Today

He never let me look into his eyes. I kept trying to read into them ... eyes that were as deep as the sea, what did they conceal within the waves? I was perhaps looking for some tangible yet unseen emotion that I sensed from him. Whenever we talked, he never looked in my eyes. Once I playfully told him “I seem to have caught something in my eye. Can you please help?” He blew gently in my eye and looked away before I could look in his eyes.

Whenever we met he used to talk about his work, his schedules, his family, his aspirations ... But whenever I asked him about myself he would just lock his words away within himself. Despite that I enjoyed spending time with him. It was not what we talked about but rather his company that mattered more to me. At times just sitting beside someone is quite fulfilling in itself. A conversation then just becomes a mere accessory to that sense of company.

One evening when we met near the seashore and walked away our discussions of a mundane daily routine, I suddenly slipped and fell. He sat down immediately beside me, touched my ankle and looked into my eyes to ask me “Are you ok? Hurt?”

Yes, finally he looked in my eyes and so did I. And what I saw lifted me and placed me high among the stars ... My heart leapt so high that it felt as if I had crossed oceans in that one single leap. But then it dawned upon me ... his reluctance to express and confess. Our nameless relation didn’t have any tomorrow to it. It was beyond a conclusion ... without a future. And with that realisation I fell in the deep abyss of truth and inevitability.

He now looked away. But I had already seen what I needed to see. We sat quietly beside each other. We may not have a tomorrow with each other but we decided to make the best of today anyway. 

Sent by God

“I am sorry but what can I do?” Lorna spread her arms in the air, looking helpless. “I have to go. Peter cannot pick up Sylvia from the school and I have to pick her up”.

“Yes Lorna, I understand but you had promised ... How am I ever to finish all this by myself?”

She just shook her head and said “I am sorry but I have to go. I will make up for this after the Christmas holidays. Merry Christmas love!”

I just sighed and then smiled at her. “Merry Christmas Lorna! My love to Peter and Sylvia. And don’t worry I’ll finish it off here.”

She beamed her lovely smile at me and left.

I was staring at the paperwork and my computer. I was supposed to leave by 3:00 but I was lucky if I could leave the office before 4:00. Might as well get to the task at hand. I picked up the list of the people whom a personalised message had to be sent by the company ... and I heard Stefan’s cough.

“Why haven’t you left Stefan?”

“Waiting for you.”

“You don’t have to. Look, you won’t be paid overtime for just waiting.”

“No! No! I no do this for money. I wait for you. We leave together. See I already sign my timesheet for 3:00.”

Stefan was a cheerful cheeky Polish immigrant who worked as an office help, though he was mostly assigned menial tasks. He had come to London 6 months back and spoke broken English.

“Stefan! Just leave! Go home!” I said and got back to sending e-mails. Most of them done, now to contact the suppliers ... the clocked ticked away mercilessly ... A few more calls to make ... And it had now started to rain. Drab London weather. It was as if the skies always cried. No wonder many people here suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder...

“You want tea?”

“Stefan! I thought I had asked you to leave!”

“Ya! You want tea?”

“Stefan! Leave right now or else I will have you fired!”

I turned around and got back to putting files and folders away. At 4:15, I looked around the office. Everything done, no work left pending. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but knew that far much more hectic activity awaited me beyond these office doors. I put on my coat, took my bag and umbrella and locked the office door. Will be back after a week of Christmas holidays. I had to renew my travelcard, pick up medicines from the chemist, had to buy some extra gift paper, some groceries ... he had invited his friends yet again for a pre-Xmas dinner ... had to go home and cook ... and I had to face the rush hour commute on the Northern Line .. and my frozen shoulder was playing up very badly. Some holiday it was going to be with all those guests being invited over almost everyday ... I forgot when I had any time for myself ... Giving everyone else no chance to complain and completely neglecting myself ... I craved some time to myself ...

“Ah! You finish!”

“Stefan! You almost gave me a shock there! Why are you still here?” I asked as I was fidgeting with my brolly. He took it from my hand and opened it in a snap. And then handed it back to me.

“Er ... I want to give you something.”

“What Stefan?”

