The Shadow of Her Smile: A Love Story

By Ajit Hutheesing

Helen lived like a phenomenon of naturelike a great geyser, involuntarily pouring out all it had to give.
Gerard Reuter, oboist
If there were ever a success in life, it was Helen. She will always be all about the music.
Nikhil Hutheesing, family
She was innocent, adventurous, all-loving, all-trusting- she has forever enriched our family.
Vivek Hutheesing, family
That beautiful radiant smile of hersEach time we think of her, it is with joy and tears.
Gerald Robbins, pianist

Such an amazing woman and friend, I can still see vividly Helens beautiful, innocently smiling face and her sparkling eyes
Anne-Marie McDermott, pianist
Helen was a major, major part of the happiest day of my life. You (Ajit) made her happiness and personal fulfillment so very, very complete.
Pamela Paul, pianist
She lives on in the hearts of those who loved her.
Sonia Gandhi, family
There were moments when her playing was so exquisite that the violinist and the violin were one. And we were oh-so fortunate to witness that.
Stephen Gates, friend
Lord Byron wrote The music breathing from her face. It is as though he knew Helen, for the music truly breathed from her face.
Barry Romeril, friend

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491828632

Ajit Hutheesing

Born into the famous Nehru family in India, Ajit Hutheesing was educated at Cambridge and Columbia Universities and then worked as a banker in the United States. Meeting and marrying Helen Armstrong transformed his life. From her, he received the gift of an exceptional, selfless, and loving personality who breathed music and shared it with everyone she met. She has been the inspiration for his first book. Ajit currently lives in Connecticut.

Book preview

© 2013 Ajit Hutheesing. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/18/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2862-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2861-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2863-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013920389

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Contents

Author’s Note

I.   In the End

II.   In the Beginning

III.   Helen Elizabeth Armstrong

IV.   Ajit Hutheesing

V.   And Then We Were Two Separated Halves

VI.   And Then We Were One

VII.   The Violin

VIII.   Revelations

IX.   Another Beginning and Another Ending

Postscript From Those Who Loved Her

Armstrong Chamber Concerts Artists

   About the Author

Endnotes

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Humayun To Zobeida¹

You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn,

Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan.

You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon,

Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune.

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Author’s Note

This book was almost completed six years ago. I had originally intended for it to be a private record of the most personal aspects of a love story that my family and friends had already observed from their vantage points. With the passage of time, I was persuaded that Helen Armstrong, the remarkable woman who was an intimate part of the lives of relatively few people, had also touched the lives of thousands of children, teachers, musicians, and audiences in ways that needed broader recognition. In some small way, this book may achieve this purpose as its cover dedication im plies.

I had observed over the years that Helen’s relationships with everyone—even with those who had known her only from a distance—had the same impact on each person as she had on me. As I wrote this book, I was comforted by the fact that most of my impressions of her personality were universally shared. As such, I do not feel guilty of any aggrandizement of Helen’s virtues, which is something that can occur when loved ones look back to the past through rose-colored lenses.

I must acknowledge the special contributions made by a few close family members to my frame of mind and to this book. Helen’s daughter, Debbie Howser, and I were the two people closest to Helen. Her support, encouragement, and contributions were essential to the completion of the manuscript. My sons, Nikhil and Vivek, repeatedly read the manuscript and offered their critical but constructive advice, which I followed (mostly!). Equally important was the contribution of my new companion, Sigrun Baldvinsdottir, who entered my life while in the midst of completing this book. She was most encouraging and offered valuable editorial help while giving no hint of bearing the burden of my past relationship with Helen. For this generosity of spirit, I am indeed most grateful.

In closing, I’d like to recall a sentence from Bridges of Madison County, gifted to me by Helen. In the book, Robert Kinkaid refers to the love Francesa and he shared by saying, In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once and never again, no matter how many times you live. That certainty belonged to Helen and me, and she knew it and spoke of it with a passion I could never express.

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In the End

Helen Elizabeth Armstrong turned in her bed restlessly. It was early in the morning—especially for Helen. She had not slept well and felt that the event scheduled for later in the day deserved a more rested contribution from her. A few days earlier, Helen had complained about pain in her shoulder and neck, not altogether unusual for a concert violinist, especially one who had started going to a gym to get supervised physical exercise. It must be the weights, she’d said as she walked around the house the day before. Her physician in Washington, Connecticut, had prescribed some strong painkillers without examining her. That night, she had come to bed with an ice pack and asked me to massage her upper back and neck. It was the first time she had felt so uncomfortable—but she fell asleep quickly, and I stopped icing and caressing her back, believing the pain might not have been too s evere.

There was much to do on the following day to prepare for the salon concert to be held that night in the beautiful Greenwich home of Robert Perless, a well-known sculptor, and his wife, Ellen, a poet. Greenwich was Helen’s second home and my first. Staging these salon concerts in Greenwich had been a long and hard labor of love for Helen and me—but a happy one since Armstrong Chamber Concerts (ACC), Helen’s nonprofit organization, had acquired a reputation for its high standards of chamber-music performances in some of the nicest homes in Greenwich. The concert that night was going to be different from others. For the first time, a Salon Concerts Committee of devoted friends was formed to assume responsibility for making all the arrangements for the cocktails and dinner. Although Helen and I were relieved of this arduous task, Helen was eager to make sure that the evening would be yet another spectacular event. She was, after all, a perfectionist when it came to organizing chamber-music events, and today