Diwali Less Known

“They are coming, they are coming”, the shrieks of joy resounded in the air from outside the palace. The drums rolled and the conches called out relentlessly, belting out sounds that lifted the hearts of the kingdom’s subjects. Weeks of excited anticipation had passed and the time for unbridled celebration had finally arrived. Excited screams and shouts were heard on the streets as courtiers distributed new clothing and sweetmeats to the poor, hawkers roamed the lanes selling oil-lamps and incense with knowing grins and extra-loud voices and giggling girls crowded in street-corners only to be shooed back to their housework by their mothers. The air in the marketplace was infused with scents of fresh cardamom, clarified butter and caramelised jaggery.

While the people of Ayodhya geared themselves for feasting and festivity, upstairs in the small room of the women’s wing, Urmila forced herself to lie down on the hard bed, unable to control herself. There she lay – the petite damsel looking pale in her turmeric yellow sari draped around her thin and bony body with absolutely no jewellery adorning her except for the gold-star ring on the third finger of her right hand. Her eyes – slightly reddish reflected her childlike innocence as she blinked rapidly so as to not let any more tears flow down. Light wrinkles had made lines on her otherwise clean face but only those close to her would be able to spot them. Those away from her wouldn’t be able to see the reality of her life.

“14 years”, she said to herself. She didn’t know what emotions to display. Was she excited? Or nervous? Déjà vu. She had the same feeling 14 years 4 months ago.

The same giggling maidens, the same celebration and the same festivity had engulfed Mithila, the kingdom of King Janaka. In her chamber, beautifully adorned with antiques and mirrors, her mother looked at her. Her pretty little girl was big now. Big enough to be married off to her prince. In her mother’s eyes, she was the prettiest thing on earth.

She rubbed off the corner of her right eye and put a black little dot behind Urmila’s right ear, “May the Lord save you from the evil eye.” With tears of joy trickling down her eyes, she said, “Go my daughter, go and have a wonderful life with the prince of Ayodhya. Be the same doting daughter in your new house the way you were to us. Be with your husband, by his side, come what may.”

The blowing of the trumpets overpowered the other noises announcing the arrival of the royal family. Lakshmana had arrived to take away his bride. Walking on petals of red roses through her grand palace entrance decorated like never before, she could see the tall and lean prince standing at the end of the entrance. Dressed in wheatish-brown ensemble, he waited with a radiant smile on his face. An embodiment of beauty with her head held high but eyes lowered, she walked slowly and gracefully towards Lakshmana.

She looked at her ring, the little sparkling jewel that bonded her lord and her together. She recalled his words when he gifted the star to her. “The star is a symbol of eternity. You won’t have to look out of the balcony to look at the twinkling stars. You have one right here in your hands,” he said holding Urmila’s right hand in his. She let out a shiver. Never had a man touched her before. Yet, this felt good. “You are my beloved wife Urmi, and I promise to live for an eternity with you.”

As she lay lifelessly on her bed, tears rolled down the side of her eyes as stared at the ceiling incessantly. Her eyes burned. Her heart ached. There were too many things going on in her mind. Her 14 years of loneliness were tumbling down on her all of a sudden. Her defence system had been great all this while. She had learnt to cope with grief, loneliness and sadness. She had been exceptionally strong all this time. What happened now? Why did she feel so weak?

Vulnerable. Vulnerable was what she felt.

She blinked her eyes, letting the tears wet the bed underneath her. She exercised her brains to think about the last time when she hadn’t cried. The last time when her eyes weren’t moist. She failed to remember.