He came close and hugged me ... the hug of a friend. And suddenly I just started crying. Sobbing at first but then warm tears just kept rolling off my cheeks. Stefan just patted me as if I were a small child. “It is okay. You cry, you feel better”.

I felt slightly lighter but foolish too. Stefan gave me his handkerchief. “You better now?”

“Yes. Thank you Stefan. I don’t know what came over me. I was ...”

“No! No! You no explain. I understand. I see your eyes. I know you sad.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t get you”.

“See, when you smile in office only lips smile. Your eyes no smile. No twinkle in eye.”

I just blinked away. I didn’t realise I could be read so easily.

“Stefan, when I asked you to leave so many times, and quite rudely too, why did you stay behind?”

His answer has stayed with me even after all these years. “Ahh that! My mama tell me ‘when someone sad ask you to go away, you never go away. That person need you most. If that person then share his or her sadness, believe my child that the Lord himself send you as an angel to that person. You are blessed by the Lord himself’. I do this for myself ... and see you feel better, no?”

I smiled. I had tears in my eyes but I smiled. The warmth of human compassion which was lost to me had lit a candle inside me. Stefan smiled back. I hugged him and said “God bless you!”

“Ah! Thank you. You take care and Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Stefan! Have a safe trip to Poland and give my love to your mama!”

We parted our ways ... He probably feeling as angelic as he was and I ... I was feeling quite light in my heart. Yes I had troubles and responsibilities but to know that God was looking out for me and had sent his angel – the thought cheered me up immensely. I promised to myself that I too would try and be “an angel sent by God” to a person in need of basic human warmth, love and compassion. 

Yes, Stefan’s answer has stayed with me even after all these years.

Finally!

How chaotic! Everyone seems to be in a rush towards fulfilling their specific or unspecific goals in life. Everyone is busy. I wish someone would stop by ... just for me. And then maybe I could tell him or her what burdens my heart ... the burden of grief that lies upon my heart so heavy that it bleeds profusely. The blood is unable to find a vent to flow out and has clotted over, bruising my heart badly. If only I could talk to someone then maybe the clotted blood will flow out as transparent water from my eyes. But everyone is busy and I have no one to share my grief with. Those that aren’t so occupied have no wish to hear my words of sorrow. “You always make us laugh, so go on and tell us some merry tales!” I prefer to keep quiet.

I am standing near the sea.

There is someone as divine as God and I tend to voice my troubles to him. He pretends not to have heard me and hence I have stopped talking to him now. I prefer to keep quiet.

I walk towards the sea.

Sometimes someone does come along and say “I have a moment or so to spare for you. Tell me what burdens you but tell it to me quick”. How am I to unburden a lifetime of almost infinite sorrow in a matter of few moments? So I choose not to say anything. I prefer to keep quiet.

I am now standing at the seashore.

It’s not as if no one at all wants to listen to me. My dear ones do take time out of their hectic schedules and ask me “what is it that bothers you?” I love them far too much to share my grief with them. What if they too have to carry the burden in their hearts once I have shared it with them? No, I could never do that. I prefer to keep quiet.

The waves of the sea lap up excitedly as if they are truly happy to see me. Following the Hindu tradition of honouring the guests by washing their feet, the waves come and touch my feet, washing away some of my sorrow and taking it with them, perhaps unknowingly. Suddenly I feel somewhat lighter in my heart. I smile and tell the sea all my troubles. It listens to me very patiently as it is in no rush to go anywhere. Out of true compassion it hugs me tightly. It lets my tears flow freely knowing that they shall be at one with the seawater.

Ah! There is water everywhere ... going over my head too ... and the sorrow that had burdened my heart for so long finally flows out of me into the sea ... with me. 

Behind You ...

The squirrel kept scurrying from one branch to another – its hectic activity in stark contrast to the peace with which I was watching it, standing beside the kitchen window. The sound of the keys turning in the lock made my eyes follow what my ears heard. You had returned from your morning walk. You kept the bunch of keys on the table and before I could ask “shall I make some tea?” you lit a cigarette and started puffing it. Perhaps you had your tea and breakfast at the local cafe. I kept the two mugs back in the cupboard. I had waited for you to have tea with you. But since you’ve already had it ...

