from yogiraj ( jaipur)

सुश्मिताजी के साथ मेरा पहला परिचय १९९५ के आस-पास हुआ था, जन स्म्पलव नामक मासिक  पुस्तिका के प्रकाशन  के लिए ! उस समय से आज तक मुझे कभी भी ऐसा नहीं लगा की सुश्मिताजी मेरे परिवार से बाहर का कोई सदस्य हैं ! उनका सरल व्यवहार इतना सरल होता था जैसे की छोटे बच्चे की निश्छलता! यही वजह थी की मै उनके सामने कभी कभी गुस्सा भी हो जाया करता था जैसे की मै अपनी माँ के सामने होता हूँ अक्सर, और वह बहुत सहज भांप लेती थी की मुझे किस बात का बुरा लगा है और बस उनकी एक मुस्कान से सब कुछ सामान्य हो जाता था! सुश्मिताजी कहा करती थी की अपने समूह में मै ही उनकी तरह सुबह जल्दी उठता हूँ बाकि ज्यादातर लोग लेट सोते और लेट उठते है | ये सुनकर मुझे अच्छा लगता था | सुश्मिताजी ने काम के लिए कभी भी अपने आग्रह मुझ पर थोपने की कोशिश नहीं की बल्कि उनकी पूरी कोशिश होती थी की मै उनके आग्रह से प्रभावित हुए बिना अपने काम में अपना १०० % लगाऊं | शायद यही वजह रही की नरेगा वाली सामग्री इतनी अच्छी बन सकी जिसके चित्रों की तारीफ बहुत लोगों ने की और वह काम मुझे भी बहुत पसंद है| मेरा गाँव वाली पुस्तक के कवर पेज को आज भी "unops" वाली अमृताजी ने अपने DISPLAY  बोर्ड पर लगा रखा है|  सुश्मिताजी का जिक्र हो और हितेन्द्रजी की बात नहीं की जाये तो बात अधूरी रह जाएगी, इन्सान एक सामाजिक प्राणी है और सामजिक रिश्तों में गुंथा रहता है लेकिन सिर्फ रिश्तों के लिए जीना कोई हितेंद्रजी से सीखे | सुश्मिताजी की जितनी सेवा हितेन्द्रजी ने की है शायद किसी ने नहीं की| ऊपर से भाई साहब इसका श्रेय भी लेने के इच्छुक नहीं|  हो सकता है मै ये जो लिख रहा हूँ ये भी उन्हें ठीक नहीं लगे| इसके लिए मै पहले ही क्षमा याचना करलेता हूँ| खैर सुश्मिताजी के जितना निश्छल और सरल जीवन एक प्रेम से भरे ह्रदय वाला इन्सान ही जी सकता है| उनका प्रेम ही है जो आज भी हमें महसूस करवाता है की वह आज भी यहीं कहीं हैं हमारे बीच|  योगीराज

For you Sushmita ( from Keerti)

