Distant Lands

Thousands of miles away from home...at a place I call my home away from home, it feels good to be able to pen my thoughts after all this while.

India, my land - just as my plane touched down, I felt the same tingle I always feel! Home at last, I thought. Away from all the stress, the routine, the phone calls, the emails, and the dirty politics - hah! what a relief.

The first sight of my parents waiting eagerly just for a sight of me, rather us - the warm hugs, the tears of joy, everything subsided as soon as the car entered the traffic. The honks, the traffic, the abuses between the drivers - everything felt nostalgic for the first 24 hours. The intrusive neighbours came unannounced and hugged me saying they were so glad to see me :-)

The mosquitoes sang their welcome too, but I must admit that they have kept my little one occupied - she runs after them, trying to chase them from biting her!

The sights, the sounds, the smells - everything felt wonderful for the first few hours. Wasn't this what I always missed, I thought. As soon as I reached home, I ran up the stairs to the terrace and sat on my favourite spot on the water tank under coconut tree sipping my mom's filter coffee! Heaven - I thought. I didn't want anything more...

My excitement did not last more than a day - I still love everything around me, and would never want to leave here. But, I realized with each passing day, that I miss home - my home!

It hurts to think sometimes how your own kin become distant - and how your own world becomes different even from those who you thought you would always share it with.

The other day, as the car stood at a traffic light the sight of a very poor woman feeding her little child shook me - it was a very touching sight. The love I saw in her eyes as if her's was the most beautiful child in the world, and the same look of contentment in the child's eyes as he fed from her told me only one thing - it was the same everywhere. There was nothing different in the basic things of life -love knew no geaographical boundaries. It was universal.

The hunger I saw, the anger, the pain - everything I believe is universal. There are no geographical boundaries, no language, no barriers.

The truth that hit me was simple and straight - there is no running away from any of it - ever. It is your's for keeps...no matter where you go. There is no running away from it. Period. You carry your world with you, wherever you go...

Like they say every man to his own...

Speaking The Truth

Growing up, I had heard that it was important to tell the truth at all times - I thought yeah right, how can I tell the teacher that I wasn't really sick, but had gone to attend a wedding? I would be punished.

Then, my mom said that it was very difficult to tell the truth always - I thought why mama? it is so simple - at the age of ten, when asked why I was late from school -I had stood up and told my parents that I had gone to my friend's place after school, because she had a new puppy and I wanted to see it. It was simple. But yes, I had gotten a beating from them on that one. Then, I realized - I should have lied. It was indeed difficult to tell the truth.

Mama said - at least try and tell the truth always. Especially, when it has to do with someone you care about. I thought - doesn't it make it all the more difficult?

Well, during the course of life, I realized that truth was more powerful than what I thought it to be. It had the power to destroy and the power to heal at the same time. I realized that the biggest gift you could give to anyone you really cared for, is to tell them the truth - at all times.

The subject is too vast and too deep - but I couldn't resist attempting to hover around the tip of this iceberg. One can write volumes on this subject - but, I have kept it to very plain, simple thoughts - because truth is simple!

The following is a very nice poem I laid my hands on..read on..


SPEAKING TRUTH
By Jesa MacBeth

It is possible to speak truth in anger.
When so done, people tend to hear the anger and not the truth.

It is possible to speak truth in arrogance.
When so done, people tend to hear the arrogance
and not the truth.

It is possible to speak truth in deceitful ways.
When so done, people tend to sense the deceit
and take the truth for more deceit.

It is possible to speak truth in loving kindness.
When so done, people tend to hear the love and the truth.
Or so it seems in my experience

The Second Death

The monk hurriedly reached the monastery - there was about half an hour before the prayers began. He gently lifted the piece of cloth around his mouth to fit in place -today, was the day when he couldn't speak. Silence was said to help him focus his thoughts inwards, and on the greater force in this universe - devoid of all worldly distractions.

With nothing else to do, he walked over to the water area, to get a drink and refresh himself. The sun beat down mercilessly, and everything in sight had turned brown from green. There was silence all around except for the sounds of twigs crackling and the occasional chirping of a bird.

As he took a sip of the cool water from the palm of his hand, he thought "the necessities of a man are so primal - food, water and shelter. The minute these are met with, he starts to find ways to complicate his life". A small chirp from a bird almost sounding like a cry interrupted his thoughts, and he looked in the direction where it came from.

On the branch of a Birch wood tree, sat a little bird with a twig in it's beak. The branch was bent in an arch, and a part of it was over the water. A closer look at the bird revealed that it was a little sparrow, it's head almost the size of it's puny body. In it's tiny little beak, it precariously held a twig, and was trying very hard to inch towards the upper part of the branch.

