The Last Laugh

Jug Suraiya,
24 December 2006, Times Of India, New Delhi.

I was in two minds about writing this column. I still am. The thought of writing it first came to me when I read of the brutal murder of Papiya Ghosh, the noted academic and historian, in Patna. No, this is not a memorial to Papiya. I never met her, nor can I claim to be acquainted with her work. A tribute from me would be a presumption. However, I did have a connection over many years with Papiya and her sister, Tuktuk, who is now a senior civil service officer.

Papiya and Tuktuk were by far the most regular contributors to Kookie Kol — a sort of zany Letters to the Editor column — in the Junior Statesman (later renamed JS) magazine. It was said of JS that it helped to invent the Indian teenager. I don’t know about that but it did provide a platform for young people from all over the country to interact both with each other and with the JS staffers, who in most cases were not much older than their reader-correspondents. If 30 years after its closure JS is still so vividly recalled by the generation which grew up with — and partly through — it, it is because the magazine was not so much a publication as a participatory rite of passage.

People still talk about the ‘Love is’ posters that featured in JS, and the large serialised pin-ups, particularly those of the comic strip heroine Modesty Blaise and Zeenat Aman. And all JS readers-writers remember Papiya and Tuktuk who almost every week traded deft and daft witticisms with Kookie in his column. Much of the humour of Kookie Kol centred round the near-mythical PM (no, not Prime Minister but Prize Money) that the deliberately niggardly Kookie doled out only on the rarest occasion. The PM was only 25 rupees, not a large sum even in those far-off, pre-inflation days. Nonetheless, the PM became an avidly sought after Golden Fleece which, week after week, inspired intrepid expeditions into the realm of spoof and satire. And many of the more successful sallies were by Papiya and Tuktuk.

Of all the greater family JS, I was perhaps the most grateful for the persistence of the duo. For, while the bespectacled sketch that adorned the top of Kookie Kol was of my colleague Dubby Bhagat, the operative Kookie who handled the column was me (a piece of JS trivia revealed here for the first time) and without Papiya and Tuktuk’s energetic correspondence, I doubt if I’d have been able to sustain the slot. Before her life was so viciously cut short, Papiya went on to earn honours far more esteemable than Kookie’s paltry PM. But I, and perhaps a lot of others, will remember her at least partly for her long-ago weekly forays into a long-lost world of innocence and humour. And this is why I was in two minds about this column, still am. For it’s a column, as I’ve said, not so much about Papiya and the terrible end she met, as about the business of laughter and remembering. Is it an insensitive frivolity, a tasteless desecration, to counter the dread solemnity of death — particularly when untimely and violent — with the memory of mirth?

Mercifully, the mind can’t long harbour pain. Memory is a creative act of anaesthetic amnesia. Most of us tend to remember selectively, overlaying the traumas of the past with recollections of the good and the pleasant. There is an inevitable measure of guilt in this partial and necessary interment of memory. It helps to ask ourselves if, far from being a callous escape, laughter finally is the best remembrance. Our only chance of literally having the last laugh — or indeed perhaps the first as well — on our common mortality. Perhaps remembered laughter is the real Prize Money beyond any other. And come to think of it, maybe I’m not in two minds about this column any more.


Papiya Ghosh 1953-2006

By Jyotirmaya Sharma, In Seminar, February, 2007

She worked on the dispossessed, the exiled and the hopeless. As a historian, Papiya Ghosh was not necessarily concerned with the mainstream. For her the migrant workers of Bihar were of great concern, and among them the Muslims, who were shortchanged doubly. Her work spanned all those within the sub-continent who belonged and yet were marginalized. The displacement of individuals through the actions of individuals or the caprice of history bothered her. Her posthumously published work, The Partition and the South Asian Diaspora: Extending the Subcontinent, is a lasting testimony to her intellectual concerns. These stories were to her the real stories to be told loudly and clearly, just in case those who did not have a voice were forgotten.

Papiya Ghosh loved stories. Every event had to be narrated in the form of a kahani. She needed every detail about colour, texture, smell and sound to be part of the narration. She herself told fantastic stories, and her anecdotes were told in a masterly mixture of English and Hindi, where like criss-crossing streams the two languages and phrases she had invented merged effortlessly into one another.