I do not know where you are, but with each passing day I miss you. It is a long journey that we shared, from those early days in Tilonia in the seventies and early eighties, through your later battles with your fragmented self.   It was in the early days of your illness, when Amit and I got a call from Aunty asking us to come to Jaipur. We drove through the night and reached Barkatnagar in the wee hours of the morning. We found you huddled in a corner of your room, almost in a foetus position. You were afraid of each object in your room. They had taken on life. Very soon, it began to feel as if some kind of extra terrestrial invasion had blown your world apart, and fragmented it into a zillion smithereens. Your world now existed of codes. Each gesture, each colour, number or movement had a message for you. I remember you asking me "Why are you wearing blue? Are you trying to say something to me? It just went on an don as you tried to share the several meanings that numbers, object and events had taken on. It was endless, the battle to preserve your fragile self through the onslaught of this new codified world and coupled with the numbing bombardment of allopathic medication. Yet you withstood it. I am in complete awe.   I remember how Amit and I worked out a structure for each hour of your day… I had never realized how long a day is, until then. It was our meager attempt to provide scaffolding for you…. a structure to guide you through the many dark and unfamiliar alleys of your day; something for you to hold on to. I was very moved at your discipline and the effort you made to follow it; and even more at the fact that even at the peak of your fragmentation, you went to work each day. Every morning around eleven O'clock, aunty told you it was time and you set out to walk the length of Kisan Marg and cross the railway line to go to the Bodh Office in Gandhinagar. On a few occasions I accompanied you. The hot sun beat down on us uncaringly. You seemed to be unaware.   Your experience can never be mine Sushmita, but I don't know how you survived all the codes on the way. You plunged through it all somehow. You never did much in Bodh, in those days, but you held on. You went each day. I'm sure the old timers from Bodh will remember. You were so brave. I want to salute you Sushmita, for I had the privilege of experiencing how brick by brick, slowly and painfully you rebuilt your world.   Then there was time when you came and stayed a few months with Amit and me in Delhi, and in between you went across to Laksmi's place. By now you were better, and your life was now just punctuated with "episodes" and semblances of "wellness" in between. My children were very young and I could not give you the time you needed. But there was this half an hour each evening at four o'clock. This was the time when we shared a cup of tea. You wanted it "properly" in a teapot, with a tray and tray cloth and dainty cups! They are so vivid those "four o'clock tea sessions"…mostly in silence. ..they became the constant in your scattered and codified day. But you held on Sushmita, yes, you held on.   Slowly the times of lucidity began to increase. I had imagined that these will become times for self pity or self indulgence. Yet, you had this amazing ability to merge the personal with the social. You wanted to share your vulnerability and loneliness. You felt that a mental illness is misunderstood. It was that much more difficult to deal with because it was intangible. The larger world could not relate to it and unlike a physical illness many of your friends could not understand it. This heightened your feelings of isolation and loneliness. You were able to blend your subjective world with the larger objective reality… your inner world with the outer! As you watched yourself, and allowed your insights and reflections to grow, you channelised them into a concern. You wanted to reach out to others in your condition. You wanted to share your journey so that the larger world could understand its ambiguities, and reach out to you and to others. You invited Dr. Sarin, and the doctor from NIMHANS to do workshops; you wanted Gautam to make a film on your journey. How did you do it Sushmita? How did you always manage to distance yourself and reflect, even when your world was in a state of turmoil, when your world was falling apart?   Through the little bits of sharing that I now feel so privileged to have been a part of, you made me cherish the little little things of life. Just cooking 'alu sabzi' or 'lagoaing jhadu' or even having a bath became opportunities to celebrate. I was reminded of how much I take these little events for granted. They took on a new life! And those sudden creative sparks through it all. Where did they come from? You gave me a painting with a poem on kites. I have to look for it. I can go on and on. I don't know how many people are aware that you were the main force behind Bodh??   There were those completely infuriating aspects too. ..the ease with which you shamelessly borrowed money and in the next breath gave it way to one of your umpteen friends or family. It used to make me mad! I now want to laugh. I was so terrestrial, you were so moonbeam!   Slowly you got well Sushmita. You became like "the old Sushmita of Tilonia days". You often told me that you wanted your friends in Jaipur to know what you had been like. I had promised you that I will give you the photographs and videos that Amit had taken. I'm sorry that I delayed it Sushmita. You were getting well Sushmita. I did not expect you to die. They are being shared now Sushmita with friends. I don't know if it is too late.   There is an inner compulsion pushing me to write all this deep inner stuff. Somewhere I want the world to know. I know you did too. Perhaps I am trying very inadequately to try and do a little of what you wanted to. I don't know…I want to try and capture what you were. I know I never can… and yet Sushmita it has been wonderful to have had a friend like you. I don't want to cry but I don't know why the tears just come, and I feel such a lump in my throat…   Take care wherever you are. I hope you can finally be at peace. Keerti 27.08.2010

For Sushmita ( from Sathya )