You went in the bedroom, switched on the AC, removed your shirt and hung it on the back of the chair. You then took you notepad and your pen and sat down on the bed ... staring in the air for your thoughts that were probably floating around. I guess you found your particular thought because you started writing passionately on the notepad.

The curtains were drawn and prohibited the lovely morning sunshine from entering the room. You might find it difficult to write in this darkness. I went and opened the curtains ... and the room lit up! But you got off the bed angrily and drew the curtains again, sending the room back into semi-darkness. You then went back to the bed, piled up three pillows, rested your elbow on them and lied down on your side. I came and sat right behind you ... your bare back facing me. Your body is so tempting, so irresistibly tempting! With love I run my hand on your smooth back. But you shrug off my hand. I am beckoning you with love but perhaps you find my love annoying. I have no intention of irritating you but no matter what I do, you get irked. Well then what do I do of my feelings towards you? What do I do about my mind and my heart which constantly think of you? Your deep eyes, your charming face, your lusty lips, your well-chiselled body and, to top it all, the magic that you create with your words ... I am helplessly lost in this web of words that you weave and find myself entrapped and am unable to break free, no matter how hard I try. You have unintentionally hypnotised me with your words, unaware of the turmoil it has caused within my heart and its desires.

I think of all this and with my finger I start writing out my thoughts on your back ... I start writing a poem on you. You keep shrugging and twitching but I don’t know if you are amused or annoyed by the touch of my fingers. If we were facing each other I would have known for sure but since you have turned your back on me I can only guess. Though, to tell you the truth, I find much happiness in this. I am contented with the way things are – you sit with your back turned towards me and keep writing stories while I sit behind you and keep writing poems on you. In fact I dread to see your eyes should you turn around and look at me. What will be there in your eyes for me? Anger? My God and my angels are angry with me as such ... my fate too has been rather ruthless with me ... and if I were to face your anger I would be unable to bear it and hence would die. On the other hand, what if you looked at me with love in your eyes? I have lost everything that I held dear in this world and am too scared to possess anything anymore. I won’t be able to hold your love in my broken heart. I would be unable to bear your love too.

No! Never! Please don’t ever turn around to look at me. Your anger will kill me and your love won’t let me live.

I am contented with the way things are – you sit with your back turned towards me and keep writing stories on paper while I sit behind you and keep writing poems on you.

So cool, so calm, so serene ...

It was quite cold in there. Chilly! She couldn’t stand the cold. But everyone told me it doesn’t matter as she is no more. But she was very much there. Wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing. But yes, she was very much there.

Then she had to be taken away. How ruthlessly were her remains made to vanish from physical existence! Dust to dust ... ashes to ashes. How she burnt! How hot it had become! Everyone told me to look away. But I couldn’t. The fire from the funeral pyre was devouring her and I wanted to see the monster clearly. But my eyes hurt. And my skin burnt. Oh how hot it was!

We came back. Had a bath. Performed the rituals. But the somehow the heat wouldn’t go away. I bathed myself twice ... thrice ... I lost count. Yet the heat wouldn’t go away. Everyone was being very kind to me. Offered me advice. “Have something cold to eat and drink”. So I went to the ice cream parlour. Asked for the coldest ice cream ever. He stared at me oddly but scooped out some anyway. I was eager to know what kept it so cool. A freezer! But it was very hot to touch at! How could I expect it to cool me if it was so hot on its own? I left the ice cream and the parlour.

I had turned restless. The heat inside me was slowly eating me away. I had to cool myself or else I was afraid I too would burn away like her. Then one fateful night I happened to see the moon. The full moon! The full glorious moon! It was so calm, so cool, so serene ... no fire, no heat could touch it. I had to have the moon! Yes! If the mere sight of it could soothe my eyes then imagine what it could do to my body, my mind, my soul. How badly I wanted to touch it!

I asked the people around me as to how could I touch the moon. Mostly I was stared down upon. Few sympathised. I don’t know why. Then one kind soul guided me very lovingly. “The moon is high up, very high up! You too will have to go high up, very high up!”

I went to the topmost floor of a skyscraper. But the door to the terrace was locked. The security men stopped me from breaking it open. Why won’t they let me go?

