My daughter’s van driver never asks me for his monthly charges. But on the first of every month, I give my daughter Rs 700 to hand over to him. He and I never speak to each other. There is no receipt. And he comes day after day, on time, all month.
My canteen person in office doesn’t ask me for payment when I buy the odd biscuit or packet of chips from him. I go and offer him myself, whenever I remember. I doubt if he keeps accounts.
The lady at the British Council library counter didn’t have change when I had to make a late payment for books returned after the due date. I was Rs 16 short, and she said, “Give it to me next time.” I had no reason to go to the library for many months, but when I finally did, I made the payment. She had no memory of it but she accepted it as an everyday feature.
So much of our day-to-day interactions are based on something as flimsy as human trust. We trust that the bus will be on time; that the office will be open and functioning by the time you get there; that the tea will be on your table at sharp 11 am and then at 3 pm; that your child’s teacher will let you know if there’s a problem in school; that your neighbour won’t park their car in your space as part of an unspoken agreement. We trust the sun to rise in the morning and the moon and stars to shimmer at night. We trust our foot to find the ground every time we raise it in a walk, and our sense organs to perceive all that is around is. We trust our hair will dry after we wash it, and our nails will keep growing. We are able to live, breathe, move and talk because we trust ourselves to do so.
Trusting leads to faith, security, and eventually happiness. If our trust has been broken once, we find ourselves questioning every single action and word of another – setting ourselves up for insecurity and unhappiness. It is inevitable.
But it is not irreversible.
I resolve to trust again. To trust nature to find the best possible course for my growth and evolution as a human being. To trust love to fill up my heart with joy again. To trust passion to drive me to the edges of my boundaries and beyond. To trust my subconscious to steer me clear of toxic situations. To trust the universe to teach me all I need to learn and make me worthy of sharing those lessons with others. And in the process, to finally start trusting my own intuition and feelings again.
Life, thy will be done.
Feb 4, 2010
Jan 27, 2010
All roads lead to love
I recently said to someone, ‘All relationships, in whatever form, eventually teach us love.’ She could not understand it, and cited references of abusive marriages or parents or vengeful business enemies. How was it possible for such relationships to teach us love when all we took away from them was angst, rage or the fire of loathing?
So let me try explaining. Recent developments in quantum physics and molecular biology have reaffirmed ancient Vedic assertions that the material world is nothing but energy – spinning at fantastical speeds, creating an ‘illusion’ of physical form but in essence being formless. With our naked eye, and limited intellect, we are unable to fathom this curtain of illusion, and we see it as the ‘truth’, as ‘reality’ and all that there is. But when powerful microscopes and other scientific instruments go to the core of the matter (pun intended) – well, there’s nothing there, but energy. And it’s the very same energy that runs through every single form in the universe.
That reaffirms the Buddha’s teachings that we are all One.
Further, most life forms follow the phototropic principle – that is, they gravitate towards light. Mammals not only gravitate towards light but also warmth and bonding. Humans, going further, gravitate towards light, warmth, bonding and love. If we accept the fact that we (all animals, plants, humans, non-living objects, space and the universe) are One, and made up of the same energy, then maybe we can also accept that we all love Love, and will move and grow towards it.
From the philosophical perspective, gurus tell us that we karmically attract situations to our life which will teach us exactly what we need to learn in order to grow as a spirit on the path to enlightenment / attainment of moksha. So even what we perceive as a 'negative situation' is not negative: it is merely a situation, but given our social conditioning and limited knowledge, we label it 'good' or 'bad'. So hate is not necessarily bad, and neither is rage or jealousy or vengeance. Even the worst atrocities committed by humankind show up later in the cycle of human evolution as a lesson in unity, compassion or a surge in humane consciousness. Eventually, even the most 'negative'-seeming situation WILL teach us love, which is why it happened.
And why do all living beings gravitate towards love? Because that is what Brahma is. Infinite, spontaneous, compassionate love. It's simple really, and so obvious, no?