Dear Sushmita, I have no idea whether this will reach you wherever you are; but this is more for all of us who travelled together for a while in this life. From the time Arti wrote, I have been sifting through memories, which though not many are so vivid in my mind. Forgive me if my representation is not accurate but these are my memories. We belonged, so to speak, to the batch of late 1970s, post emergency, filled with burning  idealism wanting to change the world and, with no clearly formed  ideology, the 'voluntary sector' became the first stone we stepped on. Wishing to work with the poor, we wished to live a life not far removed from them.  So, simple housing, lifestyle, and all that could be covered in a meagre 'honorarium' were what we 'voluntarily' chose. Soon, our ability for 'relentless questioning' led us to see the seamy side of power politics and the structural power of such dynamics which could not be challenged easily and we stepped out to find our uncharted way. We first met in the late 1970s. You and Arti had just left SWRC Tilonia when you both visited me in VHAI to discuss the politics of 'development'. You both were then in a more advanced state of 'development' as I still had on my rose tinted glasses; it was to take another year before the scales fell off my eyes, for me to leave the confines of an institution, forever. Our paths again crossed in Kishore Bharti and later in Bhopal in September 1984 when the pregnancy outcome survey on the Bhopal survivors was being conducted in the midst of immense tension due to threats from the administration. You came when the survey was underway and your first spontaneous comment was that it was so rare and wonderful not to see any visible hierarchy in an activity that was being carried out by more than forty women activists and health workers under such difficult conditions. While the compliment was to me as the coordinator of the survey (words, as you can see, I treasure even today), it said something about you as a person to whom the Chinese poem,  "Go to the people. Live with them. Learn from them. Love them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. But with the best leaders, when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say "We have done this ourselves"', was more than the meaningless mantra it had become in the development world post the lifting of the 'bamboo curtain'. And that was the principle you lived by. Your creativity and unmistakable talent(s) were at the service of the people; what if it was appropriated and claimed by others as their own… with your merry laugh you moved on. Our next major interaction was when your mind began playing tricks on you. With the blurring of the boundary between reality/unreality, you did not know what to trust, whom to trust, the consequence of the 'embodiment' of life's challenges. I was privileged to be one of the persons whom you did trust and you let me spend a week with you in Delhi when treatment was being initiated. Later, you would occasionally call, and we would catch up, the ripples of your laughter echoing in my ears long after I had put the phone down. We continued to keep track of each other through our close friends - Arti and Keerti. One day you called and expressed your desire to visit Mira Sadgopal in Pune to meet the members of a mental health collective and so we went together, on one of the hottest days in May, train leaving from Nizamuddin at the height of the heat (1.30 pm, I think), traveling in a second class compartment, every metal object searing our skin where it touched, the food we took spoilt by the evening, but we talked; for the first time you shared, things I am not at a liberty to reveal. We talked about the gossamer thin veil of sanity, the struggle when the compulsion to walk a different path with ears tuned to a different drummer leads to places unknown and 'knowledges' (insights?!) unsought; what is 'normality' and what is 'non-normality', we wondered. We talked about the medical solutions which were hardly an improvement, yet so critical in reclaiming the 'self' and of course 'radical psychiatry' which denied the role of therapeutics. Not having much emotional baggage to speak of between us, you permitted yourself to lower your defenses and allowed me the privilege accorded to few, to get a glimpse of the lost child within; you who exhibited only your 'free child' to the world! The Pune trip helped you to decide that the escape from reality was only one aspect of your 'self' and that you did not wish to make that the centre of your life; you felt that it was sufficient to accept the 'reality' of the periods when you 'went away' and make space in your life when your mind commandeered a different self; but for you, the periods of freedom were too precious to be frittered away in wanting to understand the whys of it. Surely, life was too brief and needed to be lived with joy, happiness and, of course, laughter, you decided. And if medications helped. then so be it even if it distorted memory, time and the body.   You combined three very precious qualities: integrity, courage and tenderness. You never wavered from your idealism. You dealt with life's hand outs, the good, the bad and the ugly, with dignity, equanimity and of course, always, merriment. How you managed not to grow a single cynical bone, I have always wondered. During our Pune trip I urged, as I urge all my friends from the 'batch of late 1970s', to put down on paper our journeys in life, the idealism we shared, demons we faced, and the wisdom that is the hard earned fruit of our labour (and grey hair), written in pain but also full of the joie de vivre, celebrating life.  I do not know if you did. I hope you did. I was not a part of your everyday life; we had not met or communicated for the last 2-3 years. Yet, you are a part of my history and with your passing away, there is a hole in it. But then, dear Sushmita, all of us are also in the queue, only you got a bit impatient and jumped it. So, till we meet, here is a temporary goodbye on this your first birthday in a different life. Sathya 23 August 2010.

Children's Paintings Done On Sushmita's Birthday...

Here are lots of paintings done by children on Sushmita's birthday at the celebration in her home (as described in earlier posts from Vijay and Kavita).

To see the pictures, click on the "BirthdayPaintings" title on top of the blog (below the tagline "A blog for friends of Sushmita", and just above her picture).  [Photos from Kavita]

You can also see a whole album of pictures of the birthday party here:  Sushmita'sBirthday

a phonecall from Sr Janet

Sr Janet phoned to say that the sophia sisters said a special prayer for sushmita on her birthday

from indira

आरती, जो फोटो तुमने ब्लोग में पेस्ट किया है सुष्मिता का उसकी वह चुन्नी मेरे पास हे, जो उसने वहां पहनी है

a response from dunu

the best part is memory - always. dunu

Happy Birthday- poonam batra

Happy birthday dear Sushmita!! Sorry for having missed the celebration of Sushmita's life in Jaipur!! Remembering her most fondly... Poonam

a little note from nirmala

Hello Kirti,  Sushmita is doing her job of connecting old friends. I am so happy to see familiar names and contacts in the mails. Thank you for the initiative to contact me.

from Indira ,Ravi and Gulshan

Kavita Thank you for the graphic description of celebration of Sushmita you all had in Jaipur. It is as if Sushmita herself was there.  The party seems to suit Sishmita's temperament very well - always so full of positive energy and happiness. I really feel I missed the celebration!   Love to all of you and the memory of Sushmita Indira, Ravi, Gulshan