The monk stood there, and watched the sparrow struggle with the weight of the twig. He then realized that the little sparrow had a broken limb and had deep wounds around it's neck, as if it had been held in a very firm grip of a bigger animal or a bird. A quick look at the top of the tree revealed an eagle sitting, smacking it's claws. It seemed like the little sparrow had slipped from it's claws, and had fallen to the lower branch - there it had found a twig, and even in it's wounded state was trying to help fortify it's nest. The eagle waited for the right time to pounce on it's prey...

A shiver went up the monk's spine, when he took in the whole scene. The little bird was trying to do something for it's nest, and it's kin even when it's own existence was questionable - and at risk?. "Is this even natural?", thought the monk. What or who would do this - what kind of force within drove this little sparrow to these limits?

While the whole scene seemed to hang by a thread, where the slightest movement in any of the characters would create an imbalance and the result could be anything, the monk didn't know anything better than to hold his breath himself - afraid to hurt anything or afraid to be a spectator to the end result.

"Ram, catch me...common you are so slow..." The voices were that of four children, chasing each other. The lead boy seemed to have the coveted ball in his hand - the rest were chasing him. Innocence at it's best - unaware, and oblivious of the situation. Innocence - thought the monk.

The boys stopped right under the tree and were panting as they struggled to catch their breath. "Let us drink some water" said their leader - a plump boy with a very cherubic face. He drank some, and that was when he laid his eyes on the sparrow. "Hey, look everyone! A sparrow! Look, look at how slowly it is moving" He screamed with excitement. There was a big flutter above at the sudden screams, and the monk lifted his head to see the eagle fly away. What a relief, he thought.

Before he could look down and react, the leader of the boys had taken some stones, and was pelting them at the sparrow! No! No! the monk couldn't really scream, because of his vow of silence that day - but he waved his hands frantically - but there was no stopping the boys...

First, the limbs were broken. Then the stones hit it's head. One, two, three stones, enough to smash it. It reeled for just a bit, lost it's balance and fell to the ground. Fell right at the feet of it's aggressors. They knew no bounds then - their prey right at their feet!. The emotions on the faces of the boys were indescribable - their barbaric joy driven by their innocence, fueled by their ignorance, and something that seemed to spiral higher and higher, proportionate with the pain the sparrow suffered.

The last stone to hit was on it's small breast - it was so powerful that it cracked the tiny thing open! Whoosh! gushed the blood out...red all around. Coating the grass, the kid's foot and the the dirt road. The tiny heart seemed to give way - to the cruelty, to forces that were beyond it's tiny capacity - it's existence, it's love did not seem to have any place or value.

The monk stood rooted - crying and in shock. "You don't belong here little one.." he silently prayed...was all he could think.

The Sun had begun to set - the little boy ran towards his home sobbing - for what? No one knew. The monk walked slowly towards the monastery...

I always had thought everything in this Universe ends only once. But, did you know you could die again even after being dead? Yes, just when you think you have hit the bottom, and think that you could build a tiny little world of your own there, at that level, the forces that are stronger than you can shake it, rock it and break it all over again...and you slip further down. Will that be the end? Will that be the rock bottom, and you won't slip further deeper...I doubt it...

That is why I think you could die over and over again even after being dead...a million times...there is no end...

The Mirage

During moments of self-introspection, after all thoughts belonging to all the categories - pity, sympathy, love, anger, affection, friendship, motherhood, and what else, have subsided, and have swept over me, the last one to go past me is always one of being tired - tired of chasing something.

The burden of mere existence I guess. The little games, the lies, the fake realities, the unrealistic dreams, the greed to live and not let live - nauseate me...

I always wonder what everyone one of us is running after. Don't we all believe we have a goal so well defined, and that we are so in control of things around us?

But, how painful are those moments when the realization of how small our existence really is, sets in? How many of us have even experienced such humbling moments, where we realize how atomic we are in the grander scheme of things?

There is an eternal quest in search of having it all...where is the end?

Among the various stages to this ultimate realization, Jnana Yoga is first must. It fundamentally teaches two things:

Viveka - Discrimination: The ability to differentiate between what is real/eternal (Brahman) and what is unreal/temporal (everything else in the universe.)

Vairagya - Dispassion: After practice one should be able to "detach" her/himself from everything that is "temporary."

Detachment from everything is what has been emphasized upon over and over again in all of Vedanta to be able to achieve eternal bliss.

