In remembrance of UMA CHAUDHRI

Uma, my sister…

Nov.11, 2008.

3.45 pm - The luggage’s been loaded in the waiting taxi. She is ready for the train that will take her home. To Delhi. Scheduled departure from Bombay Central, 5.40 pm. Chots is with her. We hug, knowing that she’ll be back in a month – she whispers, “Don’t forget what I told you (about controlling my weight and [J] my temper).” My thought: “I won’t see her again” is immediately dismissed. As the door gently closes, with her sitting behind the cabbie, Shishupal yelps as never before; in concern. I have to really hold on to him. With a final wave of the hands, the taxi turns around the corner. I come up, and decide to get some work done. As I wait for my laptop to boot, I smile to myself as I set a reminder on my mobile for 5.30 to call her as she boards the train (she was so unused to this stupid cell!) Checking my e-mail, I see an acquaintance has sent a picture of Kohlapur Mahalaxmi. I decide that it will make a nice desktop pix, ok fine… celltop pix if you must be so particular, on my cell, I feel. As the downloading gets completed and I bluetooth it to my mobile, it begins to ring as if on cue, flashing her face. It’s not even 5! “Boy, did they get there fast!” I take the call.

It is Chota. He is barely audible. There is a lot of noise/disturbance: “An… accident. We are …Nair Hospital. No need to rush. I’ll see you at the gate.” I pick up the car keys, get into the car, realize I have forgotten my sunglasses and the mobile. I get them and head towards the hospital – it’ll take at least an hour. I make good calm coverage till I hit Dadar station on Tulsi Pipe Road, when suddenly, the traffic suddenly comes to a halt. Crawling, I cross Dadar station flyover – it’s 5.45pm. At a break in the divider a civilian helping the cops recognizes me and frantically signals me to divert – “A truck has overturned on Lower Parel!” he explains… I do as directed, only to hit another traffic snarl; at one point, traffic from four directions deadlocks our movement. Realising the hopelessness of my situation, I immediately call Chota. I update him and I ask: “How’s Behenji?” A pause, then, “Ab kya bataoon aapko. Behenji is no more.”

Pause. Silence. Vacuum. The traffic starts moving and I move with the flow. It is dark by now. And I don’t know where I am going. Strange unvisited roads – I am lost; I feel lost. The traffic won’t let me change lanes and takes me with it. I come to a flyover in front of the Lower Parel station – where the hell am I? Gradually, the traffic thins and I, badly needing to go, see two large garbage bins. I squeeze the car in between the two. As I alight to find directions, I spy a public toilet. Having relieved myself, I ask the attendant the way to Nair Hospital – he doesn’t know. I step outside, look around and see a lone panwalla. I approach him and find myself saying, “Ek 555 ka packet dena.” I light a cigarette and ask him if he knows where the hospital is. “Oh straight down, take a right at the first signal and you’ll come to Saat Chauraha.” I know the way from there.

The hospital is most eerily quiet. I see two cops. I get off from the car to enquire. They obviously are expecting me. They lead me to the Casualty lobby and gentle assure me, “Never mind the car, it’s parked all right.”

Chota, head bandaged, is being examined – he’s told to get a skull x-ray done. “A tempo coming from the opposite side on the Lower Parel flyover suddenly veered and hit us head on. The driver was also severely injured. A cab following immediately behind emptied its passengers and carried the two of us to the hospital, where, on arrival, she was declared DOA.”

It suddenly dawns on me that the traffic jam I was caught up in – as were literally thousands others - was because of this very accident.

Chots has already called up Bakul (who’s shooting in Ooty) and Amey, who was also shooting (fortunately in Bombay). Amey chucks up everything and is on his way to be with us. Brain scan done, Chots is taken away for a chest x-ray!

An old attendant – funnily called Mao! – takes me to a rickety door below the staircase and unlocks the door. There she lies on a stretcher, a trifle undignified, but in deep sleep. No blood, except for minor scratches and a large swelling on her right cheek. Helplessly, and calmly, I can only watch.

Now, to call the family.

First Manju, at Hissar. “Why are you sounding so serious?” she laughs. I tell her.

Then Montreal. A very sleepy Malika (it’s early hours there) answers – I tell her; pause, then, “Let me call Dada.” A shaken Yash comes on line. Poor guy will have to inform Nalini, who, on hearing the news, can only say, after a long-ish pause, “WHO?”

Then Connaught Place. Daksh picks up the phone, “Hello Nana!” “Call Mahesh please,” I say.

The cops take over. They are gentle, kind, patient. The paperwork is completed by 12.30 am. Inspector Mangeshkar advises us to come with him to the police station and collect her bag retrieved from the shattered taxi by a passing patrol van.

Without fuss or paperwork or red tape, he gives us the bag.

Unspoken, Amey takes the car keys. It’s 1.30 am when we return home. Amey is told to return to shooting and that I will be at the hospital by 7.30 am to get her home, after the post mortem – mandatory after an accident.

Nov.12, 2008.

Nitin Sukhija comes there to help. A little later, Vijay Subramani joins us. But things are only completed by around noon. For once, I am grateful to cinema – the face value is most helpful in clearing formalities with maximum ease and minimum pain.

Vijay travels in the ambulance; Nitin and I are in the car. We get home by around 1 pm. I immediately take off for the airport to pick up Manju and Mahesh.