“Why don’t you let me go?”

“Why do you want to go?”

“I want to jump and reach out to the moon.”

More security men were called and I was taken away. My family had been informed ... to keep an eye on me. Whatever for? Then one night I sneaked out of the house. Met a man - young of age and old of face. He searched my pockets for whatever that he wanted. They were empty. “Why do you roam in the middle of the night?” he asked. “I want to reach out to the moon but no one lets me. So I have run away and am looking for somewhere higher than a skyscraper” I said. “Go to the hills. They are higher than the skyscrapers of the city” he said.

So off I went to climb a hill. I met many people clothed in saffron robes. Atop the hill I saw a temple. Maybe there was a secret escalator in there that took people up to the moon? I went in. Saw a stone idol of a woman. A ferocious looking woman. Everyone was bowing down to her and was offering her coconuts and whatnots. I, empty of heart, hands and pockets, offered her nothing. Suddenly she spoke to me, “You cannot reach the moon from here, my child. You will have to go to a higher place. Go to the Himalayas. Go to the highest peak in the Himalayas.” I bowed down and thanked her profusely but she had turned into stone again.

So off I went to the Himalayas and up I went to the Mount Everest. On the way I met many. How many people must have wanted the moon ... But it was frightfully high. Many people turned around and climbed down. Well, they didn’t deserve the moon anyway. Finally I reached the summit. The top! And from here I could jump and reach the moon! “So you think that you can jump and reach the moon?” I looked around. An old monk, dressed in white robes and sitting on a white stone, had questioned me. I looked around. The place was strewn with corpses. They had gone blue but hadn’t gone off. The ice wouldn’t have let that happen. I turned to the monk, “Yes! I want the moon. For surely it will put the heat out that is burning within me.”

“They too tried. But failed. I advised them not to jump. But they never listened. And now look!” he said, pointing towards the corpses. And I looked sadly. The corpses were sad. Disappointed. “Then how do I reach out to the moon?”

“Look within yourself. Man unfortunately believes only what he sees. For him what is not visible simply does not exist.”

“How can such a big moon exist within me?”

“See, I knew you wouldn’t believe. When you look in the mirror do you see your heart, you lungs, your stomach? No. But does that mean they are not there? Look in the mirror. And you shall find what you seek”. I thought I could ignore him and jump for the moon ... but then I would probably become a corpse too. And if I became a corpse, I wouldn’t be able to do anything. Corpses rarely achieved anything. Some corpses achieved freedom from a painful life. Some people achieved peace when someone turned into a corpse. But by itself a corpse was pretty much useless.

“You think I should go back?”

But the monk wouldn’t answer. The corpses just stared. So I left. On my way down I saw many people climbing up. I could have warned them but I wasn’t a monk. So I let them be.

I reached down. Back to heat! Get rid of it. Moon! Get it. But how? I looked at the moon and cried. The tears rolled out. And then I cried some more. More tears rolled down my eyes and I collected them in a plate. I was told that tears are precious. Maybe I’ll sell them. But what about the moon? The monk had said, “Look in the mirror.” I went and looked in the mirror. Lifeless. Just stared back. Just reflected back ... reflected ... Oh yes! Reflected!

I quickly took the plate of tears out in the garden ... and caught the reflection of the moon in the plateful of tears. I had conquered! I had reached out to the moon! It was captured in my tears and I touched it. And finally the fire within me died... leaving me so cool, so calm, so serene.

Are you now feeling better, my child?

I sat on the bench, waiting for him to come. I had reached earlier than our agreed time. Maybe because I had a mind full of questions that needed answers and unless I got them, my life was going around in circles. It had lost its sense of direction. And as far as I thought he was duty bound to answer me. We hadn’t talked to each other for 3 months now. Or rather it was me who was avoiding him. The mere mention of his name felt like pieces of broken promises ... scattered all over ... for me to walk barefoot on. Oh! How they stung! I refuse to believe that he was unaware of my agony. But I finally decided to let him clear things for once and all.