So let me try explaining. Recent developments in quantum physics and molecular biology have reaffirmed ancient Vedic assertions that the material world is nothing but energy – spinning at fantastical speeds, creating an ‘illusion’ of physical form but in essence being formless. With our naked eye, and limited intellect, we are unable to fathom this curtain of illusion, and we see it as the ‘truth’, as ‘reality’ and all that there is. But when powerful microscopes and other scientific instruments go to the core of the matter (pun intended) – well, there’s nothing there, but energy. And it’s the very same energy that runs through every single form in the universe.
That reaffirms the Buddha’s teachings that we are all One.
Further, most life forms follow the phototropic principle – that is, they gravitate towards light. Mammals not only gravitate towards light but also warmth and bonding. Humans, going further, gravitate towards light, warmth, bonding and love. If we accept the fact that we (all animals, plants, humans, non-living objects, space and the universe) are One, and made up of the same energy, then maybe we can also accept that we all love Love, and will move and grow towards it.
From the philosophical perspective, gurus tell us that we karmically attract situations to our life which will teach us exactly what we need to learn in order to grow as a spirit on the path to enlightenment / attainment of moksha. So even what we perceive as a 'negative situation' is not negative: it is merely a situation, but given our social conditioning and limited knowledge, we label it 'good' or 'bad'. So hate is not necessarily bad, and neither is rage or jealousy or vengeance. Even the worst atrocities committed by humankind show up later in the cycle of human evolution as a lesson in unity, compassion or a surge in humane consciousness. Eventually, even the most 'negative'-seeming situation WILL teach us love, which is why it happened.
And why do all living beings gravitate towards love? Because that is what Brahma is. Infinite, spontaneous, compassionate love. It's simple really, and so obvious, no?
Dec 23, 2009
Coffee shop story 5
He picked up the phone just as Kashi was about to hang up.
“I told you not to call; what if I was with someone?” Himanshu hissed.
“Please, don’t do this to me, I’ve been sitting here all alone waiting for you, what could I do?” Kashi pleaded. She was clutching her handbag, sitting at a corner table. She had driven 18 kilometres to this Barista in Lokhandwala, with the hope that no one here would recognize her. But 20 minutes later, he hadn’t shown up.
“I’m just leaving, I told you, this goddamn meeting. You’re so paranoid, always picking such god-forsaken places to meet,” his voice rose. Then he became softer. “I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay baby?” He hung up.
She put her phone in her bag, and looked about. No one she knew. The waiter approached her again but she shook her head and he turned away, eyebrows raised wearily. She looked out the window. Her legs shook with the adrenaline rush coursing through her, and she sat at the edge of her chair, nervous, poised for flight.
It wasn't cheating, she kept telling herself. And even if it was, it was okay. Her husband couldn't love her the way other men could. He wasn't there for her when she needed him. He was so distant, so indifferent to her feelings and needs. Marrying him was a mistake. She should have stayed divorced. But it was a chronic ache for her: Her inability to support herself. She hated work, oh, how she hated the grind of going to a stuffy office day after day. How she hated the competition, gossip, politics, the other bitches who talked in whispers when she was around. It was better to be married, to have her basic needs taken care of. Even if she didn't have any feelings for the men she was married to.
Oh when would Himanshu arrive. With his smoke-filled breath that turned her on. With his cold eyes that filled her with a heat she could not control. With his rough, hard hands that would do things to her even when she was asleep.
He wasn't the first one, but would he be the last? No, he would never leave his wife, that too when she was pregnant. No, Kashi had no future with him. It would last a few months at most. But it was better than the last. The last had left a bitter taste in her mouth, besides some bruises all over her legs. She'd let him hurt her, because she needed to be hurt. She wanted to feel pain, anything but the numbness that had set into her marriage.
But now she was wiser. She wouldn't let them leave marks. Everything else, she was game.
The phone rang, and she jumped. Hurriedly retrieving it from her bag, her heart lurched when she saw his number. "Hey baby, sorry I can't make it. I can't be away from office so long," went his voice. Her heart sank like a ton of steel into her feet.
"Forget all this coffee business," he went on, when she didn't reply. "Just come to the guesthouse. It's closer for me."
"But we never sit together and just talk!" she whined, almost in tears.
"What's to talk?" he replied. "You and I are best with our mouths busy. See you in 20." The call ended.
