June 16, 2021 Commentary while waiting for food

June 16, 2021 Commentary while waiting for food: I have been recently involved with two fund raising events. The first was for the work with the wave of infections and the need for so many things from O2 to food for the people unemployed by the lockdown. That effort was very successful. The O2Cs were obtained, the set of people started to answer phone calls through the virtual call center, and Devdas continues to provide food and medicines to the families who had lost income from the lockdown. Now, I have to reassess. Mani Square is open, and I could actually go to Spencer’s and get my groceries. Do not have to have it delivered. The number of shops open is still few and the place is running at a fraction of its full capacity. Perhaps, there are many in our cohort in Gobindapur are still unemployed. That fund raiser led to things that brought a ray of hope, some support, and a sense of accomplishment to those who were answering the calls. The second fund raiser was a little different. It involved untimely, unexpected and to me, unexplained, death. A bondhu died in isolation, in the house, to be discovered by the cleaning lady. Police. Investigations. Autopsies. A distress call from a former partner. What was to be done? Where are the relatives? Are there any relatives? Frantic afternoon and it became clear that there was a need for funds to follow through with a dignified send off. Go Fund Me. Just friends from college please. This too was successful – the goals were clear – use the money to do the right things as the final send off. Open casket. I could not attend. But everything was done in the right way. What is the right way? This question has come up again today. Another death. Perhaps more timely, by age of the departed, but it still leaves many questions. And memories. Is the death of a teacher like the death of a parent with many children? Do all the students remember the teacher in the same way? Do parents have favorite kids? I would not know. As a child I am a single child, as a parent I have only one child. In the group messages there were memories of our teacher and how the person had brought us up. One recalled an event that involved me, which I had forgotten until reminded today. Do teachers have favorites? So the question came up again about a fund raiser. This time for what I asked. How should the funds be used? How much? For how long? Who coordinates? The conversations of the memory of the departed morphed into conversations of writing charters, and the logistics of raising the money and using it properly. I hesitantly volunteered. Yes, perhaps, when we have a plan. Death receded from view for a moment. Now it was logistics. I have been noticing this a lot since my cousin died in January. It was all suddenly logistics that day. The Hearst. The car to take us to the crematorium. Then the walk back through Burra Bazaar hitching a ride on a cab to come back home. Logistics. Again, logistics today. Does logistics help the survivors to feel relevant and honor the person who taught us momentum is not always necessarily mass times velocity and reminded us not to close our options and enroll in elective biology in high school just in case we wanted to pursue medicine as a career. In all these, what reverberates in my mind is that song about the teacher in the rough part of town in London when the students eventually say of that teacher, “A friend who taught me right from wrong, and weak from strong.” Thus was our teacher who passed today.