Obituary
Life and death are so unpredictable – do we ever know when
we will leave this world?
Usha Mendiratta |
The day was warm and bright with clear blue skies above and
all seemed fine. She took a stroll with her little grandson to a nearby
stationery shop and bought him packets of potato chips. In the evening she came
downstairs and purchased some vegetables from the push-cart vendor.
Then, in the evening of 17 September, retired Superintendent
of Nurses, Usha Mendiratta suffered a massive cardiac arrest and passed away,
bringing a pall of gloom into the neighbourhood.
Eighteen months ago, on a spring morning, I was transferred
from Bangalore to New Delhi. The initial months were challenging: settling into
a new residence, familiarising with the surroundings as well as dealing with
the emotional trauma of my dear mother’s recent demise.
In the midst of this, on one hot summer day on May 2011, I
returned from work to find that except my apartment, all other floors in the
building had electricity. It was a hard day’s night, coping with the hot and
sweltering weather as my rooms had virtually turned into a furnace.
I felt overwhelmed by her warmth and this was the first spark
of our friendship. Although she was staying with her son, daughter-in-law and
grandson, I was close to her. I used to often spend time with her on my return
from office.
Next morning around 8:45 am in the morning my cell phone
pinged and when I picked up the call, it was the same familiar warm and
friendly voice asking me, “Can you please come down soon? I am waiting for you
to have breakfast.” After a quick shower I rushed to her place and had really
great Punjabi cuisine that forced me to skip lunch!
Her traits – compassionate, soft spoken and always ready to
help people in distress are so rare to find in people these days that I will
always remember her. Every time I cross her floor an image of her flashes up in
my mind. Aunty Usha, may your soul rest in eternal bliss!
Below is a video clip.
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