Obituary of Anjali Roy
In memory of Anjali Roy, 1936 - 2026
1936. We let that sit with us for a moment. That’s when Anjali, the eldest of four children, was born. India, as we know her, hadn’t existed yet and independence was still an aspirational dream. She predates the right to women’s rights to own property, to vote, to be their own person.
Anjali’s fierce independence and self-resiliency make it difficult to believe that she belonged to this time.
In many ways, she rebelled against the time she was born into. With her family, across 3 generations, she pushed us into arenas she had been forbidden to go into. There was something much worse than failure, she said, and that is never taking advantage of an opportunity you were given. She spilled her ambition, which she could never use to further her own dreams, into her family.
In the 1970s, she and her husband supported her only brother to try his fortune across the world in the States. She supported his family during the time it took him to settle down, till he was able to bring them across with him. She lost both her sisters tragically early and it always hung heavy on her soul. She took it on herself to get involved in her nieces’ lives, and then her grand-nieces. She remembered their favourite foods that their mothers made, took time to learn their dreams and fears, and helped them find their own paths. One wrote that she felt like she’s lost her mother again.
By the 90s, she added a few more feathers to her cap. She hung a sign upon her home, with the prefix ‘Dr’ against both her daughters’ names. They didn’t even live there anymore, but it was her achievement, not theirs, that she perhaps wanted to embody. In later years, she advised her grandkids to move continents, try unfamiliar careers, take risks - because there was nothing worse than a life unlived.
The testimonies which have flooded us since she’s left have only reaffirmed this. Her brother, her nieces and nephew, her family-friends, their kids, their grandkids, her house help, her husband’s colleagues - relationships harboured, harnessed and nurtured with care over the best part of a century all spoke of the same story. She was practical to a fault, always failed to understand a joke - yet always there, ready to help if she could. So many people have called to say how she shaped them, how she checked in on them for years, when others had long given up asking about them. How they hadn’t fathomed a life without her, even though she had not seen them for years. Even if they knew she was nearly 90 and people don’t stay around forever.
She was never dramatic nor overtly affectionate, neither with her words nor with her actions. The only grandchild who she ever spoiled openly was Loki, possibly her favourite, although never openly admitted. Her affection was pragmatic - one of her favourite phrases was ‘it’s only up to me to do what I have to for those I care for’. If you wanted overzealous admissions of emotion, she wasn’t the right candidate for the job, if you wanted an unwavering supporter, there was no one better.
When speaking of her generation, Anjali always wondered why so many of them suffered from nostalgia. That was something she failed to understand - why look back, when you can look ahead? She also never quite got the point of over-planning life - wasn’t its beauty in its unfolding and the fun in stepping into paths which were yet unexplored?
Perhaps that’s why when over 20 years ago, her first grandchild, the same one she had brought up in Asansol all those years ago, called her with a panicked voice, asking to come over and help her navigate her board exams, her new school, a new country, Anjali’s only response was “of course.” 2 weeks later, she was in Mississauga, her life packed into a few suitcases, her latest mission clear - she needed to help her daughter and her family settle in and then thrive in this new country. She never once looked back and complained about having to leave India, instead she embraced Canada’s culture, its dedication to diversity and its beautiful spring and fall every year.
Frequently, her grandkids would traipse with their friends from school, people from different backgrounds and strange names to her ears. She loved to feed them - like many others in her generation, she loved to show her affection through food, recreating recipes for them she had inherited from her mother. Anjali spent hours with them, learnt about their families, shared with them their music and their stories. She was blessed with a tremendous gift for evolving with the world, always embracing new thoughts - never allowing her bias to hold her back. So our friends shared with her who they were falling in love with, the diets they were trying, the cultural clashes with their families and she listened and accepted them all. She never understood why parents stopped their kids from loving someone, when love was so rare and precious, why let silly things like race, orientation, or religion come in the way?
In the last few days, her grandkids have realised, somewhat enviously, that she was a grandmother to many others apart from them. Friends, colleagues, even exes - they are all coming rushing in, some taking long distance flights, others driving in from the distance. She has taken a piece of them all with her.
Anjali’s love to learn was insatiable. She read several newspapers a day, watched new vlogs, and didn’t leave her desk till she had a rounded view of current affairs. Just this last Christmas, she asked her grandson and grandson-in-law to explain Artificial Intelligence to her. Half a minute into the conversation, she said with impatience ‘not the high level things, that much I know. What’s new about an LLM that didn’t exist before?’ They scrambled - and one of them had to look up an answer that satiated her. Perhaps, it didn’t. Perhaps she just read up on it the next day. Who knows - we wish we could still ask her about it..
Her mental strength and resilience is the stuff of legends. Despite the many trials her health threw her way - cancer, heart attacks, COVID, none of it could shake her spirit. In a few days, she would rise again, a bit unsteady, but raring to get back to it. Till her last day, she independently did her tasks - watering the plants, cooking meals, and calling her lengthy contact list, making sure they were okay.
She often said, death didn’t really scare her, lying in bed sedentary terrified her. The universe, in its grace and kindness bestowed this last gift to her.
It’s a blessing that we must remember to be thankful for, as we learn to live in her void.
We bid her goodbye with all our love,
Her Family and Friends.
Please join us to remember Anjali on Sunday, May 24, 2026 for with visiting at 10:15 a.m. until the Funeral Pooja time at approximately 11:30 a.m. with cremation to follow, all at the eco Life Celebration Centre-Sandalwood Chapel of St. John's Dixie Crematorium (737 Dundas Street East, at Cawthra, Mississauga).
Guests are welcome to park in the large lot adjacent to the church and proceed through the cemetery gates to the north to the main building ahead.
Guests are also encouraged to carpool due to a large event at the adjacent church which will occupy most of the parking lot. If parking is a challenge, please proceed to the east side of the main building where some additional parking is available.
Uniquely entrusted to eco Cremation & Burial Services Inc.
-Modern Funerals-
Copyright eco Cremation & Burial Services Inc. 2026
