One of the feelings I have thought about the most, is pain. And not the kind of pain one feels when you are physically hurt, but the kind of pain you feel when you lose someone. I used to think about it a lot when I was little, afraid that there will come a day when I lose those who are dear to me, but it never felt real until it actually happened.
One evening, my grandmother and I heard that my aunt had collapsed. We were alone at home. My grandmother drove me to my aunt’s house, scared and crying all the way because she was afraid of what could have happened. When we reached my aunt’s house we were shocked to learn that my aunt had been shot dead. My mother was already there, crying and heartbroken. I broke down too. I cried like never before because the pain was something I had not ever experienced, or even imagined. And what had happened was so shocking that it was almost unbelievable. Till today, I still feel like she is here, and that she has really not gone away forever.
They say time heals, but a year has passed but I feel the pain as if it was yesterday. Maybe I am not crying anymore like I was back then, but the void inside me still feels just as deep as it did that day. Initially, I felt very angry towards the killers. I wanted to hurt them the way they hurt her. I wanted them to experience the pain we felt. I still do. But the bitter truth is that my aunt will not come back even if they suffer. I realise “An eye for an eye, makes the whole world blind”. All we can do is wait for the pain to subside, get justice and the murderers to get punished legally.
There has never been a day that has passed by, that I haven’t thought of her. When I remember the love she had for me I miss her terribly. My aunt did not have children of her own, but she called me her daughter, just as I called her “Avva” which is another word for ‘mother’ in Kannada. She was almost like a second mother to me. They say sometimes that one never realises the true value of someone unless you have lost them. I did not realise how much I really loved her until I lost her. I had never imagined a world without her.
When I was little I would go to her house over the weekends. She would tell me bedtime stories of her own various versions of Cinderella. In my aunt’s version, Cinderella was a strong and independent girl. Cinderella would be a working woman and every time my aunt would change her profession; if sometimes Cinderella was a chef, another time she was a writer! And most of all Cinderella was no meek girl who would wait for her prince! Each time the story would have a slightly different setting or challenges she faced. I would just love listening to these stories. As I got older she would tell me stories of Jim Corbett, Kenneth Anderson and even gave me books by Poorna Chandra Tejaswi etc. She was a voracious reader. Apparently, even when my aunt was a young girl, her siblings would go out and play, but my aunt would be happy immersed in the world of books!
My aunt adored me so much that she never introduced me to her friends as her niece, but introduced me to them as her daughter. She would regale her friends with anecdotes about me, even when she was extremely busy. She would tell me I should always speak for myself and be a strong woman. She would always keep me updated on all the current events and would even take me to listen to speeches, or make me watch talks by young student activists such as Kanhaiya Kumar or Shehla Rashid. She always said that the youth should be aware, as they are the ones who can bring about a change.
On her birthday a few years back, she presented herself with a tattoo on her arm of a peacock feather symbolizing my grandfather’s newspaper logo and my name under it. Every weekend she would come home and spend time with my mother and me. My aunt loved non-vegetarian food, but she hardly ever cooked. So whenever she came home, my mother would cook chicken for both of us. Both of them would share funny stories of their past, their experiences and memories, and we would spend the afternoon laughing.
Being secular and equal was very important to my aunt which was also ingrained in us. Our family would celebrate Ganesha festival at my uncle’s house, Christmas in our house and Ramadan in my aunt’s house. She would tell me and my cousins’ stories and the significance of the festivals. To her, it was important to understand and empathize with all religions and communities. Needless to say, she fought for women’s rights, women empowerment, Dalits, Muslims, Transgenders and many other minorities. She was a strong, ethical journalist and a fierce activist who consistently fought for the downtrodden and addresses issues concerning them. She tried to persuade Naxalites to give up their guns and arms and have peaceful negotiations with the Government about their problems.
She worked very hard, day and night, almost never took a break. After her death is when I realised who she really…
