After my last post, we wound up our activities in Lisbon, and I moved back to Budapest and Caio to Geneva.
It was quite lovely to be back in Budapest - to be back home with Carse, and to move into a new apartment. Also, as it turned out, my comprehensive was postponed to the 30th of September, given the circumstances of my father's ill-health.
In a month's time, I got prepared for my comprehensive, and frankly speaking, had it not been for the immense support of my SJD mates, especially Thiago, Zsuzsi and Max, I don't think I would have made it.
And then the exam happened - and I got through - just barely - but I did it.
It was a moment of intense relief rather than triumph. The huge burden of finding funding for the next two years had been lifted off my shoulders. It was time to celebrate.
The next day, I skyped with mom and gave her the good news. I also told her that I would be off for a week to Geneva to spend some time with Caio.
Thus, off I went to Geneva on the following Thursday. Caio had found a WONDERFUL little apartment on this lovely street, and had filled it with love and delicious food even before I had arrived.
It was all too good to be true - everything was going perfectly. It was merely the calm between storms - like being in the eye of a cyclone. The very next day, my mother was suddenly taken ill, and she passed away in Calcutta, at the age of 61. When my sister broke the news to me, I felt that the ground beneath my feet had given way. I was at a Mcdonald's, trying to use the internet - I had run out of credit on my phone. As I got the news over the voip call, Caio was coming towards me with a coffee and an ice cream. I did not have to tell him - he knew by my face, and was stunned by the news. It was drizzling outside, and I ran outside just to get some semblance of sanity. The next few hours were spent at the airport trying to get a ticket to India. Luckily, my friend Aroop managed to procure the right tickets for me for the next morning. Caio could not come because of visa issues - I don't think I have ever seen him sadder than to let me go alone.
Thus, in less than 12 hours, I was on a flight to India. What went through my mind cannot be described - I had spoken to her but a couple of days before, over Skype, and everything was fine. How could everything have changed so suddenly?
Yet, it had. I reached Delhi in the night, and Mantosh was there to pick me up. That night was one of the most unrestful ever. The next day, Mantosh dropped me to the airport - I felt so alone. The next couple of hours to Kolkata was stressful, but I tried to catch a bit of sleep. It was going to be a long day.
When I reached Kolkata, I was really glad to see my friend Vahista there to pick me up. A relatively sane person on a relatively insane day was exactly what I needed. I was really concerned about my sister - she had been handling everything single-handedly since my father's illness. Thus, instead of going home, to be greeted by a million people I went straight to the mortuary where my sister was. There, I saw my mother's body, in the hearse car, lying as if she were alive, but asleep, looking serene. I finally felt a bit of relief - her aches and pains were no more. No more would she complain about her arthritis, no more would she want a road-roller to run her over. No more would she chat with us about international politics, nor feed us when we wanted, nor let us lie in her lap when we needed to cry. No more would she want to share a cup of midnight coffee. No more would she steal all the chocolates in the fridge and look all innocent. No more would she defend her dogs every time they destroyed some piece of furniture. No more would she Skype with me, laugh with me, cry with me, crack jokes, leave me links to funny information.
My sister and I cremated her body together. All our rituals then on were carried out with us side by side.
The next few days passed in a blur. Before we knew it, the Shradh (last rites) were over, and it was time for us to end the mourning.
Instead of having a typical ending-the mourning lunch, we decided to celebrate my mother's life through a lovely dinner by the lake at Calcutta Rowing Club, with a slide show of some select moments from her past. While I cannot re-cast the emotions I felt while making it, or watching it, here are some pictures from it:
It was quite lovely to be back in Budapest - to be back home with Carse, and to move into a new apartment. Also, as it turned out, my comprehensive was postponed to the 30th of September, given the circumstances of my father's ill-health.
In a month's time, I got prepared for my comprehensive, and frankly speaking, had it not been for the immense support of my SJD mates, especially Thiago, Zsuzsi and Max, I don't think I would have made it.
And then the exam happened - and I got through - just barely - but I did it.
It was a moment of intense relief rather than triumph. The huge burden of finding funding for the next two years had been lifted off my shoulders. It was time to celebrate.
The next day, I skyped with mom and gave her the good news. I also told her that I would be off for a week to Geneva to spend some time with Caio.
Thus, off I went to Geneva on the following Thursday. Caio had found a WONDERFUL little apartment on this lovely street, and had filled it with love and delicious food even before I had arrived.
It was all too good to be true - everything was going perfectly. It was merely the calm between storms - like being in the eye of a cyclone. The very next day, my mother was suddenly taken ill, and she passed away in Calcutta, at the age of 61. When my sister broke the news to me, I felt that the ground beneath my feet had given way. I was at a Mcdonald's, trying to use the internet - I had run out of credit on my phone. As I got the news over the voip call, Caio was coming towards me with a coffee and an ice cream. I did not have to tell him - he knew by my face, and was stunned by the news. It was drizzling outside, and I ran outside just to get some semblance of sanity. The next few hours were spent at the airport trying to get a ticket to India. Luckily, my friend Aroop managed to procure the right tickets for me for the next morning. Caio could not come because of visa issues - I don't think I have ever seen him sadder than to let me go alone.
Thus, in less than 12 hours, I was on a flight to India. What went through my mind cannot be described - I had spoken to her but a couple of days before, over Skype, and everything was fine. How could everything have changed so suddenly?
Yet, it had. I reached Delhi in the night, and Mantosh was there to pick me up. That night was one of the most unrestful ever. The next day, Mantosh dropped me to the airport - I felt so alone. The next couple of hours to Kolkata was stressful, but I tried to catch a bit of sleep. It was going to be a long day.
When I reached Kolkata, I was really glad to see my friend Vahista there to pick me up. A relatively sane person on a relatively insane day was exactly what I needed. I was really concerned about my sister - she had been handling everything single-handedly since my father's illness. Thus, instead of going home, to be greeted by a million people I went straight to the mortuary where my sister was. There, I saw my mother's body, in the hearse car, lying as if she were alive, but asleep, looking serene. I finally felt a bit of relief - her aches and pains were no more. No more would she complain about her arthritis, no more would she want a road-roller to run her over. No more would she chat with us about international politics, nor feed us when we wanted, nor let us lie in her lap when we needed to cry. No more would she want to share a cup of midnight coffee. No more would she steal all the chocolates in the fridge and look all innocent. No more would she defend her dogs every time they destroyed some piece of furniture. No more would she Skype with me, laugh with me, cry with me, crack jokes, leave me links to funny information.
My sister and I cremated her body together. All our rituals then on were carried out with us side by side.
The next few days passed in a blur. Before we knew it, the Shradh (last rites) were over, and it was time for us to end the mourning.
Instead of having a typical ending-the mourning lunch, we decided to celebrate my mother's life through a lovely dinner by the lake at Calcutta Rowing Club, with a slide show of some select moments from her past. While I cannot re-cast the emotions I felt while making it, or watching it, here are some pictures from it:
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