Tag: Truth

The Unwritten Reply

The Unwritten Reply

It was a beautiful spring morning. Aditi was determined to clear the clutter in her study, despite the temptations from her garden that was now in full bloom. Like most other women she knew, she had an urge to declutter every time she had to clear her mind off the needless muddle.

She was also tempted to tend to the shrubs in the garden. The place reserved in her garden for the Matura tea tree has never been blessed. The bush always took life and just when there was a promise of a bloom, something killed the plant. She forgot the number of times she had to uproot the shrub. It killed her every time she did it. The place was large and the conditions favorable, but the plant probably was long dead internally, like her.

This time she had planted it in a small patch of soil right outside of her bedroom. ‘The place is too small, and there is no hope for nutrition there. That patch is polluted with concrete dust’, her father had warned. Nevertheless, her precious Avarampoo shrub gave the promise of blossom, and she felt it had found its home.  However, she had not seen it in the last week that she was away. When she had enquired her mother about the plant during one of their phone conversations, all she received was a blatant reply.

She put the garden out of her mind and entered her study. She started with the first rack of her bookshelf. Behind the books on the top shelf lay a beige paper box decorated with shells. She knew what lay inside and was tempted to open it. ‘Later,’ she thought; but soon gave in. She took the box with her and settled on the floor cushion, careful not to disturb the Ikkat patterns on its cover.

She hurriedly let her hands search through the neat stack of letters inside the box. She found the one she was looking for. It was a simple light yellow envelope, now stained and battered from the decades of preservation. She opened it to read the letter for the umpteenth time.

The letter read:

Date: April 2003.

My most beloved Child,

    I hope this letter finds you in the best of health and good spirits. It is increasingly difficult to believe you will be graduating college next year. I do not know though if I would live to see that. My hand shivers constantly and I am writing this letter with the utmost difficulty.

  If there is no further correspondence from my end, know that Nana loves you with all his heart and soul. You gave me a reason to live when I was approaching my twilight years. Yes, there were other grand-children before you, but you were you. You were the only one who sat through when I opened to read a book to you all. You were the only one who was never bored of Mahabharata. You were constantly amazed by the tale.

 I do not know what life has in store for you. I see in you a luminous spark. I wish you find contentment in living, and strength and determination to cross the hurdles that obstruct your path. Always remember my child, no matter what comes in life hold on to your dignity and self-esteem. You have to know that conceit is not a harmful term.  If you face a situation when you have to put your self-respect above everything else, never have second thoughts.

May you find everything your heart wishes for, dear one. You are in my prayers today and forever.

                                                                                  Love and Prayers,                                                                                                                                                      Nanna.  

This was the only letter that Aditi had not replied to. But she read it every time she had to be sure of herself.  She pulled the letter pad from her desk and began to scribble the reply that was long due.

Dearmost Nanna,

   A decade and a half is a very long time to reply to a letter. I write because it is summer and I miss you the most this time of the year.  I miss balancing on your shoulder while trying to pick mangoes in our backyard. I miss falling asleep on your shoulders, and I miss our dinner table conversations.

 I also write because nobody is ready to listen. There is not a single human who is willing to see me as I am. They either sympathize or dismiss me as impulsive and bullheaded.

 All along, I knew marriage was not my cup of tea. I was a fiercely self-reliant soul, and I did not see myself living in harmony with a stranger that I had never met until a year before we were destined to live our lives together. Yet, I obliged.

 I thought I could sail through the storms that were aplenty. As I tackled one high-tide, the other one emerged, stronger and fiercer. Yet, I swam with the tide.

 It was idiotic of my family to believe that a lovebird could come out of a vulture’s stick nest or crevice. My life might have been destined with an Agapornis; nevertheless, the loving bird was groomed by a deadly vulture. How can a lovebird be any different when it is nursed by a vulture? I lived in a dark, unkempt cave of those birds that feasted on the living and sometimes took me for a prey. Yet I made room while offering myself.

The birth of the twins brought-in all the light I needed within the dark cave. Least did I know, my light would kindle the worst kinds of resent in the Dowager (A demon of a woman). Through most of my postpartum days, I went to bed while the acids in my stomach consumed me. Yet, I rolled with it.

I stood up to defend myself on several occasions, only to be accursed and tagged as hot-blooded and hasty. Yet, I put myself out.

True, my ex-spouse was not an alcoholic, nor a smoker. I was never assaulted physically, ever. But the wounds my mind endured are deep and intolerable. I am still healing, and I have a long way to go. Yet, I tolerated.

My palatial mansion was rather a den that longed for some light. My luxury car only wanted a companion and nothing else. My glittery jewellery longed for some honest smiles. The more I enthralled in opulence, the more lonesome I became. Yet, I fit-in.

As the girls grew, I knew I did not want them to become desolate beings. I wanted them to be the woman that Nanni was- confident, independent, strong-willed, resilient and joyful. I knew that a den is the last place to look for joy and optimism.

 Together we walked out, one beautiful morning tackling the attacks from the beast. Yes, we have scars for life. But, they are the lessons we will carry onto eternity.

