“A beautiful woman delights the eye; a wise woman, the understanding; a pure one, the soul.”- Minna Antrim

Mrs Anindita Chattaraj, aptly fits the above quoted line. Anindita , as I knew her was a vivacious, warm and altruistic person. Her presence always lit up any space with her innocent childlike laughter, wit and humour, She was in one word – fun to be with for all her friends, colleagues and students.

Anindita’s classes always resonated with a healthy noise of a great learning ambience where not only the academic curriculum was transacted but with them went the life lessons. Her compassion and empathy for the downtrodden people of the marginalised society was heart-warming as she opened her heart and her purse strings to make better their life in whatever way feasible. She loved dogs and always had atleast two at any point of her life, caring and looking after them as if they were her own children.

Anindita never shied away from any work but when it came to her family, it was above everything. She gave up her joys and comforts to give them topmost priority. And, yet she never complained about life. She was a great devotee of Shirdi Sai Baba and always ensured to thank the great saint in every success of her family by going on a pilgrimage to Shirdi

Her life was sadly cut short due to her terminal illness but not her indomitable spirit. Even as she grew frail in health, and took her calls sparingly, she always left the caller post any dialogue happy and lightened with naïve yet witty conversation. Her physical going away has definitely left a void in our lives but her joie de vivre spirit is eternal, pure and perennial.

Today, her legacy lives on through her husband, Chandan, whom she loved, respected and supported unstintingly and her two beautiful children, Akshata and Abhinav to live their lives to the fullest as she did without any regrets. Her life’s mission may be summed up in the words of a great Buddhist philosopher and teacher, Daisaku Ikeda –

"Your mission is to become the strongest, brightest, and most pure hearted of all, regardless of your circumstances, and to live a life in which you can declare that you are supremely happy."

Hope you are reading these lines, Jhumi

Anindita Chattaraj, Jhumi to her friends and ANI to her husband, surfaced in Delhi with her family and bonded instantly like sweet syrup to cheese balls that Bengalis fondly call Rosogollas.

She and my wife Keya were the best listeners in our group of professionals called Eagles. Everyone would call them up to let their steam off. Bengalis are great talkers but not listeners. So the listeners have great value in any Bengali home, any Bengali society.

Jhumi balanced her life brilliantly and lovingly, her students were in awe of her innocence and care, her friends missed her every moment. No one skipped her parties because she would attend to everyone individually, a Herculean task.

And then, one day doctors returned her body without life, they told her husband a dreaded disease had taken a deathly control, almost like marauding armies overriding a tiny village. Death was inevitable.

I often keep her in my thoughts and wonder if there is an afterlife, what would Jhumi be doing in that environment.

And then, almost immediately I console myself, I remind myself that I won’t find an answer. Death is life’s biggest mystery.

Our beloved English Teacher, an endearing member of the Bluebells School fraternity, Ms Anindita Chattaraj passed away on 29th May 2020, after battling disease, with grace and fortitude. Vivacious and expressive, her radiant presence and intense commitment was the hallmark of her professional and personal engagements. For over a decade she inspired hundreds of students and enriched their learning with warmth, empathy and enthusiasm. Choral recitation and book discussions were her forte. Her love for life and congeniality, reflected in her enigmatic smile, sparkling eyes, sincere friendships and professional bonds. We will miss Anindita. She will continue to be with us through treasured memories and ignited aspirations. She touched lives with her sunshine and the brilliant rays sparkle in the shadowy haze of time as memories flash by kaleidoscopically.

I met Anindita for the first time when my now 21 year old son was in the third standard. That was a time when all his teachers were at their wits end at how naughty he was and how he was always upto some mischief or the other. This used to be the story every PTA, and I was always wary of going to these meetings, because who likes to hear angry complaints about one’s own son!

When I anxiously walked into Anindita’s class expecting an earful, she smiled at me and started telling me incidents about my boy that seemed to amuse her more than make her angry. She was supportive and compassionate and seemed to really love the kids. We laughed together for some time and agreed to talk to him separately about his antics. It felt like I had made a soul connection. In her I’d found a support system that I could count on no matter what. Luckily, and to my immense relief, my son landed back in her class for the next 6 years, and I knew that there was someone looking out for him in school.

Soon after, my son developed some health complications. He had asthma, had to carry inhalers with him all the time and fell ill in school more often. This was a very hard time for us. Then again I turned to Anindita. She cared for my boy like he was her own. Every time they went out for a school trip, the only reason I could let him go was because I knew Anindita would be there too. I must have called her at odd hours, sometimes in the middle of the night, and she never showed any sign of irritation. They say God made mothers because he can’t always be there, I’d say God made teachers like Anindita because God and mothers can’t always be there. I miss you my friend.