Sushmita's Birthday Party in Jaipur

[To see pictures of this party click here:  Sushmita's Birthday Party Pictures ] Dear friends, It was a great get together. Forty of us came together to remember Sushmita. About 25 kids, the youngest was 2 years six months old and the oldest 16 years and then about 15 or more adults. The kids and all of us adults enjoyed ourselves all through the evening. Most of the kids arrived by 3 pm and stayed on till about 5.30pm. There was so much joy and cheer, innocent laughter and kid chatter. It was wonderful.  Four year old Aditya won our hearts by reciting poems, singing loudly Happy B'day Sushmitaji....May God Bless you and making cute remarks all through the party.  We began the party by singing songs. Antakshari became the best medium to break the initial frezze. After which we sang phool khile - phool khile which became the medium of introducing each one. . Gaurav, Viplav and Manas did small role plays. Manas sat in the middle of the sofa chair and enacted how he and Sushmita chatted. Then they showed a little excerpt from a play on child rights which Sushmita had directed and had been performed at the Jawahar Kala Kendra. They were a bit conscious as they had forgotten the play so we told them to enact everyday things like sitting in a class room in school. Vijay Parashar became the teacher and Gaurav and Viplav loudly wished him "Good morning Madam", which sent everybody into peels of laughter as Vijay was a man. We all laughed non-stop as the two Viplav and Gaurav were constantly prompting the "teacher's" dialogue to Vijay. Finally Vijay decided to send the class home and declared it chutti, that ended the laughter that had gripped us all  The drawings session followed the acting. All the kids got a drawing sheet and crayons and colour pens. Very attractive drawings were made. Two and a half year old Khush took a pen and scribbled on paper with great concentration, when we looked at what he had made the picture looked like the brain with an elongated cerebellum, as if just scooped out of the cranium. We were shocked to see the perfect shape he had made of the head. Ishan used only green and blue colours and painted a tree standing against a vast background of blue. It was like a tree expressing freedom.  The high point were the blot paintings. Gorgeous designs on paper made the whole thing festive.  Each child ran around urging the older boys who were putting up the paintings to put up there creations first. Yogiraj the Artist who worked for more than 20 years with Sushmita conducted that exercise, he was accompanied by his young daughter also training to be an artist. The big blank wall in the front room of Sushmita's house now has the really lovely, lively photo of hers. Below that Pappu had hung the HAPPY BIRTHDAY decoration. And a little later Hitendra, Ganesh, Amar Singh, Manas and a few others uses crepe paper and wrote SUSHMITA. The children's Paintings were stuck all around it. The wall is now an art gallery.  The paintings will be put up on the gallery that we will begin on the blog.   Then came the CAKE moment. The glass table was placed below Sushmita's Photo. The chocolate cake made by Purwa was kept on it. Somebody decided to put the mala of roses around the cake. The youngest two Viplav and Khush were given knives. Everybody sang HAPPY B'DAY. The lung power of the kids extinguished the flickering candle. The B'Day song was sung twice Cake was followed by Poha, Sandwiches and Custard. Nirja, Purwa, Pradnya and Pappu had especially cooked these items. Rashmi, Seema and myself stood on service and ensured that each one ate well.   Finally, we parted and left for our respective homes with a great feeling that she was with us all through. On getting back home, Pappu who works with me and misses Sushmita a lot, asked me as to why he had not done a B'day celebration last year. I told him how I had missed the B'Day and then Sushmita had called me sometime around lunch time and told me that she was coming for a cup of tea and also to remind me about something. On learning about her B'Day Komal and I had prepared a Special Dinner for her that day. But yes how she loved such parties and till her Mom was alive, Aunite would always remind me that I had to call all our common friends and do something for her B'Day. I hope we keep remembering her in different ways through the year and the years to come. It is gradually sinking in that the cup of tea session that both of us loved to have whenever I was around will never comeback. The sessions of laughter and gossip and serious talk will now only be memories. Sorry friends, The lovely evening must not end on a sad note. So let me arouse your appetite by sharing an excerpt from  a short story written by the eternal Romantic Sushmita Banerjee in 1977 called  Verbiage on Romance, to be published shortly. " Her yesterdays never smelt of lavender. They did not have that delicate nibbling  quality of short stories in women's magazines. Her yesterdays smelt of kachories and oily   samosas of tea in kulhads at railway stations. And flowers, yes, but not exotic orchids. In her garden there grew tiny juhis and mogras - what were they called in English? Once very long ago he had brought for her a rose from the creeper which sprawled on to the terrace of his house. The flower was different from the ones she saw in this city wrapped in cellophane. Perhaps because like an uniformed sentence his rose swayed undecided one its stalk. And perhaps that was why she did not like roses which seemed to be clipped phrased in a bouquet, politely summed up in a card. When she told him such things he laughed and said she thought too much. What was the sense of all this complicated bouquet and sentence and phrase........ A rose is a rose is a rose...................." Kavita Srivastava, 23rd August, 2010

A little story told by Nirmala to her daughter Shruti...

