In early 1940s, when Mahatma Gandhi came visiting a coastal town in Andhra Pradesh and walked amidst thronging crowds, a six-year-old girl in the mass of people freed her hand from her mother’s grip and ducked under the barricades to reach the Mahatma. And held up her gold ring to him saying, ‘for Kasturba Fund’. Gandhiji’s attention was captured and he smilingly picked it from her palm with his little finger, patting her on the head. The family was alarmed then but gradually came to realise that fearlessness was the leitmotif of the little girl’s personality.
That girl was my mother, Janaki Rani Turaga, who went on to define a space for herself in the realms of literature, media and social work, becoming one of the most renowned multi-faceted personalities that this State has seen in the last seven decades. An award-winning, much-published writer, renowned broadcaster, communication expert, dancer, choreographer, columnist, musician and social worker, many were the hats she wore but each vocation was marked with equal panache and professional commitment. The spirit that she had displayed in childhood was what saved her from caving in when life struck cruel blows. Widowed at 37, with the love of her life, my father, dying in an accident and with two toddlers to tend, her world collapsed around her but she picked up each piece with grit and determination and moulded her entire life into a meaningful journey. And the independent streak in her became a force that fuelled her journey along uncharted paths.
She was a fighter to the core, an officer and a mother. Disarmingly straightforward, high on principles and low on prejudice, a graceful persona who did everything with flair, warmth and unconditional love – that was Janaki Rani.
And, at the risk of being presumptuous, I have come to appreciate that as a mother, she was quite unique. Her parenting was with deep involvement but never too overbearing. Despite hectic professional work, the way she mothered us prompted legendary composer Palagummi Vishwanatham to write his famous Amma donga song. “It is this pitchi talli (devoted mother) that inspired me to write the song,” he said of my mother.
Exactly one year back, she suddenly left. A woman who wasted not a moment of her living years, left in just a moment’s time. Someone who saw hope and potential in life whatever the challenges, thankfully never knew she was going.
Today, after one year without her, we look back at life with her, with greater clarity and a sense of deep gratitude. The way she has been a mother till her very last moment; a friend, a mentor, a philosopher by example; she set aside her own grief and has been a pillar of support while we weathered our own storms. In many ways, it appears to us today that she stands in human narratives as a woman who extraordinarily managed to bridge diverse worlds, from tradition to trendiness, from adversity to success, from an inspiring professional portfolio to intense personal affections towards every single human being that she came across, leaving scores of people behind who think of her with so much fondness.