The sickness in her stomach made her giddy, so much that she couldn't stand up. He treated her like dirt, seriously! He treated her like a bloody slut. He treated her like his personal property.
Without looking back, she rushed out of the coffee shop as if she was drunk, down the stairs, towards her car, her phone still in her hand, her bag flying open.
At this time of the afternoon, it would probably only take her 15 minutes if she drove fast.
“I told you not to call; what if I was with someone?” Himanshu hissed.
“Please, don’t do this to me, I’ve been sitting here all alone waiting for you, what could I do?” Kashi pleaded. She was clutching her handbag, sitting at a corner table. She had driven 18 kilometres to this Barista in Lokhandwala, with the hope that no one here would recognize her. But 20 minutes later, he hadn’t shown up.
“I’m just leaving, I told you, this goddamn meeting. You’re so paranoid, always picking such god-forsaken places to meet,” his voice rose. Then he became softer. “I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay baby?” He hung up.
She put her phone in her bag, and looked about. No one she knew. The waiter approached her again but she shook her head and he turned away, eyebrows raised wearily. She looked out the window. Her legs shook with the adrenaline rush coursing through her, and she sat at the edge of her chair, nervous, poised for flight.
It wasn't cheating, she kept telling herself. And even if it was, it was okay. Her husband couldn't love her the way other men could. He wasn't there for her when she needed him. He was so distant, so indifferent to her feelings and needs. Marrying him was a mistake. She should have stayed divorced. But it was a chronic ache for her: Her inability to support herself. She hated work, oh, how she hated the grind of going to a stuffy office day after day. How she hated the competition, gossip, politics, the other bitches who talked in whispers when she was around. It was better to be married, to have her basic needs taken care of. Even if she didn't have any feelings for the men she was married to.
Oh when would Himanshu arrive. With his smoke-filled breath that turned her on. With his cold eyes that filled her with a heat she could not control. With his rough, hard hands that would do things to her even when she was asleep.
He wasn't the first one, but would he be the last? No, he would never leave his wife, that too when she was pregnant. No, Kashi had no future with him. It would last a few months at most. But it was better than the last. The last had left a bitter taste in her mouth, besides some bruises all over her legs. She'd let him hurt her, because she needed to be hurt. She wanted to feel pain, anything but the numbness that had set into her marriage.
But now she was wiser. She wouldn't let them leave marks. Everything else, she was game.
The phone rang, and she jumped. Hurriedly retrieving it from her bag, her heart lurched when she saw his number. "Hey baby, sorry I can't make it. I can't be away from office so long," went his voice. Her heart sank like a ton of steel into her feet.
"Forget all this coffee business," he went on, when she didn't reply. "Just come to the guesthouse. It's closer for me."
"But we never sit together and just talk!" she whined, almost in tears.
"What's to talk?" he replied. "You and I are best with our mouths busy. See you in 20." The call ended.
The sickness in her stomach made her giddy, so much that she couldn't stand up. He treated her like dirt, seriously! He treated her like a bloody slut. He treated her like his personal property.
Without looking back, she rushed out of the coffee shop as if she was drunk, down the stairs, towards her car, her phone still in her hand, her bag flying open.
At this time of the afternoon, it would probably only take her 15 minutes if she drove fast.
Dec 22, 2009
Wife Wanted
Once, a married male colleague and I were mourning our late working hours. "At least you got someone at home looking after your kids. I go home at 2 and then have to get up again at 6 to send the kids to school. You're lucky your wife is doing all that for you," I said, pouting.
"Why don't you also get yourself a wife?" he responded, in jest.
Somehow this conversation has stayed with me, years later. I do so badly need a wife. Someone to be there when the kids come from school; to make their breakfast and send them off in the morning; to do their homework with them in the afternoon; to take them to the park and play badminton in the evening; to make sure they're eating nutritious food; to keep a tab on their Internet use; to be with them when they need a shoulder to cry on. And to look after the house, the groceries, the cleaning and the domestic help.
It should be me doing all that – as per my biological and social role. But I am away all day earning an income (playing the husband), leaving this big gap in my kids' lives. For a while, my housekeeper filled in part of the role (a small part). But I guess nothing replaces 'the woman of the house'.