Papiya is now dead, and the ghastly manner of her departure cannot be rendered as a ‘kahani’ in the way she liked to listen and speak. A friend who knew her told me recently of the effort she has made in order to get the Papiya we knew back to mind without the events of 3 December intervening. We, her friends, were so used to listening to good stories in Papiya’s company that it is difficult for all of us to comprehend the manner of her departure.

For me, the first memories of Papiya would always be that of her rooms in the Public Entry building of the Indian Institute of Advanced Study. Her hospitality was matchless, and her room the very picture of beauty and order. She hated clutter, disorder and ugliness in all forms, and her immediate environment reflected her finely honed aesthetic sensibilities. It was in these rooms where gossip achieved metaphysical heights, quarrels were sorted-out, and friendships for life made.

She had a pet name for all her friends. Those who were not her friends, but amused her were also rechristened. The list included Dolly, Sally, Awareness, Victoria, Imelda, Earl Grey, Molly, Reindeer, Savvy and so on. I was Tiger, named so after I growled at a speaker in one of the weekly seminars at the Institute. And of course, she was Polly. We became these names, for her, and for each other.

The centre of her intellectual life was driven by a deep consciousness of her identity as a Bihari and as a liberal. If these two identities came in the way of each other and stood in antagonistic opposition, Bihar eventually won hands down. She stayed on in Patna despite threats from the land mafia because leaving would not merely mean geographical displacement, but abandoning an idea and an engagement.

When I visited her in Patna in 2000, her greatest regret was that Auntie Ghosh, her mother, was no longer there and would have loved to meet me. She played some Rabindra Sangeet, and when I remarked that a particular composition was my favourite, Papiya tearfully told me that it was Auntie Ghosh’s favourite number too.

In 2001 and 2002, Papiya came to Hyderabad and pronounced that my new flat was ‘khoob bhaalo’. She loved the view from the hilltop, where she gazed fondly at the view of the Golkonda fort. She loved the dinner Peacered (her name for him, a translation of Shantilal), my cook, had made for her, and he was rewarded with several pictures taken of him in the kitchen with his paraphernalia around.

Four days before she passed on, we spoke on the phone for a long time. She always asked for the well being of the living as well as the dead. Papiya never failed to call me on the death anniversary of my grandmother, and she even remembered the day our favourite dog, Sumo, died. She sent up prayers for all of them. Her generosity and her sense of empathy were boundless.

Today when I look around, the beautiful porcelain coaster on which I place my morning cup of coffee was given by her. The wooden elephant from Indonesia on my shelf was a birthday present from her. A small porcelain bowl on my desk was her gift when I left the Institute. There are at least two dozen books on my shelves that were given by her over the years. If these objects are also part of a story, then, the manner of her departure only heightens one’s awareness of how narratives take a different turn and change the very way in which stories are begun, continued and come to an end.

Papiya was constantly sending up duas for everyone, especially her friends. Maybe, we, her friends, did not regularly send up enough ‘duas’ for her. Maybe, we never felt that someone so vivacious needed prayers. The Almighty shortchanged her in the end.


Papiya Ghosh, A Committed Academician, Was One Of The Oldest Subscribers Of The Book Review. She Was Murdered On 3 December 2006.

By Meena Bhargava In The Book Review Vol. Xxxi, No. 1, January 2007

It is so hard to believe that Papiya is no more and that I am writing for an issue of The Book Review which she will not read. There was rarely an occasion when she did not send me an e-mail or call me up to give her jibes on the review that 1 wrote. Papiya was such a spirited, enthusiastic person that she will always stay with us despite her brutal killers, who snatched her away from us physically.

Papiya was a Professor of History at Patna University and held several distinguished fellowships. She was ICHR (Indian Council of Historical Research) Fellow affiliated to Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, Teen Murti, New Delhi; Fellow at Indian Institute of Advanced Studies, Shimla; Rockefeller Fellow at the Institute of South Asian Culture, University of Chicago and Fellow at the Institute of Triangle South Asian Consortium, North Carolina State University. She was also Advisor to Patna-based Asian Development Research Institute and Jawaharlal Nehru University.

