Today, I come before you as a hawker, with my wares laid out. I have fine things to show you—some truly exquisite. Among them, I am carrying a mirror today. This mirror is why I am here. Would you care to look? There is no obligation to buy—just look, that costs nothing.
So, shall we begin?
All I Ever Wanted Was Love
There is something deeply universal in these lines—this aching desire, this plea for Love. I doubt it's exclusive to one person, or even just a few. It's a truth that echoes within every human heart.
Centuries ago, Bengali mystic poet Ramprasad Sen (c. 1718/1723 – c. 1775) wrote—
If cultivated, it would yield gold.
Oh mind, you do not know farming."
And when I truly delve into my own mind, I realise that all my life, I've sought nothing more than a little Love. Every thought, every word, every effort and pain—each step forward or misstep, all were powered by one silent longing. Whether I acted, failed to act, or erred—Love was always the underlying current.
In his poem "Nirjon Swakkhor" (Solitary Signature), Jibanananda Das (1899–1954) wrote—
Many times it's been difficult to determine whether a particular song should be classified as a Love song or a religious hymn. Take, for instance, a Sufi song, a Shyamasangeet (devotional songs to Goddess Kali), a Ghazal, a Rabindra Sangeet, a Prabhat Samgiita (songs composed by Prabhat Ranjan Sarkar), a profound Sanskrit hymn, or a popular movie Love song — they all begin to sound the same. The tone, the voice, the mood, the yearning—they are all one and the same. Divine or mortal, the craving is indistinguishable. It's as if the Ganges and Yamuna flow into one river at Triveni Sangam.
This deep longing isn't merely of today. Two centuries ago, Kamalakanta Bhattacharya (1769–1821) lamented in his song—
This quest for Love is eternal—universal. Man's Eternal Quest. I have provided some examples and descriptions in the preceding paragraphs. I'm sure you can add countless more that depict mind's longing for Love. Throughout ages, across all places, you'll hear this echo. If you cast your gaze outward, you'll find it there. And if you dive deep, saying "Dive, dive, dive, my mind, into the ocean of beauty," you might find this same resonance, this same sound, within your own heart.
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| Swapna Dutta, photographed near Ramakrishna Math, Kamarpukur, 13 January 2020. |
27 July 2025: The Day my Mother Died
My Mother, Swapna Dutta, passed away on Friday, 27 July 2025, at 11:25 pm, while undergoing treatment at M. R. Bangur Hospital, Kolkata. She had been admitted to K. P. C Medical College and Hospital from 24 June to 4 July and again from 21 July to 26 July.
First Admission at K. P. C. Medical College and Hospital
After my Mother's admission to K. P. C. Medical College and Hospital on 24 June, she underwent various tests, including CT scan, MRI scan, EEG, and USG. Some small brain strokes were found, along with other physical issues. Even after her discharge on Friday, 4 July, my Mother remained unwell. She was slowly recovering.
Second Admission at K. P. C. Medical College and Hospital
By 20 July 2025, she could barely eat; even semi-solid food seemed to choke her. She had also been sleep-deprived for two nights straight. She was given sleeping medication as per the doctor's instructions, but she did not get much sleep. On Monday morning, 21 July 2025, I admitted my Mother to K. P. C. Medical College and Hospital for the second time. The main issues found were urosepsis and a few other complications. From 21 to 23 July, she was in the ICU. On 24 July, she was moved to the general ward. On 26 July, Saturday afternoon, she was discharged, still very unwell. We had hoped to take her out in a wheelchair, but had to use a stretcher. I sensed the discharge was rushed—but said nothing.
M. R. Bangur Hospital: The Last Hours
The immediate next day, Sunday, 27 July, my Mother's health began to deteriorate again. She could not sit up, barely ate. I gave her some lactose-free milk in the early evening—she managed to swallow a few sips.
By 9 pm, I called an ambulance.
This time we did not return to K.P. C. Financially, this was getting difficult for me to afford it again, and truthfully, I had not felt confident about how they discharged her the day before.
Instead, I took her to M.R. Bangur Super Speciality Hospital, a government-run facility. In the emergency ward of Bangur Hospital, at 10:00 pm on 27 July 2025, when the doctor was examining her, my mother's—
- Blood pressure was 138/84;
- Oxygen saturation was 98%;
- Pulse rate was 82; and
- Blood sugar was 232 mg/dl.
Though at this time, my Mother wasn't speaking, she responded—minimally, faintly.
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| Copy of M. R. Bangur Super Specialty Hospital's document. 27 July 2025, 10:01 pm |
After examining my Mother, the attending doctor instructed her admission to the female ward of the hospital. Admission forms were filled, and a patient card issued. At this time, my Mother was given a couple of injections through an IV line in her hand, and saline was started. It took a little time to set up the IV as it was somewhat difficult to find a vein in her hand.