I was very impressed by the following excerpt from Vivekananda's speech on Our Real Self (take the time to read it):



Great is the tenacity with which people cling to the senses. Yet, however substantial they may think the external world in which they live and move, there comes a time in the lives of individuals and of races when, involuntarily, they ask, "Is this real?" To those who never find a moment to question the credentials of their senses, whose every moment is occupied with some sort of sense-enjoyment--even to them death comes, and they also are compelled to ask, "Is this real?"

He further says:

We may talk about seeing nothing beyond and keeping all our hopes and aspirations confined to the present moment, and struggle hard not to think of anything beyond the world of senses; and, perhaps, everything outside helps to keep us limited within its narrow bounds. The whole world may combine to prevent us from broadening out beyond the present. Yet, so long as there is death, the question must come again and again, "Is death the end of all these things to which we are clinging, as if they were the most real of all realities, the most substantial of all substances?" The world vanishes in a moment and is gone. Standing on the brink of a precipice beyond which is the infinite yawning chasm, every mind, however hardened, is bound to recoil and ask, "Is this real?" The hopes of a lifetime, built up little by little with all the energies of a great mind, vanish in a second. Are they real? This question must be answered. Time never lessens its power; on the other hand, it adds strength to it.

[Concluding Part III] - A Fist Full of Memories

I stood there in the darkness for what seemed like an eternity. The rain had turned to a slight drizzle. The moonless night, with the rain and the clouds still dark and ready to burst into a downpour seemed significant - so akin to where I stood in my life. I had no idea what time it was...

Looking at the terrace wall, a distant memory tugged at my heart - long forgotten, yet so fresh. I remembered that late evening when Varun was visiting on his vacation, so many years ago - me and Varun stood on the terrace. The sun had just set, and the sky seemed reluctant to let go of the million hues it was painted with, and turn dark. It seemed to hold within it all the beauty, the serenity - resplendent in all the colors of life! Who, or what in this nature would like to turn ugly from being beautiful?

Varun stood very close to me, and together we were looking over the terrace wall into the neighbor's courtyard, as they celebrated the homecoming of their newly wed son. As we watched, I could feel Varun's breath next to my ear as he moved closer to take a better peek. There was a slight breeze that had picked up, and my hair danced with it. Before I knew, Varun gently pushed the wisps of hair from my forehead, and tucked them behind my ears and gently touched my cheeks, and whispered "This is all I need Chinni Ma. Nothing else matters". He then said "Chinni Ma, I wish I could marry a girl just like you in every way" it was a mere whisper - the softest voice I had ever heard. My heart was racing. I could hardly breathe. He knelt down, moved my sari just an inch higher from my ankle, and put my foot in his lap. He looked up at me and our eyes met - as if to ask for permission - I did not realize that I simply nodded. He ever so gently kissed my toes. Time stood still - for just a few seconds. I found my voice, and could barely utter "Prince, I can't let you do anything that's not right. Please leave". He started to say something...but, stopped. He stood up and quietly left, leaving me alone to stand there. That was all that happened, on that fatal night.

I was swept off my feet - in one unguarded moment, I had crossed over into an unknown land, and this relationship had touched forbidden boundaries, or rather had hit an unknown, undefined note - a land dictated by a different set of rules. Rules not made before, but that were made by me, made by us, just in an attempt to define this new bond we had formed. Right here, right this moment.I stood there and cried after Varun just turned and left - I was confused, I felt loved, and at the same time I hated myself - the emotions engulfed me wave after wave.

But, for a woman who was alien to her husband's love, did not know another man's affections, this was something I completely couldn't comprehend. I simply couldn't tag this feeling - the woman in me was touched, and a rhythm that I did not even know existed in me, was played upon - that's all I knew. Nothing beyond that. It was pure in it's truest form - untouched and untainted. I didn't even know what it was.

It was May 04.

As the days passed, I nor Varun tried anything to address what had happened that night, nor did we ever try to give a name to our relationship. I loved him as my son, a brother and I don't know what else, and all he had for me was love.In the end it did not matter.

Today, after all these years standing here, I did not not even know what I was grieving. I knew I had lost something, someone - but who? I didn't know.

I left the next morning back to where I belonged to. Needless to say, Bindu made sure that Varun did not even come to see me off at the railway station. One last look at him, and I never looked back.The thought that I may never ever see him again tore at my heart - but, other than still feel all the love for my baby, I was helpless.
No one else needed me. Harsh, but a bitter pill I had to swallow - life had given me the strength to endure.

I woke up every morning at about 4:00 AM - couldn't sleep after that. Dreams, nightmares, Varun, Arvind - people running, crying, laughing...it was endless torture.

"Chinni Ma, half a cup of coffee please..."