The air was quite chilly and I rubbed my hands ... And suddenly I felt warmth. I knew he was beside me. His luminous presence hardly went unnoticed. I stiffened. Refused to look at him. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder. Tears brimming up my eyes. A dam burst somewhere inside me. A dam full of murky hurt, fluid sorrow, drowning loss. Flowed out ... overwhelming me. I sought for tangible pieces of grief but all that I tasted was the salt of my own tears.

He sat down beside me. “Are you all right my child?”

“As if you care!”

He flinched at my words. “I do care for you. I listen to you always, even when you don’t address your words to me. I keep an eye on you always, whichever path you choose. That you don’t believe this is what we are here to resolve today.”

“Really? If you cared then you wouldn’t have taken my mother away from me so brutally. She was the one person who cared for me the most, who loved me the most, who selflessly wished the best for me. Now thanks to you I have no shoulder to cry upon, no hands to pat and console me, no lap in which I can rest my head. That night I had called out to you with all my heart and soul. I reprimanded those who said I was keeping false hopes. I cried inconsolably and not once did you to choose to stand by me. Those calls ... Those prayers ... All for nothing. Not only did I lose my mother that night, I also lost all faith in you.”

I sniffed and continued “There are people who are living their life with each foot in the threshold of either world. But you spare them. People who harm others and do not think twice before committing a heinous crime, say unkind words, see and yet ignore evil, are selfish and rotten to the core. Yet you spare them. People who are living but are unaware of life for it is nothing more than a punishment for them and their body is nothing more than a vegetable. But of course you spare them. So then why didn’t you spare my mother? She had known nothing else but to love her family, help those in need and had refrained from the common evils practised by many. Why? Why didn’t you answer me?”

And I sobbed ... For it was the only thing I did ever since my mother passed away.

His hand was still on my shoulder. “Don’t cry my child. Your mother is watching you and you are hurting her soul by grieving continuously. She loves you. Each one of you. I had to take her away. Believe me, it would have taken an enormous amount of strength for you to see her suffer physically. For each time that you prayed to me I gave her a minute more. But I myself cannot go against the very laws of nature that have been made by me.”

He ran his hand over my head. “I cannot reveal the future to you but you must believe me when I tell you that a chapter had to be ended in order for a new chapter to start. I had to change the course of the stream of all your lives – you and your siblings. And in order to achieve this I had to do what was necessary.”

“There is nothing wrong with our lives. Why mend what is not broken?”

“That is what you think. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“I just know that I miss my mom and my heart aches for her. I just want her back. And you were the only one from whom I had expected anything at all. You manifest yourself in female forms too. So I just find it hard to believe how you could never comprehend a woman’s loss in terms of motherhood” I almost whispered.

He now got up. His eyes and demeanour had turned slightly grave. Perhaps he was weary of explaining himself to me over and over again. “You will have to continue life without her and you will have to accept this loss. Your refusal, your stubbornness to do so is hurting all those who care for you. And you, my child, are surely not that selfish. One more thing – you keep saying ‘my mother’. She was your mother in this birth, in this form. She has taken other forms previously and will possibly be reborn many times over too. In every birth she may have been a son or a daughter, a brother or a sister, a friend, a loved one, a spouse, a father or a mother, a grandfather or grandmother, a nephew or niece ... But in every birth that she took and will take, one thing will remain constant – she will be my child, always and forever. Therefore do not grudge my taking her away ... For she is rightfully mine. Just as much as you are. Just as much as every being is.”

He looked at me with love and said “You have to forge ahead. Think of your mom and let the flame of her love brighten up your heart, especially when life feels like a dark stormy night. She is your guardian angel. Always protecting you and all of her children. Stop grieving and look carefully at what I have planted around you.”

I closed my eyes and opened them again ... to see a lovely sunshine ... to see birds chirping away while perched on tall trees ... to see flowers swaying around me ... the air carrying the scent of those flowers ... butterflies hovering around ... and He had gone. I smiled. After what seemed like eons ... I actually smiled from the heart. He had left a lightness in my heart, in my soul. And I managed to hold the hand of a passing shadow ... shadow of a person yet unknown to me ... knowing well that I was being watched over by Him and both my guardian angels – my dad and my mom.

Love ... wonderful love!