So I'm giving this advertisement out to the universe: Send me a wife. An efficient homemaker, mother and domestic finances manager.
Marital status: Any
Sex: No bar (and not required!)
Hours: 24/7
Salary: Almost nothing
Sigh. But who on earth is going to take up an offer like that?
"Why don't you also get yourself a wife?" he responded, in jest.
Somehow this conversation has stayed with me, years later. I do so badly need a wife. Someone to be there when the kids come from school; to make their breakfast and send them off in the morning; to do their homework with them in the afternoon; to take them to the park and play badminton in the evening; to make sure they're eating nutritious food; to keep a tab on their Internet use; to be with them when they need a shoulder to cry on. And to look after the house, the groceries, the cleaning and the domestic help.
It should be me doing all that – as per my biological and social role. But I am away all day earning an income (playing the husband), leaving this big gap in my kids' lives. For a while, my housekeeper filled in part of the role (a small part). But I guess nothing replaces 'the woman of the house'.
So I'm giving this advertisement out to the universe: Send me a wife. An efficient homemaker, mother and domestic finances manager.
Marital status: Any
Sex: No bar (and not required!)
Hours: 24/7
Salary: Almost nothing
Sigh. But who on earth is going to take up an offer like that?
Nov 24, 2009
Daily dose of courage syrup
There's a certain magnetic pull that begins from your heart and goes all the way to your destiny and beyond, to every corner of the universe, space and time.
It is important to obey this pull. This is your calling, the reason you were born. When I do not obey it, I fall sick, am unable to breathe, feel like an 'extra' on this planet, and generally feel low on energy and will to live. When I do obey it, I am the opposite: Vibrant, full of energy and ideas, and happy.
So how do I know the difference? How do I know whether I am obeying my heart, my calling? Simple - I ask myself, "How do I feel right now?" If I feel rotten, I'm deviating from my Path. If I feel good, I must be on it.
But it takes some practice to know what's the Absolute 'Feeling Good', and the Relative version of it. Having a hot chocolate fudge is a relative 'feeling good'. It will dissipate in a few minutes, leaving me grumpy and guilty later. Waking up every morning with a smile on my face, thanking God for all my blessings, will give me an absolute 'feeling good', that will last me days if not all my life.
Similarly, obeying the dictates of others is a short-term, moralistic high. Obeying your own heart is a lifetime's pure high. Indulging your senses is a temporary happiness. Indulging all that love in your heart – and acting upon it – is an absolute happiness. It takes some practice to get it right, but once you do, it's smooth sailing.
These days, I'm feeling terribly sick. My thoughts, words and actions are completely out of alignment. I'm thinking something, saying something else, and doing things that are at complete tangents. It's because of lack of courage: To say what I mean, and to do what I believe in.
Wish there was something like 'courage syrups', like the ones you take for a cough. Actually there are. I get them in my inbox every day. Alright, so here's my dose of courage syrup for the day to myself, courtesy the Universe at www.tut.com: "Aekta, you are the most important being in your world right now. One day, you'll look back on this life and be so flush with love and admiration for yourself, your journey, and who it made you, that you'll wonder, as I do now, how it could possibly have escaped you then."
Thank you, universe. I needed that.
It is important to obey this pull. This is your calling, the reason you were born. When I do not obey it, I fall sick, am unable to breathe, feel like an 'extra' on this planet, and generally feel low on energy and will to live. When I do obey it, I am the opposite: Vibrant, full of energy and ideas, and happy.
So how do I know the difference? How do I know whether I am obeying my heart, my calling? Simple - I ask myself, "How do I feel right now?" If I feel rotten, I'm deviating from my Path. If I feel good, I must be on it.
But it takes some practice to know what's the Absolute 'Feeling Good', and the Relative version of it. Having a hot chocolate fudge is a relative 'feeling good'. It will dissipate in a few minutes, leaving me grumpy and guilty later. Waking up every morning with a smile on my face, thanking God for all my blessings, will give me an absolute 'feeling good', that will last me days if not all my life.