“Brother Rama is leaving for vanvas, Urmi. Sita ma is also accompanying him.”
“What? Our brother Rama? Why him? What could he have possibly done that he is exiled?”
“Urmi Urmi..calm down..settle down..Father has ordered brother to do so. Everything is baseless. It is not fair. But brother is adamant. He is leaving with bhabhi ma tomorrow morning.”
“I feel so sad for didi. I will go and sit with her. She must be uncontrollable right now.”
“Urmi, I need to tell you somethi...”
“And I think you should go and sit with bro...”
“Urmi, I am going with them!”
“.....with brother. He may need to talk to y...”, she stopped half-way. All her animated talk came to a dead still. Her hands stopped mid-air and her eyes were big as ever. Shock could be read on her face. “You are going with them?”
“Yes, my beloved. Although father is not right in sending him away, there is no point in fighting it. Brother has been like a father to me. I have grown up in his shadow. This is the time when I can repay him. Bhabhi is like my mother. I think this is the least I can do for my parents,” he said with moist eyes.
“But dev, it is 14 years! You cannot do that! It is his vanvas. Please don’t go..” she held him tightly by his elbows, her sari falling off her head.
“Urmi, please calm down. There are no two ways about this”, he said with his head lowered down, “I have come to tell you, not ask.”
“Dev, I am coming with you. How can I stay here without you? My life is yours now”, she said decidedly, wiping her tears and turning back to take off her jewellery.
“You can’t come with us. Please understand. It is a vanvas. Life is not easy there.”
She flared her nostrils. She couldn’t believe what he just said. She turned back, “I stay here for the luxuries of the palace? No, I stay here because I love you dev. I wish to come with you because I cannot think of a day without you, forget 14 years! Why can bhabhi go with brother and I can’t come with you?”
“You are acting unreasonable, Urmila”
“How else should I react? It is his vanvas, not yours. I am not asking you to stay back, am I? All I am asking is, you take me along.”
“But Urmi, life is going to be diff..”
“So it is fine with me. It is my choice. It’s my choice to live with you wherever I want. I want to go with you. Even if it is a forest, as long as I am with you, I have no qualms.”
“My duty is to take care of brother and bhabhi. If you come, it will become difficult for me to fulfill my duties and I want you to stay here”, he said banging his fist on the wooden table. “Mother will be alone, Urmi. Please take care of our home and mother. They need you.”

She still remembered the anger in his eyes. Every single sentence of the conversation ringed in her ears as if it was just yesterday. She still remembered how she pleaded and begged for him to take her too. She cried till her eyes were swollen red. That night, she lay in his arms on their bed still crying. Lakshmana, too, couldn’t control his tears.

He held her chin up and said, “Urmila, you are my wife. I have loved you truly. And I promise to be yours till my last breath. The fact that you are not coming right now with me is not because I don’t love you. I love you immensely. But the forest is not a good place. I cannot let you live there. You are made to live in joy.” He rested his head in her bosom and whispered, “Forgive me please. My dharma compels me to put my parents before my personal joy.”
All Urmila could do was whimper and swallow back her tears. Her heart ached. She wanted to scream and tear her hair off. Yet, all she could do is bend down to take her husband in her arms for one last time. She let out a silent prayer that time would stop right there and the dreaded morning would never come.
Lakshmana, too, prayed the same.

What was she feeling? She didn’t know.
She came out of her reverie as the chattering on the streets grew intensely. Urmila didn’t want to be a part of the celebration. All she wanted was someone to be part of her grief.
Her grief, which never seemed to end.

When Rama, Lakshmana and Sita left, she felt sorrow come tumbling down in her heart. The truth was that the dark clouds of despair made their permanent abode over the royal region of Ayodhya. Families were displaced. King Dashratha couldn’t bear the pain of seeing his beloved children walk away from him without even questioning his judgement. His heart gave way. Mother Kaushalya and mother Sumitra stayed confined to their chambers, away from the world, crying. They refused to eat or indulge in any of the worldly activities. Bharata and Shatrughan were thrown into adulthood in minutes. Owing to the troubled times and sudden fall of responsibilities, distance between Shatrughan and Shrutkirti increased and so did the aloofness between Bharata and Mandavi. The guilt in the minds of Bharata and Shatrughan didn’t allow them to live in joy and happiness. Bharata refused to take the throne because it wasn’t rightfully his. His conscience didn’t allow him to betray his immense love for brother Rama.