I have to tell you a story, may be I have told it to you before. When I finally decided to leave Rajasthan to go The Netherlands and was struggling, not knowing how the hell I am going to pay for your tickets as the scholarship was only for me. I do not ask for help easily, you know that. My friends knew me too well, so on the last day, at the railway station in Jaipur, Sushmita handed me a book with an envelope, looked like letters and photographs.  She said I am not to open this until I reached Kerala. I was going to say good bye to Muthi and Muthacha and take you to do the Koothu prayer before taking you with me. I was gong to sell the few bits and pieces of gold I had to get the money for the ticket and book our tickets for Netherlands from Kerala. I arrived and actually forgot the packet. And was organizing my last packing sessions when I remembered the packet, thinking it was letters and photos, I opened it. And was stunned beyond words. There was Rs.5000 in it. Exactly the amount I needed for your ticket.  I don't know how she knew this. She never really expressed much, always had the big smile, never complained, but her love was expressed through sensitive gestures like the one I narrated. I am privileged to have known Sushmita, she adored you, and you spent a lot of time playing in their beautiful home. She just lived doing her things quietly. I feel a great loss, sad that I never managed to meet her after I left Rajsthan.

Birthday Celebrations, Jaipur 23 September...

To see more pictures of this event, click here: Sushmita Birthday Party Pictures

Birthday Photos from Vijay

आरती जी 

नमस्ते.

सुष्मिता जी के जनमदिन पर आपकी कमी खली.  करीब 35 लोग आए जिसमें करीब 20 बच्चे थे.  बच्चों ने गीत, कविता, चित्र करी और केक काटा फिर सुष्मिता के मित्र खाने के कई सारे आईटेम लाए जो सबने मिलकर खाए.

कुछ फोटो भेज रहा हूँ.  और कुछ फोटो पप्पू (कविता) ने लिए हैं उनसे लेकर भिजवा दूँगा.

आपकी तबियत का ख्याल रखना.

विजय

Invitation to Celebrate Sushmita's Birthday... from Kavita

Dear friends,

Today we have planned a small get together, mostly with those children who Sushmita worked with along with their parents. There will be a play some food and singing and ofcourse whatever the children wish to do. 

join us if any of you are around from 3 pm to 5 pm at her house. 

Kavita 

Janam Din ki Shubhkamna - from Hari

सुष्मिता के जन्मदिन की शुभकामना कहाँ भेजूँ ? इस लिय शुभकामना उन सब को जो आज सुष्मिता की यादों के साथ हैं.  हो सकता है कोई यादों को एक पुस्तक का रुप दे सके जो सुष्मिता को बधाई का एक बेहतर माध्यम हो सकेगा. हरि

Sharing Sushmita's B'day with children - Anjali Noronha

A very old and dear friend who touched so many people in Eklavya. Veena and I cannot forget the expreience of the first 8th March celebration that we organised in Harda on the inspiration got from Sushmita and Arti's effort in Pipariya. We often stayed at their place in Hoshangabad - always welcome with Ma there as well. Couldn't believe the news on the 27th and when Arti mailed today about her b'day - I was wondering how best we could remember you Sushmita and when we got Kavita's mail about the day with children I thought what better way than to share Sushmita's spirit with children so Veena and another colleague ArvindJain who had met her a couple of times went to a school with three young colleagues all  B.El.ed graduates - Sonia, Pallavi and Pranita - and had a painting and chatting session with her and Chandan another colleague who had known her took photographs, and we distributed a copy of Chakmak to each of them, you should have seen the smiles on their faces and the pictures the children have made. Will post them in a separate mail. Happy b'day Sushmita and thanks for touching us once again. love, Anjali

Greetings from Shruti

Thanking you on this day, your day, for everything that you did. In many ways, I am where I am and I am who I am  because of you. Thank you, Happy Birthday!

Birthday Wish from Vijaylaxmi

A best friend with whom spent lots of days and nights shared joy and fears, fun and arguments……remembering all trainings when cooked together and dance together,……Happy birth day dear Sushmita……….I can not forget you….  Vijaya

a wish from Madhumita

Remembering you ... for all the things you have done and shared with us... ... a very happy birthday and lots of love. madhumita

Arvind Sardana =On your Birthday=

It was around this time when I first met Arti & Sushmita in Tilonia,1978. Wish we could take them both again to Kishangarh for B'day and have Sushmita suddenly break into a song...like a red rose raindeer. For all the warmth and friendship across these years and beyond...love arvind

