The saddest news on a cold, grey January morning was the passing of Bimla Nanda Bissell, whom generations of us knew as Bim – a name synonymous with an ebullient zest for life, hospitality, care, intelligence and friendship. Everyone was welcome in her beautiful home, and all blossomed a little in the warmth of her smile.
Neither age (she was over 90), nor ill health, that had dogged her over the last few years, prevented her from sharing herself with all of us, attending talks, exhibition openings, fashion shows, concerts, book releases and parties, where she invariably knew everyone, and every single person rejoiced to have her there.
Her energy, varied friendships and interests – ranging from the arts and social causes to international affairs – and her ability to encompass them, along with her phenomenal memory for the minutiae of our lives, stunned us. Each of us thought we had a special connection with her because she remembered everything from our favourite food to one’s latest Facebook post.
Just a few months ago, we were both having lunch at designer Ritu Kumar’s [house]. She’d been in hospital just a week earlier, and arrived an hour late due to horrendous traffic jams. Nevertheless, she rolled up smiling in her wheelchair, resplendent with her signature fabulous jewellery, full of life and cheer, ready to share all the Delhi gossip but equally ready to critique current politics in the most informed and intelligent way.
After lunch, as the rest of us looked forward to our postprandial Sunday naps, she brightly informed us she was off to a dentist appointment and later to a lecture at the IIC and then would squeeze in a friend’s book release before going on to a farewell dinner for a departing diplomat. All of us, well over a decade or two younger, were duly put to shame!
My father, now long gone, had known her parents while serving as a young ICS officer in pre-independence Punjab. He often spoke of their generous hospitality, but also Bim’s great beauty and charm as a young girl – qualities she retained in her old age.
Bim and John Bissell were names inextricably linked together till he passed away some 25 years ago. I first met John in my early 20s at Fabindia, when I used to be sent to match fabric for Shona Ray, with whom I worked on interior design projects.
John of course created Fabindia as an outlet for the Indian textiles that he loved dearly. In the late 1960s and early 70s, Fabindia and Kapoor Fabrics were the only two stores selling furnishings. Shona, Bim and John were great friends and I too was adopted into their welcoming circle.
Bim, working as social secretary in the US Embassy, supported him all the way. It was a great partnership. When John suffered a stroke a few years prior to his death, I loved and admired the way Bim took him everywhere, including him in everything she was a part of, gently explaining what he was saying, putting up cheerfully with his occasional frustration and bad temper, refusing to leave his side.
When I wanted to buy my god-daughter some diamond earrings for her birthday, Bim came along with me and introduced me to her pet jewellers, entering into the adventure as if it were hers. Later, at a crowded embassy reception she remembered to ask how the gift had been received. That ability to enter into everyone’s lives with such selfless gusto is what made her so beloved.
When a mutual friend, Bharati Sharma, much younger than her, passed away, it was Bim who immediately thought of instituting a fund in her name to honour craftswomen and help them become entrepreneurs. Four Dastkar craftswomen have been beneficiaries. When another mutual friend was diagnosed with dementia, it was Bim who regularly visited her, even during the pandemic, and sat with her, holding her hand and talking cheerfully of their shared past.
All this sounds a bit saccharine but Bim was far from a sickly sweet sugar plum fairy, even though she was a fairy godmother to many. She was a down to earth Punjaban, full of humour and realism, with a keen eye and ear for the false or insincere, though she was always ready to give people the benefit of the doubt.
She was practical to the core. I loved it when, after several years of getting Dastkar to design her Christmas decorations, she decided to chat up the craftsman who went to install them and got them to work directly with her for the next year, thus saving 15%. Characteristically, she told me this herself with a triumphant grin, as she continued to send numerous expat acquaintances to our bazaars to shop over the years.
When someone reaches their 90s, people always say, while mourning them, that they’d had a rich and full life. While this is truer about Bim than most, it is difficult to envisage her gone. She lived life and every day to the fullest. Her passing has left a big hole in the Delhi landscape – much like the morning sun disappeared from the sky today.
Laila Tyabji is the founder member and chairperson of Dastkar, an NGO working for the revival of traditional crafts in India.
This article has been republished from Laila Tyabji’s post on social media. It has been lightly edited for style.