The worst affected was mother Kaikeyi. She cried and never stopped. She begged for forgiveness from king Dashratha but neither could she save his life nor could she bring back Rama nor could she bring back the sanctity of the kingdom. All she wanted was her son to rule Ayodhya. She hadn’t foreseen the other consequences. She hadn’t foreseen widowhood. She cursed herself. She was driving herself to insanity.

Days after days passed but somehow the years never seemed to end. The maidens gossiped amongst themselves wondering about Urmila’s character. “Sita devi happily left all the worldly pleasures and accompanied her lord. How selfless. But what was Urmila devi thinking by choosing to stay back in the riches of the palace?” they would giggle in their chambers. Urmila could feel those words stab her in her heart each day.

This was not the fate she had decided. “Why did I let brother Rama decide my fate?” she regretted each night in her tiny room after serving her family, selflessly, all day long. She knew it wasn’t brother Rama’s fault and that he too was suffering the loss of being away from home. She knew brother Rama had nothing to do with her present state of misery. But her anger had compromised with her rational being.

Urmila couldn’t understand who suffered the biggest loss in this drama. Was it Sita didi who had to leave all the worldly pleasures and depart to the forests after just four months of her wedding, yet with her lord by her side? Or was it she, herself who could live in the comforts of the palace with her sisters and family being one in her anguish, but without her lord for 14 unending years?

She blinked her eyes rapidly for they burnt now. As if the 14 years weren’t enough, recalling them in bits and pieces was slowly killing her. The door knocked. She silently thanked the Gods for saving her in time. The door opened and entered a frail yet sturdy man. Unkempt and long hair, moist and red eyes, white dhoti, thin hands and legs. Urmila quickly adjusted her sari, wiped her tears and looked at the man in his eyes. “Who are you? Whom do you want to meet?” she demanded.
The man kept walking towards her. Confused, she moved back. When she couldn’t move anymore, she stretched out her hand to push the man behind. She yelled, “Who are you? Who let you in? Guards, guards!!” she screamed.
The man took her in his arms and pressed her against his body. It didn’t take long for Urmila to realise, “Dev, it is you? Oh good Lord!” She bent down to touch his feet. He held her up mid-way, kissed her on her forehead and said, “I have missed you Urmi. Every single day, all I could think about is how you must be doing.”
“You look so pale. Dev, I couldn’t recognise you.”
“As if you have been taking good care of yourself. Look at you, my beloved. Even if the wind blows, you will fall”, he said, holding her close to himself.

Outside, the firecrackers burst. Every house was lighted with candles and lamps. Sweet and scented smell absorbed the air. Decorated with flowers and garlands, Ayodhya was celebrating Diwali, rejoicing the return of Rama from his vanvas. Yet, all that mattered to Urmila was the return of her lord. The heavens and the earth met in the joy of their unison.

They held each other for an eternity.
Urmila’s vanvas thus ended.

Parenting – Not for the faint-hearted

My frequent meetings with newly-become parents over the last couple of months enhanced my knowledge. Until I met them, I didn’t know how challenging parenthood could be. I thought going to the dentist or driving on the Andheri Station road or simply being a teenager was more challenging. I thought it would be easy. I would just make the rules “Don’t forget to tighten your bed sheet and clean your room before leaving home” and my children would follow them “Of course mom, I will do it right away. Would you want me to clean your room too?”

However, after seeing my own parents and a score more, I choose to differ. My mother loves being a mother but she does get tired of saying the same things 5 times...every hour. All parents love their children. So do my cousins who just had an adorable baby boy. They look at him with immense joy...when he’s asleep. So much peace and calm in the house. The perfect time to have a bath, sleep, eat, read the newspapers, find the lost diapers, call up a few friends and relatives, watch mindless TV...till he opens his eyes.