Similarly, obeying the dictates of others is a short-term, moralistic high. Obeying your own heart is a lifetime's pure high. Indulging your senses is a temporary happiness. Indulging all that love in your heart – and acting upon it – is an absolute happiness. It takes some practice to get it right, but once you do, it's smooth sailing.
These days, I'm feeling terribly sick. My thoughts, words and actions are completely out of alignment. I'm thinking something, saying something else, and doing things that are at complete tangents. It's because of lack of courage: To say what I mean, and to do what I believe in.
Wish there was something like 'courage syrups', like the ones you take for a cough. Actually there are. I get them in my inbox every day. Alright, so here's my dose of courage syrup for the day to myself, courtesy the Universe at www.tut.com: "Aekta, you are the most important being in your world right now. One day, you'll look back on this life and be so flush with love and admiration for yourself, your journey, and who it made you, that you'll wonder, as I do now, how it could possibly have escaped you then."
Thank you, universe. I needed that.
Nov 17, 2009
News flash: Give me an aah, give me an ooooh
Berlin is in the news for more than one reason these days. While Germans and the international community got together to celebrate 20 years of the end of the Cold War at the city’s most significant symbol, the Brandenburg Gate, history of a sexier sort was being written in the streets and on the screens of Berlin.
A few days before this much publicised socio-political event, another revolution – of a more feminine sort – took place at the Berlin Pornography Festival. A prize for ‘feminist porn’ was given out for the first time, and more than half the entries were of porn films made by women for women. That means fake breasts and dubbed moaning are out, and focus on women’s orgasms is in.
Europe is no stranger to addressing female sexual needs. A visit to Berlin’s Museum of Erotica is any woman’s delight. From lingerie of all shapes and contraptions (plus-sizes aplenty) to vibrating dildos that are made with material that is ‘easy on your insides’, to mild, clever packaging that does not mention the word ‘sex toy’ anywhere – every concern is addressed. The staff are all women, and so are a majority of the customers, going through porn CDs and vibrating ‘eggs’ as if through grocery shelves, comparing prices, sizes and functions. Once in a while a young giggle goes up through an aisle of gels, anal balls and spiky condoms, but on the whole, it’s any other mundane store in Berlin.
So the fact that women are the fastest growing segment of sex-toys consumers comes as no surprise. But that women’s needs are being more directly addressed through a hitherto entirely male terrain – video pornography – is a tantalizing trend. Laura Meritt, owner of a sex store for women in Berlin, has initiated a ‘PorYes’ label (like a regulatory mark) on all porn films that show women as active subjects and not passive objects of the process. The PorYes label will also signal “proper working conditions” for actresses, more women in the director’s chair and priority given to safe sex, she says. (Meritt is also responsible for the oyster shape of the Feminist Porn trophy.)
It’s definitely a long step from the hilarious, if unsexy, Porn for Women book series, which had pictures of good-looking hunks doing housework, looking after babies and actually reading instructions before setting up a DVD player. While it does make you laugh, you can’t call it pornography in the real sense. On the other hand, what turns women on is not necessarily sentimental tosh either. "Porn made by a woman, for women, does not mean it will be boring," Meritt asserts.
Having women in the filmmaking seat may be a sign of better things for women porn lovers – naked men masturbating (as available on most ‘porn for women’ websites) is not really every woman’s sexual fantasy. Give us realistic, passionate couples instead. Thankfully, if Berlin 2009 is anything to go by, it’s going to quite a turn-on ahead.
A few days before this much publicised socio-political event, another revolution – of a more feminine sort – took place at the Berlin Pornography Festival. A prize for ‘feminist porn’ was given out for the first time, and more than half the entries were of porn films made by women for women. That means fake breasts and dubbed moaning are out, and focus on women’s orgasms is in.
Europe is no stranger to addressing female sexual needs. A visit to Berlin’s Museum of Erotica is any woman’s delight. From lingerie of all shapes and contraptions (plus-sizes aplenty) to vibrating dildos that are made with material that is ‘easy on your insides’, to mild, clever packaging that does not mention the word ‘sex toy’ anywhere – every concern is addressed. The staff are all women, and so are a majority of the customers, going through porn CDs and vibrating ‘eggs’ as if through grocery shelves, comparing prices, sizes and functions. Once in a while a young giggle goes up through an aisle of gels, anal balls and spiky condoms, but on the whole, it’s any other mundane store in Berlin.
