Requiem for Mona

I remember her. With a doe eyed sulk breaking into a flashy smile from pouting lips on an expressive face, the two looped plaits bobbing to the rhythm of her run as she sprinted to be in time for school. She was fourteen, class 9, at Holy Cross High School, 53 years ago.

Last week, Dr Mona Ray, 67, passed away in the US, battling cancer

.

I remember attending her music rehearsals and programmes, group songs and the traditional Rabindra Sangeet and I recall the strains of the melodious Bengali songs wafting through the window of her small study, which was her domain, given by Chatterjee Mahasay only to her and not to her siblings 

Each time our eyes met at a distance, she would give a gentle wave of recognition, which was a signal known only to us and that would send a warm surge coursing through my being. Did she ever feel the same, I never had the courage to ask.

Thak tha tha thadak thak

Kamal ka phool dekho, shola bahaar dekho

Shahi darbar dekho, 

kamal ka phool !

Pyari pyari shobanyari aayi hain bahaar.....................

She was on stage dancing Kathak choreographed to the tunes of this song as I walked into the hall. Her wave of hand merged with the dance moves as she sent me a signal over the heads of the throng of  500 students. To this day I remember the dance, the wave and the tune

She would bring along a friend to be the one of the only two girls watching the hockey matches which I played in. I would feel a surge of energy and that something within was goading me to do well.

After 1961, I entered the University and the meetings became scarce. I never had the courage. I also did badly that year at the University, in that I did not qualify for admission to a prestigious institution. So knowing my background, I changed focus to studies and drifted away and chanced to meet her as a full-fledged practising medical professional at Bangalore's Victoria Hospital some twenty years later. She was a paediatric specialist, a wife and Mother and when I reached her house, she opened the door and we stared at each other for over thirty seconds. She said in a whisper "Don't get emotional or sentimental"

Marianne sent me a mail from the US last week stating that the Mona Chatterjee I used to know, is no more. The old flame surfaced from the depths through the layers of years into a struggling flicker. A drop of my tears doused it with a hiss.........................................

I suddenly remembered Rajesh Khanna's song  in Aap ki Kasam

Zindagi ke safar mein guzar jaate hain jo mukam

Woh phir nahin aathe