In the year 2002, the intricate threads of a saga were woven with the drafting of a mother’s will, casting the name of Stalin Raghuvanshi, my brother, into the heart of my father’s expectations. What appeared to be an ordinary event two decades ago would unfurl a series of events that not only shaped the paths of our family members but also tested the strength of our familial ties. Amidst the turmoil, the names of Shruti and myself found their place, and the arrival of Kabir Karunik marked a defining moment.
However, within this narrative lay a deliberate omission that cast shadows on the story. Stalin’s daughter and his name were conspicuously left unmentioned, leaving us unjustly sidelined amidst baseless accusations. This legal document, supposedly binding, reverberated through the years, with consequences that reached far and wide. Yet, your presence, though unmentioned, remains etched vividly in our memories. You are intricately woven into the tapestry of our shared moments, experiences, and trials.
In the wake of Stalin’s untimely departure, my journey against child labor led me to Manila in 1998, coinciding with the birth of Kabir. However, the joy of Kabir’s arrival was overshadowed by a somber event that befell my mother’s household. Subsequent visits to Manila would be marked by further tragic events, underscoring the sorrowful pattern.
In recent times, my father submitted an application that rightfully included the names of his six sons, excluding Stalin. In the face of these challenges, stand strong, my brother Stalin. Your fight for justice endures, and I proudly affirm our fraternal bond. Walk alongside me; truth is bound to emerge victorious. Those who peddle deceit will inevitably meet their downfall. May the enduring legacy of our family thrive, and may the scourge of exploitation be vanquished.
The initial will, crafted in 2002 by our mother’s hand, omitted the mention of Shruti and me, presenting a distorted version of events. During that time, it was a well-known fact that I lived with my family, in close proximity to my mother.
Upon completing my studies in Ayurvedic medicine, I embarked on internships in both government Ayurvedic and allopathic hospitals. These educational pursuits were not devoid of challenges, often requiring long commutes on my bicycle. It was during this period that the support of our neighbor, Dr. Iqbal Singh, proved invaluable.
A photograph dated 1997 captures my father alongside esteemed figures, Justice MN Venkatachaliah and Justice VS Malimath, during the inauguration of a human rights office, following Stalin’s passing. A significant event followed in 1994, as I was evicted from my home, leading to my active involvement in the fight against child labor. In recognition of my contributions, a segment of our ancestral property was dedicated to human rights activism, a portion that would later bear Stalin’s name.
In 2007, after receiving the Gwangju Human Rights Award, we constructed a house worth 8 lakh rupees. Separate electricity meters were installed, and the ownership was documented under my mother’s name. However, the will drafted in 2002 twisted the facts and dramatically altered the course of our destinies.
My grandmother embodied values and integrity. With a modest pension of 47,000 rupees, managed by my father, she faced financial difficulties toward the end of her life. In her benevolence, Shruti would offer her fruit juice for sustenance.
Amidst adversity, our family confronted numerous challenges, emerging stronger and more united. As time unfolded, the significance of our unity and the values that bound us became evident. As the tale persists, we honor the sacrifices and struggles of the past, perpetuating the legacy of justice and familial bonds.
The tragic passing of Kanad remains a deeply poignant moment. Despite his personal struggles, he stood firmly against the specter of suicide, becoming an advocate for change. My mother’s final will bestowed upon him an increased share, signifying a transformative chapter in his life. However, it’s important to note that the will stipulates that the selling rights of the property are vested in the second generation, rather than his sons. My father, relying on his pension, continued to provide for my brother Kanad.
Following my mother’s passing, I distanced myself from the family home. However, I remain an integral part of our rituals and traditions, deeply rooted in Sanatan values. These traditions form a thread that binds our past, present, and future – capturing the essence of our existence. In times of triumph and tribulation, our unity endures unbroken, and our bonds remain invincible.
In 2015, my cherished mother was struck by a severe illness. Her health faltered as she battled seemingly insurmountable ailments – asthma and diabetes. Yet, her spirit remained unyielding, facing each challenge with remarkable strength. Even during the tumultuous era of the COVID-19 pandemic, her resilience left us all in awe.
As we stepped into the hushed and solemn corridors of Shubham Hospital for what would be our last visit, my heart carried a mixture of hope and trepidation. Urged by a phone call from Shubham Hospital, alerting me to my mother’s rapidly deteriorating condition, I rushed to be by her side. It was on that fateful day, in the midst of fervent prayers at the Dhoomavati and Batuk Bhairav temples, that an echoing call delivered the devastating news. My mother had departed, leaving a void that would forever alter the course of our lives.
Why was I beckoned to sign those papers as she transcended? This question reverberated within me, an enigma hauntingly unresolved. Yet, its answer might forever elude us, entwined in the intricate web of life and fate.
After twelve days of battling in the ICU during the second wave of COVID-19 in 2021, I made a donation of 2 lakh rupees for my mother’s healthcare. I also arranged for an oxygen machine, ensuring her comfort during those challenging times.
As I grapple with the void left by my mother’s departure, numerous questions arise. But amidst the tumult of inquiries, I find solace in her wisdom, preserved within our exchanged emails. She spoke of the chasm between my communist father and grandfather, her belief that it would curtail my potential. Her foresight guided me towards lessons that would shape my life.
I bow in homage to her memory, grateful for her unwavering guidance. A screenshot from August 3, 2022, stands as a testament to our bond, encapsulating her profound influence on my life.
Through this tumultuous journey, one element stands starkly clear – my mother’s enduring love, her unconquerable spirit, and the irreplaceable memories she has bequeathed. As I continue onward, her presence will forever remain a guiding beacon in the labyrinth of life.
Learning for Common Masses:
The legacy of this remarkable family imparts invaluable lessons for us all. It reminds us of the importance of open communication, understanding, and mutual support within our families. In times of adversity, it’s our unity that fortifies us, and our shared values that guide us. This family’s story teaches us to cherish our loved ones, honor their teachings, and stand up for justice. It underscores the profound impact even the smallest actions can have on shaping our destinies. As we navigate our own lives, let us draw inspiration from this legacy, striving to nurture unbreakable bonds, uphold values, and build a legacy that will inspire generations to come.