A personal memory of Shamsun Nahar Begum

I wonder how many of her close friends and family have heard the accounts of her life's extraordinary journey. I was fortunate to have heard most of it from her. She had candour, humour, and passion with which she lived her life. Her life with her husband, my Meshomoshai, was certainly one of romance, mutual respect and dignity, rarely witnessed today. Whenever she wanted to talk about him, I could sense and feel the diminishment in her life.

She grew up during a time of tumultuous social and political change in the subcontinent, leading to the partition of India. At that time she decided to travel to Bangladesh to settle down. I am sure it was the right choice that she made, young as she was, in the prime of her life. She wanted to look ahead and not back. What a proactive mind indeed, considering those times of our history! Sadly enough, she left behind a multitude of friends who never ever forgot her. After Meshomoshai's death, she came to Kolkata only once and made it a point to reconnect with them, to their joy!

Again, she learnt about the world by reading books that were very close to heart; literature was her passion till the last moment of her life. I spent hours sharing our reading experiences from prose to poetry, drama, philosophy, religion, and what not. She was a humanitarian to the last dot.

In her life, Mashima had to absorb shock after shock due to tragedies in the family. She quietly cried and cried, over the phone every time I spoke to her. I tried to console her with words of endearment after which she would gather composure.

I cannot deny that I had the most delightful and happy relationship with Mashima. I will never forget the toast biscuit for tea on my tea-tray every day; the big koi fish kept alive in the water container for orange koi, kalai kebabs, parathas galore, which we devoured merrily! She felt and exuded such love that one had to see it to believe it. Jamai ador (hospitality shown to a bridegroom by his in-laws) was very special for her, and she never differentiated between Jyoti, Manaf, Karim, Reza, and Jameel. I think my husband is much blessed.

On a more serious note, I want to emphasize the fact that she was a true humanist. I never saw a flash of arrogance or annoyance on her face. She cared for the poor and the rich alike. Simplicity was her hallmark, and it shaped her life. I always admired her because she was more than a mother to me: a friend, a philosopher, and a guide. I feel this is the strongest possible bond between two human beings. She was everything to everybody: a model of inspiration, a patient counselor and a sterling example. Her enormous depth of commitment to all people can be only perceived by discerning minds. She possessed grace and beauty of a rare quality and was admired by all who came in contact with her.

I feel that Mashima has not really left me. I can visualize her as vividly as I did in the past. I remember her voice, her recipes, the things she told me. No, I have not forgotten anything! I can see every line and contour on her face. Her monumental presence in my life will always be felt. Much of what I am and have become is in some way attributable to her. She was an epitome of motherly heroism.

May her soul rest in peace.