I was just 13 when our family split. My father, a businessman, left us all here and moved abroad. For months, I was under the illusion that he would return, but he never returned. His absence caused us an emotional setback, but Amma ensured us a better tomorrow. She understood the void we siblings were struggling with, took matters into her hands, and became a pillar of our strength even though she suffered silently. Time went by, and gradually we all moved on. It was a hard slog for Amma to ensure that there were sufficient financial resources for all of us, especially with her health problems and all the societal pressures. But she never made us feel that we were deficient in anything, rather motivated us to become independent and get prepared for life. One of the reasons behind this was that our entire family, from my grandparents to my maternal uncles and aunts, came forward to support us.
Amma was an early childhood educationist. She taught initially in a private and later in a government school. While she went to school, we would happily tag along to play with her students during vacation. Amma was natural when it came to teaching. She would try new ways to engage the students. She would make them laugh, appreciate them, and listen to them. Watching her groom these tiny, inquisitive minds was always a sight.
From a young age, we were free to choose our careers, albeit with one condition: we would not leave Delhi. Amma ensured that we stuck together as a family. I chose a career in education because it came naturally to me. It was in my DNA. I did not have to try too hard. But that doesn’t mean I never struggled with imperfection or inadequacy. It’s just that I picked myself up pretty quickly and got going. I knew my turf very well!
Amma’s work attracted me the most. After watching her closely and following her footsteps, I, too, developed a keen interest in early education. She is my role model and instrumental in defining my life’s actions. An exciting opportunity in a Nursery Teacher Training Institute further enhanced my career, and I started teaching the trainers on the various parameters of early childhood education.
I worked with a teacher training center for 22 years, but unfortunately, in 2018, the institute’s management decided to shut it down. That was a jolt in the neck, and it was pretty depressing…. Though I was offered an extension of services in another department in the same organization, I still felt out of place. After that, I took online freelance assignments with some reputed organizations such as the British Council, Macmillan, the Directorate of Education, IGNOU, and other Training colleges, but when my husband fell ill in 2021 due to COVID, I had to let go of everything to take care of my ailing husband. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t save him.
Caregiving can be extremely overwhelming, especially when your loved one is at the receiving end. It took me months to cope with my husband’s untimely demise. I felt lonely even with people around me. I would sit in my room and cry for hours. I would mourn and grieve day and night, due to which I developed health problems that made me bedridden. Looking at my condition, my friends and family started to push me out of the house. They nudged me to take up some work. See things around. Explore a few opportunities. At that time, one of my friends told me about Swami Sivananda Memorial Institute of Art & Craft (SSMI) and asked me to meet the Director of the institute, Ms. Sunita Bhasin.
I found SSMI very peaceful. I felt this place was meant for me. After a detailed conversation with Bhasin ma’am, I decided to join here. It’s been a year and a half, and my tenure has been very satisfying and uplifting. I entered this place as lonely as one could be, only to find immense love and support. Bhasin Ma’am’s charismatic persona, hard work, and commitment to education impressed me to my bones. Her knowledge and experience motivated me to take over more responsibilities each day.
Work came to my rescue. Since we were teaching online, I would sit quietly and observe the teachers, giving them feedback on their teaching preparation. The sessions were usually short, so I would get enough time to introspect and sit with myself and my feelings. Experience the void and try to let go of what’s beyond my control. Then, one fine day the school re-opened. Initially, putting on a happy face was a real struggle. But as I got to know more about SSMI, the people who work here, the compromised backgrounds they come from, the students, their day-to-day challenges, the kind of financial crisis, negligence, the discrimination they face, the parents and their struggle to make ends meet – I realized how petty my problems are. For the first time, I felt an uncanny relief. I said to myself – I have so much to be grateful for.
I was happy to see everything falling into place finally. But who knew this happiness was short-lived? It had been a couple of months. I had just embarked on a new journey with SSMI when my sister disclosed her cancer diagnosis and that she had reached a stage where it was impossible to save her. Whatever strength, courage, and hope I had gathered in the last few months vanished in thin air within a fraction of a second. I was shattered.
Why did grief choose me over and over again? Of all the people in the world, why was I chosen to brave the storm? Do we ever get answers to these ‘whys’? I don’t know! In 2022, I lost my sister, eventually. However, this time, I was determined to move out of the dark place of grief and sorrow, take the focus off pain and place it where it was needed. And SSMI played an instrumental role in it.
Acceptance or closure is where the power lies. When I looked outside and met people with deeper wounds, I realized my problems were too small. I found closure. I stopped brooding. Instead, I woke every day with a purpose – to help others. I promised never to return anyone who came to me for help without a solution. Be it the teachers, staff, students, or parents. I decided to do whatever was possible to uplift the people in my workplace. Grief gave me a sense of purpose.
