As the years pass, vivid memories of beloved aunts—kind and cruel—surface, shaping Ruchira’s reflections on love, loss, and legacy, exclusively for Different Truths.
As I complete an increasing number of revolutions around the sun, I am flooded with memories of days gone by—happy moments with kith and kin I have loved and lost. As I embark on this trip down memory lane, I am reminded of my aunts, who, in an amazing coincidence, heavily outnumbered the menfolk on both sides of my family. I want to focus on those genuinely fond of me and vice versa.
There was Sunita, whom I called Mamoni (Chachi). She was as good and simple as good can be. Soft-spoken, modest, and humble, she embodied the colloquial Bengali phrase “saat choray raa kaare na” (no whimper even if hit seven times). As the oldest child in the family, she treated me with affection, mingled with respect. When I stepped into adolescence, she became my confidante and guide; I trusted her with my details just as I did with my mother. Unfortunately, by the time I was 18, she passed away from a heart ailment—a beautiful life cut short at 38!
Then there was Mita, my chhoto pishi (dad’s kid sister). Though pampered by her siblings, she was truly level-headed, with her feet firmly planted on the ground. She always displayed a non-aligned attitude, steering clear of family feuds and strife. Being her first niece, she was very kind and motherly toward me. With her frivolous and boisterous nature, equipped with a sense of humour, we were almost like back-patting cronies, though I maintained a respectful distance from her. As a financially independent single mother, she raised her daughter with excellent care, discipline, and training. Despite her sorrows and adversities, she maintained a calm disposition. A trained singer with an immense passion for music, she stood by me like a solid rock whenever some members of my extended family turned hostile. Sadly, last July, she walked into the sunset, barely days before her great-grandchild was born. She lived a full life and departed the earth, aged eighty.
Nor can I ever forget my Maya Mashi from Kanpur. As one of my mom’s cousins, I managed to meet and interact with her only about three or four times in my lifetime. She was petite and plump, with a cheerful smile and twinkling eyes. She was overtly affectionate and possessed an immense degree of patience, qualities that endeared her to me. A mother at fifteen, she had three daughters in all and perpetually longed for a son while still taking utmost care of her children.
Talking about aunts, the iconic British humorist P.G. Wodehouse’s novel, “Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen,” is replete with hilarious anecdotes about the protagonist Bertie Wooster’s adventures and escapades with his amiable Aunt Dahlia, not forgetting the odious, stern Aunt Agatha. I feel inspired to mention some of my not-so-likeable aunts who were not kind to me during their lifetimes. Now, they are gone to their graves (RIP), and although I bear them no grudge, the hurt still lingers.
Chhaya Pishi (dad’s cousin) was coarse, secretive, and blunt. She doted on all male children and often carried tales, causing misunderstandings within the family. However, at one point in time, she nursed my seriously ill mother back to health, and for this act of kindness, I remain grateful to her.
Monu Pishi betrayed my trust blatantly. Once, during a phase of sibling hostilities, I vented my angst, including some expletives against my brother’s wife, during a conversation with her. She conveyed everything verbatim to the “concerned person,” and hell broke loose! I never expected such behaviour from a gurujon (venerable elderly relative).
The icing on the cake of my unpleasant experiences was added by my mother’s youngest sister, aptly named Khuku (little one). After finishing school, she eloped with her private tutor and lived in penury. Nonetheless, when I was about a year old, she kindly stepped in to babysit me while my mom underwent surgery. She was an angel in disguise!
Many decades later, after my maternal uncle, a bachelor, passed away intestate, it was decided that their family home would be sold and the proceeds divided evenly among the three sisters (my mom being the oldest of them). Right away, the energetic little lady and her brood took matters into their own hands, meeting with lawyers, delaying court hearings, and so forth, while the two elderly sisters were passive onlookers.
To cut a long story short, the court decree came out in her favour. She subsequently sold the property and usurped the entire sum, leaving her sisters without a single penny. The family grapevine reports that her family is now settled into a comfortable lifestyle. Indeed, strange are the ways of the world!
Picture design by Anumita Roy
Born in Guwahati and raised across Delhi and Punjab, Ruchira Adhikari Ghosh is an alumna of Sacred Heart Convent, Ludhiana. She holds a master’s degree in English literature from Punjab University, Chandigarh, and a postgraduate diploma in Journalism. With nearly 25 years of experience in print, web, and television media, she has carved a niche as a feature writer. Her writing focuses on women’s issues, food, travel, and literature, reflecting both versatility and depth.
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