Today is my parents' wedding anniversary. I don't know if I should say 'is' now that my mom is no more. I suppose I should say 'was'. At least legally that's the correct tense to use. I called Dad to...wish him? I didn't know what to say... didn't want him to feel sad. So I asked him about what the cook was up to and he described some cauliflower dish in great detail. I sent him a mental hug (there are some things I can't say or do to my Dad without him thinking I have a terminal disease. Hugging is one of them.) But I did hug my Mom's picture. Tight. And I don't care if it sounds crazy. But she hugged me back.
I decided to go to Ram Krishna Mission today. Wore my mom's red chiffon saree. (My blouse didn't fit...so I wore a shirt instead. My cook draped the saree for me and she was most aghast at the misappropriation of attire. Oh well... can't please them all.)
When I was growing up, we used to visit Ram Krishna Mission very often. My father had studied in Ram Krishna Mission in Belur matth near Kolkata.
The Mission in Khar is small and simple. They have a large hall where they have book exhibitions. I had read a small booklet on Karma yoga as a child and had a huge crush on Swami Vivekananda then (whose birthday it was today as well). I went to their meditation space and sat down.
I thought about my parent's marriage. It was not a perfect one. But I don't know if I have seen love stronger than what they shared. To keep commitment simple, deep, and forever... that's not even love. It's character. It's the penultimate rung of education. And it's just the sort of thing human beings capable of having respect for self and each other do. To infuse a certain dignity and nobility in quotidian relationships.
Sometimes I wonder why I didn't have that. They say that kids who come from broken homes can't have strong relationships. That's not true. I came from a very strong home. But I can't have strong relationships either. I am not sad about it. Curious though.
I reached home. Met my neighbour. Aunty and I will possibly be going out for coffee tomorrow. That should be fun.
I called V. It's not like him to respond on short notice...the celebrity status that he maintains. But he did come over.
There's something steady and scary about him. When I am with him, I feel like one of those trekkers who leans against a very rocky mountain and goes to sleep. There is comfort, sure. There is support, definitely. There is also the dangerous tendency (on part of the trekker) to start expecting the mountain to soften for you...to make it easier for you to climb. It's strange...with the way he smiles or points to a flat close-by or talks about fruits in a market... it's strange how 'present' or 'now' he can be, and yet one can sense the footnote of a farewell. That's the fine print I have begun to recognise. (And appreciate.)
Maybe that's the chief appeal of 'Ciao', a salutation that means both hello and goodbye.
Comments