cousin from New York. My sisters-in-law traveled great distances, too. Then everyone went home and life resumed, no different, really, than before. Today is different. … Continue reading Fifty-one
“When did you get home?” a friend asked me yesterday. “Last night,” I replied. “It must feel good to be back,” she said. The pause on the phone was long enough to be awkward. “Yes,” I said. I wanted the conversation to end. But what was home? That word has always been problematic for me. I have always straddled two continents, two cultures, a feat that … Continue reading Phir bhi dil hai Hindustani
My mother would have turned 82 today. I would have picked up the phone and called her. 011-91-33-2247-6600. I would have said: Ma! Happy Birthday. I would have asked her what she was doing to celebrate. She would have said that my pishi (aunt) was coming over for lunch. Nothing special was planned. I wold have asked about what else was going on. She would … Continue reading Happy Birthday
