Obituary: My Mother- Sarmistha Sahariah.
By: Dr.Sutirtha Sahariah
Tags: Mother, Obituary, Family

Sarmistha Sahariah:03 September, 1954–03 December 2019.

When her body left home for cremation, my father draped her in a beautiful saree, applied lipstick and vermilion. She looked beautiful — even in her death. But in life too she was elegant, carried a positive outlook and loved to look beautiful.

Cancer mercilessly tore her body but could not touch her spirit. She was struggling with her health for a year, was very frail; it was only five months back she was diagnosed with the dreadful disease.

Doctors instantly issued the death warrant, “she has limited time — perhaps six months,” they said; “please ensure that she lives her last days with dignity and comfort.” I and my father were devastated. Breaking that news to my mum would have instantly killed her. We withheld it after discussing with the doctor. The next five months, we saw death lingering over her head, swallowing her part by part before she succumbed during early hours of 03 December in Delhi. She was 65.

She was fiercely strong until the end. She hoped that she would be well enough to return home one day, wear her lovely sarees and attend friend’s children’s weddings and look beautiful again — simple wishes which we painfully knew could never be fulfilled.

She was born on 03 September 1954 and had comfortable upbringing in Guwahati, Assam. She was known to be fashionable since her early days. She loved travelling, was very fond of collecting sarees and decorating her home. She met my father during their university days, fell in love with his eccentric ways and got married him in 1981. A year later I was born.

My mother with her friend in 1970s

My mother had a great ability to adapt to situations and was courageous. Life threw various challenges — some really nasty ones — but each time she rose to the occasion to deal with all in different capacities as a businesswoman, teacher, mother, daughter or a wife. Her father died of cancer a week after her marriage in Calcutta; he had set up his own family business just before that — it was my mother who took charge of that business and steered it in the late 1970s, whilst her father battled cancer.

When she married my dad, she stepped into a household that was massive — and culturally, totally different. As an urban girl, my mother had rarely seen villages — let alone live in one. But she embraced her new life with optimism and joy respecting everyone and their value systems. As an outsider she was privileged but her simplicity won the hearts of many in those villages where my dad’s extended family still lives — and today, they are all in grief.

With my father

Likewise, her first job as a teacher of political science took her to a far flung and remote town in upper Assam. In those days, it was an ardours journey to get there, but she took up the challenge. She served as a teacher for the rest of her career and retired in 2014. She loved her students; her colleagues were her best friends and she remembered them until her very last moment.

All mothers dream of a good future for their children. And in that aspect, for me, she was a woman with a vision. She shaped me to have a global outlook right from my childhood. When I was ten years old, she, with a heavy heart, sent me to a boarding school. I still remember tears rolling down her cheek when as my parents dropped me off at school and handed me over to the hostel warden. She always said: sending me off to a boarding school was one of her toughest decision in life because I hardly ate then, but it was all worth. For me, my mother was a great friend. As a parent, she was never indulgent but reasonable; she guided me to be on the right path and taught me to be righteous.

January 2019

She approached problems with reason, sensitivity and diligence. People looked up to her for strength and advice; she treated everyone with kindness and compassion. She defended truth and spoke up against lies and injustice.

When dealing with person’s illness you learn a lot about life. During her final months, my mother was cared for by very compassionate nurses along with my father. One nurse, Shabnam, became her good friend. These fantastic women had their own tales of suffering. They were all single mothers dealing with terrible problems and severely let down by the society, but they had incredible strength and selfless love. It made us wonder how their vital — and compassionate — services largely go unnoticed.

These women were from different faiths and backgrounds, but they all prayed for my mother and cared for her in way I couldn’t have. My mother’s battle with life showed us the greatness of humanity over the fissiparous issues of society that have absolutely no meaning.

My mother always used to say, “there will be problems in life — like illness- over which you will have no control. But things over which you have control, do not spoil it. Keep life simple and enjoy it. If today is a good day, just enjoy it.”

A great way to pay tribute to a person is to live by the great values they teach you. I hope to do the same as her son.

May God rest her soul in peace.