pilgrim’s blog

Diwali season and the air is ripe with celebration, gaiety and spirituality. Suddenly am reminded of this incident that happened with my friend. It was soon after her marriage and she and her husband had started living on their own. Those being the early days of marriage my friend would leave no stones unturned to take proper care of her husband. Mornings would find her waking him up with a cup of tea and at night she would stay awake till he returned from office how much ever late and would be seen running to open the door even before her husband could ring the door bell. She found immense happiness in doing these things and her husband did not even have to lift his little finger for any thing.

Though my friend was very spiritual she did not pay much heed to the customs and rituals. So starting the day by spending some time in the puja room and the like did not feature in her do 'list. Now her husband came from a family where customs were followed strictly. He was used to waking up in the morning listening to his mother chanting the slokas sitting in the puja room. Noticing his wife not partaking in any such practices he told her about it. In order not to displease her husband the very next day onwards she too began spending time in the puja room as her mother in law did. Time past 9.a.m no tea was seen coming the way of the husband. By now he was used to being lovingly woken up by his devoted wife. The devoted wife turning  devout began to cause inconveniences to the poor soul. No one came running to open the door on his return from the office any more. He would find his wife either reading the slokas or watching the channels airing spiritual discourse. And she did it with so much sincerity that one would wonder if she was doing it to please God or her husband, for saying the latter would be more closer to the truth. Her equation with God was different. She would pray whenever she felt like and there was no particular time for her to communicate with Him as she did it all the time as we do with our near and dear ones.

After waiting for a week to see if there was any change taking place in the routine of his wife he decided to go ahead and tell her that he would appreciate if she went back to her old ways :))))))

The best part about the whole episode was she had no problem in switching back to her old ways because she was doing everything with the sole purpose of making her husband happy :)))))) To her taking care of her husband was all that mattered and it was as good as serving God . All this was not because those were the early days of the marriage ..

This morning as I sat with my daughter awaiting our turn to meet the doctor, I saw an elderly couple walk in. The gentleman was seen following his wife. The lady was one of those towards whom you take an instant liking. She looked very pretty even at that age. The gentleman must have also been very authoritative in his younger days but now he meekly followed his wife's instructions to sit in the vacant chair next to us while she went to the reception to confirm their appointment with the doctor.

The man must have had a white colored job with his minutest requirements taken care of by his subordinates. He seemed to have no skill in interacting with people for minor things like confirming an appointment. From his ex-pression it felt, during his hey days he must have run the show with number of servants at his beck and call. But even then , the lady must have taken care of their personal grievances and made them happy so that they could bear the over bearing nature of her husband. Now in their old age they had no servants running errands for them and the gentle man found himself at a total loss .But one beautiful thing that I noticed in the couple was there was no ego clash. He was ready to accept his failure in such situations and was more than willing to obey his wife like a little boy. The lady on the other hand, in spite of her old age, was ready to handle the situation and doing every thing that she could, like a mother would , to make her child comfortable.

As I sat there enjoying the interaction between the couple, a few seats away from me I noticed another elderly couple. The man was restless and angry with the nurse for not attending on him. From his gestures it was obvious he was the patient, for his soft spoken wife was requesting him to calm down and trying to explain to him that it was not yet their turn to meet the doctor. Used to getting things done his own way his present ill health was upsetting his mental disposition. He was seen nagging his wife for her inability to get things done fast. The lady tried to make him understand that the delay was inevitable but as he became more and more cranky with every passing minute, she decided to sit a few seats away from him ..with all the love of a mother for her naughty child writ large on her face.

In both the cases, the women were very patient with the respective men not just because the former were good natured but also because of the fact that these men would have taken care of them in their own ways earlier.Why I say this is, because none of the women looked like door mats…..  

We reached for the presentation on time but were told the Chairperson of the company would meet us only after an hour or so as he was tied up with some other more pressing work. Instead of killing time sitting in the reception, I decided to explore the locality. With an intention of buying some face wipes I entered a shop and learnt from there that the sea was only 2kms away from where I stood. Looking at the watch I found the time to be 12 o'clock in the noon but that did not stop me from turning my steps sea wards. Reaching there in no time I found the place to be absolutely lonely. An empty bamboo shed, some 100 feet away from the sea, awaited my arrival. The sun too, as if had decided to burn less fiercely. I walked to the dilapidated shed and sat on the seat that was a torn car seat with sponge peeping out. Except for some stray sea gulls, a few stunted coconut palms and one or two upturned country boats there was nothing there to give me company. I sat there, wishing time would stand still. The eyes never got tired of watching the waves. The ears never got tired of hearing them. Only the sea had such sway over me. Hence the roles reversed here and for once I became the listener not wishing to utter even a word. As the arms of the clock ticked by the rumbling of the waves became stronger and stronger reminding me I was wasting  my chance to know them from near and may not be as lucky the next time. The waves beckoned me without beckoning. Only a few steps separated me from them but those few steps appeared mammoth like and I felt my courage ebbing away. I wished I could run to them and let them caress my feet. But it would not stop there I knew. A force unknown to me and over which I had no control would draw me to the deep waters from where I would not return unchanged. No, I was not bold enough, I realized .I was destined to watch them from afar. The constraint I felt within gave me a different kind of fulfillment. Not being able to let go fully was equally enhancing as being able to immerse oneself fully .or was I trying to cover up my cowardice, I do not know. But I thanked my fate for giving me a chance to be with them at a time most unexpected. As the moment to take leave dawned on me, the rumbling of the waves too softened as if they realized my helplessness. But they were kind enough not to mock at me. They loved me the way I was. I walked towards the car without turning back to look at them even once and with great difficulty but both of us knew that we would wait for that time when taking those few steps would not matter any more and hoped, that time would be next time