"Chinni Ma, you are my everything....my mom, my sister, and I see every relationship in you". Varun at 21 had said that. Innocent and mature at the same time. All I had done was pat him on the head, and kiss him on the forehead, and thought - my baby.

"Chinni Ma, will you come visit me regularly when I move away on my job postings?"

"Chinni Ma, I'm sooo hungry. Can I eat two packets of oatmeal please?". That was the cutest thing I thought. Feeding him had always given me an unknown satisfaction of being full myself.

"Chinni Ma, can you make this special vegetable rice for me?". For whom would I make it now?

Every single day was a torture - every single day or date had painful memories and was an anniversary of something.

On Jan 22nd we did this, on Oct 27th something else, some other day was special because of something else...where was the end to these memories?

The roads, the foods, the coffee, the setting sun, the moonlight, the hiking trails - everything that existed in nature and touched one's heart reminded me of Varun.

What do I do with these memories? where do I store them - forever? I used to make of note that I had to say this to Varun and that to him - but, never got a chance to...what was I supposed to do with all those untold things, all those things that remained undone...? what was one supposed to do?

He would hold my hand and say "Chinni Ma, I always want you beside me. I will always be there for you - no matter what happens"

So, Varun what happened? How did everything suddenly change? I don't hold anything against you - but, how can everything vanish? It defied all logic - maybe one of those things I never understood.

It was a loss of a relationship and also the loss of the person I was so familiar with and enjoyed being with - both at the same time. Which was a greater loss, I didn't know.

I had now after all this time, found a card from Varun in a book that he had been reading when he had come home on that vacation and when the incident on the terrace had happened...in the cared, he simply said he was sorry ...maybe for what happened on the terrace, or sorry for something else, I would never know.

Sometime I wonder who had made the rule that every form of love had to be bottled and labeled? Why did we need a definition for everything? Wasn't love enough for us humans, in a world fraught with hatred, deceit, and double standards? Maybe I was wrong...

Back home, I continued to live - and put on a brave face. It was mere existence. I did as was expected, by the same society- but, there were only three things on the face of this earth that knew the absolute truth on what I was going through. And, those were- God, me and my pillow.

I believe that only people who have lost something can really fully appreciate the presence of a beautiful relationship or the absence of it. The sensitivity and the depth that comes with a loss is not achievable for someone otherwise - I always thought they lived fake, make believe relationships - shallow and hollow. I still think so.

Varun called me just once after that - maybe to see if I was alive. "Chinni Ma, I'm leaving the country and going on an overseas posting. Just wanted to let you know." I quietly said "okay Varun". He immediately said "Chinni Ma, are you okay, take care of yourself". I said "Varun, take care and be happy - always" He asked me some other questions for the next 5 minutes or so - but, I had stopped hearing what he was talking... I said nothing . I had nothing else to say to him.

The Sun was setting, and it was Dec 31st. The last day of the year. The Sun had set in my life too. Gone forever was my laughter, my little desires, and everything else with it. There was no tomorrow to look forward to...tears burned down my cheeks and my throat...

Me and my memories will continue to live on - I will keep all of them tightly held in my fist - my fistful of memories....

Looking out at the sunset, I thought - I had heard that little baby birds leave the nest once they learn to fly...the mother bird actually prepares them for the flight...and it occured to me that I had done the same too. But, had anyone noticed the tears in the mother bird's eyes after the flight of it's fledgling?...

The skies are vast and blue and open..infinite, with no boundaries, no rules, no expectations...

I silently wished - may you soar as high as your wings can carry you little one - higher and higher...


[The End.....]

Part II - A Fist Full of Memories

Varun came to spend his vacation at home. It was spring. I did all that I could to make it the best vacation ever for him. Arvind was simply thrilled to have his son at home, and be able to spend his evenings chatting with him. Finally, they seemed to connect - on a vague level.

Those two weeks were the best ever for us a family - well, three strangers in ways unknown, tied in a bond. A bond created by us, and by fate.

The day of his departure arrived. Varun walked upto me as stood at the doorway. Paused, and looked into my eyes. He had said all he had to say. He simply walked away.

I did not hear from him for a few months. He called, and spoke to Arvind, and before I could talk to him, the phone would be disconnected.

Why Varun? Why me? I didn't know how to handle his reaction. Was it anger? Was it running away from me? Was it that he was afraid that he would go weak before me? Was he afraid of...it killed me. I needed him to tell me. I needed to know.

Nothing happened. Time did not wait for any of us...

