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Around the kitchen table...
...Mama would tell stories that often made her laugh and ones that occasionally made her cry. Mama was unbelievably kind, resilient, and independent throughout her 90 years and nine months of life.
Chandar Prabha Mehra
Born in Lahore, India, on April 4, 1935, Chandar Prabha Mehra was known to her friends as Prabha. Mama shared her Nani's serious life advice — put 10% of every paycheque away for emergencies — and humorous stories of how her Nani’s bhateeja, Raj Kapoor, was avaara before his father pushed him into the film industry. Because Mama's father was often transferred for his job as an Income Tax Officer, Mama got to live in Peshawar, Rawalpindi, and many other cities.
She recalled her Nana sensed trouble was brewing, so he sent the extended family to live at Mussoorie hill station, where they took up an entire floor of a hotel.
One of the rare stories that made her cry was how two of her Mamajis didn’t survive Partition.
When several other dislocated families needed refuge, her family took them in at their home in Amritsar.
Whether from Partition or from personality, she learned that you could lose your home, land, wealth, and family at any time. It was best to save and live carefully.
In Hissar, she studied for her Class 8 exam using a flashlight because of scheduled blackouts.
In Simla, she helped her father melt the house's frozen water pipe by going outside to wrap the pipe and light a kerosene-soaked cloth. This was also the house where Prithviraj Kapoor brought his theatre troupe to meet his extended family.
She earned her B.A. and then her B.Ed. from Panjab University. During this time, she taught Hindi, mathematics, and English at Sanatan Dharma Girls High School, Ambala Cantt.
She laughed as she recalled Dilip Kumar's visit from Mumbai. Dilip asked permission to take her to Bollywood. Her father slapped him.
Marriage offer after marriage offer came in, but she kept rejecting them. Her mother, exasperated, wondered who she was waiting for.
In the den of the house...
...Papa would be working with pen and paper on a math problem, when he’d turn to share an anecdote or a humorous riddle. Papa was unflinchingly dutiful, honest, and brilliant throughout his 74 years and nine months of life.
Kul Bhushan Lal Kohli
Born in Patiala, India, on April 18, 1927, Kul Bhushan Lal Kohli was known to his friends as Bhushan. Papa handed down advice via anecdotes. He was meticulous in his calculations of finance and life. When the CRA made a mistake of a few pennies in his favour, he wrote them a letter showing their miscalculation and enclosed a cheque. He chuckled, knowing the stamp was worth more than the difference. From his view, it was the right thing to do. When colleagues asked if he was worried that his wife could leave him because he kept their assets solely in his wife's name to reduce taxes, he smiled as he explained in his low, gravelly voice, "If you can't trust your wife, you don't have a marriage."
He was indignant, recalling how Indian history was taught to him from a book entitled Tangled Tales, while the British history book was entitled The Glory of the British Empire.
In Pasrur, India, he excelled at sports and studies. He thought about becoming a writer as he voraciously read literature and poetry in English, Hindi, Sanskrit, Punjabi, and Urdu.
In 1945, he graduated at the top of his class with a B.A. Honours Mathematics from the University of Panjab, earning him the Fuller Exhibition Scholarship and the Rai Bahadur Lala Sagar Chand Medal. The only person in the history of the university to score higher was Nobel Prize winner Har Gobind Khorana — and that by only one mark. In 1947, Partition occurred. In 1949, he again graduated at the top of his class with an M.A. in Mathematics from the East Panjab University.
Whether from Partition or from personality, he learned that you could lose your home, land, wealth, and family at any time. It was best to spend and live carefree.
His first job was as Editor of the "Eastern Economist” in Delhi. Every week after he approved the magazine to go to the printing press, he took the rest of the day off to see a Hindi movie. Although he wanted to be an academic in the field of pure math, as he said, "In those days, you couldn't even starve doing pure math." So at this job, he decided to simultaneously study for his actuarial exams. From his view, it was the right thing to do for his future family.
He qualified as a Fellow of the Institute of Actuaries in a record three years. During this time, he also left India to work in London at The Mercantile and General Reinsurance Company Limited and then the Yorkshire Insurance Company. He returned to Bombay to work for the New India Assurance Co., Ltd., and then Eastern Life Assurance Co., Ltd.
By age 28, he was sent abroad to open new insurance offices and hire actuaries in Turkey, Lebanon, Iraq, Kuwait, the United Arab Republic, and Saudi Arabia. Wherever he went, he always sent money back to India to pay for his siblings' education.
Returning to India with international senior management experience, he started looking to settle down. Marriage offer after marriage offer came in, but he kept rejecting them. Friends and family mocked his resolve by asking him what sort of girl he thought he was going to get.
Third Time's a Charm
Kul Bhushan Lal Kohli and his father arrived in Ambala from Jalandhar to meet Chandar Prabha Mehra. However, she and her parents were in Delhi at the time, and the letter informing the Mehras of the Kohlis' arrival was in their mailbox in Ambala. So the meeting had to be rescheduled.