Birthday wishes from Keerti

Dear Kavita, I am deeply connecting with Sushmita on her birthday...just sitting quietly in my little terrace garden and watching the daylight slowly unfold this day . My thoughts drift to all the times that I have shared with her.  I am thinking of the first time I met Sushmita, in Aruna's house in Tilonia in 1977. It was a rainy day in August. Amit and I had walked from the little Tilonia station to Aruna and Bunker's house in the old campus. We had gone to invite everyone for our wedding. We found Sushmita sitting on the jhoola chair in the living room...a small, unknown sparkling and intriguing presence...I remember it so well. She greeted us with a wisecrack as soon as we entered the room and followed it with her crackling, mischievous laughter.The picture is so vivid in my mind's eye...that was the beginning of my long friendship with her ! I am thinking back to her birthdays... those I was able to share...simple celebrations of togetherness with friends !  I miss her phone calls...the sharing of her little hopes... her little steps forward in her battle to conquer her illness, her persevering attempts to actualise her self.. to deal with living alone...sharing her little triumphs while at the same time underplaying her struggles. Yes, these phone calls had become such a part of my life... I wish had been there more for you Sushmita, and had not been so wrapped up in the humdrum of my life ! Today, when all of your friends get together in Jaipur to share your birthday Sushmita, my thoughts will be with you . Happy Birthday Sushmita wherever you are ! May you find the peace that you truly deserve With love Keerti

from sushil joshi

Dear Aarti, Its really sad that Sushmita is no more with us. She was here a few months back and was happy to announce that she was absolutely alright and was off the medicine. In fact, she planned a get together with all friends at jaipur. So it is very unexpected that she would say goodbye so soon, when she was getting to grips. I remember her at Kishore Bharati. That cerative energy flowing around her and affecting everybody around,it was so palpable. Her creativity was almost addictive. I remember some of us, including you, trying to set up some sort of process of administration in absence of Anil and Sadhna. Then also her working with the paliya pipariya children, trying to put together some sort of a bulletin for them to express themselves.  Once she left Hoshangabad, I lost touch with her. Then one day she appeared in Bhopal. She was talking to Eklavya people and I forgot to notice that it was her, she had changed so much, that I did not recognize her. But Sushmita in her characteristic way said, yes sushil, this is me, sushmita. Then she came to Hoshanagabad for the night with Harish or someone. Drank her sprite and went away the next morning. In fact, I am remembering all these small things because without these the larger Sushmita can not be captured. She lived in small acts. I don't know what to say to you or to myself as all of try to accept the loss. Sushil

Remembering you

You cheated us Sushmita.

 

You were too young to take so final a step, too young to leave us.

 

Yes, young, small and slender, with a tendency to plumpness. That's how we remember you, Alethea and I. The mischievous glint in your eyes. Feisty and restless. A zest for life and living it fully.

 

Our acquaintance was brief but the friendship it spawned was lasting. Life-long, even if we didn't keep in touch in the interim.

 

It was the early eighties when you and Arti came to Hoshangabad from, I think, Tilonia, in search of a vocation in life. We were neighbours in those train carriage tenements of Yaduwanshi's house in Anand Nagar. Constantly in and out of each other's houses. Our two children (the third came much later) a vital link.

 

Some of us were setting up Eklavya at the time, an organization for rural education. I remember how many times I tried getting you and Arti to join us but you kept steering the conversation to other topics because of the strong yearning for independence I sensed in you, which resisted cloistering within institutional boundaries. It led Arti to joining Shantiniketan, the school where Alethea was teaching.

 

Those were good days. Talking about education, teachers and children. Designing posters on knowledge and understanding, science and development for travelling exhibitions we took to villages.  Days when we were all discovering ourselves, understanding ourselves and the meaning and purpose of our lives. They fashioned lasting friendships.

 

And you gave me one of the best gifts I've ever received from anyone. An introduction to Kumar Gandharva. He has been my constant companion ever since, especially in moments when I felt like communing with my inner self.

 

But there was the hint of ill health even then. If I remember correctly, your severe asthma used to cause you a lot of suffering, even occasionally incapacitating you.

 

Alethea and I shifted to Bhopal shortly thereafter because our children couldn't adjust to the schools in Hoshangabad that were still caught up in a time warp of regimented learning. That meant we met only occasionally, when I came to Hoshangabad or you visited Bhopal on work.

 

When I launched Chakmak for Eklavya in the mid-eighties, you were one of the first persons I pursued to write for the magazine. But again you kept avoiding committing yourself. I finally did succeed in getting a small piece out of you for a special issue on water. You chose to write on water in our bodies and the way you approached the subject was unique. You told the story of a fish that swam down a human gullet into the stomach and other organs, discovering water and digestion in the body along the way.

 

It was this unconventional creativity that informed the work you did later in life when you left Hoshangabad for Jaipur, designing teaching learning materials for adult learners, publishing a magazine for neo-literates and training both trainers and learners.

 

I met you only once thereafter, about a decade later, during a trip to Jaipur. I was apprehensive about the welcome I would receive. I needn't have worried.

Your warmth dissolved those intervening years of no contact. But the meeting left me disturbed, because I got a glimpse of the ravages caused by the ill health that had dogged you and so affected your working life.

 

Every time I listen to Kumar Gandharva hereafter I know I will remember you. And the image that will come to my mind will be of you, in our train carriage tenement, singing 'sunta hai guru gyani' in a mock baritone voice, the laughter never leaving your eyes.