These days I enjoy reading the supplement more than the main news paper as the main pages do not carry any good news and I don't feel like beginning a day taking stock of the various grievances. So I keep it for the latter half of the day. This decision has been doubly beneficial because it has saved many a fight between me and my guy to get hold of the paper first. Most of the time it is he who wins because as soon as he ' procures' it(by bullying me)he runs to the loo with it knowing well I won't follow him there. That leads to the next fight which is for the occupancy of the bathroom, as once inside it, armed with the paper, he is sure not to come out for another hour. So, my changing the reading habits, have brought peace to the home in the morning hours.

As usual this morning when I reached out for the supplement, what met my eyes brought a smile to my lips. It read, plants grow faster if they hear a woman's voice. This was a recent finding in some university. The article further said if one wanted the plants to grow faster let there be a woman to talk to it always.

Seeing me smile to myself my guy wanted to know what was so amusing in the supplement because the frown on his forehead after reading the mainsheet had not yet gone .So I told him about the article and how at least the plants knew the worth of a woman's company and that too one who keeps talking to them to which pat came the reply, the poor plants are growing faster because they want to be done with the cycle of life and escape from clutches of the women.JJJ

And let me tell you a secret. An astrologer once old him that we were husband and wife in our previous birth also and would be for another few more in future. Sorry no option for terminating the contract .

My study holidays would always be spent in my ancestral home in Kerala. Noon time would find the whole household taking a nap except me as I would be sitting in the veranda with my books preparing for the forthcoming exams. It was usually at this time of the day that an old lady, who must be in her seventies, used to come there begging for alms. She would never ask for money or old clothes. All she wanted was a handful of raw rice, some pieces of jaggery and half a coconut which she carefully covered with the soiled end of her sari. She came for this, once every week. She had an air of dignity about her and never asked for more. She left quietly as she came.

 Once during the mango season, I was sitting in the veranda reading a book and eating one of the mangoes kept in front of me. I never had the patience to skin the mangoes and cut into pieces before eating it. My favourite way of savouring these ripe fruit was to pluck it from the tree directly and bite into its succulent flesh sometimes letting the juice drip all around .I was never allowed to do these things by my parents, so vacation time was when I let go of myself.

As I was busy devouring the fruits, this lady slowly walked into the compound She had always been a mystery to me. As she was waiting for her share of alms to be brought by the maid I asked her why she took the same things every time. It was then she told me that it was to make rice pudding for her husband who was blind. Theirs was a love marriage .She belonged to an affluent family and her husband was much below their economical status and hence her family disapproved of him. So she had left the house with the man she loved. They had a very happy life except that they were not blessed with a child. Now her man was old and blind and not strong enough to take care of her. He had always liked the rice pudding. She was not comfortable going begging door to door. So she came here that too at a time when there was not much activity going on in the house.

I did not know what to tell her. I packed the left over mangoes and handed it to her. On enquiring I found the couple lived in the near by colony built by the government  for people below the poverty line. I convinced my grand mother to send them two sacks of rice after the harvest season was over. It is through people like her that I learnt what true love meant and two sacks of rice was too less a fee ..  

With a desire to feel the deep waters

She haltingly the Ocean entered

A mixture of fear and thrill

Her inexperienced heart rendered

Her man saw the thirst for life

In her huge kohl rimmed eyes

Forgetting all existence's strife

He lead his beloved to the side

Of the Ocean, where she set her feet

Into the icy water feeling the pull of the deep.

Her steps became firmer

As she forged ahead .

But all that was because

She knew her man was there

Standing on the shore

To dive into the deep waters

If any danger befell

He is her pole star

With out him she would be

A wooden slat

Tossed by the waves

In the deep ocean of life

Her odyssey would be incomplete

Without this man by her side.

