From my earliest childhood, I remember the name Flower. She was a close friend of my father's from India, and often came to visit my parents in Philadelphia. I knew she was an accomplished chef. When I lived in Israel in 1980, I took some cooking lessons with her mother, whom I knew as Aunt Mary. I still use the haggadah with Aunt Mary's inscription every Pesah.

I really didn't get to know Flower that well myself until I began my tours of India in 2015. Jewish groups didn't venture all the way east to Calcutta at that time but I knew firsthand that the city, its Jewish history, and mesmerizing personalities were worth the trek. We had an emotional reunion in the Maghen David Synagogue. Flower graciously invited our groups to her home and delighted us with her spunky, spellbinding storytelling and vast culinary talents. I always looked forward to a good aloomakala, a triple-fried potato specialty of the Baghdadi Jews in India, part of the feast that she set out for us. The group members never forgot her.

Born in 1930, Flower traced her roots to El Ozer, Iraq, the site of the tomb of Ezra the Scribe. The family emigrated to Bombay and worked for the Sassoon family before settling in Calcutta at the end of the nineteenth century. She lived in Jerusalem and Brooklyn before returning to Calcutta in 2009 with her daughter Jael, an author, former associate professor of women’s studies at the University of Iowa, and creator of the digital archive, Recalling Jewish Calcutta. Flower passed away in October. She is the second luminary the Indian Jewish community has lost in the past few months (Cochin's Queenie Hallegua passed away in August.)

Yehi zikhra barukh. May her memory be a blessing.

Read more about Flower in Tablet's article here.
Watch the memorial service here.

Our November group is still basking in the glow of the amazing experiences we shared in India. In the picture above, Barry Kravitz, an avid photographer and member of our group, captured the serenity and sanctity of Calcutta's Maghen David Synagogue, even though it is just a few feet from India's cacophonous street life. That unexpected balance of contrasts IS India.

Hanukkah also celebrates the unexpected—the unexpected victory of an army small in numbers and mighty in faith. On Hanukkah, as we have for over a year, we pray for the safe return of our hostages and Israel's continued resilience. On Hanukkah, we honor the bravery and courage of our heroes both ancient and modern. On Hanukkah, we pray for light to emerge from darkness, on personal, communal, and global levels.

According to Sephardic tradition, after we light the Hanukkiah we recite the words of Psalm 30, Mizmor Shir Hanukkat Habayit L'David. Its heartfelt words are as resonant today as they were centuries ago.

Hafakhta mispedi l'mahol li, pitakhta saki va't'az'reni simhah
God, You have turned my mourning into dancing.
You have removed my sackcloth and girded me with joy.

Tizkoo l'shanim rabot!