by Suhel Seth
I first met Sunanda Pushkar almost two decades ago: in the context of work. We remained friends through her many avatars and there was an endearing quality about her that drew people to her. That she was an extrovert is not important any more. What is, is the fact that she didn’t ever hold grudges. She was feisty, caring and always sought respect and relevance.
She never held back, which is why in this world of pretences, she was perhaps a misfit. She never ever told you what she didn’t feel which is why though ironic that she married a former diplomat, there was nothing diplomatic about Sunanda.
She had many issues. We talked about some and the rest was left unsaid. One which was perhaps unsaid was the extreme trauma she constantly experienced qua media scrutiny. She always believed she hadn’t been given her fair share by the many that were around her. She constantly craved recognition of the many remarkable traits she possessed.
She was an outstanding mother and a wife who was always in admiration of what her husband was doing and what he had achieved. I really don’t care about what people say, but to my mind Shashi and Sunanda were deeply in love and behaved like college sweethearts.
None of us will ever know why she did what she did. There will be many who will conjecture; reams will be written on her and her predicament and many talking heads will take to dissecting her life. Something she was used to while she lived. For me personally, she will always remain etched as the person who I could call at an hour’s notice and demand Kashmiri food which she would cook.
She was someone you could talk to knowing well that she would not force the popular opinion but tell you exactly what she felt. For me, Sunanda was the one person who would fill up the room with anecdotes and laughter: something rare in times where deception is reality. She was not just the perfect friend one could hope to have but equally the perfect host and guest. She was as much at home watching a game of polo as she was campaigning for her husband. If there is one thing that always defined Sunanda, it was her willingness to sacrifice her own happiness (and welfare) for that of others.
January 17, 2014 is not the day I will remember for her passing on. It will be a day that I will remember for her moving on to something better and happier because I know wherever she is, that smile, the guffawing and those many tales of happiness shall abound.
Sunanda, wherever you are, remember you’ve left behind an army of friends who will mourn in the immediate, but always celebrate the way you touched their lives. Thank you for the time you spent in this world. Perhaps we didn’t deserve you.
