Sudden death is traumatic. It takes timefor the friends of the victim to come to terms with the calamity. Usha Bhagatdied on March 1, 2006 of injuries she suffered when her car ran into a wall.Usha was on her way to meet Sheila Bhatia, the doyenne of Delhi theatre, to wishher on her 92nd birthday. Usha survived just long enough to call for help on hercell phone. She was rushed to hospital but neither she nor her companion couldbe saved.
Usha was a part of the Delhi culture scene from the time she arrived here as arefugee in 1947. Her skills and values came from her family being involved inthe freedom movement and its familiarity with both the Gandhis—the Mahatma aswell as Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan, the Frontier Gandhi.
As aide to Indira Gandhi from 1953 and the tutor of Rajiv and Sanjay Gandhibefore that, Usha was at the very core of the Dilli Durbar and used her vantagepoint to expose the Gandhis to a variety of enriching experiences, such aslistening to Dhrupad renditions by the Dagar Bandhu and the images recorded bySunil Janah.
Delhi is its people—those who live and move and have their being in the shadowof its grand and monumental past, and the squalor and fraudulent tokenism ofmuch of its present. The 18th-century poet, Mir Taqi ‘Mir’, witness to thedestruction and decline of the incarnation of Delhi known as ‘Jahanabad’ (anaffectionate abbreviation of its proper and complete name, Shahjahanabad),mourned his city in the verse,
Dilli kay naa thay koochay, awraaqay mussavvir thay/ Jo shakl nazar aayee,tasveer nazar aayee.
(Delhi’s streets and bylanes were no mere passageways and thoroughfares/they were, veritably, bright folios of the choicest albums).
The Dilli Durbar has money and can pay for culture. Its rulers anddecisionmakers are mostly India-illiterate and have no aural or visual trainingto allow them an enjoyment of our many-splendoured India. They think nothing ofallowing a Yanni to use the Taj as a backdrop. This collective infirmity helpsfrauds flourish.
The genuine person rarely survives the rat race to make a contribution. UshaBhagat, endowed with an abiding passion for all that is beautiful, whether inthe aural or the visual sphere, was that rare being who survived and made acontribution.
Her transparent sincerity and goodwill made its mark even upon as distrustful aperson as Indira Gandhi and their interaction brightened some moments of a dullemployer-employee relationship into the rich gold of a rewarding friendship.
Usha’s small garden sported a flowering Ashoka tree. Its rare blossoms werecherished.
Usha believed in sharing. She would telephone friends to come over and enjoy theriot of colour while sipping well-brewed tea from designer teacups turned on thewheel at Garhi.
Usha will be missed. And not only at concerts and exhibitions.
This article originally appeared in Delhi City Limits, March 31, 2006
