Didu can never be forgotten

Didu always

We still feel

her presence

among us, within us

She spoke the language of love because she knew only to love. Didu, Amma, Thamma as she was addressed by us; her battalion of five grandchildren, she was special, she will remain special. Even though I am the eldest among my siblings, I would often feel that her love was getting a little more shared between the other four. Well, that is how Didu was; ever loved, ever generous, and ever supportive of us. And all the five of us, loved her infinitely.

On many occasions, that we revisit our memories of her, we remember how she was our friend, our mentor, our guide and as my brother put it – our partner in crime. But what were these crimes, which we would commit and she would happily be a part of? Most of these crimes included purchase of few more candies from the shop, a piece more from the crispy French fries made by her or an extra serve of a piece or two of the mutton she cooked or a little extra cash. Beyond that she would sometimes also be supportive of deducting the extra hours, which our parents might demand us to contribute in studies. But Didu would do this only on one condition; she would make us promise that we should make up for the lost hours in our next session.

Didu was our gravity. She took over from where Dadu left. My two sisters and I were lucky to get pampered by Dadu as well as Didu. My brother and my little sister never got to see who Dadu was or the person, the human being that he was. But they got to see Didu. And Didu showered them with love and blessings. Before she breathed her last on April 20, 2018; it was my younger brother and youngest sister who served her and attended to every demand of hers. One of my sister was already married by then.

My relationship with Didu had been that of grandmother and grandchild. But she was my sister during Rakshabandhan; my mother during my mother’s absence while she was teaching in her school; my father during my father’s shift duties; my teacher while studying. During my college days, I stayed with Didu. I would stay awake till she was awake. And I would sleep when she would sleep.

Two years faded away. But even today, her memories remain fresh in our minds. Be it her own children or us; her grandchildren. At times, I remember those moments when I had fought with Didu. These fights were just like the fights, we break into with our friends and forget about them; as immediately as possible. She would never take offence. But yes, she would grow emotional. Still she was strong enough to make us stronger and make sure that we are prepared enough to take up all challenges of the future, she prayed for us.

The fondest memory, which I hold about Didu is the train journey between Mumbai and Kolkata of 1993. I had just appeared for my board exams. My parents took the landmark decision to send us both to Kolkata. This was my first ever solo journey sans my parents. Didu was traveling with me. During the journey, a mother and son were our fellow travelers. The son would demand anything and everything, which her son would demand. My Didu would buy it for him and I was left fuming. On many occasions, I tried stopping her from doing that; Didu didn’t budge. Finally, there was one such moment, when the mother happened to visit the bathroom and I got the opportunity to ask Didu some tough questions. But the compassionate soul that she was, Didu silenced me in two seconds. When I asked her, why was she spending so much for that kid? She replied, ‘His mother has been putting her hand in the wallet to fish out money. But do you know that she is penniless. Her husband made her board the train but didn’t give her any money to spend during travel. She will only have some access to money when this train reaches Howrah station and her brother comes to fetch her.’ I asked Didu, as to who shared this information with her. Didu replied, ‘When you were fuming and being angry at me for buying him that toy, she saw you. She broke down and told me her story.’ The journey ended. The woman and her son were attended by their relative. I looked at the woman and the child; they smiled and waved at us. I felt a lump in my throat.

So, as another year passes by after Didu’s absence from our lives, we still feel her presence among us, within us. Because for the kind and compassionate soul; Didu can never be forgotten.

- Virtuous Vociferous | April 22 | April Blog-2 | What If | 2020

The Death Of An Actor – RANJIT CHOWDHRY (aka CHOTTU)

Ranjit Chowdhry - 19.9.1955 to 15.4.2020

Ranjit Chowdhury

as the youngest brother

kept us together as family

His sister paid a fitting tribute by posting an old photograph of his; a black and white photograph on instagram. In a footnote, which she wrote on the bottom left of the photograph; Raell Padamsee wrote about her brother – 19.9.1955 to 15.4.2020; actor, writer, maverick; we will miss you. Below the photograph, she wrote a description; as simple as the actor looked or his personality was. She wrote and I quote – For all those who knew Ranjit, the funeral will be held tomorrow and a gathering to celebrate his life and share his stories on May 5. With love, Raell.

I personally learnt about his death from one of the posts of my favorite author Bishwanath Ghosh’s post on facebook. He shared his fondness for the song – Uthe sabke kadam dekho rum pum pum from the movie Baaton Baaton Mein. He described Ranjit as that guy who played the violin in the song is no more. I was a bit taken aback. I googled about his sudden demise and learnt about his demise on April 15.

Ranjit to be specific was a star of the family movies, we grew up watching during the seventies. Thankfully these movies were relayed repeatedly on the Doordarshan and now they are doing the rounds of ‘retro watch’ on some OTT platforms. He was one of those rebellious guys in the movie, who would always step out to do the oddest thing in the movie. As Deepa Mehta put it in an interesting way in one of her interviews with Sanjay Jha, a film critic. Deepa Mehta described Ranjit fondly as eternally rebellious. She added, “His wicked sense of humour, his disdain for convention, his compassion and irascible nature will be hard to replace.”

The movies, I loved him watching were – Baaton Baaton Mein, Khatta Meetha, Khoobsurat, Kama Sutra, Fire. The first three movies were sugarcoated. Kama Sutra showed him in a different light. But it was his role in Fire, which still remains memorable for me. I remember, Fire being banned and people raising slogans against the movie focusing on a lesbian relationship. I cared for none. Two fine actresses were shown falling in love; Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das. They belonged to a dysfunctional family and were married off to the two men in the family; Kulbhushan Kharbanda and Javed Jaffrey. But the third man in the family; the servant played to aching detail by Ranjit Chowdhry was the kind of character, which lingered in my mind. Right in the drawing room, he would sit watching porn. The oldest woman of the house; the so called Daadi (granny) or Ammaji (if I am not getting it wrong) would be asleep and she would keep screaming. Ranjit would do the unthinkable and shower the choicest of abuses to silence her resistance. Post Fire and many years later, in short films on many OTT platforms and YouTube, I’ve come across many characters like him. The closest to his character was the servant form the Tisca Chopra short film Chutney. Yet, he couldn’t beat what Ranjit Chowdhry had shown to the world, which stood resistant to Fire.

In today’s era, when a certain star from Indian film industry makes his way to Hollywood cinema, it becomes news. Ranjit Chowdhry along with the likes of Om Puri, Roshan Seth, Saeed Jaffrey, Anupam Kher, Irrfan Khan had already made it to Hollywood long back. If you don’t believe my words, try watching Denzel Washington’s Mississippi Masala. You will realize, the kind of actor that Ranjit Chowdhry was.

On a concluding note, you might wonder, why am I writing about an actor; I am not even related to. Nope, I am definitely related to him through my love for cinema, which kept us together as family. Ranjit Chowdhry as the youngest brother or the littlest brother in these cinemas was the ever extended olive branch. His characters made us believe – Rebels have a world of their own.

In his memoirs, A Double Life: My Exciting Years in Theatre and Advertising, Alyque writes fondly of his foster son, “Ranjit . . . has always been a delightful spirit of a human being. An impish character, both in size and personality, he’s quick-witted and charming.”

- Virtuous Vociferous | April 18 | April Blog-1 | What If | 2020