Born: 19th Jan 1991
Died: 11th Aug 2010.
May you rest in peace little princess
In one of the stars, I shall be living. In one of them, I shall be laughing.
And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night.’
~ The Little Prince ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
तेजस्वी High spirited, Red blooded, Powerful, Strong, Gifted, Brilliant, Lustrous
What a beautiful name to gift to your daughter IHM.
I didn’t know what to write at first IHM. What can I say that will lessen your grief? What can I do to help you in any way possible dearest friend? I am not even a mother. Will my words seem empty?
As I spoke to my mother who had suffered the loss of a brother and her memories of naaniji and naanaji who lost their son of 21, and bitter sweet memories shared by maasi who lost her 6 year old son decades back and still has an ache ….I thought I would try.
If there is anything I know..anything that I am sure of, it is this. Memories heal. Talking heals. Even silence in remembrance heals. That moment when we are overwhelmed by the happy memories .It heals. A mother’s ache…a parent’s ache can never be fully understood by those of us who are not one. We cannot even come close.
What I can do is pray to god to give you and yours strength. I am praying for you , her father and her brother to heal.I am praying for all those whose hearts are aching in pain because she is gone. We all are praying. I am praying for her soul and her peace.
Did you know Tejaswee? Tejaswee Rao?
Well..you should have.You missed knowing a girl whose spirit shines through in her words.
This is IHM’s blog The Life and Times of an Indian Home Maker
This is Tejaswee Rao’s blog. IHM’s daughter. I.M.A.O (Tejaswee Rao’s blog)
Go visit them both. Go on.
Go and see for yourself how a daughter is a reflection of her mother. How the same passion drives them both.
This …A letter to the future… this letter is what made me and still makes me smile every time I read it.
I had read this letter long back.I remember a friend and I talking about this letter. But I didn’t know one thing. I didn’t know she was IHM”s daughter. I remember being impressed with this young girl who penned her thoughts in such a beautiful and lucid manner.
I followed her blog quietly until one day I realized that she was my very own IHM’s daughter.
No wonder! I should have known shouldn’t I? Could it have been any other way? A strong , passionate woman with a can -do spirit would have a daughter with the same wouldn’t she?
Words are essentially an expression of one’s spirit….of all that one is.
For the Inuits, the word to make poetry is the word to breathe; both
are derivatives of anerca, the soul, that which is eternal: the
breath of life.
Tejaswee’s words are such. They speak of her. They are gentle, they are calm. They are energetic. They are thoughtful. Her words bubble with happiness. Her enthusiasm is infectious. Her words breathe.
And in each one you see that she is having this conversation with herself. Is this right? Is that wrong? What if? If only. OMG!How dare they? And you smile. shaking your head at this young kid who is on a roller-coaster ride.
Her crush:)..her shyness, her smile…..and then her doubts about Obama in the very next one…then some pondering about the Burqa and Sarko..made me smile this one..Why?
Here is a girl who has not closed her mind to anything. She ponders, she mulls, she asks questions, tries to answer some of them herself..and then still keeps an open mind. Isnt this how human beings should be? Not dogmatic, open to everything?
And look at her soft heart. Read this story.
And here’s a secret.:) Everytime that I read a post of hers where she wrote indignantly about ”kicking is not cruelty to women? and Taliban and moral dilemna over ragging and using the word bitch , I thought to myself with a smile , there is an IHM in the making. Little did I know she was your daughter IHM.
Her musings on Delhi and her childhood memories of this place…the way she missed Pune…
Her memories of Andaman…the way her memories overlap..her thoughts jump from one to the other…she is in a tearing hurry to live life.
Her impression of Delhi..
You keep comparing your new city to your old one. The people (skin colour, size of nose etc), the clothes (how can people wear SO much sparkly-stuff?!), the music (okay, old city sucks when it comes to this one), the lingo (arre yaar, iska feel nahin aaya… seriously, mein toh kal M-Block Market ja rahien hoon. aanna hai?), even the Ants (seriously. Delhi’s ants are HUGE!).
I remember smiling when I read it for the first time just as I am doing now…That part about ”SO much sparkly stuff” made me laugh out loud.
Touché I say kiddo. Touché:)
Psst! I could have helped you find the sandals without chamak or thin heels more easily you know;)
And I rather like your idea of dealing with chain mails.:D
Her love for Bronte’s and Austen’s works..
Her anger at ‘bandhs’ in India that serve no purpose.
The laka laka thing was hilarious!:D
She saw the Delhi monsoons. She has captured them so beautifully.
Today I sat and read each word….teared up while reading some…nodded my head in agreement at others, was and still am as confused as her about some…..had a thing or two to say about saddi Dilli;) but you know what IHM? Mostly I smiled. How could I not?
This delight of a girl doesn’t leave one with any other option. She hooks you in with her words and then leaves you smiling.
I read these words of hers below and I thought that’s IHM’s daughter to a T!