Papiya did her schooling and graduation from Patna but her academic pursuits brought her to the University of Delhi for post-graduate and doctoral studies. She began her teaching career in Hindu College, University of Delhi. Although she held a permanent tenure and, she resigned from the job to join Patna Women’s College (subsequently she became Professor at the Department of History, Patna University) because her mother needed to be looked after. It is this decision of Papiya that made her a rare specie. How many of us, however duty-bound and caring, we may claim to be, would leave Delhi—the land of opportunities for a Moftussil University. But she defied the tag of Moffussil University marvellously. Papiya was a very popular teacher who brought deep nuances of History to Patna University and encouraged her students to join Jawaharlal Nehru University and Delhi University for further studies. Several of her students, some of whom have become university teachers now, talk of their deep intellectual indebtedness to Papiya.

Papiya was not only a sincere, committed, dedicated teacher, but also an intense researcher too and her contributions to academics are many. She published widely in national and international journals. She worked on the Muhajirs, Dalit Muslims, South Asian Diaspora, particularly Bihari Muslims during Partition. Recently she had begun research on documentaries and popular folk songs of Bihar. It is unfortunate that she could not sec the fruits of her hard labour—her book entitled Partition and South Asian Diaspora: Extending the Subcontinents published by Routledge, Taylor & Francis Books, which was released on December 4, 2006, a day after she was killed. She had completed her second book on ‘Popular Culture’ and was on to the third one. By her work on Pasmanda Mahaj, she had put Bihar on the national and international academic map. We must consider ourselves utterly unfortunate for being deprived of so much Papiya could have told us and contributed to the academic community.

…such was Papiya that she would have even forgiven her killers.

One of her close friends, Indrani Chatterjee in her e-mail to me wrote

Papiya was a very kind-hearted, generous, compassionate, warm person. One of her close friends, Indrani Chatterjee in her e-mail to me wrote, “…such was Papiya that she would have even forgiven her killers”. The persona of Papiya attracted her to people of sorts cutting across all barriers of age and gender. She loved life and everything that was good about life. I am sure that even when those ghastly, dastardly beings attacked her, she resisted fiercely and valiantly.

Papiya was an avid reader, with varied interests in prose and poetry. No trip of her to Delhi was complete without a visit to Bahri Sons in Khan Market. She got cartons packed with books for personal use and for the Patna University library. She was a connoisseur of literature, musk, art-photography, painting, films and cuisine of different kinds. In fact, it was Papiya who introduced me to several eating joints in Delhi. October.

The brutal killing of Papiya has left an irreversible, irrecoverable vacuum in many lives. I consider myself very fortunate to have known and been associated with Papiya. Let us resolve to commit ourselves to demand justice for Papiya.


Papiya Ghosh : In Memoriam

The tragic death of the historian Papiya Ghosh marks the demise of a truly extraordinary scholar, a popular teacher and a dearly loved friend. The manner of her death also exposes the rot that lies beneath our boasts of progress and in our systems of governance.
By Supriya Roychowdhury In Economic And Political Weekly, January 13, 2007.

Papiya Ghosh, professor of history, Patna University, died under tragic circumstances on December 3, 2006. Papiya graduated in history from the prestigious Patna Womens’ College in 1975. She then studied at the history department in Delhi University, from where she received her masters, MPhil and PhD degrees. She taught for a few years at the Hindu College in Delhi, and then moved to the Patna Womens’ College. In the early 1990s she joined the postgraduate history department in Patna University. During these years she periodically took time off from teaching to hold two prestigious fellowships, first at the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi, and then at the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies, Simla. Papiya had been a Rockerfeller Fellow in Residence at North Carolina State University and at the University of Chicago. She had also been a Fellow of the Indian Council of Historical Research.

Papiya’s research spanned a range that is astonishing in a context where most research in the humanities and social sciences has a tendency to be spatially and temporally limited. Her doctoral dissertation was on the Civil Disobedience movement in Bihar, 1930-34. Her subsequent work, in the late 1980s and early 1990s, was focused on understanding the formation of Bihari Muslim identity in the context of colonial politics. As much of the scholarship on Muslim identity formation has focused on Muslim majority areas like Punjab and Bengal, her research on Bihar, where Muslims were a minority, clearly filled a gap. In later work she chronicled the multiple contestations and challenges to the formation of an exclusivist Muslim League type identity in Bihar, examining the politics and ideology of the Jamiyat-al-ulema-i-hind’s broadly composite nationalism. Papiya’s credentials as a careful historian as also a scholar of imagination were clearly established by this work, published in two papers in the Economic and Social History Review in the early 1990s.