After some time, the two Kohlis arrived in Delhi to meet the Mehras. This time, everyone, including Chandar Prabha Mehra, was present, and the Mehra extended family answered all their questions.
Some more time passed, and the two Kohlis returned to meet the Mehras again. But this time, they requested to speak only with Chandar Prabha Mehra. With the blessings of both families, they married on August 5, 1959, in Ambala Cantt.
Baraat
Milni
Mala
During their marriage, they learned they both grew up in the same Badami Bagh area of Lahore. Despite having friends in common, they never met — perhaps because she stoically complied with her mother's strict order never to talk to boys. He grew up hearing rumours of the girl who never even looked at a boy, but never saw this rumoured person.
Soon after marriage, to their surprise, the Life Insurance Corporation of India assigned him to open their first international office in the UK. He wrote her letters every day until she could join him with their young family.
Reunited, they enjoyed dinners out every night and garden parties at Buckingham Palace, and toured the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, France, Switzerland, and Italy.
Ahead of her time, she made it clear she didn't approve of some of the parties they attended because the husbands would drink and smoke in one area, while the wives sat in another area. New rules were set: no drinking, no smoking, and wherever men were allowed to go, she would also go. Conventions of the time be damned.
After London, they returned to Calcutta, India. That's when he received an opportunity to go to Canada. He was hesitant. She wasn't.
On March 25, 1966, they landed at Toronto International Airport in Malton, Ontario, while their trunks of belongings were still en route via steamship.
They purchased a house on Otami Trail in the Town of Mississauga, an area attracting a wave of well-to-do scientists, engineers, and technicians at the time.
After settling into their new country, he became fluent in French as required by his new job at the federal government.
She secured full-time work as a teacher at Mineola Public School. On her first day at work, another teacher came up to her and said, “You people take all our jobs.” As was her nature, she stoically didn’t say anything then, nor when several parents complained to the school board that a foreigner was teaching their children. She didn't need to. Her principal told her that her classes earned the top grades in the school every year.
When he received an offer that required a move to Ottawa, she left teaching to raise their growing family full-time. Their new home was in Country Place, Nepean. Above the garage, they put up a sign that read कोहली निवास.
This was another well-to-do area known for having diplomats, professionals, and tech workers. Among the many friendly neighbours were a few who regularly made it clear they didn't want another immigrant family moving in.
I was three years old when Papa had a heart attack. It was in the middle of the night. Papa told Mama something was wrong, and Mama called the ambulance. I don't remember how many days Papa was in the hospital. But I remember one day it was just Mama and me at home. I was in the kitchen when Mama, visibly upset, knelt to my height and told me Papa was having an operation right then, and we had to pray for him. Papa came home, but just barely. He told us that during the surgery, the surgeon had to add more bypasses than expected.
In contrast to his career up to that point, Papa now declined lucrative job offer after lucrative job offer because of his heart condition. From his view, avoiding unnecessary stress was the right thing to do for his family. As per his doctor's orders, he walked every day and took his heart medications. All the while, he purchased properties, stocks, and bonds.
At home, Mama taught us how to read and our times tables before we reached kindergarten. Papa would give us logic puzzles and have us read and discuss Sanskrit shlokas from the Ramayana. Mama made sure we had Amar Chitra Kathas and science textbooks to read. Papa made sure we had two new Hindi movies to watch every week.
Alongside home-cooked rotis, puris, daal, sabji, dahi ballas, and birthday cakes, we got any treat we wanted. If we asked Mama and Papa for pizza, they ordered it for us. They brought us a non-stop supply of mangos, rasgulas, dosas, chana bhatura, samosas, chocolates, donuts, croissants, and ice cream.
Mama and Papa hosted sannyasis at our house and took us to listen to sannyasis at other people's houses. They supported the community financially as founding members of the Hindu Temple of Ottawa Carlton and the Hindu Mission Temple of Montreal, were lifetime members of ISKCON, and regularly visited and donated to every temple. We went to annual garden parties at the Ottawa High Commission of India, havans with our Arya Samaji friends, pujas with our West Indian friends, and all-night Navaratris with our South Indian friends.
When we visited family and friends, Papa liked to share his jokes while Mama sang bhajans and led kirtans. When family and friends visited us, we played cards — usually Judgement or Teen Patti — but never with real money. As Mama explained, money makes people too serious and takes the fun out of it.
Mama opened three Hindi Vidyalay branches under the Carleton Board of Education. Students of all ages and all backgrounds were welcome to learn for free.
Her students performed at Dominion Day and Canada Day celebrations, Nepean Day, Manotick Day, Ottawa Folk Arts Council events, and the Opening Day of the Canadian Museum of Civilization.
She produced five half-hour TV programs showcasing her students.
She taught Hindi to Foreign Service Diplomats at the Department of External Affairs. Mama devised the "Hindu Religion in Life" program for the Boy Scouts of Canada and for the Girl Guides of Canada. She also volunteered as a translator and interpreter with the Family and Patient Communications Centre of Ottawa.
