Yesterday was Moy Moy’s birthday — she would have been 36 if she were still with us. Ravi and I celebrated this year by going to the cemetery with a bucket, soap and scrubbing brushes to clean her beautiful gravestone — it was actually fun to scour the white marble and watch it begin to shine. We chatted to her the whole time, telling her stories about what has happened since our last visit, how the new building is progressing and what her nieces and nephews (who never got to meet her but who know her all the same) are doing P.
In the evening I made her favorite pumpkin pie and we sang happy birthday and celebrated her memory with friends who had never met her either but are inspired by the legacy she left behind.
Some people receive legacies in the form of money, land, achievements or an illustrious name. Moy Moy — born on the side of a road in Uttarakhand, silent for most of her life — left us a legacy of imagination and joy. Outwitting every dire prognosis for her life, she stayed on until she was sure that we had learned what she came to teach us: that every person has something the world needs and that communities based on love and acceptance can solve the most difficult problems.
Oh, and that when it comes to pumpkin pie, there is always enough for everyone. Just make more pie!