So the fact that women are the fastest growing segment of sex-toys consumers comes as no surprise. But that women’s needs are being more directly addressed through a hitherto entirely male terrain – video pornography – is a tantalizing trend. Laura Meritt, owner of a sex store for women in Berlin, has initiated a ‘PorYes’ label (like a regulatory mark) on all porn films that show women as active subjects and not passive objects of the process. The PorYes label will also signal “proper working conditions” for actresses, more women in the director’s chair and priority given to safe sex, she says. (Meritt is also responsible for the oyster shape of the Feminist Porn trophy.)
It’s definitely a long step from the hilarious, if unsexy, Porn for Women book series, which had pictures of good-looking hunks doing housework, looking after babies and actually reading instructions before setting up a DVD player. While it does make you laugh, you can’t call it pornography in the real sense. On the other hand, what turns women on is not necessarily sentimental tosh either. "Porn made by a woman, for women, does not mean it will be boring," Meritt asserts.
Having women in the filmmaking seat may be a sign of better things for women porn lovers – naked men masturbating (as available on most ‘porn for women’ websites) is not really every woman’s sexual fantasy. Give us realistic, passionate couples instead. Thankfully, if Berlin 2009 is anything to go by, it’s going to quite a turn-on ahead.
Oct 4, 2009
Coffee shop story 4
With two shopping bags in each hand, and her handbag on one shoulder, Neera could just about navigate the wet, crowded market on her way back to the car. Her mind whirled with a hundred things to do, and she didn't notice Manju saying hi as she walked towards her.
"Hey, long time! It's good to see you, you're looking so hassled though," laughed Manju, offering a hand with the bags.
"Hi Manju, yea, sorry, was doing the usual round of the stores. Am just so tired, you know how it is..." Neera grimaced. "So you're doing your daily shopping too?"
"Yes but I'm also looking for a silver payal for my colleague who's leaving. There's a little shop here that keeps stuff like that. Hey, it's been so long since we caught up, shall we have a coffee? Are you in a rush?" Manju tilted her head towards the cafe nearby.
Neera took just a moment to agree. She badly needed to put her feet up a bit.
Minutes later, they were discussing mothers-in-law woes and family duties. "It doesn't matter, you know, whether it's your mom or your mom-in-law," said Manju. "When you live with someone of another generation, there's bound to be a gap somewhere."
Neera was still all worked up from the events of her day and couldn't be comforted. "She knows I have so many things to do in a day but she just won't lend a hand. Yesterday no one was home when Aryan came back from school. Both my husband and his mom were out, and I was at work -- and they didn't even let me know of their plans. Only when I reached home did I find out he'd been sitting in the neighbour's flat all afternoon. Why must all the household and childcare duties fall on me? I work too! It's so unfair. Being a working woman, you have absolutely no support in our society."
Manju nodded her head. "It seems like a hard life. I live with my parents and trust me, it's no easier. They can be so difficult at this age."
"You're lucky you don't have kids," said Neera, glancing at her watch.
"Well, that's one way of looking at it," smiled Manju. "But being single in my 30s has made me very fixed in some ways, and my parents are getting more rigid and bitter day by day. It's hard for me to have friends over or stay out late nights. They have all these 'ideas' of how women should behave. Especially since my divorce..." her voice trailed off.
Neera looked at her with new interest. "So how do you handle it?"
"I don't, I suffer in silence. I have all this guilt on my head anyway."
"But it wasn't your fault your husband left you!" exclaimed Neera.
"Yes, but maybe it was... at a karmic level you know. I must be paying for past deeds," sighed Manju. "And now the cycle is still not complete. He left me, and my parents now reject me. They're so critical all the time. I can't do anything right in their eyes. I'm their imperfect daughter."
Neera grew indignant. "What are you saying? Your karma isn't just your past, it's also your present and your future. You can't change what's happened but you have the power to change what's going to happen. Stop giving others the power to judge you or criticise you."
"Yea, I do it enough myself anyway," Manju said wryly.