It’s not easy being a parent. You have to be alert, attentive and patient. You can never get too comfortable or smug because these little ones - they keep changing, yeah! They constantly keep finding new ways to drive you up the wall. I noted down a few stages that every baby (and parent) goes through. Gathered from years of experience and unasked-for research:-

The Infant Stage: The baby’s very first few months, also known as the “Will I ever get to sleep again?” stage. These are the days and nights when you only get to see your bed, never get to be in it. After changing the inestimable diapers, cereal bottles and bottled food, you will probably find yourself crying looking at the bank statements. Perfectly normal. But from the ones into this business here’s the good word: “These are the really cheap days!”

The One: The stage where the kids learn to walk but they still like to be carried around, probably because it’s easier to wipe their nose on your t-shirt. They also learn their first words. Kudos if they are “ma” and “pa” and the not their favourite word ‘no’. All is still well till they get a sibling because then their favourite word becomes “mine!”

The Two: Here, I am not referring to the age but the two dreadful words ‘I want’. Apparently, they want everything. Whatever another child has, they will want it, even if it is chicken pox. If they don’t get, they throw tantrums – and many times, they throw other things also. A good outing for them at this stage would be to a zoo, perhaps, where they can pick a tip or two on good behaviour from the monkeys.

The Three: If you think the worst is over, lol. Now is the time they learn drawing. The little artists display their art on the wall, the fridge, the sofa, the floor and any other furniture, for that matter. By now, they stop throwing tantrums. In fact, they now get you to throw them. By now, your priorities change. You no longer want to become a millionaire or an author or an entrepreneur. You just want to remain sane.

The Four: They are over the “Its mine” and “I want” stage. Ladies and gentlemen, beware of the frightful “I am bored” stage. You hear that a good 50 times during the day. Hopscotch with a stone is Stone Age to them. After watching TV and playing with their toy bikes all day, they will look up at you with the same bored face. If you think TV is bad and you put on a DVD on your computer and make them watch that, then you are getting good at parenting. However, don’t get too comfortable. For all you know, you turn to tip-toe out of the room; you hear them scream “I’ve already watched it!”


A famous man (a father, of course) had said and I quote, “When I see teen-agers having babies, I wonder if they know what they're getting into. Have they really thought it through or are they just hoping that their children, by some miracle, will be mini versions of Mother Teresa? I wish my children would be more like Mother Teresa. I'd like to send them off to Calcutta.”

What Love is.....not!

My 12 year old friend ‘fell in love’. She thought he was her everything and in her dreams, even got married to him. Love obviously wasn’t what they felt. Her heart broke. Crying continuously for days and then dipping her face into foundation to cover the dark circles became routine for her. When she wasn’t doing either of the two, she would call me and ask me what love was (ya right! Like I am a walking thesaurus!)

My thinking buds were awakened. After thinking a lot and a little more, I realised that I, too didn’t know what love was. But I had a faint idea of what love was not!

Love is not ‘never having to say sorry’. It’s quite the opposite. It means learning to say you are sorry when you are wrong (if you are a man, then even when you are right!) It’s not romantic candlelight dinners because candles leave many messy blobs on expensive tablecloth. It also isn’t automatically eternal as wise men have claimed. In fact, to make it last, one will have to put in a great deal of work, not in bed, but in utterly unromantic places such as kitchens and bathrooms.

Love is not what makes the world go round. That’s gravity. If you are getting dizzy spells, do not mistake yourself to be in love. Just consult a neurologist.

It’s also not what we see in the movies. In reel life, there are songs and dances after which the hard work, complications and messy bits start surfacing before they are magically solved. In real life, however, these complications do not disappear. They tend to generally get tougher and messier.

Love is not canoodling on the sea-face rocks. That’s hormones. And the moral police. Cheap thrills can be exciting, yes, but they can also be expensive. Because if the constable doesn’t get you, the rising tide might.

What I know is that love is wonderful. It may not be the hottest thing around, but it is warm. It is not something as exotic as passion but something as ordinary as caring and as boring as respect. It also involves a good usage of the heart and the head (yes, both! It can be demanding, you know!)

Love is not about diamonds but it is about what the diamonds signify. They start as a lump of coal, but require loads of time and energy and lots of cuts and bruises to bring out the sparkle. Love actually is like that only.