One year after he was in the city, I got a call from Varun one afternoon. I was about to sip my hot cuppa coffee sitting on the steps, when I heard the ring. A shiver went up my spine...I could feel it...just the ring...I could almost feel his restlessness through the ringing of the phone - that had to be varun :-)

"Chinni Ma, I think I have found her!. I think I have found who I think is perfect for me...I have said YES to her yesterday. She seems to be a good girl chinni Ma. Is from the same profession as me, and I think we have a lot in common. I can't wait for you to meet her!"

I was silent. "Chinni Ma, you there....Chinni...you think I did the right thing?" I cleared my throat and said "Ofcourse, I'm sure you have considered everything, and I'm sure you will be happy with her. I can't wait to meet her". I tried to echo his excitement.

It was May 28th.

After some back and forth with the girls' parents, the wedding date was set to a date in November.

The wedding was done, and Varun with his bride Bindu were sent off to the city to build their nest.

Varun's calls became less frequent. It was understandable. Yes, he never forgot to call on all the special days.

It was my birthday that day, and Varun's call came as expected. "Happy Returns Chinni Ma.." I was sooo happy just to hear his voice. My voice trembled - "Varun, prince, where have you been? Are you okay?" Varun was silent. Just his silence said a million things to me - "Varun, what happened baby?" Silence. "Chinni Ma, things between me and Bindu are not very fine. I don't know what to do. I tried my best to do everything for her, but it seems like we are so different". I could feel the tears in his voice. My baby - he didn't have to say how much it was hurting him - it wrenched my heart to know that my Prince was unhappy. I wish I could turn the world upside down to fix it for him.

Well, things limped along, things were fine, he and Bindu continued to live their life together. But, my heart raced everytime Varun called, and leaped with joy just to know he was doing okay...

I lived my life through his in some vague, inexplainable way...our lives were tied together...

That winter, life chalked out paths for Arvind and me. Arvind set onto his last journey - the final destination that awaits all of us. He went to bed that night, and never woke up. He still had a peaceful smile on his lips when I tried waking him up the next morning. Arvind - just the way he was - never interfered with anyone, never said a bad thing to anyone, in his own world, till the end.

I mourned for sometime - mourned for our non-existent marriage, or for another human I would never see again, I don't know.

Varun came, did all that he had to do as a son, and left. I kept waiting for his calls as usual. Life seemed to be compressed between one call to the other...

One morning, he called and said "Chinni Ma, why don't you come and spend the summer with us?" I was silent.I didn't know what to say. "Chinni Ma, don't think so much about it - just come. Me and Bindu need some company....we get so bored over the weekends...everyone's family is so big and busy..." A million other excuses why I should go there. What he didn't say was - he needed me by his side. His pauses, his silence, his choice of words - everything else spoke for him.He didn't have to say it - I could read his heart and his mind. Sure baby, I'll be there.

I reached his place, and settled in in less than a day.

Bindu was a working woman, and found little time to spend much time on the house. Not her fault. I happily took over the role.

It was 6PM, and I quickly fixed a snack and made some tea that I poured into the thermos. Varun would be home anytime. He liked to have his tea and eat a bite as soon as he entered the house. And, it was my pleasure to do these little things - I did it for my baby, for my Prince.

That was when I saw the mangoes lying on the counter. Varun loved mangoes. I quickly cut a couple and kept them in the fridge - ready for Varun.

Bindu entered the house first, and Varun followed with a frown on his forehead.

We sat sipping our tea at the dining table. Bindu didn't say much. well honestly, I never had the feeling she liked me much. I didn't harbour any great affection for her either. Things were that way since the day we met. It happens sometimes betwen any two individuals. I had tried initially to build a bridge, and then got tired of it, and had silently given up. I did not have to carry this load - it was Varun's, and by his choice. That was the best I could do, and had left it at that.

Movies, city life...we kept talking on everything. Bindu was her silent self as usual. As we spoke, I felt Varun's foot on mine and stopped in the middle of my sentence. Varun liked to do that at the table, and it was something that always tugged at my heart.

Bindu stood up, pushed her cup away and stormed into the bedroom with Varun in persuit. The next thing I heard was her screaming away - "To hell with you Varun. That woman seems to be everything to you. Who am I? and what am I to you? Tell me Varun?"

I didn't hear Varun, and Bindu continued to rage. Shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs...abuses, allegations...it continued...

I debated should I go or stay out...but, I could not bear to see Varun being treated that way...nobody did that to my baby. Not as long as I was around...

I entered the room - very hesitantly. She turned to me - "You know you have entered our lives and taken him away from me. It's all because of you. I had a great marriage, and now all that Varun does is talk about you, think about you, and care for you. All the misery is because of you".