"So stop doing it," Neera instinctively clutched Manju's hands on the table and squeezed them tight. A burst of life energy rushed through their palms as their warmth connected. Manju looked up at Neera in surprise, unknowing of the vibrant red energy Neera was wilfully blessing her with. "You have to be aware of your strengths, the preciousness of your life!" said Neera passionately.
Manju's mouth broke into a smile, and then rushed into a shy giggle. "Yes, thank you, you're such a darling," she said, and pulled her hand away. Neera broke out of her spell and smiled too, sitting back. It was time for the bill.
That night Neera had a huge fight with her husband for not keeping track of the home loan payments especially since her cheque had bounced the previous month. Must she be responsible for everything? she screamed, picking up her pillow to go sleep with her seven-year-old in his room, her mother-in-law listening anxiously through the walls.
That night Manju decided to move out.
"Hey, long time! It's good to see you, you're looking so hassled though," laughed Manju, offering a hand with the bags.
"Hi Manju, yea, sorry, was doing the usual round of the stores. Am just so tired, you know how it is..." Neera grimaced. "So you're doing your daily shopping too?"
"Yes but I'm also looking for a silver payal for my colleague who's leaving. There's a little shop here that keeps stuff like that. Hey, it's been so long since we caught up, shall we have a coffee? Are you in a rush?" Manju tilted her head towards the cafe nearby.
Neera took just a moment to agree. She badly needed to put her feet up a bit.
Minutes later, they were discussing mothers-in-law woes and family duties. "It doesn't matter, you know, whether it's your mom or your mom-in-law," said Manju. "When you live with someone of another generation, there's bound to be a gap somewhere."
Neera was still all worked up from the events of her day and couldn't be comforted. "She knows I have so many things to do in a day but she just won't lend a hand. Yesterday no one was home when Aryan came back from school. Both my husband and his mom were out, and I was at work -- and they didn't even let me know of their plans. Only when I reached home did I find out he'd been sitting in the neighbour's flat all afternoon. Why must all the household and childcare duties fall on me? I work too! It's so unfair. Being a working woman, you have absolutely no support in our society."
Manju nodded her head. "It seems like a hard life. I live with my parents and trust me, it's no easier. They can be so difficult at this age."
"You're lucky you don't have kids," said Neera, glancing at her watch.
"Well, that's one way of looking at it," smiled Manju. "But being single in my 30s has made me very fixed in some ways, and my parents are getting more rigid and bitter day by day. It's hard for me to have friends over or stay out late nights. They have all these 'ideas' of how women should behave. Especially since my divorce..." her voice trailed off.
Neera looked at her with new interest. "So how do you handle it?"
"I don't, I suffer in silence. I have all this guilt on my head anyway."
"But it wasn't your fault your husband left you!" exclaimed Neera.
"Yes, but maybe it was... at a karmic level you know. I must be paying for past deeds," sighed Manju. "And now the cycle is still not complete. He left me, and my parents now reject me. They're so critical all the time. I can't do anything right in their eyes. I'm their imperfect daughter."
Neera grew indignant. "What are you saying? Your karma isn't just your past, it's also your present and your future. You can't change what's happened but you have the power to change what's going to happen. Stop giving others the power to judge you or criticise you."
"Yea, I do it enough myself anyway," Manju said wryly.
"So stop doing it," Neera instinctively clutched Manju's hands on the table and squeezed them tight. A burst of life energy rushed through their palms as their warmth connected. Manju looked up at Neera in surprise, unknowing of the vibrant red energy Neera was wilfully blessing her with. "You have to be aware of your strengths, the preciousness of your life!" said Neera passionately.
Manju's mouth broke into a smile, and then rushed into a shy giggle. "Yes, thank you, you're such a darling," she said, and pulled her hand away. Neera broke out of her spell and smiled too, sitting back. It was time for the bill.
That night Neera had a huge fight with her husband for not keeping track of the home loan payments especially since her cheque had bounced the previous month. Must she be responsible for everything? she screamed, picking up her pillow to go sleep with her seven-year-old in his room, her mother-in-law listening anxiously through the walls.
That night Manju decided to move out.
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