The best lesson…

My mom has taught me a lot of things… like every other mother does. Some she was vocal about and some by example.

1. When her mother was not well, she was there to care for her no matter what. Her selfless love towards her mother was a perfect example of how children should care for their parents in their old age. In this she taught me to be there for your parents.

2. She fought with the institution to ensure my brother got admission to Bishop Cottons. She urged the principal to reduce the admission fee, borrowed money to pay it and ensured my brother was enrolled to the school. He was 6, I was 11. She vocally taught me that it was important to be fair to your children and give them equal opportunities. What they make of it is beyond her control but as a parent it was her responsibility to be fair.

3. Every night we ate together, my father, her, brother, uncle and I. At that time it was just the norm for me. She cooked, I helped, we sat down on the floor, spoke about school or current affairs or anything and ate the meal. Now when I have a family I realize the importance of that simple act. At the end of the day the family comes together and shares their day or thoughts or whatever, but essentially what builds there is a bridge of communication. Everyone talks to everyone in the family.

4. She taught me the value of money. She told me the income and expenses and how to make ends meet. I was 12. I saw her struggle quietly at various things we never had. Money is essential, but not everything. She always said, a path will carve itself out, some door will open and a door always opened.

5. The relationships you make whether blood or not are to be kept. Blood does not make anything thicker. Having people around, you can turn to was the important thing. She respected every person who she came across, whether young or old. It was of utmost importance to treat everyone with respect.

But of all that she taught me the one I value the most is what she taught me silently when she passed, that I have no control over anything except myself. That lesson walked into my life when I most needed it. I cried after she went about the what-if possibilities, when my dad told me, that it was her time to go, and there is no point in any what-ifs.

The only thing I can control is my part of the relationship with another person, my reaction to a situation or to what another person says to me, my thoughts about a situation, my words that I choose to utter, my emotions. Everything else is not mine to claim or change. This simple but powerful truth has changed my life. And she is my teacher.

I love you Ma, Happy Mother’s Day!!

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This to that to this

I need to walk in there in ten minutes

And change the credit card info

So all I have is ten minutes

To write as I think

Or think as I write

Credit card reminds me

I need to change the info on txtag

Or it will go to the credit agency for collection

Friday is pay day

Yay!

Mortgage auto deduction, yes I will check that

Saturday is his science Olympiad

I wonder if he’s done the project

I just told the other guy to put up sticky notes

That needs to be checked

His bed was delivered today

Hmmm! When do I fix that

The grey bed looks good

But dinner should be cooked before the bed

What do I cook for dinner

Hmmm! Maybe chapathi curry?

Kids may want pasta for tomorrow’s lunch

The mushroom will rot, so yes pasta

I need to do some work as well

Oh the application, reminder again today

It’s already six, and it’s been five minutes.

Now I am going blank

She wanted a photo, when should I do that

I need to go through my reminders list

That’s something I don’t like

Maybe this weekend I can watch the movie

I should write my book

Duh! It’s already March.. when? when? when?

This weekend maybe take him to Capitol

Oh shoot! Just three more weekends

I should take him to NASA before he leaves

That’s the only place he asked for

Ring ring, got a call asking for shopping list

I don’t know

Music starts to play, kadhal rojave

Such a depressing song

Time to turn off

Time to stop

Time to update my credit card inside

Time to tick off another to do..

There comes a work message…

And.. that is how a woman’s (aka mother’s) mind works.. constantly from the moment she wakes up to the second she falls asleep..

My little one

Your eyes filled with a million dreams

Tears that roll down your little cheeks

A scary dream about me shatters you

Lying down on my lap

Is your happy moment

When you are happy you have to share it

With me

When you are disturbed

Telling me reassure you

This trust you have in me

That I am there for you

How did you learn this my little one

Was it when I held you

As you took your first steps

Or when I fed you as your little tummy growled

Was it when I held you

Each time you fell ill

Or did it form deep within

Even before I held you

This trust is the strongest of the strong

That I strive everyday

My little one

To hold onto

With my every being.

Coffee house…

“Hello Shalu…”, said the male voice on the other end. Shalini recognized the voice instantly. She had heard it many times before. The number was new, not what she had saved on her phone as, ‘Think before you pick’.

“Hello Gopal…”.

“I am in Trivandrum, shall I come over for sometime?”, he asked. She wanted to ask ‘why’. Common sense prevailed and she quickly got into the skin she had shed ten years ago.

“Okay Gopal. Let us meet at Coffee Day at Kowdiar”. Shalini had moved apartments almost every other year when the rent went up. With her meagre salary from the job at the library, she could afford only so much. She tried to live as close as possible to the library, so she could walk and get her legs move. It felt eons ago when she drove her Audi car into the driveway of the public library at Houston to drop off books. She did not want Gopal to see her current living conditions.

“Ok at 4.30?”, he asked.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was 3.30 in the afternoon. It gave her enough time to dress up and get an auto to get to Kowdiar.

“Yes, 4.30 is fine.”

Shalini seldom heard from Gopal, maybe two or three times in the last ten years. She had shut that door when she walked out of the house with two bags of her clothes and jewellery. She left everything behind. The sprawling house, the luxury, friends, her job, she had left it all.

She got to the coffee house on time and saw Gopal sitting at a table. He looked younger than she remembered. Life had treated him well. She thought she should have colored her hair, she was greying everywhere. The little make up she put on, did not conceal her wrinkles. She turned to look at the glass door and saw the reflection of an old woman.

“Hello…”, she said and sat down across Gopal. He looked up from his phone and smiled.