On contemplation, understanding rocket science or solving the Kashmir problem would have been easier.

The New Essential

Swimming hasn’t been one of my strongest points ever. But I could always move around well, so well that I would often hear motivating words from my family like “Good job, Priyam”, “Way to go girl, you can stop clinging on to the float. You have one tied to your waist already!” and “You are almost ready to get out of the kids’ pool”

I think the most important thing to do once you are in water is to float. And I can do that very well. For hours. If there’s no hole in my raft.

As I watch the news, especially during the monsoons, I realise that swimming is a vital skill. There’s a case of drowning every alternate day. Some fall out of the boats, some get caught in the floods, some fisherman sadly get trapped in the sea-storm and some get drunk and think their cars are submarines.

Every year, we have the monsoons and every year we are hit by massive floods. Swimming is the ‘in’ thing. You don’t need to join classes for practice. In some parts of Mumbai like Kalina or Juhu, you just need to step out of your house and wait for the rain. I don’t proclaim that this skill will always prevent you from drowning, but the risk sure is cut down.

Flooding is no longer a novelty in India and I speak for Mumbai. Come June, all the men in Juhu area start wrapping up their television sets and the women start assembling the chairs on the table while the children pack up their toys and video games for an emergency exit. But sometimes we are lucky. The water only reaches the shoulder level and it’s possible to walk to a higher ground carrying the TV set on our head. In other cases, the water is pretty high and we find ourselves perched on a tree top desperately looking out for the most popular guy around – the one with the boat.

Therefore, my tip for the day - practise swimming. Sharpen your skill. Or you are going down. Literally.

Thank God for subtlety!

One of my very dear friends changed his relationship status from 'committed' to 'single'. (Yes, on Facebook, where else?!) Soon he was hoarded with comments filling up the first three-quarters of his profile page.

“Aww... its ok”
“Don’t worry; this phase will also pass”
“Cheer up dude, u nice guy, u will get someone again very soon: )”
“Too bad...I wil give ya a ring, we’ll talk”
“Oye buddy, I m sure u'll need a drink to get over it. Enigma? Tonight? Buzz me”
“No problem, u lost one..u will get many more..cheerz”

Philosophy seems to be falling out of the sky all of a sudden. (I mean, c’mon, Facebookers.....philosophy....like ya right!) So anyway, all feedback in some way or the other shrieked out “Get a life sucker. Accept it that you are a loser, stop sulking so we can go and make other ‘single’ people feel miserable.”

Thank God for subtlety!

Since when did ‘being single’ become a sad phenomenon? Exactly when did it start meaning “A fire jet just hit my ass. I am burnt and devastated. Come, console me”? Does ‘committed’, ‘in a relationship’ or ‘seeing someone’ guarantee happiness? Or the fire jet to hit your rear?

Whatever happened to

“Congrats babe, let's celebrate with a drink or 5. You made the right choice!” or
“Welcome to singledom. Now you don’t need to take your laptop inside the blanket to watch football!”

What happened to celebrating the choices we make in life?

The Case of Missing Identity

"Your friends rule your life"
– That’s one of the headlines I read in the Sunday Times of India.

Intrigued, I read more. The research says that “who you are, how you feel and what you do, all of it depends a great deal on whom you are friends with. They determine how happy you are, what your weight is, how faithful you are to your spouse and how moral or immoral you act generally.”
I agree with it one hundred percent (whether it’s true or not, I don’t know but I agree, yes) Our happiness does depend on our friends. Not on how loving and supportive they are. Not on their levels of understanding and empathy. Our happiness depends on how much money they have. If they have less than us, then we are happier than we would ideally be if they had more money than us.

I know it isn’t exactly rocket science. But it’s nice to have some evidence to back you up what you have intuitively felt for years :)

No matter how rich or successful we have become, it is still not enough if our friends are richer and more successful. It doesn’t matter how much money we make; there will always be a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction if our friends have a higher disposable income than ours.
Sad but true.
But then, how could it possibly be otherwise? Peer pressure being what it is, all of us measure our success by the successes (and failures) of our friends. And as long as we are doing a tad better than them, we feel good about ourselves. After all, its all relative (and about relatives), right?