Teens were the time I and my friends from the girl’s school I studied in,devoured on Masquerades ,Barbara Cartlands Victoria Holts and Mills & Boons .My favourite of the lot was Barbara Cartland  where the heroine was always a tomboy with long wavy hair kept hidden under a cap. She would be well versed in horse riding and sword fighting. Though delicate in built she would have the spirits of a tigeress never to accept defeat in front of the tall, dark ,handsome bandit leader, pirate, or prince with an air of mystery about him who would be the hero of the story. She would always be an orphan or a princess on the run. The castle, the dark night, the lonely highways, the horse drawn carriage way laid by the mysteriously handsome highway robber with mesmerizing eyes materializing from thin air were my world then.

Way past bed time would find me and my friends under the blanket lost in the world created by Barbara Cartland reading the book under torch light for fear of being caught by the hostel warden. More than half the collection of my 'romance series' were in the custody of the warden who never failed to catch me red handed. Being separated from the book was as good as being separated from the tall, dark,handsome hero of the book in those days.J.But it never deterred me from getting a fresh book for the next day. Once I and my friends even sneaked into the warden's room to lift one of the seized books and was surprised to see the warden reading it with relish.

Even now when I browse the book store I cannot resist picking up the paper backs and quickly going through the synopsis before reaching out for a Paulo Coelho or Salman Rushdie. A fair share of my collection of books consisting of the romance series is kept safely in the drawer waiting for my daughter to enter the teens .That day would surely find me with the not so little one, together, under the blanket traversing the world of dark alleys on a moon less night with just a torch light to guide us for there is no other more interesting way of  reading a Barbara Cartland other than hiding under the blanket warden or no wardenJJJ

She is a chronic day dreamer to the dismay of her guy and their daughter. Once they see that far away look in her eyes and they start having nightmares. This particular incident happened when they were visiting Ooty. There is a lake where one can see men standing with horses of all colours and sizes ready to take the tourists 'for a ride' around the lake. She being a lover of adventure decided to try her hand at it. After a lot of haggling, the one she got was a thin, famished looking one who she was sure would fall down dead if she got on to it. Mustering all courage and with loads of forced optimism she climbed on it. Not being familiar with horse riding the caretaker came forward to walk beside the horse holding its reins and letting it only to trot around the lake.

Now as soon as the horse started moving so did her day dreams. She visualized herself holding the reins and galloping faster than the winds with her hair blown back wards aka filmy style. But poor she, that was not to be. So when she completed the round she thought what if not able to gallop with the winds she can at least disembark from it in a 'filmy style just like that with the snap of a finger'. She could see her daughter waving her hands frantically at her and thought may be she was asking her to be careful while getting down. Always worried about her these two. It is high time they realized she can take care of herself.

And lo she alights from the horse with élan and hears the sound 'bladash'. Next she finds her foot ankle deep in green, sticky worm infested, semi solid substance that looked like horse dung. Poor soul in her enthusiasm she forgot to notice the pulpy thing lying in the side of the road. She dared not look at her daughter's face.What if sophistication was her arch enemy it was not strong enough to erase the far away look in her eyes .

It is true that am insignificant

Like the little white cloud

Floating in the sky

That can neither cover the sun

Nor make the sky cry

Is tossed by the wind above

Mountains ,seas and dales

Helpless, unnoticed by all eyes.

The birds ignore it

The lovers turn a blind eye

The poets compose no ballads on it

For posterity to recite

But yet it happily floats

In the vast blue sky for it

Knows its presence though insignificant

Gives character to the monotonous blue sky……

'Sorry' is the one word that has helped me tide over difficult situations. Sometimes it would be a sweet one, some times it would a sad one, yet some time it would be full of scorn. Sometime it would come from the bottom of my heart and yet at others it would be with a wink .Whatever may be its nature it has always been my best friend and stood by my side through thick and thin, a sure way out of the mess I would be in. Sorry has helped me when I have genuinely wronged, when I am on the verge of losing an argument or when the argument has ceased to interest me. There have been times I have been insensitive to use it flippantly and have taken it for granted. May be that is why it has eluded me when I have wanted to hear it the mostL.

It may be the one word that I would have used the maximum in my life. And I have no regrets because every time I have used it, my life has only been more enhanced. I have written in my blog of the different people who have touched my heart at different times. It would be unfair to not say about that one word which has made them stay back in my life, when I was sure I would lose them at different occasions. But these days I have noticed with pain that it is being used very sparingly>:-<.

So I had this feeling that even if I do not bequeath any material things to my daughter I would definitely introduce her to the word 'sorry' and how and when she uses it is her prerogative. Let her also be blessed with a life like mine. I would have wished for her to have a better one than mine but then again mine is the bestJ.

SORRY BABY