She leaves behind a profound legacy, having nurtured and inspired many. Though she is no longer among us, her influence continues to guide and motivate

In 1999, I first discovered the Cinefan Asian Film Festival. Excited, I headed to the India Habitat Centre (IHC) to collect a pass, only to learn that the festival was open to all. I couldn't believe my ears. Being new to Delhi, I had assumed that everything came at a price, but this experience proved me wrong. During the festival, I came to know Aruna Vasudev, the Festival Director. I also met filmmakers and critics from around the world, making it an unforgettable experience.

The following year, I eagerly awaited the festival and even took seven days of leave from work to immerse myself in films. My journalist friends noticed my dedication and shared it with Aruna Vasudev. They told her about a boy from West Delhi who traveled daily, spending mornings to midnight watching films out of sheer love for cinema. That year, I managed to watch 37 out of the 42 films screened, missing a few only because I attended seminars. Aruna di, as I later called her, was impressed but quizzed me about the films to ensure I had truly seen them. I passed her test.

At the closing ceremony, in the presence of luminaries like Sharmila Tagore, Buddhadeb Dasgupta, Rituparno Ghosh, and Nandita Das, she mentioned my name on stage. She highlighted my passion and dedication, asking me to stand so the audience could see me. Afterward, she invited me to the closing dinner. During our conversation, she asked what I did for a living. When I replied, she told me, “Forget footwear; you are meant for film.” I expressed my willingness to leave my job if she could offer me an opportunity. She laughed and said, “Stay in touch; I'll let you know.”

I took her words to heart and kept reminding her of her promise whenever we met. Finally, in 2003, she asked me to join her team. Although she initially wanted me to start in January, I requested a delay due to my sister's wedding. From February 1, 2003, until the end of her life, Aruna Vasudev became much more than a mentor. She was my friend, philosopher, guide, guru, and godmother.

When I joined her team, I initially addressed her as “Madam.” One day, she suggested I call her “Aruna di,” as others did. From then on, she was Aruna di not only to me but also to my family. My work involved assisting her with the prestigious Cinemaya: The Asian Film Quarterly and the Cinefan Film Festival. During this time, she taught me much more than cinema-etiquette, communication skills, and the importance of being a good human being.

One memorable instance was when she was busy on a call, and another call came through. Indicating she wasn't available, I conveyed that she was out of the country. Later, she gently corrected me, teaching that honesty in such situations was essential. Transforming a shy, lower-middle-class boy from a Bengali-medium school into someone comfortable in Delhi's elite circles wasn't easy. Yet, she patiently guided me every step of the way.

Aruna di's support was unwavering. When I asked if I was meeting her expectations, she replied that being able to pursue one's dream and earn a living from it was a rare blessing. Once, after just three months on the job, I noticed an unexpected salary increase. The accountant revealed that Aruna di was so pleased with my work that she had decided to raise it. This generosity stood in stark contrast to my earlier job in a footwear company, where long hours of grueling work brought only meager raises.

Her faith in me was a source of strength. Despite occasional resentment from colleagues about the trust she placed in me, she always defended her decisions. She was my rock in both professional and personal challenges. When my mother met her, she said, “Though I gave birth to him, you have raised him.” Touched by those words, Aruna di was moved to tears.

(The writer is a Delhi based Film Festival curator; views expressed are personal)