Goodbye

A childhood friend called me and told me there’s bad news. I’d been dreading this call, hoping it would never come. He told me that it had happened, that Dimple didi had passed away. We were all to meet her last week but she had to be rushed to the hospital following complications. I never got to meet her before she passed.
With both my parents working, my brother and I spent most of our hours in a creche, growing up with moushis, didis and kids of all ages. The moushis and didis are equally responsible for the person I am today as my parents are. They instilled values, helped us distinguish right from wrong, told us stories, did everything they could to make us good human beings.
Dimple didi was a vital part of my life. She did all of that and more. I’ve never really been a hugger but I’d run to her every afternoon just so she could hold me tight.
I always felt like she was more affectionate towards my brother than she was to me, but it was way later that I realised it was because she thought of me as an equal. It was also because of her that I had my very first run-in with righteousness. I was all of 8 when for some reason she had to leave the place. I vaguely remember believing she’d been ousted unjustly. I led a proper bagawat against the rest of the authorities, boycotting play time and instructions.
I also remember how mad she’d gotten at me when she realised what I was up to. She asked me to behave myself and promised to meet me whenever she could. Thankfully, she stayed right next door, so meeting her was easier.
Didi didn’t marry. They said she didn’t have kids of her own, but they’re wrong. She had nearly 50 of us who kept in touch for years, stopping by at her house whenever we could, waving hi to her while we passed, hosting reunions inside her home.
The last time I saw her, she hugged me as tight like she always had, and listened in rapt attention to all that I had to say, bringing her up to speed with my life. She was over the moon when I told her I’d taken up teaching too. She’d tell me how it was the most fulfilling, satisfying job there ever was — to ignite young minds.
Didi fought with multiple illnesses all her life, even against the cancer that finally took her from us. But that’s not how I wish to remember her.
I want her to be remembered for the strong personality that she was, the strong educator that she was, an iron-willed lady who tried all her life to raise righteous, good, intelligent citizens.
The 20-odd of us from creche and the 50-80 kids she taught in her tuition are testament to the fact that a part of us lives within all of us. I just want her to be remembered for the amazing woman that she was.
Goodbye didi, I’ll always strive to be the person you expected me to be. I love you.