His hair curled so lovingly around his hairline. A few grays here and there. I never let him cut his hair too short. Because I loved running my hands through his hair. His eyes - the love that was mirrored in his eyes whenever he saw me ... Lust? Love? I don't know. But I loved the way he eyed me up. His sharp aquiline nose ... His angular jawline ... It seemed as if God had sculpted him with love, leisure and some wine. Every time I saw him I kept falling in love with him even more. The intoxication of beholding him was so heady! And his lips! Oh his lips! They touched my body with hunger ... igniting desire from deep within my soul. Loved the smell of the sweat that oozed from his body when he made deep lustful love to me ... 
I whispered kisses on his face and his neck. He stirred ... Should I kiss his smooth back? Or should I let him sleep? His neck, his shoulders, his chest ... speckled with my love bites. I ran my finger through the marks my nails had left on his back. "Honey! Your nails!" and I managed to say "Sorry! Can't help it!" and dug them even further as he pushed harder. The thought made me smile and I kissed him on those marks. He stirred again. With sleepy eyes he said "Good morning my cherry! What's the time?"
"Time enough for a morning round" I said as I started kissing his chest while my hands caressed his warm body. He smiled, reached for his phone and sat up straight. "It is 8 already? I have to reach by 9. Oh honey why didn't you wake me up?"
"If I did then I would have cheated myself of these precious minutes ..."
He kissed my forehead and got off the bed. "Please don't cook breakfast for me". And he went for a shower. I went in the kitchen. Put tea on the boil and started cooking omelettes and toast. Strong tea - just the way he liked it. Fluffy cheesy omelettes - just the way he liked them. After all didn't he do things in the bed just the way I liked them?
He came out of the washroom ... towel wrapped around his waist. Seeing him like this makes me go really weak in the knees. To breathe his manliness ... To kiss and taste the salt of his skin ... To hug him so tightly that I could sense his heartbeat ... To wrap my legs around him so tightly ... I felt warm inside. I wish I could rip the towel off his sensual body.
Closed my eyes and went back to getting the breakfast ready on the table. 
"Tea is ready!"
He came and stood behind me, sliding his hands around my waist and kissed my neck ... "Are you sure kissing me there is a good idea, my bijli ka khamba? Especially since you are in a hurry?" He was my Bijli ka Khamba because I found his touch electrifying and it would send little shock waves all over my body.
He laughed and sat down for tea. " I told you not to cook breakfast. Tea would have been fine on its own."
"After squeezing out your energy it is only fair that I compensate and replenish it. Five times in a night and I can't believe you are not hungry." 
He smiled ... That devilish smile!
"Come sit beside me. So, what will you be doing today? Anything special planned?" He asked while buttering the toast.
"Nothing much. Might go to the temple."
"Temple! Why?"
I answered with a twinkle in my eye "To ask for forgiveness from God. For our sins".
But I wish I hadn't said that. For he put his fork down and looked at me with hurt in his eyes. "Tell me - do you think of our relationship as sinful?"
"What? No Manu ... I didn't mean that. I was just joking. Really."
"You know I am not as good with words as you are. And I don't how to express my emotions the way you do. So let me tell you in simple words - you mean the world to me. For each and every moment that I spend with you - whether making love or just being beside you - I am thankful to God." He took my hands and cupped them. "You have given me a reason to live. You have made my life beautiful. I was living before I met you but I started living life after I met you. It is only the fear of losing you that is making me follow your wish of not marrying you. I love you."
I sensed the tremor in his voice. "Manu, I am sorry. No I don't think that what we are doing is sinful. I just know that we love each other truly and passionately. As long as no one knows about us no one is hurt. But if you marry me then we will hurt a lot of people and I don't want this negativity in our relationship. I love you too."
I got up and gave him a back hug. "I thought you had to reach by 9".
"Oh yes!" He got up, hugged me and said "Will message you later".
"What time are Suman and Raghav coming?"
"They will be coming by 10. I am glad she went to Nagpur for a few days. I truly needed a break."
"Don't say that. I am sure she loves you and deeply cares for you", I said albeit a bit cheekily.
He tapped me on my head and said "I bet you are enjoying my misery. As long as it brings a smile on your face my cherry!"
We kissed again. He got in his car and drove off, waving me through the mirror. Leaving me behind with a lovely peaceful smile - a smile that a night of fulfillment brings. He came in my life when I was falling apart ... had gone to pieces. His love glued all the broken parts together and made me stronger. I was an empty decorative earthen pot and he filled me brimful with his love. That love, at times, overflowed from my eyes as tears. Tears of contentment ... Of knowing that someone somewhere always loves me. He soothed my soul whenever he touched me with love. My life is a beautiful musical story because of him. Love didn't mean owning something. Just being there for someone. Why give it a name? Love without trappings ... without boundaries ... Wonderful love!
By the way, Suman is his wife and Raghav is his 8 year old son.

