PARENTING – THE MOST BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY 2

1 to 3 YEARS

Ryllee’s first birthday was celebrated in Kolkata with my in-laws. I had just weaned her to avoid oral fixation. Freud believed that if a mother underfeeds or overfeeds her baby, the child could later develop an obsession with oral activities—manifesting as nail biting, smoking, drinking, chewing, or excessive talking. This concept comes from developmental psychology.

When Ryllee turned two, I enrolled her in ORT India, a pre-primary school. She thoroughly enjoyed her time there—learning to make bhel puri, visiting the post office to observe how it functioned, and sharing lunch with other children. Every day, one mother would prepare and send lunch for all the kids. They were taken on delightful excursions—to a kite factory, and to a Ganesha idol-making village before the Ganpati festival. Their days were filled with the wonder and curiosity of toddlerhood: opening every cupboard and drawer to see what lay inside, poking tiny fingers into electric sockets, turning taps on just to feel the flowing water, mimicking adults—daughters sweeping the floor or cooking with toy kitchen sets, sons shaving with plastic razors, pretending to be doctors or engineers, picking up empty laptop bags and announcing from the doorway, “I’m going to office!” It was a time filled with joy, like playing with live dolls.

While I cherished this beautiful phase with my two loving angels, my parents moved to Mumbai after retirement, settling into the apartment my father owned. Although it was far from us, my mother would come every morning and stay the entire day—ostensibly to help with the children, but gradually taking over every aspect of our household. She made decisions about everything—what meals would be cooked, what the children would wear, what activities they would do. My world turned upside down. As a shy and respectful daughter, I stayed silent. But it kept escalating. One day she said, “I’m going to Kolkata for seven days. I’m thinking of taking the kids with me.”

I responded gently, “But Mom, I’m still feeding Pema. He won’t be able to stay without me.”

The next day, when I returned home from work—at the time, I was a faculty trainer for the American Consulate’s training wing and also with Frankfinn, coaching pilots and air hostesses in personality development, grooming, and customer relationship management—I found the house eerily quiet. The children were missing. I asked my maid, “Have they gone to the market?” She replied, “No, your mother has taken them—with luggage.”

Startled, I called my husband. He said calmly, “They’ve gone to Kolkata.” I was stunned. “Who booked their tickets?” I asked. He replied, “Ma told me you said she should take them.” My mind went blank. I was speechless, burning with silent rage. I stopped talking to anyone at home.

Sensing my anguish, Manjeet did everything he could to cheer me up. That week, he said, “I have a holiday on Good Friday. Since the kids aren’t here, let’s go to Goa.” He was persistent. I finally agreed—on the condition that we travel by train, not by car. He agreed, and we booked train tickets.

We were scheduled to leave on Thursday afternoon, but delays due to paperwork for a flat we were buying from Oberoi Builders caused us to miss the train. We had no choice but to drive instead. He started driving at 5:30 PM. We drove through the night, and I stayed awake with him. It turned out to be the most beautiful night of our marriage. We talked about our dreams—how we’d raise our children, where they’d study, what their futures would look like, what we’d do in our old age. It was deeply fulfilling, a rare and perfect moment.

Despite my request to rest for the night, he insisted we continue and rest once we reached the resort. We were just three kilometres away when he blinked sleepily, the steering wheel slipped from his hands, and the car veered right—crashing into a stationary truck. We were only going 40 km/h.

I saw the steering wheel hit Manjeet’s chest. His head fell forward. Blood trickled from his nose, ears, and mouth. I felt a sharp jolt in my lower back and blacked out. People from a nearby garage came rushing. I tried to scream, “Take him out first!” but no sound came out. My voice was gone. They sat me in a chair, but I couldn’t sit—my spine felt shattered.

Manjeet lay still on the road. I lost consciousness. In that moment, I saw a vision: an open field with a single door in the centre. Manjeet was holding my hand, guiding me to the door. He opened it; there was only darkness on the other side. He stepped in, let go of my hand, and shut the door behind him. I tried to follow, but the door slammed shut. I pulled my foot back just in time.

Later, I realized I had experienced an NDE—a Near Death Experience. Manjeet had crossed over, leaving me behind.

I was admitted to Apollo Hospital in Madgaon, Goa, where I was treated for months, lying immobile on a waterbed. I didn’t know then that Manjeet had passed away at that very moment—at the happiest point of his life.

Several months later, I returned to Mumbai on a stretcher. I lay in bed, desperately waiting to see Ryllee and Pema, who had been staying with my mother at my uncle’s home. When they arrived, they hesitantly peeked through the bedroom door, hiding behind the curtain. Their eyes were wide with fear, pain, and confusion. I called them to me—they hesitated, unsure, as if they were meeting me for the first time. My heart shattered.

Ryllee asked softly, “Where is Papa?”

I said, “He’s gone up high into the sky to see his mother. She’s unwell.”

“Did he take the car?”

“No, my love, it’s too far. Cars can’t go there. The fairies took him.”

“When will he come back?”

With a stone on my heart, I whispered, “It’s so far, he’ll never be able to return.”

She stood silently, stunned & shocked.

…to be continued

Mondreeta Sengupta Das is a trailblazer across diverse fields, Mondreeta is a multifaceted achiever whose journey encompasses athletics, personal development, corporate leadership, and spiritual healing.

A national-level swimmer and world-record-holding mountaineer, she was honored by former Prime Minister Smt. Indira Gandhi. She is in the panel of writers in the Times of India and in the panel of photographers in the Incredible India (Ministry of Tourism, Govt of India). In 2025, she was nominated by the Ministry of Tourism for felicitation by the President of India under the category of “The Woman – Lifetime Achievement.”

As a national award-winning author, her books on travel have received widespread acclaim, reflecting her passion for exploration & contribution to the human kingdom. Academically, she holds credentials as a psychologist, counselor, and trainer, excelling as a life coach, professional trainer, and motivational speaker & story teller. She has served as a trainer in the American Consulate’s training wing and has coached cabin crews for both national and international airlines.

As General Manager of Human Resources at Reliance Industries Ltd., she led the Training Division, driving leadership and development initiatives.

Currently, as Vice President of Toga, Ministry of Tourism & Culture, Government of India, she serves as an Indian Ambassador to Foreign Delegates & a photographer in the Panel in Incredible India.  A dedicated spiritual practitioner, she is a trainer in Reiki, Angel Healing, Pranic Healing, and Violet Flame. She is also a regular speaker at the International Yoga Festival in Rishikesh.

-Mondreeta Sengupta Das is a national award-winning author, mountaineer, life coach, and spiritual healer, currently serving as Vice President, TOGA, Ministry of Tourism.