“How are you Shalu?”

“I am good, and you?”

“I am doing very well. How did you come?”

“I took an auto. Are you in Trivandrum for work?”

“No, my wife’s family lives in Trivandrum, so I came to visit them”.

“Oh!”, said Shalini and instantly regretted the reaction.

“I have been married for about three years. She is from Trivandrum, moved to Houston after the marriage…”

“You live in the same house?”

“No, I sold it. I live in another neighborhood now.”

“Are you happy?”, quipped Shalini.

“Yes Shalu. I am happy.”, said Gopal, looking down at this hands.

“Good for you…”, said Shalu, with a tinge of jealousy and self pity.

“And you?”

“I work at the library, live with books, write when I can. It’s going on… Why did you want to meet me, after all these years?”

Gopal was silent for a few minutes. The waiter came, we ordered our coffee and I looked up at Gopal, waiting for the answer.

“Shalu… I wanted to thank you…”, said Gopal.

“For what?”, wondered Shalu.

“For leaving me….”

Shalini burst out laughing.

“I realized that when you left me, you were giving me back my freedom.”

“And you realized that now? After ten years??”

“Took me a while… you know me…”, said Gopal coyly.

“Gopal… it was obvious to me like it was to you, that we were not meant to be. I don’t know why we decided to get married in the first place. I tried in my way and you tried in your way, but the puzzle never fit. I waited for a long time for you to leave. I understood that you were scared and I had to be the one to let go. It was not what I wanted to do, but I had to do, to give us both our sanity. I was getting sucked in my depression and you didn’t want to hear about it. The best thing was to stay away. I never met your expectations, you looked at every other woman and thought what a wonderful woman and wife she is. It is not that I am bad, it’s just that I was never enough for you, I always fell short… anyways, there is no point of talking about all that and digging the past… bottomline is you are happy now. I am glad I could give you atleast that.”

Gopal took Shalini’s hands in his, looked into her eyes and said, “I am sorry”.

The waiter brought their coffee. Shalini withdrew her hand and sipped at her coffee. She avoided eye contact with Gopal and looked at others who occupied the coffee house. They drank their coffee in silence deep in their own thoughts. When Shalini was done with hers, she got up, smiled at Gopal and left the coffee house, without looking back.

Now, it was truly over.

The woman..

When I lost my mother three years ago, what I lost essentially was the woman in my life. With no sisters or daughters, I am surrounded by men, my father, brother, husband, sons. It took me a while to realize what I have been missing and how I have been trying to fill the void. Suddenly, there has been a splurge in the number of girl-friends I made. I seem to easily make friends with women now than ever before in my life. I tended to have more guys as friends than girls, till I had my mom around me. She was my friend and took any form or shape of all the girl friends I could ever have. When she left, I realize after three years, that I have been trying to fill the void by making more girl friends or trying to find facets of her personality in my girl friends. Is that what it is? Every person we cross paths with in our life carries a facet of another, in the end everyone nullifying each other? It’s a strange thought, but probably true.

Every human being needs a balance of men and women. It is not by number but the sum total of the weight of the relationship. You can have just one man and one woman, and they might balance out, sometimes you need more men or more women to balance the one woman or one man in your life.

Although I understand the reality, the child in me yearns for her. I’ve lived with this person for thirty seven years before she decided to take off. That is an awful lot of time to be used to one person. She was a habit. It is tough. There are times when I really want to talk to her, see what she thinks, maybe. Simply have her listen so I could draw strength just from her silence. That is what she was, my strength. Now at times when I realize that I have to dig out my own strength and the source exists virtually, there is a sudden onset of weakness. And I scream in my mind, ‘where are you?’.

The only most hardest and most bitter truth is death. Birth is another truth but thats a happy one and filled with hope, so it slips down the ladder. Death is a sad one and lingers on, surging in strength at times, making it the hardest truth. There is nothing you can do about it, but accept it. Everything else can be altered, worked around, convince yourself about, except death. It is the end, the physical end. As each day passes after, the truth just gets stronger and stronger. You realize that although you want to hope, you cannot. The most helpless state.

In one friend of mine I see many facets of my mother since the day my mother passed. It maybe my mind playing games with me, because I am so desperate to fill the void. This friend has spent quite some time with my mother, so she knows her. I believe that there is a purpose for each person in one’s life. Everyone walks in for a reason. There is something you draw from each other, always. You don’t understand the reason why some people are in your life until many years. Each relationship takes its time to enlighten you of its purpose. In the last couple of years, I think I may have found the purpose of my friend. She probably walked beside me these past eighteen years to give me strength at a time, when my central source called it quits. It is not a replacement, it never is. When the void is filled even by an inch, the mind calms down, atleast for a bit.

To her!

where is she?

Switch off the loud music upstairs
Its not very endearing at ten in the night
The beats drumming into her head
Like the other beats over so many days
The security watching over her entry and exit
The happy friend who turns it into humour
It is a constant wave of emotions
She rides unaware
Blank
The growing one pounces on her with attitude
Again
White haired sits mum
Words sealed in the mind
Little tantrums wants a slice of her
Each day
Every day
He beside her is riding his own wave
Clashing with hers at different depths of the sea
As she finds herself drowning, something pushes her up for air
The pillars are around, supporting like ever
All she has to do is lean
There is the dwelling, about to be born
Nurtured in the womb cared for day after day
Soon it will be born to open a pandora of memories
Where is she?
Hidden in these words, riding the waves
Sometimes under, sometimes over
The wings are tired, they want to rest
On a shoulder strong enough to bear the weight
Of lifelessness!