 

Farewell to you Sushmita with fondness and love.

 

Rex

From Hari Joshi - M.P

vjs gfj igpkuk eSa lqf"erk Lkqf"krk ds ge lc ls nwj tkus dk lekpkj Ik<+dj eu dks ihM+k gqbZA ihM+k D;k gS ;g dSls O;Dr d:a\ tks eu esa vk jgk gS og fy[krk gwaA      eSa gks'kaxkckn ftys ds if'peh Nksj ls vkdj iwohZ Nksj ij fLFkr fd'kksj Hkkjrh laLFkk esa lkekftd cnyko ds fy;s dke dj jgk FkkA NksVh lh nqfu;k FkhA mlesa mB jgs lokyksa dks le>us ;k mu dkj.kksa dks nwj djus ds dke dj jgk FkkA esjs ;k nksLrksa ds lkFk dj jgs dke ls nqfu;k cnyus yxsxh] ,slk vglkl FkkA cpiu esa feys :lh Økafr ds lkfgR; ls Hkh ;g fo'okl eu esa Fkk fd ge tSlk pkgrs gSa oSlh nqfu;k cnyrh gSA bl Hkksysiu ;k ukle>h ;k Hkze esa iy jgk FkkA tc Hkh dksbZ ,slk O;fDr feyrk Fkk tks T;knk i<+kfy[kk ;k ftlus eq>ls T;knk nqfu;k ns[kh gS og esjs fy;s fo'ks"k O;fDr cu tkrk FkkA 1982 ds vklikl ¼tgka rd eq>s ;kn gS½ fd'kksj Hkkjrh esa vkjrh vkSj lqf"erk ls feyk Fkk tks ml oDr ns'kHkj esa lkekftd cnyko ds dkeksa dks ns[kus ds vfHk;ku ij fudyh FkhA bu ls feydj yxk fd buls cgqr dqN lh[k ldrk gwaA nksuksa [kq'k fetkt FkhA  yach ;k=kvksa ds ckn os dqN le; fd'kksj Hkkjrh esa dke djus ds fy;s jghA eq>s ;kn gS fd fiifj;k esa 'kghn Hkxrflag iqLrdky; ds vk;ksftr dbZ dk;ZØeksa esa cPpksa ls dfork dgkuh fy[kokus] lewgxhrksa ds vk;kstu vkSj efgyk fnol ds dk;ZØeksa esa lkFk dke fd;kA blds ckn os fd'kksj Hkkjrh NksM+dj gks'kaxkckn jgus vkxbZA ;gka dbZ ckj muls feykA mUgksaus viuk ?kj vkSj mlesa [kkus dh O;oLFkk cuk j[kh FkhA ftlesa vki viuh pk; cukdj [kqn ih ldrs FksA eSa ml le; bVkjlh esa jgus yxk Fkk tgka dbZ nksLrksa dh enn ls lkFkh LVs'kujh ds  uke ls nqdku 'kq: dh FkhA blesa ,d izssl Hkh [kksyus vkSj dqN izdkf'kr djus dh dYiuk FkhA bVkjlh eas nqdku [kjhnus esa lcls cM+k lg;ksx 10 nl gtkj :i;s dk vkjrh lqf"erk dh vksj ls dk FkkA ,d fnu  fdlh fe= ls irk pyk fd vkjrh lqf"erk gks'kaxkckn NksM+dj  fnYyh tk jgha gSA ;g ckr gksxh lu~ 1985 dhA gks'kaxkckn esa feyus x;k vkSj lkeku ds lkFk bUgsa LVs'ku ij jsy esa cSBkus x;kA jsy esa lkeku ,d txg ugaha te ik;k] dqN yxst fMCcs esa Fkk rks dqN muds lkFk lokjh fMCcs esaA yxk Hkksiky rd tkdj lkeku O;ofLFkr dj nwaxkA ij lkeku te ugaha  ik;kA Hkksiky ls fnYyh rd tkuk r; gqvk rkfd lkeku dks fnYyh esa Bhd izdkj ls bdV~Bk djds ?kj rd igqapkus esa lg;ksx dj ldwaA ;g ;k=k vkt rd ;kn gSA blds ckn lqf"erk ls ,d&nks ckj gh  feyuk gks ik;k gksxkA dHkh&dHkh lkfFk;ksa ls lqf"erk ds lekpkj feyrs jgrs FksA 2009 esa eSa ,dyO; Hkksiky ds fiVkjk esa ukSdjh dj jgk Fkk A ,d jkst ,d tkuh igpkuh vkokt us pkSdk fn;kA fpjifjfpr vankt esa vkxarqd  us iwNk & vjs gfj igpkus eSa lqf"erkA viuh txg ls [kMs+ gksdj ml vkReh; vkokt dk Lokxr fd;k vkSj ?kaVs Hkj dbZ ckrsa djrs jgkA mlesa lc dqN Fkk dHkh lqf"erk us crk;k eSa cgqr chekj gks xbZ Fkh] eSaus cPpksa ds fy;s iqLrdsa fy[kh g] fiVkjk viuh iqLrd ns[kdj [kq'k gks xbZA ,slh dbZ ckrs gksrh jghaA ,slk yxk tSls os eq> ls  feyus gh vkbZ gSA ogh iqjkuk viukiu yx jgk FkkA bl nkSjku lqf"erk ls ;g ckr Hkh gqbZ fd gesa ,d **ukgd feyu dk;ZØe** djuk pkfg;sA ftlesa lc vkus okys nksLr vius [kpZs ls vk;saxs] viuk [kkuk [kk;saxs vkSj 2&3 fnu lkFk jgsaxsA ftudks vkil esa tks ckrsa djuk gS oks djsa dksbZ ,tasMk ugha gksxkA lqf"erk ds lkFk ;g ckr gksus ds ckn ml ij vey djus ds fy;s ,d fpV~Bh fy[kuk Fkk tks dHkh fy[k ugha ik;kA lqf"erk dks ;g ckr Bhd yxh fd dHkh nksLrksa dks vkil esa fcuk ,tsaMk] F;ksjh] fln~/kkrksa dh nqgkbZ fn;s fcuk Hkh feyuk pkfg;sA nksLrksa esa ;g ljyrk Hkh gksA bl NksVh lh ckr dk mYys[k bl fy;s dj jgk gwa fd fiNys dbZ lkyksa ¼1978&79 esa fd'kksj Hkkjrh esa dke dh 'kq:vkr dh Fkh ½ esa dqN gh ,sls lkFkh feys ftuls fln~/kkarksa ds vk/kkj ij nksLrh dke; ugha jghA eSa bl fy;s mudk nksLr ;k ifjfpr ugha cus jgk fd eSa muds dke dk FkkA fcuk lkFk dke fd;s Hkh nksLrh eglwl dj ldrk FkkA esjs tsgu esa ;g vkReh;lh ckr lnk xwatrh jgs ftlus c"kksZa ckn Hkh feyus ij dgk & vjs gfj igpkuk eSa lqf"erkA lqf"erk lykeA vkidh ;knsa ges'kk lkFk j[kwaxkA gfj tks'kh

