Purnendu's, Yashendu's and my Memories with our Mother Ammaji

We have received a lot of messages of condolence in many different ways and I am thankful for all your support and compassion in this time of grief. I have not found myself able to reply to everyone separately but please know that every line of condolence reached our hearts. It is nice to know that others are in thoughts with you, even if this cannot change the sad facts.

We just never thought that our mother would leave us this quickly. When someone is at the end of a long life, like my grandmother is, you are in a way prepared for them to leave. This sudden heart attack meant that we were mentally unprepared for her passing but on the other hand it also meant that she did not have to suffer. This is what gives us comfort again and again – that she was laughing, happy and healthy until the last evening of her life.

Forty years of our life together and uncountable memories have passed in front of my eyes again and again in the past days and sitting together in family we have all shared our memories with each other.

One of my favourite memories is of the time when my sister was born. We went by Rickshaw, Ammaji sitting on the seat and me standing on the back. It was my pride that I had taken my mother to the hospital for getting my baby sister.

Ammaji raised us to become people who can take responsibility and be proud of what we have achieved. Purnendu and I remembered how she would give me 500 Rupees, which was a lot of money in that time, and told me that I would be the one running the house for a month with this money. If something would be left, it would be mine. At other times I would go to pay the electricity bill while she was taking care of my younger siblings at home. It was great to feel her trust in me and I was proud to carry out my tasks!

All three of us brothers remember our gift for our tenth birthday. On 14th October 1981 Ammaji went with me to the bank, on 22nd July 1983 she went with Purnendu and on 8th August 1990 she went with Yashendu. Each time she opened a bank account with some rupees on it – our birthday gift.

When I started travelling with my father, Purnendu was the oldest one at home and he, too, helped her a lot. He learned cooking from her, too, and she could completely rely on him to prepare the meals for the family. He learned all his skills of organizing and managing from her – she was a master in this!

Every year on Diwali, there is a day when one buys something for the home. I know how she would always, on that day, sit in the Ashram and see when Purnendu came from the market – each year he made her a gift that made her eyes shine. A new wok, a big new stove to make food for the big Ashram family or a huge new pressure cooker.

She expressed her love through food, feeding those whom she loved. When we were eating, she always asked us to take a bit more while we joked that we were still humans and could not eat one more bite! In the end we usually agreed on taking a little bit more, just because it was so tasty. On her last evening, when we had already finished, she told Yashendu to eat one more piece of bread: ‘Aashu, take one more!’ After their usual game of denying and urging, he finally took it, although he had been more than full already. It was the last bread made by her hands.

Yashendu was and remained the small one, her baby. She always kept a portion of sweets especially for him. When we were all in bed, he would go into her room, ask her if she had something to eat and she would take it out. Even on her last evening, she kept the last bit of Gajar ka Halwa aside for him which he enjoyed very much in the later evening.

Now only memories are left and we will have to learn to live without her. The world will go on and we will live on, too, but now I understand how it feels like when your mother dies.