'The world will miss Mahasweta Devi and I will miss my second mother.'
Nipa Roy, Mahasweta Devi's niece, remembers the writer who passed into the ages on Thursday, July 28.
The great writer Mahasweta Devi was my dearest Khokoma (a deviation from jethima, meaning aunt).
Writer Asit Gupta, her second husband, was my uncle.
I would often see my mother copying Khokoma's writing before sending them off to the printer.
Poets and writers frequented our house, thanks to the writer couple and discussion on contemporary literature was a regular event.
Though I could hardly understand what the august gathering talked about, I always managed to take the centre stage.
Premendadu (Premendra Mitra, the legendary writer) was my hot favourite.
He always had a bag full of tales to share.
One day, he gifted me a book -- Kumir Saheb -- and asked, "Kumir saheber songe tomar bhab hobe ki? (Will you and kumir sahib (the central character of the book), be friends?)"
Such golden memories have remained etched in my mind.
Years rolled by. I was growing up in years and Khokoma was getting busier.
The distance between us was widening.
But Khokoma somehow managed to squeeze out some time for both of us.
We changed houses, but I never stopped visiting her modest shelter at Bullygunge Station Road.
By this time, she got deeply involved in her work for the tribals.
Prior to my marriage, she came to meet me and my fiancee from Dubai at the airport.
"Biyete giye danrate parbo na, tai ekhane elam (I can't be there for your marriage, hence came here to meet you)," she said.
Life moved rather fast thereafter.
I shifted base to Dubai, became a motherm but never forgot Khokoma.
During my visit to Kolkata, I took my son to her place.
She doted on him.
Her face would light up every time she saw him.
She would talk to me at length about her sisters.
The death of one of her sisters had shattered her.
Strangely, towards the end of her life, some new 'faces' surrounded Khokoma all the time.
They would not allow me to visit her at her residence in south Kolkata.
On one occasion, we had to gatecrash.
Khokoma was all smiles on seeing me.
She held my hand in a tight grip and told all those who were in her room, "She is Futu, my child."
"Without her, my life would have been like a desert."
"When will you come again, dear? When will I see you, next?" she asked.
I kept mum. I did not have an answer.
That was my last conversation with her.
I knew she had been ailing but thought being such a strong person, she would defy death this time too.
Life has got too complicated these days.
It needs people like her with golden hearts.
I lost my mother some years ago.
With Khokoma's death, I lost my mother once again.
Rest in peace, Khokoma.
The world will miss Mahasweta Devi and I will miss my second mother.
Nipa Roy is a costume jewellery designer who lives in Dubai.