from Sister Janet ( Sushmita's teacher at Sophia School- Jaipur)

It was with great shock and heavy heart I received the sad news of our dear Sushmita's  sudden passing away from this world. But it consoles me to think that Death is not an end of one's life, but beginning of a New Life. God gave me a chance through Sr. Mariola to meet Sushmita at her Sister Deepali's residence  in the second week of  March, this year. We met each other after 29 long years and our joy knew no bounds. This was a short visit and Sushmita  told me that she would come in July to Ajmer and we would have a long chat. Little did I know that this short visit after 29 years would be the last one. Sushmita was a smart and promising girl in the School with a lot os initiative in her. She had a magnetic personality and capturing smile. No wonder then she had many friends. She excelled in English debate and often carried the Trophies. As the years went by, she did a lot  for womens' upliftment and development. May the Almighty God grant her a special place in heaven. " Death is not extinguishing the light , it is only putting out the lamp because the Dawn has come". (R. Tagore).   With sweet memories, Sister Janet. Ajmer.

From Shyam Bhore, Asha and Rahul

Dear Arti Recived some communication from you after ages that too in such a shocking  form.Sushmita was so  special for us during our Hoshangabad days  and after when she shifted to Jaipur.  Sushmita  was a living  poetry.Such a creative and loving person.,really a great loss for all of us and more to the cause she is attached with.The warmth of relationship,the smile,the creativity, the sensitivity, the hope .......difficult to count everything we have lost with SUSHMITA. Arti  I am lost really do`not know how to respond?what to write ?how to think? What to say? At this moment we can only Salam our SUSHMITA Shyam  Asha  Rahul

From - Anil Sadgopal

Dear Arti,  Both Shashi and I are shocked at this unexpected news about Sushmita. We are coming to terms with this reality.  My mind is still not able to either focus on Sushmita's sudden departure or accept this as a haqeekat, though it has been probably a little more than 15 years that we last met in Jaipur at Shashi's rented house. That, too, was in brief encounters. We interacted deeply only at Kishore Bharati. You are right about those wonderful memories. Sushmita's frequent laughter and jokes, despite streaks of sadness, would change the ambience. I have vivid memories of all this.  Shashi sat down before her computer after hearing the news from me and quickly typed several lines about Sushmita and then stopped. "I can't think anymore", she said. I am sure she would return to her thoughts after some rest to her troubled mind. She recalled how Sushmita and you stood by her when she was going through a crisis in her life.  You are sure to miss her. It is not going to be easy, I know With fond memories,Sincerely, Anil Sadgopal Bhopal