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Rita Baracho was my Godmother. For all of my life I always referred to her as Aunty Rita, but she was less of an Aunt to me and much more of a mom. I remember the first time I travelled to London alone, as a gift from my parents for completing a milestone in school. I stayed with Aunty Rita and Uncle Butch. Aunty fussed over me like I was her favourite child. I was fed and feasted. I was introduced to her fabulous cooking - her roast chicken, her chicken 65, her curries… Breakfast was always a grand affair at the kitchen table. I would cautiously apply a modest layer of butter to my toast, only to be caught out by Aunty Rita who would say “tsk, Come on now, Eat Properly” and go on to generously spread butter all over my toast. I learnt the joy of cooking (and of course eating) by watching her expertly move around the kitchen. Everything was meticulously labelled and put in place. 

I loved travelling around London with her, sitting for hours at the kitchen table and talking about Diana (who was her favourite royal), watching tennis, playing the piano, gossiping, cooking, sitting in her sun lounge and revelling in the garden’s beauty and the grace of London’s summers…but most of all, I just loved being with her. 

As the years rolled by, I spent many summers with my Aunty Rita… She was the calm to my crazy. She always reprimanded me for dating the wrong boys…especially the ones with the crazy mothers. No boy was ever good enough. Much to my delight, she always thought I was too thin and every time I achieved something, she would always look at me proudly and say “You’re such a clever girl”. Even as I grew older and had kids of my own, those words would always bring a wave of joy every time I heard her say it to me. She was one of the very few people in my life, whose opinion meant the world to me. I loved making her laugh. Her high-pitched, melodic, contagious laughter that just kept going, used to make my heart dance.

Her house always smelled of roses because she loved them and today mine does too. Every time I roast a chicken, I call it Aunty Rita’s chicken. We only ever travelled to or through London, because I wanted to steal a few moments with her.

I was planning to surprise her on her 90th birthday this year by showing up. However she decided to end her journey 3 months short. But what a glorious life, Aunty Rita!

It's a complex mix of emotions that I navigate now. I strive to hold onto gratitude for the moments we shared, especially after your frightening bout of meningitis. Those additional years felt like a precious gift, allowing us more time in the presence of your wisdom and warmth. I remain profoundly thankful for the way you embraced my two boys, becoming a part of their lives. The fact that they and Rajat, were able to connect with the person who meant so much to me is a gift beyond measure.

But I miss you so much. It hurts to think that I will never again hear your cheerful “Hello-o” on the other side of the phone, or be enveloped in your warm, long hug. I miss the unflinching, unwavering support I always felt. I miss how happy and safe and comforted and loved I felt when I was around you. I miss you. But I feel a sense of comfort knowing that you always knew I loved you.

Wherever your journey has taken you, I hope you are happy. Your love was truly a blessing in my life and I know your light will always guide me.

With all my love, until we meet again….

Ritika 

I have known Rita since the 1970s when she joined Metal Box while I was working as the Personal Secretary to the Executive Director. Rita became the Branch Manager at Faridabad and was well-liked because of her efficiency. I lost contact with her when I moved to Bombay in 1976. Then, I met her in London, where she was working for Cadbury's. I spent many holidays with Rita and Butch in their lovely bungalow and enjoyed jiving with Butch; Rita didn't mind. I also stayed with them in Spain on two occasions. Rita was very knowledgeable and a great motivator. She was also very prayerful and had great devotion to the Divine Mercy chaplet. I remember she came to see me off at Heathrow; I was almost unable to board the flight, but Rita quietly said the Divine Mercy chaplet, and at the last minute, I was allowed to board after putting my baggage on the scales and receiving my boarding card.

Rita and Butch were the perfect hosts in London, Spain, and Goa. It was always good to listen to her as she shared things so interestingly. She was always well-dressed and ordered her clothes and cosmetics from excellent sources. She was very generous, helping orphanages and people in need of financial assistance. One beneficiary was a Ms. Wallace from Bareilly, among other charities. She was a great asset to her parish as she played the organ for them in church, having practiced at home on her piano. It was a great joy to holiday with them as they were so hospitable and generous. Rita always gave good advice and had a sixth sense for predicting things that often came true.

I am going to miss her terribly. She was always so positive and cheerful when talking about her first illness of meningitis and later the bad fall, which was really a freak accident. Despite being in and out of the hospital, she spoke positively about managing to attend church. She was very particular about having her hair done often, and her inner beauty radiated her joy and wellness.

I know she is with Jesus now, free from pain and suffering, sending blessings to Butch and her friends. She was a lover of dogs and had a deep affection for them. Bless you, Rita, for being such a wonderful and loving friend.

Lina Griffe