Now that I, their youngest, had reached high school, Mama decided to return to full-time teaching. When she received an offer at Folkstone Public School, Mississauga, it was Papa’s turn to return the favour — so he requested a transfer. They bought their new home in the mature Sherwood Forrest enclave of the City of Mississauga.
Papa advised all his children on what to study, what career paths to take, and on their finances. Meanwhile, Mama went on to teach at Edenrose Public School and Fallingbrook Public School. They paid for all of our degrees, hoping only that we would get good educations, build good careers, and be good people. We each took our own path.
After twenty-eight years of public service, Papa retired from his post as Director of Special Projects at the Office of the Superintendent of Financial Institutions. Papa kept busy with consulting work referred to him, solving math problems from his actuarial magazines for fun, and writing articles with the latest Hindi word processor. On his daily walks, he befriended many neighbours. He continued to send letters and money to his family in India, even though they no longer needed it. From his view, it was the right thing to do.
Out of her love for teaching, Mama continued to tutor Hindi, math, English, and Hindu philosophy for free at their home. As she would softly explain, "Religion is what's good for one group. Dharma is what's good for the whole world." Out of her love for community service, Mama volunteered to prepare hundreds of children to perform annually at Hindi Divas events organized by the Toronto Consulate General of India.
In the evenings, Mama and Papa played cards together.
At Papa's request, Mama took early retirement from the Peel Board of Education so they could spend more time together. They enjoyed retired life by walking together and playing cards daily — particularly the family favourite card game, Judgement. Of course, true to Mama’s nature, she modified the game so they could enjoy it as a duo.
1927 - 2002
On February 4, 2002, Papa completed his life. True to their humble and pragmatic ways, there was a simple cremation with no priest. True to their quiet love, Papa had already arranged all of their assets and left instructions as his way of taking care of Mama even after he was gone.
Many family and friends visited in the following days. Cards and letters arrived from across Canada, the USA, England, and India.
Over time, I realize how astutely he imparted moral lessons through his anecdotes.
Over time, I realize how prescient his calculations on life were.
Over time, I grow more and more grateful for the ability to understand the depth of his sanskar.
Mama kept busy with her tutoring and community service. She made regular charitable donations to Seva Bharathi, sponsored the education of underprivileged children through Chetanaa, and encouraged her children and her friends to do the same.
She decided to start the first Indian seniors club in Mississauga and helped other Indian senior groups get space for their own clubs. Eventually, Mama would found and run three clubs, all while refusing to take any membership fees from the seniors or funding from the government. As Mama explained, money makes people too serious and takes the fun out of it.
It was the middle of the day, and just Mama and I were at home. Mama was in the kitchen when, audibly upset, she called me. I rode in the ambulance with her. Mama survived the emergency operation, but just barely. The surgeon was explaining the medical complications Mama had during the surgery when she was paged to return to operate on Mama again. Days turned into weeks, and no one knew the outcome. Mama finally woke up and spoke. Despite even more complications and the difficulty of rehab in the midst of the pandemic, Mama persevered until she was strong enough to walk again.
From home, Mama continued to donate to various temples and charities, and to advise seniors' groups. On the phone, she reminisced with her friends in Canada and family from India and the USA.
Every day, Mama played Rummy with anyone willing to learn, and she was always willing to teach. Of course, true to Mama’s nature, she modified the rules to her liking.
At home, Mama wore the outfits she made on her sewing machine, always with one of Papa’s shirts over top. When out of the house or when people visited, Mama dressed up. She was always overjoyed to see her many friends and family.
At breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Mama would often laugh and say, "Do you want to hear a joke — a real joke?" This was Mama's way of explaining that you were about to hear a story from her life. Occasionally at the table, she argued with me about politics, and then we both laughed again, knowing she was strong enough to stand her ground.
On sunny days, we sat on the backyard deck looking at the flowers, talking, and having chai or juice.
Mama taught us how to make baingan, maa sabut daal, sarson ka saag, karela, bhindi, paranthas, pudas, and her famous mithais.
Every night, she smiled when her bahu Seema offered her fresh homemade ice cream.
1935 - 2026
On January 3, 2026, Mama completed her life. True to their humble and pragmatic ways, there was a simple cremation with no priest. True to their quiet love, Mama requested her ashes be reunited with Papa's ashes.
I'll always remember Mama and Papa’s lessons and stories. And I'll always be thankful for the privileged life they gave us.
Seema and I would like to thank the many caregivers who helped us maintain Mama's dignity, comfort, and sense of humour over the past six years, and our dear friends who supported us in making this life possible.
We say goodbye with the blessing Mama said to us every morning and every night — always three times. Of course, true to Mama’s nature, she modified it to her liking...
युग युग सुखी रहो (Yug yug sukhi raho) — first, for you
युग युग सुखी रहो (Yug yug sukhi raho) — second, for the people around you
युग युग सुखी रहो (Yug yug sukhi raho) — third, for the whole world
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