In Loving Memory of My Mausi – A Bond Beyond Words

It is with a heavy heart that I share the passing of my beloved Mausi (my mother’s youngest sister), who left us on Krishna Paksha Ekadashi (21st July 2025) after a long and brave battle with kidney disease. She was just around 60, but her spirit and love remain timeless.

Mausi was more than an aunt to me—she was my first caregiver, my friend, and a motherly figure in my childhood. In her teens, she took it upon herself to help raise me when I was just a small kid.

She played with me, fed me, dressed me, combed my hair, and made sure I felt loved and protected in the absence of others in the family. Some of the happiest and most innocent moments of my early life were spent in her company.

When I was in my teens, Mausi got married and moved to Kesarwala, Dehradun. I missed her deeply and started visiting her frequently. I still remember watching TV for the first time at her in-laws’ house—those evenings watching Krishna Leela on Doordarshan became precious memories. So attached I was, that one day I traveled alone by truck to meet her—and when my father, who was a truck driver, saw me getting down, he was stunned. I still smile at the memory of that innocent lie I told to cover up my real reason: I missed her too much.

Over the years, Mausi faced immense personal pain. She was separated from her husband due to family pressure and not having children. She never let bitterness consume her, even though life continued to test her. She moved to Chamba in Tehri Garhwal and worked as a nurse—serving others with the same care and compassion she gave to me.

I remember meeting her in tears during my school days at Satyon. Our hugs were more than greetings; they were lifelines.

Eventually, she returned to her parental home in Rangar Gaon, and continued working at Himalayan Hospital for a while.

Life, however, kept taking away the people we loved most—her mother in July 1995, my Nani; her father (my Nana ji, Shri Diwan Singh Maldar) in 1999; her two elder brothers in 2003 and 2013, respectively. And now, in 2025, we have lost her too.

Ironically, she passed away exactly 30 years after her mother’s demise.

When I looked at the planetary positions on her death and her mother’s in 1995, I noticed the patterns—Saturn (detachment) and Sun (soul) playing similar roles.

It reminded me that no one—not even those who believe deeply in God—can escape the pain of loss or the finality of death.

All we can do is honour their memory and carry forward their love.

The moment I heard of her passing, I was numb. I tried to reach my mother but couldn’t, due to poor network. I called my other Mausi in Haridwar, just to share the grief, to let the pain out.

I didn’t want to run from the sorrow—I wanted to feel it, live it, and acknowledge the irreplaceable loss.

Mausi, your life may have ended, but your kindness, your laughter, your quiet strength, and your unshakeable faith in God will forever live in me.

I pray your atma finds peace and union with the Divine.

You were, and will always remain, one of the greatest blessings of my life.

ॐ शांति | Om Shanti
With deepest love and gratitude,
Your nephew, who will always carry your memory in his heart.
Aryan Prem Rana