Urmi Basu is the founder and director of the New Light school, for children of Kolkata's prostitutes. Recently she wrote this tribute to her mother, which I think you'll find very touching.
Dear friends
As my life is gradually getting back to normal after ten days of the demise of my extra -ordinary mother , Sabita , i thought of sharing a bit about her life with all of you. At this moment both Arnab and I are at a complete loss of words to express just how overwhelmed and grateful we feel for all the strength, support and love that each one of you have given us over the past few days to deal with the greatest loss of our lives.
My mother was born ordinary but rose to the position of an extra-ordinary woman simply because of the life that she had chosen to live. Born to an affluent conservative Brahmin family as Sabita Chatterjee of north Calcutta on 24th of October 1929 she lived the life of a rebel. Her childhood was quite like that of many during those days. Not knowing where they belonged in a society that was making a huge transition under the influence of Gandhiji on the one hand and the last strong holds of the British rule in India on the other she did almost everything that was expected of a person of her background and stature at that time. I remember her telling me of her days at musical soirees and escorted trips to the Ladies` Park and her forays into the unknown territories of Brahmo homes and Parsee families.I also remember her telling me stories of the days of fear during the World War II and the great famine of Bengal.
Being at the middle position of nine daughters she moved from being the brightest and the best loved to the most disliked and criticized for her outstanding aspirations as an adolescent.
She was considered as the bad influence on her younger sisters and the family tried hard to reform her more often than not. Her early life education took place in an Irish Missionary school very near the house of our grandparents in north Calcutta. That education opened up the world of western art, music and knowledge for her without alienating her from the cradle of her own culture and sensibilities. During her growing up days the biggest influence on her life was her second sister lovingly called Mejdi. I have to say that even during the last hours of her life my mother in her delirium pleaded with Mejdi to be allowed to play in the veranda and the courtyard. Much of what my mother held close to her heart about music and art also came from Mejdi.
By the time my mother became a young adult her life began to be shaped and influenced by Marxist philosophy to such an extent that she plunged headlong into a serious leftist political movement. That was also the time when through my only maternal uncle and some common friends that she met our enigmatic father who was a new entrant into the leftist political circle of Kolkata from Nagpur with rather limited knowledge of Bengali and the ways of Kolkata. Their acquaintance soon blossomed into a love and commitment for life through all the storms and sunny days that followed. In the early part of their relationship it was more of a combined love for a belief and the dream of a revolution than for each other I would like to believe. It is hard to find out what they both cherished more at that point...the concept of social justice and equality or each other. Taking part in protest marches and political rally was a part and parcel of her life. Once she and her inseparable dear sister Kabita Basu were both arrested and spent a few nights as political prisoners in the Presidency jail. Ma said that our father had found that act rather charming. Only later their love became more personal and both were forced to make very serious choices about the kind of life they wanted to have together. I heard my mother say that never there was any doubt in her mind that she was the luckiest woman on earth being with our father .They were married through a civil ceremony on the 10th of July 1953. Their inter caste marriage those days was like a signal to many young people about following one`s own conviction.
My mother left the comforts of her established home and moved in with some relatives after marriage as my father did not have any permanent place of residence. He went wherever the Communist Party wanted him to go including living life as incognito in the Dooars region of North Bengal. Once our father returned to Kolkata he took up a job as a medical officer in Bata Shoe Company and went to live there. It was also during this time that my father began working among the jute mill workers of Budge Budge and my mother was his constant companion at work.
During those years my mother met and made friends with people who remained a big part of her life till the very end. I cannot but mention the names of friends of my mother like Asha Majumder, Dr Gita Sen, Dr Arun Sen, Dr Usha Pal , Dr Mrs Gita Mukherjee, Phool Chand Jain, Amal and Rikta Das, Dilip and Dipali Dutta , Manindra and China Sarkar , Sachi Banerjee, Arabindo Ghosh, and many others. Life then was frugal and hard but full of impossible dreams. Together with the support of innumerable friends she managed to give shape to many of her dreams. Along with her political activities she also was an active member of the International Peace Movement. No act of violence anywhere went without her critical opinion and protest.
Most people would be hard put to remember our mother with any kind of jewellery or ornamentation except her little dot of vermillion on the forehead. That was her signature style. The most important ornamentation that she carried always was her smile and gentle sense of humour. Many people have been recounting moments of rip roaring laughter with her over the past few days. For all of you I say please hold on to those moments because she will never laugh with you like that again. My earliest memory of my mother`s courage floats back to the days of communal violence in the early sixties when she and our father long with some friends risked their lives and possessions to protect and save people whose lives and livelihood were being snatched from them. Those were moments of great turmoil and fear but what I learnt from her was to look at fear in its face. Those years were followed by the dark period of Bengal`s political situation and our family was subjected to untold loss and suffering by unknown assailants. Any other woman in my mother`s place would have left the ground and run for cover. Not our mother. She stood her ground, fought and saw to it that innocent lives were saved. It would take me another lifetime to recount all that happened in a short span of five years that followed.
Life dealt her that hardest blow when our father was diagnosed with cancer in 1973 and his life was abruptly brought to an end in 1976. Overnight her world was altered in ways beyond imagination. She accepted the transition of her role of a home maker to that of a bread earner with the grace befitting a ballet dancer. It was also at this time that she had to accept being separated from her two sons. My elder brother Basab went abroad for his studies and my younger brother Arnab went to live and study at the house of her dear sister Kabita and brother-in-law Sukumar Basu who had promised to take care of little Arnab. Not for a moment was there any remorse or laying the blame on fate. She did not believe in fate but just in her ability to change and control it. I continued to be with her and soon became the focus of her life. In a few years we were no longer parent and child but friends with a deep bonding and unconditional love. Much of my life today was shaped watching my mother go through the motions of everyday living. A life lived with courage and grace. Her love was not contained only for her biological children. She opened her heart to her other sons, Pulaha, my chhorda and Monojda, her foundling son. The influence of her life on them is to be equally remembered and noted.
At work she was much loved and respected and always gave her support to her colleagues who depended on her. Amidst all that was happening in her life she never forgot her responsibility either to her own family or to that of her ailing mother-in-law. I remember her visiting my grandmother every Friday afternoon after work. Hers was a life of action and mission. Not a day passed when she didn’t have something planned to do. Even toward the end of her life she continued to visit her friends and neighbours who were sick or having any kind of difficulty. Two weeks before her last illness she had drawn up a list f people that she needed to see and comfort forgetting all the while that she herself needed help to carry on her daily living. In her moments of extreme physical pain and suffering she never forgot to say thank you o those who took care of her.
Of all the gifts that our mother, Sabita has left us the greatest is the gift of courage. We hope we have the courage to look at life squarely at its face and say that we are ready. We hope we are ready to shoulder our responsibility and take it one step further. We hope are ready to carry on in the legacy of justice and compassion.
And for the grand children of the family I would say that all of you have been gifted with a very special station in life. Treasure it...honour it.