She kept sobbing and banging her head...it threw me oof the curve...

I was confused. Me? Why me? It seemed senseless. Did she even know what she was talking about? How could I snatch Varun away when he belonged to me in the first place? He was my baby - I was his mother. Step Mother. But, so what? I had done everything for him and had loved him just the way a real, biological mother would do for her baby.

And, I had given him to her. I was the one who consented to his marriage to her.So, the whole thing about the snatching part shocked me...did anyone have to snatch their babies from some one else?

Had mankind ever heard of such a thing? What was this mad woman even talking about...I felt my anger rise. I wanted to tell her a lot of things at that moment. Tell her everything she could not have even imagined...forget the snatching part. It would be nothing then in comparison...how dare she treat my baby this way, and talk like this...

I looked out of the window then. It was raining very very hard. I could feel the pulse throb at my temples. For a moment nothing moved in the room. I swallowed hard, asked Varun to get me a glass of water, and cleared my throat.

I was surpised at what came out of my mouth from that moment on for the next 4 hours. I told her everything that would make her feel better. Told her that she was the most important thing in his life...told her she was the perfect fit for him...told her I thought she was simply great, and told her a million things I didn't even mean.

Did I lie? I don't know. I did what I could as my baby's mother, to save his life - his broken relationship with her. My only instinct at that time was that of saving my baby. I had to. If I didn't do it, who would?

Could I ever harm him? No. Never.

Bindu kept screaming..."you do everything for him...you cook his favorite foods, he comes and talks to you about his problems...I'am his wife...I should be the one he should talk to.." and what not..

I thought to myself - well lady, where were you when he was breaking down? where was your love and so called selfless spirit when you broke him bit by bit with your demands, your heartlessness, and your constant nagging?

You cannot demand love girl - it happens between two people. If it doesn't happen the first time, it never will. And, it is not something you buy at the supermarket, or by throwing a tantrum like this one.

Anyway, all that did not matter. He was my baby, and I had a right to love him and protect him. This was beyond any discussion.

Varun sat there - silent and withdrawn. I could see he was shaken. Was he scared? He was in a deep thought - but speechless, while his wife kept throwing the baggage at me. I was blamed for the lack of everything in their relationship. I didn't even understand how - but, she seemed to need a target to bang on. And I was it.

I listened - I had to defend my baby - that was the only thought in my mind. My lips were sealed. My only defence? I did explain and talk and convince...well, I did my best..

My heart screamed - Why don't you speak Varun? why don't you tell her what your Chinni Ma means to you? Can you say something for once please? Tell her, that you will not have your Chinni Ma insulted this way. Can you tell her your priorities?...

He kept his head bent low...not a word...

I had never had anyone stand up for me - ever. So, Varun was no exception. I had thought he would be...but, this was my fate. So, why blame him.

I walked out of the room after what seemed an eternity...onto the terrace..into the darkness...

[To be continued....]

[Part I] - A Fist Full of Memories

"Sorry Chinni Ma" - the card read. Just seeing it and touching the card sent a shiver up my spine.

I found it afterall these years buried in a book that Varun had been reading.

Varun - my son. My step son to be politically correct. My biggest joy from my marriage to Arvind.Varun was Arvind's son from a previous marriage - he was about ten years younger than I was.

Arvind's first wife Charu was diagnosed with Multiple-Sclerosis, and had lost her mind dealing with it. Over time, she drove herself to a point of no return, and enstranged herself from all around her, till she ended her life on a summer morning...the day of her anniversary...it was 25th of May that day.

May 25th - a dark day in Varun's life...

People made their judgements of whether what she did was right or wrong, if she was good or bad, if she cared enough for her family or not. For her, nothing had mattered, she did what her heart had told her was right - she did what she believed was right...

While she was alive, in the process of suffering, Charu had forgotten that she had a baby, and had made Varun crave for maternal love...she did everything she could to drive him away from herself - maybe she thought it was better that way. who knows what she was thinking...

Me, a burden to poor parents, was married off in a rush to Arvind the minute I completed my graduation. Who cared what I had wanted in life? So, before I knew what had hit me, I found myself in a picture frame next to Arvind dressed in fine bridal attire. I looked beautiful, but if someone had paused to see my eyes, they would have seen the pain in my eyes - behind the kohl(kajal) that was used to decorate them.

The first day I landed there, Varun refused to talk to me. He sat next to me at dinner that night, but refused to acknowledge even my presence. As the meal progressed, I noticed that he hated vegetables, and was trying hard to swallow the carrots on his plate and looked like he would throw up - I quietly tugged at his hand under the table, and told him to pass the small pile to me. Quietly the carrots dissappeared into the trash! A secret pact was struck at that instant between me an Varun...

