I always fail to recall the first time I must have seen Maa
Pishima. It is as if she was always an integral part of my life.
Maa pishima was my mum’s father’s sister. A distant relation
I admit but she was no less than my grandmother to me. Visiting her at our
ancestral home in Krishnanagar would be one of the best parts of the year. The
idea that the toilet is outside the main building of the house, that there is a
well in the backyard, that there is a room attached to the kitchen where all
the mud pots were kept for cooking was a source of fascination for me. And
obviously the way she would pamper me with the “rasogollas”, was a pure
delight. Every morning there, I would wake up early so that I could sit with
her during the daily prayers and ring the bell for her.
The day she decided to sell the house, all of us were deeply
saddened. But we didn’t say much because we knew that she was the unhappiest
about all this. She was too old to manage the house alone.
After having old the house, she came to live with me and
mum. We knew she missed the old days, when she was completely independent. And
so she couldn’t continue to live with us for long. She went to live with her
other brother at Kolkata. I still missed her.
It has been 3 years since she left us on this earth forever
and she is there only in my memories and the photographs. And since then I have
never gone back to Krishnanagar. It is impossible to see that house without its
lady.
