(From 1989 Jyoti and me were friends in Pondicherry. She passed away on November 1, 2024. I share some memories of her through this personal note)
Dear Jyoti
For the past few weeks whenever, I am about to write something your picture floats up. Yes, we may not have shared the typical women’s ties such as discussing girlish fantasies, shopping trips, woes of child care nor our lives ups and downs and yet we had a strong bond that was connected through literature. We sought strength in the fact that we could love our mother tongues even though we had not learnt to write in our mother tongues. If you transcribed in Hindi, I used English. Whenever you had a new work be it Abisarika or Yeh Kahaniya Nahi Hai or Ek Kulhd Chai you wanted me to vet it. No matter how harsh my feedback was, you took it with grace, and what I cherished was your willingness to make changes. Sadly, due to my own academic commitments I could not be part of your Hindi literary journey, but I do know how appreciated and loved you were among those circles. I was at times jealous of you for being able to write so creatively. Every time I opened my Facebook page, I would see your warm smile alongside a new poem you had penned. Your posts, paired with beautiful Hindi songs, continuously captivated me. I wish I had called you to tell you how much I appreciated them.
When I curated the women poets feature for Muse India you were the first one, I thought of it as a small token of my appreciation. When you gifted me the book Yeh Kahaniya Nahi Hai you wrote “These are not my stories but bits of my life”. I know you longed for the life I had—teaching, living in the world of literature every day. You tried to follow a similar path by pursuing a doctorate, but it didn’t work out. I am glad it didn’t because I feel it may have snatched the magic of the everyday that inspired your muse.
I also recall the day you came to my department at the University and saw my office room. The memory of your bright eyes and the look you gave my nameplate is something I will always cherish. I often think of how, just because I was at the University, you would chaperone my son, Nikhil, during our Kannada Rajyotsava programs.
When I last met you, I came back with the feeling that you would not fade but be there with me. In my memory, you are forever intertwined with my love for literature and life.
Your translation of Siribhoovalaya, the ancient Jain text is for me your greatest achievement. You were justly praised and applauded for it; I still believe it deserves a wider circulation so that we can all better understand our rich heritage. You will be with me Jyoti wherever you are.