In later years she focused more and more on the history, politics and culture of partition and die south Asian diaspora, presented in several papers, conference presentations, and regular contributions to the journal Refugee Watch. Her book Partition and the South Asian Diaspora: Extending the Subcontinent has been recently published by Routledge (2007). Papiya did not live to see her book in print, released in New Delhi a few weeks after she died.

Scholar Extraordinaire

This book, the culmination of years of meticulous research and writing, is indeed an intellectual tour de force. Much of the scholarship on diaspora has looked at 19th century Indian immigrants to places like Trinidad, Guyana, Surinam and Jamaica, as well as 20th century immigration to the US and Europe. Papiya’s work in this book locates diaspora in the partition experience, but she also pushes the study well beyond the 1940s into the 1970s and 1980s. This research connects the study of two Muhajir formations in East and West Pakistan, that had their beginnings in the aftermath of killings of Muslims in Bihar in late 1946, and then maps, the story of Bihari Muslims displaced from Bangladesh in the aftermath of 1971, located in refugee camps, seeking a temporary base in Bihar, and ultimately seeking asylum in Pakistan, some in the US and Europe. The striking feature of this work is not only that it extends the conceptual horizon of diaspora in time and space, but also anchors itself in the story of a largely ignored and powerless community.

But the conceptual framework is indeed much broader than this. Looking at the post-1980s diasporic experience of Muslims in the US and Europe, she is able to contest standard interpretations that speak of a pan Islamic diaspora as opposed to diasporic Indiahness. Papiya’s work shows that subcontinental diaspora, in the post-1980s, uses partition as a reference point not only in instilling but also in resisting Hindutva. Thus she reconfigures the interface of nation, diaspora and region, to use her own words “even as they reconfigure”. Mapping six decades, and incorporating an astonishing intellectual sweep, this book awaits much more substantive review than has been possible here. Perhaps the most striking aspect of her work was the understanding of history as process, highlighting the tension between choices and patterns, the contingent and the determined. Her most current areas of research were contemporary patriarchies, Ganga-Jamni literature, backward and dalit politics, Bhojpuri cinema and electoral music. At the time of her death, she was completing two volumes on pre- and post-partition Bihar.

Her work stands testimony to her scholarship. Of the countless tributes that have come in after her death, to quote one, her scholarship was indeed silent but stupendous. In a discipline that in India is marked by closed networks, highly self-conscious and exclusive professional fraternities, and, at least until recently, a pronounced Oxbridge/Ivy League bias, the recognition of her research, when it came, was on the basis of her work, and her work alone.

At present the professional/institutional context in the social sciences in India is defined to some extent by the marginali-sation of regional universities and the concentration of resources, connectedness, honour and power at the centre, i e, New Delhi. Papiya had the added disadvantage of being in a regional space/university that has long been on the decline. She developed a somewhat unique professional persona whereby she straddled different professional worlds with great ease. A frequently seen figure at the India International Centre, New Delhi, and at national and international conferences, her professional profile and life placed her well beyond the boundaries of Patna, while her research and teaching remained firmly anchored in the state in which she was born and where she so tragically lost her life.

As a teacher she indeed surpassed herself. As many former and present students have written in the last few weeks, she set for herself the highest standards in the classroom, and expected the same of her students. In an era where research, projects, funding searches, foreign travelling have pushed teaching, for most academics, very much to the back burner, Papiya maintained an unshakeable commitment to the classroom, amongst her many accomplishments.

Papiya, the Friend

Beyond all this, was Papiya, the friend, with the extraordinary capacity for warmth that won her a place in the hearts of al most all whom she met, across all divides. I met Papiya in Delhi University where I was doing an MPhil, and she had returned for some months to complete writing her doctoral dissertation. This was in 1983. Papiya’s room in the first floor of the South Block, in the PG women’s hostel in Delhi University, was almost an institutionalised space for much lively ‘adda’, before and after dinner. Some were doing their MA, others MPhil and PhD. As many in that cohort would remember, one on one interactions with her became the basis of many deeply rooted friendships that were sustained over the next almost 25 years. After that one year, we all went our different ways, each in a space of struggle with career, relationships, marriage, children, balancing opposed needs, demands, norms, institutions. It was life. One could talk to Papiya always, about anything. She had the uncanny ability to highlight your flaw or weakness, briefly, sometimes almost wordlessly, without being judgmental.

