<p>She was a class apart from her generation... In an age when girls were settling into quiet domesticity at a young age, she made a smooth transition from home to work. The credit, truth be told, goes to her father-in-law, who recognised her budding talent in music and gifted her a harmonium and shruti box. These accompanied her wherever she went. A familiar figure in AIR studios, she made a name for herself not only with her musical talent but also with her graceful demeanor and quiet, winning ways.</p>.<p>Even now, as I write, Shuva Aunty appears in my vision - a larger-than-life persona who made a significant influence in my life... She radiated warmth from our very first meeting.</p>.<p>Lovingly, she led me to the puja room, where she had housed an admirable array of idols of gods and goddesses. She reverentially bowed her head before them, indicating that I do the same, and thus began my first class with her, with an invocation to God. That set the tone and tune for all our classes, held in the beautiful, hallowed grounds that I never missed a beat thereafter.</p>.<p>To this day, when I sing the songs I learned from her, I see that puja room, visualise God before me, and offer my tribute to Him, singing with all my heart. I know that’s exactly what Aunty Shuva would have liked. Our days sitting in the puja room, learning countless gems of Rabindra Sangeet, were memorable.</p>.<p class="bodytext">I was a novice to all things Bengali, but with Shuva Aunty leading the way, I learned more than a little Bengali. While teaching Tagore songs, she patiently translated word for word, so I knew every little cadence.</p>.<p class="bodytext">A day to cherish was when I nervously kept darting glances at my notes as I played the harmonium. Shuva Aunty smiled and said, “Let go of this attachment to the notebook and notations. Play from your memory, play with soul...” Somehow, that advice remains with me years on. Whenever I forget any of those songs while reproducing them before someone, I hum along confidently, seeing her face before me, and take off from where I left.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Shuva Aunty’s legacy was precious... it opened a window of opportunity into a whole new world and language. Wherever I went, Bengalis were floored by my accent and knowledge of Rabindra Sangeet; the credit, <br />I humbly say, goes to my teacher, who infused a shy girl with the soul of a singer.</p>
<p>She was a class apart from her generation... In an age when girls were settling into quiet domesticity at a young age, she made a smooth transition from home to work. The credit, truth be told, goes to her father-in-law, who recognised her budding talent in music and gifted her a harmonium and shruti box. These accompanied her wherever she went. A familiar figure in AIR studios, she made a name for herself not only with her musical talent but also with her graceful demeanor and quiet, winning ways.</p>.<p>Even now, as I write, Shuva Aunty appears in my vision - a larger-than-life persona who made a significant influence in my life... She radiated warmth from our very first meeting.</p>.<p>Lovingly, she led me to the puja room, where she had housed an admirable array of idols of gods and goddesses. She reverentially bowed her head before them, indicating that I do the same, and thus began my first class with her, with an invocation to God. That set the tone and tune for all our classes, held in the beautiful, hallowed grounds that I never missed a beat thereafter.</p>.<p>To this day, when I sing the songs I learned from her, I see that puja room, visualise God before me, and offer my tribute to Him, singing with all my heart. I know that’s exactly what Aunty Shuva would have liked. Our days sitting in the puja room, learning countless gems of Rabindra Sangeet, were memorable.</p>.<p class="bodytext">I was a novice to all things Bengali, but with Shuva Aunty leading the way, I learned more than a little Bengali. While teaching Tagore songs, she patiently translated word for word, so I knew every little cadence.</p>.<p class="bodytext">A day to cherish was when I nervously kept darting glances at my notes as I played the harmonium. Shuva Aunty smiled and said, “Let go of this attachment to the notebook and notations. Play from your memory, play with soul...” Somehow, that advice remains with me years on. Whenever I forget any of those songs while reproducing them before someone, I hum along confidently, seeing her face before me, and take off from where I left.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Shuva Aunty’s legacy was precious... it opened a window of opportunity into a whole new world and language. Wherever I went, Bengalis were floored by my accent and knowledge of Rabindra Sangeet; the credit, <br />I humbly say, goes to my teacher, who infused a shy girl with the soul of a singer.</p>