Since then, a million incidents tied us together - I forgot that Varun was not even born to me! We were the best of buddies...we shared little joys, silly secrets, and everything else that could tie two humans in our situation together.

On some nights after our meal, he would say "Chinni Ma, can I put my head on your lap and sleep for a few minutes?" On the terrace, he would bury his head in the pleats of my saree, and lay there looking at the stars - after what would seem like hours, I would feel his tears as they wet my saree. Those would be some days when Varun missed his mother, did not relate to his stranger father, and I really woulnd't know what troubled his little heart. He held on to me like a person drowning in a turbulent river would hold onto a branch of a tree. All I was aware was that this was a person who needed me, was someone who held on to me, and I meant something to him..

I called him my Prince...my baby.


"Chinni Ma, can you make me a cup of coffee please -half a cup only". "Chinni Ma, I want to join the literature club". "Chinni Ma, I've topped in the class again! Are you happy?" "Chinni Ma, I think I like this girl in my music class - what do you think of her?" "Do you think I did a good job Chinni Ma?".....always seeking my approval, my consent, my appreciation...

Right out of college, Varun found his first job in the City and moved out. The phone calls started to pour in - "Chinni Ma, guess what happened today..." I sat there wondering most nights - did my Prince have his dinner, did he like his new office, were people around him being nice to him...I had tranformed into a mom! A mom to my Prince...

[To be Continued....]

Relationships

A quote from Jiddu KrishnaMurthy on what relationships are:

"It is only when we see without any preconception, any image, that we are able to be in direct contact with anything in life. All our relationships are really imaginary – that is, based on an image formed by thought. If I have an image about you and you have an image about me, naturally we don’t see each other at all as we actually are. What we see is the images we have formed about each other which prevent us from being in contact, and that is why our relationships go wrong."

Ten Heads

Further to my previous post on this subject, the pain has really left a scar...we as a family feel it even now...

My little one wants to see this person and keeps asking for him, rather them...and the other weekend, when she said she has to talk to him right now, I had to sit down with her and explain to her that they don't want to talk to us now, because they kind of are not our friends anymore..and that upset her little heart. Mind you, these were friends of the family, and being suddenly in a position where she can't talk to him was very difficult for her to comprehend.

So, she pauses and thinks for a second, and says - "Is he now a bad guy like Ravana(an Indian mythological demon with ten heads who dis-honors Sita in the epic Ramayana) now? " For lack of better answers, I said "Kind of maybe"...

She stops playing with her doll, and with a very serene expression declares -
"Mama, I think God will punish him and he will grow ten heads soon".
I was surprised why she thought he would grow ten heads - and asked her the same. So, her answer was "Mama, that way the other good people will know he is a bad guy by looking at his ten heads, and stay away from him..."

I didn't know what to say...

But like innocence always triumphs...she still wants to see how this person looks now - now that he has turned into a different person we don't know anymore...

That's us - And me?

I'll wait with all my patience in this lifetime to see if this person grows those ten heads! Who knows...

Till then...take care of yourselves and your loved ones...

Of Liars, Cheats and Every day Heroes

We think heroes and villains exist in books and classics right? - No, they are here, amidst us - people who do the greatest sacrifices, the best for the others and still silently suffer all the misery and wounds inflicted by the others - the everyday villians who roam the earth untamed and their monsterous best...

Last week, while in the cafeteria, I met a friend whose little 3 year old was recently diagnosed with leukemia - just the sight of her shook me to the core, wanting to hold her crying for the misery she had to undergo - it felt so unfair...But, she was calm and wanted prayers from everyone - that's all. So calm and composed -I thought to myself that this was a hero - standing rock solid, and unwavering in the storm of bad times...

While people like the above fought valiantly the bigger miseries that life had to offer, an acquaintance recently joked that there should be a competition held countrywide to see who could lie the most...and little did I know that I would be thrown in situation with this person where I could see him lying through his teeth!

I thought I had seen it all - the worst that life had to offer - but I was wrong. I was once again chosen to be witness to the biggest let down, and at the same time be crucified and be called a hero!

I was conveniently made a part of a family melodrama - where I was taken advantage for being a good human and my trust and my belief in everything called a good relationship was torn to shreads with one sweeping gesture. For no fault of mine, I was hung - alive! The whole conversation was full of lies and baseless promises and that too coming from a person who I had thought was a great human and was made to realize was empty inside and had the lowest levels of integrity.

It shocked me, it surprised me, it hurt me, it catapulted me into unknown lands of pain and suffering - all for what? for trusting someone?

