My mother & her two daughters, my sisters, Bombay c. 1953

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This is from about 1953 in Bombay, two years before I arrived in the family, with Tunu (Sucheta) holding the teddy-bear and Buju (Suchandra) looking sober and responsible on my mother’s left.   There seems to be a radio in the background as well as a small bust of the poet Rabindranath Tagore.

Tunu lived August 12 1947 until January 26 1990.  This is how I recall her last, c. 1988,  after she had lost one breast to cancer and suffered other tragedies.

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She, seven years older than me, was really my first teacher, telling my infant mind about the world it found itself in even before I ended up at Lady Evelyn’s kindergarten in Ottawa.  There will be more of her here in due course — building a snowman together in the Canadian snows and other escapades.   I wept much, far away in Honolulu, when she died in Calcutta aged 42.   She would have been a  happy grandmother today, enjoying her three grandchildren: GetAttachment.aspx3

Buju lived February 14 1943 until January 10 1998. She was 12 years older than me and loved me dearly and I wept much at her tragic passing — she had no children and I cremated her with the full honours that she might have received had she left a son.

I shall write more of her in time. Meanwhile, I remain grateful for Nana Mouskouri’s rendition of  Amazing Grace as there is an uncanny resemblance.

December twenty years ago is when I last saw Tunu, having returned from Honolulu to say what we knew was our last goodbye; December twelve years ago was when I last saw Buju. “The wise grieve not for those who live or for those who die, for life and death shall pass away, and I and thou and those kings of men, shall live for ever and ever” advises the Bhagavad Gita as I recall; but perhaps the advice is wrong since the wise like the unwise do grieve and should.