Friends provide a baseline for all sorts of comparisons. They influence our thinking, shape our lives, hell, they even determine our shapes.

If our friends are into healthy eating and exercising, we will probably be shamed into doing the same. Nobody wants to be the only blimp in a group of thin people. Likewise, if they gorge on vast quantities of fast food while slumped on the sofa in front of the TV, then we will also feel no embarrassment in doing the same. And then before we say McDonalds, all of us will be shopping for elasticised trousers and extra large t-shirts together!

I think the logic behind this is that eating with greedy people triggers our greed impulse as well. Or maybe, we just eat more and faster before the other person finishes it off. Like how I behave when I share food with my food-inhaling brother.

Friends have a nasty knack of showing up all our flaws and imperfections. Tall friends make us feel short; short friends make us feel like pillars on the street; fair friends make us feel dark; dark friends make us feel like pale, white ghosts; fashionable friends make us feel dowdy.

This influence goes on to a deeper level in real life. The moral codes that we live by are also reinforced by the ones closest to us. If they think nothing of cheating on their spouses – if they even boast about it, then we may well be more inclined to give up on marital fidelity. If they think nothing of taking or giving bribes, of adopting corrupt practices in businesses, then it is that much harder for you to stay honest. If they routinely lie and cheat about matters big and small, then we are more likely to do so as well. After all, if everybody is doing it, can it really be so bad? (Short answer: yes, it can but that will be another post altogether!)
On the other hand, if our friend circle takes pride in being honest, in paying taxes on time, not being part of the black economy, trying to stay on the right side of the law, then we may probably stay on the straight and narrow road as well (even if it is for the fear of being socially ostracised)

The truth of the matter is that our company helps us rein in our worst impulses. Or they can encourage us to give in to our basest appetites. It all depends on what type they are.

Maybe it’s all true. Maybe it’s not. Still, that doesn’t mean that such surveys get published in the Sunday papers!

One minus Some is still One.

Loneliness and Aloneness: although similar in meaning in the dictionaries, there is a vast difference between the implications of these two words in real life.

Loneliness is a negative state of mind. Aloneness is positive. Loneliness is a state of mind when you are constantly missing the other. Aloneness is when you are constantly delighted in yourself, with yourself. Loneliness is miserable, aloneness is blissful. Loneliness is always worried, missing something, hankering for something, desiring for something. Aloneness is deep fulfilment, tremendously content, happy and celebrating.

In loneliness, you are off-centre. In aloneness you are rooted and centered. Aloneness is beautiful. It has elegance around it, a grace, a climate of tremendous satisfaction. Loneliness is beggarly, with no grace.

Loneliness is dependence. Aloneness is sheer independence.

I strongly believe that one should first come to terms with one’s own loneliness before entering into a relationship (And when I say ‘relationship’, I do not just mean boyfriend-girlfriend. EVERY relation is a relationship) This loneliness has to be transformed into aloneness. Only then will one be capable of moving into a deep enriching relationship.

Moving into a relationship to overcome loneliness means exploiting the other. The other becomes a means to satisfy you. And when you yourself can’t be enough for yourself, there’s hardly anything anyone else can do for you. You will use the other and everybody resents being used, because no man is here to become a means for anybody else. Every man is an end unto himself. Nobody is here to be used like a thing; everybody is here to be worshipped like a king. Nobody is here to fulfil anybody else’s expectations; everybody is here just to be himself.

Important to remember is that when you move from your loneliness to fall in a relationship, then that somebody will be in the same plight. Because no man who is really living his aloneness will be attracted towards you.

First become alone.

First start enjoying yourself.

First become so authentically happy that if somebody may fail to provide that happiness to you, it doesn’t matter.

Become full and overflowing yourself and then move into a relationship.