But above all this was indeed her overwhelming interest in a person, the capacity to listen, for deep sympathy, which extended really beyond the individual to her understanding of the human condition itself. It was this unusual quality of being able to negotiate herself between individual affection and a universal warmth, that made her ah indispensable anchor in many of our lives for the last so many years. She had the capacity to perceive a friend from very close, and from very far. The large circle of persons, with whom she connected so closely, could only have been possible with that combination of nearness and distance that she combined so effectively.

The uniqueness of her personality perhaps-went beyond this, to a rock solid bed of courage and humour. Her life was full, with research and teaching, travel and friendships, family. Beneath all this was the predictable struggle, with a declining city administration and a thoughtless university bureaucracy, sometimes with ill health, perhaps with occasional loneliness. But she took every thing on, with a combination of sardonic humour and a self-confidence that did not wait for anyone. Her every day life represented an enviable narrative in independence.

One remembers her joyous appreciation of things beautiful, be it a moving film, an Urdu poem, a song or a painting, of good food and wine, her sudden, hearty laugh, and the softness of her smile that started from her eyes. Again, in the many tributes that have come in since her death, so many have remembered her smile. Soon after her death, as her photograph was flashed across the country in the television news channels, that smile came across to her friends in a bizarre, last, farewell.

Papiya Ghosh was killed by intruders, in her sprawling home, on the night of December 3, 2006, along with Malathi, the domestic help who had stayed with the family for over five decades. So why was she killed, this woman of countless friends? The highly premeditated nature of the crime, as also its brutal and efficient execution, raise many disturbing hypotheses about its source. Of course, this is hardly the occasion to ponder on the universal nature of crime. One can only engage with the specificity of this situation, where a woman who represented achievement and affluence, and above all exuded independence, and perhaps a certain defiance, lived alone. The broader situation of course is that of a deep rot in a governance system that has lost all justifiable claim to govern, except that which stems from the inertia of citizens. The physical vulnerability of women -regardless of class or other defining factors – is once again underlined by the type of political institutional context that frames our lives. The link between the personal and the political, so ably argued in Papiya’s research, was so tragically acted out in her own life. This politics is not only that of a failing state, but also perhaps of an emerging political economy that not only generates greed but legitimises it in all forms.

As our stunned anguish slowly gives way to anger, frustration and a variety of emotions, perhaps it is that link between the personal and the political that we again have to make, as members of the academic community. Again, to quote one of the many touching messages that have come in through the internet, mourning her loss, “for all the afternoons we spent together talking of so many things, Papiya, this was no way for you to go”. But, the writer goes on to say, that perhaps it was, perhaps this is one way in which Papiya would galvanise us into action. .


Of Undivided Commitment

By Kumkum Sangari In Biblio, January-February, 2007.

Papiya Ghosh was killed with heinous brutality on 2 December 2006. Her demise has left her family, friends and colleagues grieved, shocked, filled with a sense of irreparable loss. Papiya Ghosh’s contribution as a historian of Bihar and as a historian of Indian nationalism and communalism is yet to be fully recognised, the more so because of her immense personal modesty and rectitude. The full import of her work will unfold in time (two of her books are still to be published), and here I only outline the range and uniqueness of her work.

Papiya’s writing has none of the parochialness associated with regional history but has the depth, immersion, and inwardness which characterise the best of regional historiography. Her work moves both outwards from and inwards to Bihar: it uncovers the articulation of nationalist struggles with the political history of Bihar as well as the regional recasting of nationalist politics, Nehruvian notions of secularism, and ideas of composite culture in the making of nation, community, quam and biradari. This history is regional but never isolated. The region has it own dynamic, class and caste specificity, and is also shaped by wider nationalist and communal configurations. Bihar is seen, as it were, from both ends as well as from a ‘middle space’ composed by the interactions of the regional and national. Thus the varied attitudes towards the Muslim League are examined in the interlock of broad imperatives, local tensions and the different class locations of muslims. Her most recent essay, writing Gngajamni: In the 1940s and After” (published as a tribute to her in Social Scientist last month) shows her remarkable ability to canvas broad political movements and elaborate the minutaie of local sentiments. She analyses syncretism/composite culture, as a formation opposed to Hinduisation and Islamicisation, in the multiple contexts of its regional and historical composition, its lived aspects, as well as its post-Independence trajectory as an ‘idea’. The essay traces the differing understandings of syncretic/composite culture in the 1940s in the writing of Congress figures like Rajendra Prasad and Syed Mahmud, and Muslim League figures, especially Badruddin Ahmed, and shows how these ideas came to be re-nuanced by Badruddin Ahmed after Partition not only because he joined the Congress but also to re-inscribe national belonging.

