Mothers rarely ask for monuments, although they are the first refuge we ever know and often the one we spend a lifetime trying to return to. The first hands that steady us, the first hearts that teach us what love looks like. Can a single day ever hold the enormity of all that mothers do? Hardly. Yet Mother’s Day offers a beautiful excuse to indulge in tenderness and perhaps go a little extravagant with affection.
On this beautiful occasion of Mother’s Day, t2 brought together two remarkable women connected not only by blood, but by temperament, memory and an evolving companionship that feels deeply contemporary. Madhumanti Maitra — one of the most recognisable television news anchors for an entire generation raised on Doordarshan and early television journalism — stepped into the frame with her daughter, actor Anusha Viswanathan, for a heart-to-heart on inheritance, individuality, ambition, vulnerability and the many forms love takes between mothers and daughters over time.
Styled in summer-ready Indo-Western occasion wear by Krishnanagar-based Madhuballari Boutique, the shoot is awash with handwoven fabrics, hand-painted motifs and artisanal hand-printing, with the exception of a striking Madras-check skirt.
Excerpts from a Mother’s Day special t2 chat with the mother-daughter duo.
If the two of you had to describe your relationship through a moodboard — textures, colours, music, films — what would make the cut?
Anusha: It would definitely begin with textiles. Banarasis, Kanjeevarams, heirloom weaves — the sort of pieces that carry memory inside their folds. My grandmother had a boutique called Design, so I grew up surrounded by saris, fabrics and conversations about craft. And my mother’s collection is almost mythical at this point. There’s always been this sense of continuity around clothing in our family — things passed down, rediscovered, reimagined. Jewellery would be another huge part of that moodboard. What fascinates me is that both my mother and my dida were drawn to pieces that felt surprisingly modern for their time — geometric silhouettes, unusual structures, bold forms. Of course there were classics too, but there was always a quiet sense of experimentation.
Music shaped us as well. I grew up in a deeply musical home. There was ABBA, but also Zakir Hussain. My mother often anchored events where he performed in Calcutta, and we would attend almost every concert. His music became part of our shared emotional vocabulary across generations.
Madhumanti: Beyond all the aesthetics, I think the real foundation of our relationship is empathy — especially towards animals. Anusha grew up watching me rescue, feed and care for street dogs, cats, absolutely everything. Our home has always revolved around animals that needed shelter and love. What makes me happiest is seeing how deeply that compassion has stayed with her. That emotional sensitivity is what truly anchors us.
What is the one thing from each other’s wardrobe that has quietly become yours forever?
Anusha: Honestly, our wardrobes have stopped belonging to either one of us. Whoever wears it first claims temporary ownership. We consciously buy pieces that both of us can wear.
Madhumanti: Whatever I borrow from her, I have absolutely no intention of returning.
Anusha: And I constantly raid her wardrobe too, so it balances out. I also steal her oversized shirts.
Madhumanti: The only things I cannot borrow are her blouses and Western clothes. Everything else is fair game.
How has your relationship evolved over the years — not just as mother and daughter, but as two women with distinct identities?
Madhumanti: I was never what people would describe as a hands-on mother. Anusha was largely raised by both sets of grandparents, especially my mother. At that stage of my life, my career consumed me entirely. Oddly enough, I think our relationship truly bloomed later — once she became an adult and, more importantly, a friend.
That was when the maternal side of me surfaced more consciously. Before that, I was busy mothering rescued animals, managing work and simply surviving the pace of life. Do I regret not spending enough time with her? In some ways, yes.
Anusha: I actually have very warm memories of childhood with her. But yes, I was mostly brought up by my grandparents. As I grew older, our relationship shifted because our worlds became very different. My mother worked in a profession with a certain structure and rhythm. Acting is another universe entirely. My life involves late-night shoots, events, travel and erratic schedules, which naturally trigger anxiety in a family that tends to worry a lot. My mother is deeply anxious about the people she loves. That anxiety exists across generations in our family. But over time, I think we’ve all found a healthier balance. They trust me more now. One thing my upbringing gave me — perhaps dangerously — is the tendency to believe the best in people. I instinctively give people the benefit of the doubt. In today’s world, that can backfire spectacularly. But it has also made me compassionate, and I don’t regret that. Creatively, my family has always supported me wholeheartedly once they realised this wasn’t a passing phase for me.