And with me, I dragged down my husband who had at all trying times stood rock solid next to me with all his love and with a hand around my shoulder. Never did he question me, or be angry with me - not because he does no love me. But, actually on the contrary because he loves me - that I call as strength of character. The other person whose little world I had rocked for an insensitive human, was my percious daughter - she doesn't know what has rocked the boat. But, she sure came up to me last night and wiped my tears saying " mama, I had so much milk today - I will surely grow strong and punish this bad person who is making you cry so much". This is what I call love - innocent and complete with no expectations whatsoever.

And this was a person who had pestered us to help him with his resume, had stayed in our home till 1AM in the morning to get essays written for him to apply to a business school, borrowed money from us and the list is endless - what a shame!. And, now suddenly they realize that they don't want to share their world with us? who gave them the permission to start when they wanted to and end when they wanted to?

I don't want to be a saint - I want to stand up and tell the world - tell that I was pushed into this, tell that I was used for everything that was meant to be gained, I was taken advantage of, and now when the time to stand by values, and tell the truth had come - this human chose the convenience of a lie...to conveniently continue to lead a life of so called bliss...

And the person has the audacity to stand around and laugh as if nothing happened...one of these days, I will walk up and scream the truth for the world to hear...

The beauty of it continues - when I went to talk to this person after a couple days, to find out what exactly had happened behind the scenes, I saw him again caught in a web of lies, continuing with his false promises while on the phone. He did not have the courtesy nor the courage to sit with me, look me in the eye and take the time to explain his wrong doing, and apologise for what he did to save a situation...he simply cried...for who? for the situation, for himself or for me? I don't know...

what kind of people are these? where do they come from? and where will they go? what are they made up of?

I pity them, I really do - I pity their weaknesses, their greed, their lose characters and their fake relationships - I will continue to forgive them - I will not bear any hatred nor wish them anything wrong. why? because I cannot be them and I do not want to be them - I want to be able to teach my child the good values of life - first hand not just in theory.

But, I hope sincerely that the greater force that rules this world, and we refer to as God is watching this injustice, this deceit and the lies and will surely do justice - will surely make them pay for the tears of blood shed by so many people hurt by them, make them realize that it is not enough to think they are smart to cheat people, and that they need to be human first...

I want the heroes to be cared for and the villains to be dealth with...for all the right reasons...

I have the faith that goodness will prevail - in all times and at all costs! For nothing else, but simply so that good people don't dissappear from the face of the earth, for the fear of being hurt...

The day will come...

Weaknesses

My little one came out from hiding behind the curtain...and she did not want to look me in the eye..and guess what? Sure enough, she had been eating candy and hated the fact that I had caught her. She immediately fell to the floor, kicked her tiny feet in the air, and screaming at the top of her lungs with her eyes closed shut!

I lost my temper, but immediately stopped myself - I just stood watching her and seeing what she was upto. When there was silence, and she saw that there was no sound in the room, she opened one eye just to check if I was looking at her or not...

I smiled to myself- and thought...wow! what a smart move! So, now instead of me scolding her for eating the candy, I would be pacifying her to keep her from crying and screaming!

In the end, I just held her and calmed her down. Then, she asks me "Mama, do you still love me?" Now, is this innocence or what? A minute ago I was dealing with a strategist, and now with this ball of innocence - I told her "Ofcourse, heartbeat - mama will always love you - no matter what"

She immediately breaks into a giggle and puts her right hand out - "okay mama, since you love me, can I get another candy P-L-E-A-S-E". ouch! I fell for it again! straight into her net :-) Now, I was negiotiating....then, I was blamed that I never gave candies, and that Nandini's mom always took care of her, gave her chips and coke and other junk that "big" people ate - and that it was my fault that everyone in the class called her a baby...She was only trying to grow up and be a "big girl"...

Life was good after the second candy...but, it got me thinking that aren't we all humans the same? We show our own faults to the others as their faults...

Why are we always trying to show the bad side of the other person - where, a situation arises - even a hairline crack appears like a crater!

Life is way too short...forgive, and let go...and then take a look at yourself in the mirror - you will see a beautiful person there - radiant and smiling!!!

Do Disposables Have a Heart too?

When was the last time you used a disposable fork and a knife? today, yesterday or a little while ago?

Next time you use it and are about it to throw it out - stop for a second and think - is it even remotely possible that even these disposables have a heart? How would they feel when they are used and thrown away because you no longer need them?

Funny - right? May not be - stop and think. Maybe that is what you are doing to someone else too. Is it even right?

Point to ponder...