Strength really?

A cold morning. Cold enough to layer up wisely and yet not cold enough to deter me from a morning walk in the park. A morning walk is like a hot cup of tea for my mind. Sat in the park for a while. Saw a dedicated line of ants marching their way ... carrying crumbs, a dead bug. What the ant carries must surely be twice its weight. Strength! Amazing strength!

Strength helps us build. Helps us fight ... Or maybe it leaves us weak?

My neighbour of many years has been living with a demanding husband and caring for a cranky mother-in-law, a woolly-headed father-in-law, two petulant children and other extensions of the family. She never ceases to amaze me. Deals with the people in her life with a patience that is unknown to me. I have seen her cry but only to be greeted with a cheerful smile next time around. Her family demands of her and expects of her the world served on a golden platter, without showing much appreciation for it. How? How does she do it? And why does she do it all for them?

Yesterday I met her at the local temple yesterday after a long time. She knows I go there not as much to bow my head to the superior one but rather to donate old belongings to the charity.
"How lovely to see you after such a long time!"
"Yes. Been away to India. How are you and everyone in the family?"
"Oh they all are fine. Pankaj is going to Germany next week as part of his business expansion".
"Oh ok. And how are you?" I asked again. "You often tend to forget yourself when you care for so many. So tell me have you poisoned your mother-in-law yet?"
She laughed. Her laughter carried the words 'wish I could'.
"You know I have always admired your strength. You cater to your husband's likes and dislikes, wishes and wants. You wait hand and foot on your parents-in-laws only to be told you are doing your duty and that too very unsatisfactorily. Your kids treat you no better. I admire your strength because frankly speaking if I was in your place I would have given a severe tongue-lashing to the hubby, would have fed innocent looking stuffed brinjals with not-so-innocent poison to my in-laws and would have twisted the ears of the little devils till they learnt some manners. I will never know from where do you get the strength to put up with these characters and their follow-ups!"
There! I said it! And she stared. And I thought maybe I should have held back some of the outburst. And yet she still stared. A 'sorry' was inching its way towards my lips ...
"That's strange."
"Strange?"
"Strange because it has been rather me who has been looking up to you and your strength."
"I am sorry but I really didn't get you."
She sighed and said "you live pretty much on your own. You earn and spend it on your family. No one to ever buy anything for you ever. You cook and eat on your own. No one to ever ask you if you have had your meal and no one to cook a meal of your preference. No one to treat you to a movie or an outing.You alone make all the decisions with the full acceptance of responsibility of the same. Even when unwell you have no one to tend to you. No, it isn't me who is strong."

I was silent. I had never thought of things in this manner. 
She continued "I find it easier to bury my wishes rather than stand up for them. I have never known life any other way. I know I am weak but the thought of being on my own scares me, so much that I would rather put up with my so-called ungrateful family. It is easier to toe the line than cross the line."
"I don't know about that. But I do know that had I been in your place I would have left my husband and his family. I would never have had this strength of endurance".

We left it at that. She went off to buy groceries and I went to the bank.

But we didn't leave it at that. At least I couldn't. A little talk is all it took for me to see a different perception of strength.  The thresholds of endurance differ so drastically. Or is it something that we perceive to be demanded of us as the situation arises?

One needs strength to confess and strength also to build a fortress around emotions ... Strength to stand alone and strength to seek support ... Strength to take your own decisions and strength to follow someone else's decision ... Strength to hold on and strength to let go ...

I am probably an ant as well. What others may see as strength is something I do out of necessity rather than choice. Because if given a choice I guess I would prefer being weak.