“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
And look at this;)
No more really gorgeous footballers to ogle at. Oh the meaningless-ness of my life!
*ahem* *high five Tejaswee!
”If I write what my soul thinks, it will be visible, and the words will be its body.” — Helen Keller
Her soul is innocence and bubbly laughter.
Today I went hunting for these words of yours IHM….read many other writes of yours too…all about her….your love for all creatures that she has inherited too….sibling fights in jest…her passion for gender equality…so much ..just so much to share…
What are little girls made of?
I know what this little girl was made of…
Little girls are made of a strong indomitable will, a unique kind of courage in a girl who shakes and trembles deep inside and yet stands firm by her conviction...
Little girls are made of a compassion that’s rare and a soft, mushy heart that looks longingly at her crush.
Little girls are made of that which speaks to a daughter yet unborn..one who is hers in every sense of the word…
Little girls are made of unflinching loyalty and stubborn resolutions.
Little girls are mamma’s baby and daddy’s princess and partner in crime with their brother.
Little girls are made of wobbly smiles and tear streaked cheeks. Giggles that are magic and soft little palms that stroke a father’s cheek.
Little girls are ‘raunak‘. They light up your home for eternity. For, in each corner her laugh lingers forever.
Little girls shuffle their feet and look enquiringly at their mother and father who say ,”Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be. ” They digest the powerful lesson in silence and from then on each word of the little girl echoes that lesson learnt.
Little girls care so darn much about the fate of this world that they hesitate before each step of theirs wondering if what they are doing is right. And that makes them special.So darn special.
A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth she stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot.-Unknown
Smiles heal..memories heal..happy ones, mischievous ones…..your heart will be healed darling friend…..she will heal all of you, her loved ones.
Look at the beautiful smile of hers that has been captured in each frame. She is with each one of us. Strangers who have never met her. Just because of you IHM. And yet I think…are we really strangers? This family of yours is grieving with you, laughing too…when I think of all that you wrote about when she was a little girl.
How can one look at her and not smile?
There is much to do. Her many, many dreams to fulfill…her causes to support. And there is not one person..not one who I can think of, who can do a better job than you IHM.
Awe is a word that I do not use. Have not used ever. Not in context of human beings. For, to stand in awe of someone would require that person to be an extraordinary mortal indeed.
I have respected you IHM, loved you, fought with you, argued, patched up and repeated it all over again. And through it all your endless patience , your gentle smile, your silent encouragement, when you fought my battles when I couldn’t, sometimes a simple letter encouraging me for something well done..
But today I stand in awe of you IHM.
Because of this. SHE WILL LIVE FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS
”It’s difficult for me to talk about it now. All I would say is we have decided it would help tremendously to channelize our grief in some positive direction.
We have decided to understand that everybody has to go someday, she left earlier than we would have liked. We have decided to see which of her causes we can support. One of the thoughts is to start a scholarship in her name, maybe a fund. I would appreciate suggestions for this. And also any suggestions that help us stay positive.”
Now I know why I wrote these words for you long back…
Indian Home Maker or IHM as we all know her:) The most strong individual I have met here:)
it would be of a woman who stands ever so strong….
it would be warmth defined…
it would compell you to search for your own tune..
it would be the beat that you’d want to join in…
it would lead to revolutions long due…
it would sometimes break your heart…
it would sometimes make you see…
it would be a foot tapping number you couldn’t resist…:)
IHM -For being such an amazing ,warm hearted person.A strong woman who has very strong beliefs.She is in a class of her own.She appears almost magically the first time and leaves a comment.:)A comment that encourages you to take one step further..There is this ‘something’ about her.Quite hard to define really.Those who know her would understand what I am saying.:)
After receiving this award when I went blog-hopping again,you know what I noticed?That she has given so many awards!A cup here,a shield there.A generous,generous soul this lady is.And you say you don’t do much IHM?Ask those whom you have touched.So this award and every one which comes my way is yours.Really.Truly.
And I had just known you for two odd months. And yet I would devour everything you wrote, ponder over it, fall in love with your loved ones. One’s instincts never lead one astray.Mine didn’t.
I saved the best for last IHM.
Look at what she shared here..
‘How many boards would the Mongol hoard, if the Mongol hordes got bored?”
I tell you she is just cracking up on that one:)
PS:- And IHM? You haven’t watched French Kiss yet?o.O She is right you know. Meg and Kevin are adorable in it.
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.
— Henry Scott Holland ~ 1847-1918
Canon of St. Paul’s Cathedral
Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come. -Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore
अम्बर के आनन को देखो
कितने इसके तारे टूटे
कितने इसके प्यारे छूटे
जो छूट गए फिर कहाँ मिले
पर बोलो टूटे तारों पर
कब अम्बर शोक मनाता है….
Born: 19th Jan 1991.
Died: 11th Aug 2010.
May you rest in peace little princess