Do your personal styles influence one another, or do they belong to entirely different worlds?
Madhumanti: We are very different stylistically. I’m traditional, predictable and deeply resistant to experimentation. I have fixed ideas about what suits me, and once I settle into something, I rarely stray. Anusha is far more adventurous.
Anusha: As an actor, I need fluidity. I want people to imagine me in radically different roles — rebellious, vulnerable, cerebral, chaotic, deeply rooted or entirely unconventional. Fashion, for me, is mood-driven. Some days I lean towards comfort; other days I enjoy embodying different fragments of my personality through clothing. But even then, I never want to look disconnected from who I fundamentally am — unless I’m stepping into a character.
What are the small rituals or habits that make your bond feel most authentic away from public life?
Anusha: Most of our conversations revolve around animals. We discuss what Alfie (her pet) did all day, whether he misbehaved, whether he discovered a new obsession. We also spend an alarming amount of time discussing Internet cats and dogs we follow online.
Madhumanti: Food is another ritual in our house. Anusha is an excellent cook and regularly experiments with dishes for all of us. She has now inspired me to attempt things too — caramel custard and all sorts of experiments. We also used to go on very long evening and night walks together. Life has become far busier now, so we miss that.
Anusha, what parts of your mother do you think you’ve inherited unconsciously?
Anusha: Probably the intimidating exterior. People often assume I’m aloof or unapproachable because I’m not naturally gifted at small talk. My mother is exactly the same. So is my father. We are all slightly socially awkward in our own ways.
Madhumanti, when you look at Anusha today, do you see echoes of your younger self in her?
Madhumanti: Not really. She is fundamentally her own person. In fact, I’m relieved she hasn’t inherited certain traits from me. She’s far better at letting go and delegating responsibilities. I still struggle terribly with that. Anusha is calmer in that sense. She may experience anxiety, but she conceals it better. My face immediately betrays every worry I carry. I am compulsively organised because my life demands it. I juggle multiple responsibilities simultaneously, so I’m always planning ahead. Anusha, on the other hand, belongs gloriously to the last-minute school of existence.
How do conversations around ambition, independence and success differ between you two?
Madhumanti: Success was unquestionably easier in my time. When I began as a Doordarshan newsreader, there were no competing channels. Visibility came more naturally because audiences were concentrated in one place. As for ambition — I had almost none. Even academically, I moved through life without strategy. It has genuinely never occurred to me to plan ahead. My life unfolded organically.
My mother has already built such a formidable legacy that, in some ways, it gave me courage. Creative fields are strange because they almost choose you before you choose them. For a long time, I still kept academic possibilities open. I completed my master’s degree and considered pursuing research or studying abroad. But during the pandemic, when work disappeared, I realised acting wasn’t simply a career preference — it was something my soul genuinely needed. That’s when ambition became central for me.
Relationships, travel, friendships — all of that matters deeply. But none of it feels complete unless I’m fulfilled creatively. Career ambition runs strongly in our family anyway. My grandmother (Paramita Viswanathan) ran a boutique at a time when boutiques barely existed. She helped found Patha Bhavan, later taught at South Point, travelled extensively and studied in America. My maternal grandmother (Binata Maitra) completed her master’s degree and PhD after marriage and motherhood before becoming dean at Rabindra Bharati University. No one in my family — man or woman — has ever abandoned ambition halfway through life. That inheritance matters enormously to me.
Both of you carry such strong individuality within a deeply close relationship. How do you navigate admiration, disagreement and honesty?
Anusha: I’m genuinely a fan of my mother, so admiration is easy. Most of our disagreements happen over domestic logistics. She likes everything organised down to the minute, while I operate with a more instinctive “it will get done” philosophy. But I understand where her anxieties come from.
Madhumanti: I express disagreement very loudly. Anusha has certainly endured enough of my shouting over the years. But eventually we always arrive at some middle ground. There are also certain things about her that I trust completely. I know, without question, that she will look after the family and our animals no matter what happens. And my greatest admiration for her lies in her craft.
Hair: Kaushik Kundu
Makeup: Arjya Poddar
Stylist: Rudra Saha
Jewellery: City Girl
Venue: The Bhawanipur House