Papiya’s work on the Hindu Mahasabha and the Muslim League tracks their tendentious use of women as community signifiers. In the 1920s and ’30s, the Hindu Mahasabha’s communal discourse, centred around shuddhi, specifically targetted Muslim women. This involved aggressive distortions in its incendiary publications and the forcible abduction of low-caste women for ‘reconversion’. Both forms of violence flowed into pre-Partition violence in the ’40s. She also shows how the Hindu Right’s construction of a ‘dangerous’ Muslim masculinity varied according to the class location of Muslims.

Partition as a political event was divisive. In her teaching and writing, Papiya emphasised the need to study it in an ‘undivided’ way, to look at its qualitative and affective aspects across countries and continents. She did major work on Partition and Bihar, Muslims who migrated, those who became refugees, those who were stranded or occupied in-between places, the wrenches of migration and the hardening of ideologies, and the futures that were sought but never achieved. She shows how Partition created fissures in the patriarchal politics of ‘community.’ Further, her work on Bihari (Indian and Pakistani) migrants in the UK and USA connects Partition to the enlargement of the South Asian diaspora, and calls into question the very idea of the nation and belonging after 1947. The field she shaped thus took in Bihar, India, the subcontinent and its diaspora.

Several aspects of Papiya’s work engage with Gender and Cultural Studies. Among these are the centrality of representation as a material force in the historical dialectic: the way representations of women, masculinity, Muslims and low-castes textured or even structured political movements; the way stereotypes of the disprivileged were made and their significance in assembling a history from ‘below’. Her intense interest in archived and orally circulating notions of the past goes beyond the closures of conventional periodisation (she often asked if modern Indian history stopped at 1947), and sees them as a palpable force in the lives of contemporary Backward and Dalit Muslims as well as Bihari diaspora. She set out to understand the embodied relationships of class, caste, religion, gender and reconfigured patriarchies, and in the past few years had begun to work on the circulation of Popular Culture such as Sufi compositions, Bhojpuri cinema and songs. Her work incorporates Gender and Cultural Studies but not in a superficial way. Her scholarship partakes of a profound inter-disciplinarity but remains based on meticulous archival research and sensitively interpreted interviews. It is the work of a historian with a vision accompanied with immense integrity, rigour, a grasp of complex social processes, an incisive insight and political commitment.

One of Papiya’s most important contributions was the nurturing of young historians (students, younger friends) both inside and outside the classroom. The generosity of her giving, the gifts of personal friendship, and a rich corpus of work are what she has left us with.

Papiya Ghosh did her Ph.D. from Delhi University on the civil disobedience movement in Bihar. She was Professor of History at Patna University and held several distinguished fellowships. She was ICCHR fellow at the Centre for Contemporary Studies, Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi; fellow, Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla; Rockefeller fellow, Institute of South Asian Culture, University of Chicago; fellow, Institute of Triangle South Asian Consortium, North Carolina State University; Visiting Professor, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. She was also Advisor to the Asian Development Research Institute, Patna. She had published widely in anthologies and journals including Indian Economic and Social History Review, Indian Historical Review, Journal of Historical Studies, Social Scientist and Refugee Watch. Her most recent publication is Partition and South Asian Diaspora: extending the subcontinent (New Delhi: Taylor and Francis, 2006).

The Centre for Studies in Social Sciences has started the Papiya Ghosh Memorial Fund (donations can be sent to R-l Baishabghat-Patuli Township, Kolkata-700094). Several other institutions are planning activities and awards to honour Papiya Ghosh and keep her memory alive: the school, college and university in Patna where she had taught; Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, Delhi; and Oxford University, UK.