I was told to take my Mother to the ECG room, right next to the emergency ward, to get an ECG done. And then, probably, a CT scan was scheduled.
As I waited with my Mother in the ECG room, lying on the trolley, I noticed a very slight tremor in her body. And then, almost immediately after that, foam or bubbles began to emerge from my Mother's mouth.
Initially, I did not understand. She had often regurgitated food this way recently. I reached out to wipe off a little of the foam with my hand. Suddenly, a strange fear crept in. Something wasn’t right. There was a nurse nearby, and I said to her, "Madam, look, foam is coming out of my Mother's mouth." The nurse told me, "Go quickly and call a doctor."
I immediately went to the adjacent emergency room and requested the office counter to send a doctor. It was crowded, yet the nurse there responded quickly. "Go back to your patient. Dr. Basu will be there in no time," she said.
Following the instruction, I stood waiting near the ECG room door. When the doctor didn't arrive even after about 1–2 minutes, I went to the adjacent emergency desk again. I said to the same nurse, "Madam, the doctor hasn't come yet."
A wait of just one or two minutes isn't a huge wait in any hospital, government or private. Yet, I couldn't bear that wait then.
When I went to the emergency desk for the second time, the nurse was writing something in a logbook. Hearing me, she stopped immediately, turned to a lady doctor, and said, "Madam, please see the patient immediately." Then, looking at me, she said, "You go with this lady doctor right away."
The lady doctor and I quickly reached the ECG room. From the time foam started coming out of my Mother's mouth until this moment, at most 5–7 minutes had passed.
The lady doctor performed a few quick examinations and then called another doctor. Together they started to examine her. A few minutes later, the lady doctor pulled me aside. She said, "See, we are not detecting any vital signs! We have administered a final injection. We shall wait 15 more minutes. However, I must prepare you. Your Mother is no longer with us!"
My Mother Died!
Let My Heart Bloom Like Flowers at Her Feet
My Mother was a devotee of Kali (a Hindu goddess). On the other hand, my Father, Tarun Dutta (passed away 4 May 1998), was a devotee of Tara (another form of Kali). I was ten years old when my Father died, I don't remember much detail. But I very distinctly remember my Mother's prayers.
"Maa. Maa Kali Maa." My Mother used to chant. She used to pray to the goddess "Make my Tito flourishing, blissful, and virtuous." I am now 37 years old. Since my own childhood, I've seen my Mother make this very same prayer, year after year. Exactly these words.
One of her favourite devotional songs was:
Let me tell you an incident. I was seven or eight years old then, that was perhaps 1996. We lived in a small, rented single room in the Haltu area of Kolkata. My Mother and I would sleep on a small cot at night. My father would sleep on another small cot on the other side of the small room. How many conversations I used to have with my Mother at that time! I remember one thing, my Mother would tell me, like a fairy tale—
"Someday we’ll have a house with a switch on the wall. You'll press it, and the roof will slide open. Then you and I will lie on this cot, look up at the sky, and watch the stars."
It was never about practicality. We dreamed together.
And that woman—that lady's death occurred in front of the balcony door of a crowded room in a government hospital! Lying on a trolley, waiting for an ECG test!
Digressing? Or Completing the Picture?
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| At Indira Gandhi Memorial Museum, Delhi 21 November 2017 |
If you have read Chapter One and this Chapter Two, you might wonder if I have sometimes drifted off-topic. But I feel these digressions were necessary. There is a Bengali saying— "To describe precisely, sometimes one must begin with the embellishments."
A significant portion of this second chapter, with its preoccupation with Love, longing, and human frailty—isn't it all a reflection of my Mother herself? Looking back, I understand that all these abstract emotions were vividly expressed and embodied in my Mother's mind and life. And around that revolved all her actions, words, rights, and wrongs!
"I have asked for nothing my whole life but Love. I belong to those people who die again and again in search of Love" — these words are possibly very much applicable to my Mother!
We could conclude this second chapter right here!
But, wait, my friend, pause for a moment!
Are these words I've just spoken applicable only to my Mother? Remember, I said I came today as a hawker with a mirror? Take a moment to dive deep into your own mind. Perhaps you too will find the same yearning, the same longing, the same thirst within yourself. Perhaps, just perhaps, you too carry the same ache!
And thus, the second chapter ends here.
Charaibeti.
স্বপ্না দত্ত, আমার মা (Swapna Dutta, my Mother)
- ● বাংলায় পড়ুন: প্রথম অধ্যায়, দ্বিতীয় অধ্যায়, তৃতীয় অধ্যায় (সংযোজন), চতুর্থ অধ্যায় (প্রথম পরিচ্ছেদ, দ্বিতীয় পরিচ্ছেদ, তৃতীয় পরিচ্ছেদ)
- ● Read in English: First Chapter, Second Chapter, Third Chapter (Addendum), Fourth Chapter (Part I, Part II, Part III)
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