This Day.

Some days hold so much significance that it is hard to write about them. Today is one such day. A birthday of a sister, and the death anniversary of her brother. Both very dear to me, and an intrinsic part of my life. And later, part of my children's lives.

Then, I left. Hindsight provides insights, and exposes folly. When they were needed in my life, they were present, fully. When I should have been there for them, I was not. These are the kinds of situations that are unforgivable, and remorse is just a drop in the ocean of a retribution that is not possible.

Poignantly, while we were oceans apart, and I knew. things were not going well for him, the Brother, my JM. I went to our local temple to find some solace, for my helplessness and restlessness. I sat, head held low, and hardly another soul in sight. An instrumental CD was playing, and as if on cue, it played Vaishnav Jan, which he truly was. A Vaishnav Jan, and he embodied that humility, selflessness ands service. 

In his early career, he had been the Managing Editor of news and media publications of a family Publishing and Printing business. They published several school text books, and also brought out magazines in English, and a tabloid in Urdu, besides Independent India's first Film tabloid. 

The Sister, my BA, was heavily involved in running the school, the family had opened upon arrival al in New Delhi from Lahore, after partition. The businesses was sold, after it became too big, and the children of the family branched out into other occupations. The School was given over to the State, as it also became too big, and the elders in the family wanted to retire. The Delhi Corporation, which was looking to open more schools, took over the school, and kept the sister on as Principal. She soon after became a Senior Inspectress of schools for the whole district, having about 45 schools which she was responsible for. They both had lived fruitful livers. 

The brother and sister were unmarried, and he was very devoted to the family, especially to the sister. 

Our generations are reflected in our ancestors. Had they not been we would not be here. Year after year goes by, and time becomes more and more precious and scarce. If only we can live it in a way to make those loved us, nurtured and raised us, proud, we are living well. 

If one can remember to rise above adversity, and use the gifts we are given, we can make them proud. Because there is nothing more valuable that we have, or that we can give. Because those gifts have been given us as part of our DNA. What was their legacy, should continue to be ours. So their gifts can be preserved by us, doing our bit to carry them forward.

Veenu Banga

12/7-8/ 2024.

12:12 am