My brother and I learnt swimming at the Calcutta Sports Association. Mother used to take us on most days. We would be tired after school and sleepy. It still boggles my mind that she had the energy to drag us along everyday, despite occasional resistance from us, after coming home from college. (She taught at Narasinha Dutt College in Howrah.) Usually, if we timed it right, father would pick us up afterwards on his way back in our black Premier Padmini.

This routine would be livened up for a brief flash once we entered the Dhakuria Lakes from the RKM side. Parked just inside was a road-roller, a fascinating piece of equipment in itself. But to add to the magic of industrial vehicles, this one was a riot of colours. Although the whimsy of something so out-of-place caught my fancy, it never occurred me to find out who was behind it. Many, many years later, I learnt that it was Shanu Lahiri’s handiwork, whose more iconic public sculpture was the “Parama” statue on the EM Bypass. I wish I had seen the famous Philips wall up front.

Last year I had the fortune of visiting Shanu Lahiri’s daughter, Damayanti’s house, which happens to be one of the warmest, most delightful spaces I have been to in recent years. She showed us a whole bunch of things her mother had made, modified and injected a little extra joy and whimsy into.

A few days back, she sent me a beautifully made teaser for the show at Galerie 88, titled “Anonymous?”, curated by Nobina Gupta. It opened yesterday and I was lucky to be there.

My favourite (among many very fine works!) was a picture of two quarrelsome cats. (In fact, there’s a whole section dedicated to her cats.) Their backs are arched and despite the smooth stroke of the brush, you can almost see them bristling. (Maybe because of the cross-hatched background.) Two arrows below indicate the one on the “right” is Saswati, and on the “left” is Shanu. Was this her take on a fight she had with her friend? Perhaps.

I’ll try and revisit the exhibition soon, preferably with friends (you guys listening?). With handwritten notes that say “Please resist the urge to touch” (assuming, correctly, that the urge is inevitable) and a station for drawing and sketching, it feels like something very much in the spirit of the artist, although I have known her only through her creative outpourings. I was telling Damayanti-di over WhatsApp that I can’t recall the last time I came out of an exhibition feeling positively cheered up and lighter at heart!