She wielded pen to espouse cause of tribals, says grandson of Mahasweta Devi

It's not easy to write about one's own grandmom, specially when it's been just a few hours when she breathed her last. But in 2014, round about this time only, I had to write about my father. So, I am not entirely unprepared. But still, this may read disjointed as I try to regain my writing composure in the airport waiting lounge. I usually do not write like this, believe me. Last weekend, me and my son Swayam visited Kolkata as grandmother wanted to see us. My wife, Nilanjana, unfortunately could not secure any leave. While grandmom was still on ventilator support, her eyes had lit up in recognition as we stepped inside her Intensive Therapy Unit chamber. She was exhausted and in much pain and could not keep her eyes open for long. To me, that memory would linger as a mark of closure between us.

Her stature in the pantheon of Indian literature is too well known for me to comment upon. And anyhow, I am no literary critic. But we had discussions on how her most famous works were not her best and nowhere close to them. Ironically, it was the same with her son, my father, Nabarun Bhattacharya. He would famously say, "I am appreciated for the wrong reasons." This applies to his mother as well. People will remember her for writing 'Hajar Churashir Maa' and not 'Sri Sri Ganesh Mahima'. But that's the way it goes.

Her dedication to fight for the cause of tribals and ensure their uplift was awe-inspiring. She was uncompromising in that pursuit and often had to confront the administration. I remember a specific incident when she had barged into former West Bengal chief minister Jyoti Basu's office although Basu had categorically instructed his secretary and security people not to allow her in. Such was her personality. The landmark Supreme Court verdict against the custodial death of a tribal was a turning point in the struggle of de-notified tribes (criminal tribes) in the country. I witnessed that entire episode first hand and know the pressures and lures she had to ward off.

She lived an extremely frugal life and in spite of the divorce with my grandfather, who brought up my father, she was always close to my dad and us till at around 2005-2006, when a nefarious element who was employed at my father's office stepped in to take advantage of her and my father's ill health and managed to create a rift between them. At this point, she became alienated from her comrades in decades-long struggle. I will always be proud that I was able to extricate her from that situation. But I rue the fact that my father was not around to witness her return to the family fold.

I have always been close to her. I remember my higher secondary school days when I would live with her, catalogue the library, arrange the handicrafts created by tribals at the centre she had set up. I remember our trip to Paris where at the Mayor's Ball, she sang Bengali songs at the top of her voice. I remember my hostel years at JNU when I would wait impatiently for her monthly trip to Delhi and us running through dozens of crème caramels at IIC (she was a diabetic). I also remember as a nine-year-old trying to cheat my way in a scrabble game and how reprimanded I was.

She hand-wrote my wedding invitation card in 2004. Me, my dad and my grandmom started a small Bengali literary magazine, Bhashabandhan, dedicated to translation literature, in 2003. We published her autobiography that was dedicated to my son. She and my dad may not be around but Bhashabandhan still is alive, albeit on life support.

I am grateful to all our relatives for standing by our side. My mother, Pranati Bhattacharya, 76, was herself hospitalised a few weeks back. She has been a pillar of strength. I am also grateful to the amazing panel of doctors and support staff who tried their best against all odds in the most unearthly hours. I also want to thank the West Bengal government for all its cooperation and support. Chief minister Mamata Banerjee looked upon her as a guardian and has always stood by us. That is deeply appreciated.

There will be lots of write-ups on her. She did not belong to a family, a state, a country. They will throw new light on her. I just hope she is fine somewhere and although they were both atheists, her and my dad have made their peace. Incidentally, he died in the same month, on the 31st of July.

(Tathagata Bhattacharya heads Web and Mobile content at WION, Zee Group's new international media venture)