En route, Manju mentions how she is unable to cry at such occasions. The first thing she does at seeing her, lying there on the floor, is to break down! Liar.

Lots of friends are already there. Kapil, Anil Saxena, Mainak & Neehar, Nalini Uchil, Anusha, Fardeen, Poonam & Rakesh, Nishan, Shrikant, Vishwajit, Acharyaji¸ her partner-in-cards Vinisha and some neighbours. Nitish Bhardwaj and Asif also come in.

As her arthi is readied in the driveway, the pandit asks Manju to apply a sindoor bindi on her forehead. Manju, knowing, how she would have hated one, adamantly applies a tilak instead! I drape a silk saree across her. Nalini is on the phone all the while. “Touch her hands for me,” she requests; Manju does so, on her behalf.

Funeral at the Oshiwara electric crematorium is scheduled for 5 pm. Others land up there – Pavan & Veena with Savita, Nikhil, Bhimsain Bhai saab accompanied by Anshu & Youla, Alok Gupta, Rahul Chowdhary, Gyan Sahai, Jeewan Uncle.

Some photographs are clicked as the last rites are performed and then at 5.45 pm, she is consigned to the flames.

Nov.13, 2008.

Manju and Mahesh depart by the noon flight to Delhi. Nitin Dara has used the Fourthwall office to organize my evening flight to carry the urn to Delhi. The girl at the Jet check-in thoughtfully does not release the seat next, so Behenji gets to travel in her own seat! For free!

At 9.30 pm, Banwari picks me at the airport and we reach CP. Roopali & Daksh are putting up a brave front. Ashok & Sangeeta and Pawan Yadav have joined us. For the first time at CP, there is no booze!! See, how things change! An SOS sms is sent to the in-flight Malika bringing Nalini from Montreal! They get in by 2.30 am and indeed, are carrying THREE bottles of Caribbean rum!

At 5 am, we – Kanwalji, Manju, Nalini, Mahesh, Malika and me - get into Kanwalji’s Scorpio (driven most expertly and thankfully by Akshay!)and take off for Garh Mukteshwar to consign the ashes to the holy waters of Ganga.

We are back in Delhi by noon.

The Chautha puja is at 4 pm. Besides her four offsprings – Manju (along with Kanwalji), Meera, Mahesh & Nalini- other guests include Meenakshi, Akshay & Kerath, Urmila Mamiji (from Jhansi), Pushpa & her daughter Bhavna, Asha & Pooja, Rahul & Monisha, Rohit’s wife Hareeta, Randhirji & Ushaji, Shakti & Renu Singh, Kamal ji & Shashiji and Kaajal Jindal, Ramu Shastri, Hari and Chanda Behenji alongwith Veena (Bhopal Bhai Sahib's wife) & her son, Abha Singh, Veena and her sister and several more (I feel a bit sheepish here J) and lots of friends like Pradeep & Anuradha, Dr.Bansal, Deepak & Anju Gulati, Indu Sarna, Virender Sirohi, Bobby. Memory is hazy here with so much on my mind. My profoundest apologies to all those not acknowledged

Thus the official mourning was over.

Now, just us family… to pick up the pieces.

Farewell Uma!

Farewell Sister!

Farewell Mother!!

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The Aftermath.

Nov.14-16, 2008.

The usual activity of going through her stuff. “I never knew she had SO many sarees!” exclaims Manju, then gingerly hands me her gold chain she was wearing last – it has a strand of her hair. “Keep it,” Manju is gentle. Her perfumes and costume jewellery are distributed among Meenakshi, Malika, Richa, Roopali. The antique silver coins go to Mahesh, Mandar, Maral, Daksh, Rishabh, Keerat, Chota and me – amazingly, they are the exact number!

No, no one has forgotten Chots – who is alone in Bombay; alone to re-live those agonizing moments. Manju: “I am so glad that she went away in his laps.” Nalini insists she cannot go to Montreal without meeting him.

16^th evening I return to Bombay; Bakul is there at the airport to take me home.

Nov.22, 2008.

Mahesh organises the Barveeni pooja at CP. That done, Nalini flies to Bombay. Malika is already here. Vir drops in late night.

Nov.23, 2008.

The Terveen hawan is conducted with a limited number of friends present – Mr. & Mrs.Acharya, Anil, Bakul, Vijay and Amey. Yash, poor chap has been on the line all along, closely following all proceedings, ”What do I do with the diya burning here, Mamu?” the child asks. “Replenish it for the last time and let it go out on its own,” I sagely advice. (In case, I’ve forgotten: Sapna too was in constant touch… phew, remembered this just in time!)

Now, it’s over. Malika vanishes that night and the next day, I see Nalini off to Delhi.

So, thank all of you who were with us in this anguishing moment. I need to commend Manju, Mahesh & Nalini for conducting themselves with dignity. She would have been proud of them!

And no, she didn't go unnoticed - she made headlines! At:

http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=TU1JUi8yMDA4LzExLzEzI0FyMDM0MDE=&Mode=HTML&Locale=english-skin-custom

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Pictures of her through the ages are being uploaded at her very own site:

http://picasaweb.google.co.in/umachaudhri

Please forward all your contributions to:

ravibaswani@gmail.com

and we’ll put them up for all of us to share.

*For example, the photo of hers at the very top was received in rather poor and cracked conditions. But Chots has ‘photo-shopped’ it. So don’t worry about the quality of the pictures with you. We shall try and ‘polish’ them as is humanly possible.