  As you would say ‘Conceit is the quicksand of success.’ I do not know in the future, but it helped me overcome an enormous demon.                                                     

                                                                                   Yours (no more in distress),                                                                                                                                                     Aditi.

As she opened the window of the study, the bright, glowing buds of the Matura tea tree spread their radiance as the grey clouds converged.

A Tot Gives a Lesson in Perseverance

A Tot Gives a Lesson in Perseverance

It was a warm and sultry monsoon morning in Chennai. A sleepy suburban locality abundant in precious flora was bustling with vehicles, the numbers far too many for a Sunday morning. A Sports event attracted the sudden hustle.

This event was not a regular one. The oldest participant in the event was not more than five years old, and the youngest was barely three. After the regular inauguration and performances, it was time for the races. The competitions were carefully crafted so that they are appropriate for the tiny feet and do not harm the developing muscle.

This contest was one with a difference. There was no podium wins, and the winners were not announced. Every child went home a winner. It was just another regular event until little Miss.N stepped on the track for her race.

Like every other child, the four-year old N couldn’t contain her excitement when she was made to stand at the start of the 30-meter track. With dark hair curling close to her jawbone, a cherubic face and a radiant smile, she was a sight to behold.

Once they were motioned to start, N and her friends hurriedly dragged a coconut with the help of a hula hoop across the track. They had to walk backward, pulling the coconut all the way to the finish line. There was anxiety in the air, but these tots were determined.

It was not a simple task considering the undulating terrain, the muddy track, and the penetrating heat. Some kids finished the race in a few minutes, and some took longer. When all of the others had completed, N had barely moved ten meters from the start.

What followed next is something all those who witnessed it would remember for a lifetime. N entirely focused on the coconut and the hoop, dragged the nut very carefully so as to not let it slip away.

As the cheers grew louder, N was more determined. Not once did she lift her head to look how far she has come nor did she look around to assess the distance left. Slowly and steadily, ignorant of the blaring music and the resounding cries of encouragement, she moved towards the finish line, her valor rising with every step.

It took her close to 11 minutes to reach the other end of the 30-meter track. As she halted at the end, (carefully watched over by her teachers), the 400 odd spectators gathered at the venue rose to their feet.

With her head held high and flushed cheeks, clinging on to her mentor, N walked back to the rest area. As she walked, the thundering applause grew louder and so did the whistles creating a melodious cacophony. While some eyes turned moist, others stared in awe.

Every onlooker assembled there witnessed a tale of diligence and persistence in that short span of time. A four-year-old taught the others well ahead of her in The Race of Life what it means to stay focused, resolute, and tenacious. In the end what matters the most is that you have a purpose and finish the race with dignity.

“The Child’s way of doing things has been for us an inexhaustible fountain of revelations” – Maria Montessori


                              If I were a Pious and a Passionate Hindu….

   Devotion is an often misconceived notion. This misinterpretation is more complex when one is religiously passionate. If I were one of those extremely zealous Hindus, this is what I would identify with.

If I were a devout Hindu:

  • I would exhibit tolerance, for that is the very essence of my religion.

Hinduism is an age old religion that has survived the destruction of the ages and the ravages of the centuries. Like every other ancient religion, it inculcates truth as the ultimate goal of this journey on earth. How does one share this journey with numerous other living souls? It is through the practice of tolerance/ resilience.

It means that as a constantly evolving species, humans have the willingness to accept the meaningful existence of other religions, opinions, disagreements, and behavior-which also includes food choices.

  • I look upon all creatures equally; none are less dear to me and none more dear.

                                                                                             Bhagavad Gita 9.29

If I were a zealot flaunting my religion with utmost pride, I would remember the above words from the holy text and understand that in the presence of the Supreme light, every living organism is one. I would bear in mind that as per the teachings, the soul travels from one living form to another and my time in this physical form is but limited.

I would also remember that among my fellow humans there is none superior and there is no person who is of less importance whatever caste, creed or race he may be.

  • I would believe in the Freedom of Expression

I would comprehend the two forms of expression namely: Swatantrata (freedom of expression) and Swachandata (the freedom of unruly expression) and embrace the former. I would believe that every individual has the rights to express- through music, dance and through the various forms of art. I will not let my ego get offended when my thoughts are not in unison with the views and opinions of others (artists).

  • Yatra naaryasto poojyantay, ramantay tatra devata

(Where women are honored, there the Gods are pleased)

Manusmriti 3/56

If I had the ardent love for my religion, I would summon into my mind, time and again; that women are the opposite sex and in no way inferior. I would also bear in mind that a collective vibration of disdain can devastate a thousand low vibrations and I would refrain from adding to the contributing force to bring about that disdain.


In conclusion, one of my favorite Vachanaas ( a form of poetry) by Basavanna, a poet, a sincere reformer and an honorable statesman:

“What is the use of your learning and erudition?

Where is the proof of your claim to be high born?

You are a blacksmith if you heat,

You are a washerman if you beat,

A weaver if you lay the warp,

A brahmin if you read the scriptures.

Is anyone in this world born through the ear?

Therefore, whoever realizes the divine nature is high born.”

-Basavanna, Vacana 589