A day off from my life. From my maddening metro maze of an existence to a pastoral pace in a pilgrim place. On a day, I couldn't possibly have taken off...
When I reached home on Tuesday night, I had little inkling how the next day would be. Yes the grind was as its usual self. There were impossible deadlines at work- crazy long meetings, a house full of guests of the in-law kind, tests for both the kids the next day and somewhere in all this there was an insistent request, nay, demand, that I accompany the in-laws and dh on a pilgrimage! I didn't take this too seriously as I was confident of coming up with n number of very genuine reasons why I couldn't and shouldn't leave town. Reached home and set about lessons in Hindi in right earnest with the little one. Mid-way, he got violently sick. And again and again and again through the night. He was officially declared sick and off the Hindi test hook. Meanwhile dd had on her own, acquired a stomach bug too and joined her brother in the sick bay. Morning brought a little tired sleep and plaintive pleas from both my kids 'take care' of them. I couldn't leave them now.
Then came the sharp well-aimed barb of dh- you won't go to Tirupati because you have no desire to go there, he accused. Yes, it was true. All along I'd been coming up with all manner of excuses not to go- the kids falling ill was just too convenient. It didn't shame me to accept the truth- it went far beyond, it drilled a hole through me. Yes, I was angry with my lord, my ishta-devata for so many things in which He had let me down. My crazy manic-depressive self I blamed on the loss of faith- in myself and in Him. Suddenly, I went from being the rational logical woman, mother et al to a crazy illogical irrational demented devotee.
I had many fights to pick, many thanks to give and still many favours to ask of Him. I wanted another chance- at my faith. So I set out, determined to be miserable, determined to hate my travel companions, determined to feel bad about having left my kids at home, determined to be a major pain?
Strange what I am capable of coming up with at a moment's notice! Out of the blue, I decided to make this my personal pilgrimage to my God. I was determined to climb the seven hills in order to seek Him out. Once the decision was made, I sat back quietly and just let things happen all around me. Strange to feel good when you want to feel bad. Strange to find that the in-laws are not as horrendous as I make them out to be. Strange to have a strange little one on one's lap. Strange to have a strange little head lolling at my breast.
When I announced my decision, midway through the journey, it evoked typical responses from the in-laws and from dh. They were upset that I would not be around to chaperone them. Dh was insistent that he would accompany me on the trek up the seven hills. I argued with him that this was 'my' personal pilgrimage and that he could just go ahead and receive me at the top. There was the usual ugly debate before he told me that he had made up his mind just as I had made up mine! Good thing too- as I got someone to pace me and keep me on track. In all the gazillion years we?ve been married, we've never trekked together! A first! The first 1000 of the 3550 steps were sheer vertical. Glad dh was around and telling an 'old' trekker like me the advantages of staying ahead during the second breath! But while earlier I have embarked on treks with a lanky lean frame sporting the rucksack, now I had to lug the considerably filled out frame in addition to the XL sized handbag and the large pouchy growth which is loosely attached to the rest of me, covering my abs with an independent personality of its own. In fact, at a particular spot where I sat down to do some deep breathing and let it all hang out, there was this real smart-huge-assed dumb-chick who came upto me and asked if I was expecting!?! *#$@#! I trudged on determined to outrun her if it were the last thing I do! On a couple of occasions, dh was urging me on, focus one step at a time and I thought, one step at a time, one day at a time, sweet Jesus! Thought of the first time I had 'labour'ed with the collective womanly chant of One more push, much like the rambhakts chant of 'ek aur dhakka' and the final relief I got from the much needed epistomy. Then of the second ineffective labour which, due to its sheer non-progression, necessitated the C-section. (Before any of you say that I think a lot, remember whats written up there- I think therefore I am!) While dh was not pacing me, regulating my breathing through those labours, I was actually glad to have him with me on this one.
Along the way, I also met other characters, less judgmental, less refined, but definitely more fun. I was keen to try out my rusty Telugu among those rustics rather than the sophisticates who might have been offended by the form of my address. Much to the discomfiture of dh, I chatted and chattered with many of them- making it truly a pilgrimage.
Finally as we managed to pace ourselves well even after the gazillion years of marriage, I saw that in itself as a major act of faith! Thereafter, I was treated to the best possible darshan I have had of the Lord of the Seven Hills. I'm glad that when my call came, I was able to shed everything and rush to my cowherd- Govinda!
When I reached home on Tuesday night, I had little inkling how the next day would be. Yes the grind was as its usual self. There were impossible deadlines at work- crazy long meetings, a house full of guests of the in-law kind, tests for both the kids the next day and somewhere in all this there was an insistent request, nay, demand, that I accompany the in-laws and dh on a pilgrimage! I didn't take this too seriously as I was confident of coming up with n number of very genuine reasons why I couldn't and shouldn't leave town. Reached home and set about lessons in Hindi in right earnest with the little one. Mid-way, he got violently sick. And again and again and again through the night. He was officially declared sick and off the Hindi test hook. Meanwhile dd had on her own, acquired a stomach bug too and joined her brother in the sick bay. Morning brought a little tired sleep and plaintive pleas from both my kids 'take care' of them. I couldn't leave them now.
Then came the sharp well-aimed barb of dh- you won't go to Tirupati because you have no desire to go there, he accused. Yes, it was true. All along I'd been coming up with all manner of excuses not to go- the kids falling ill was just too convenient. It didn't shame me to accept the truth- it went far beyond, it drilled a hole through me. Yes, I was angry with my lord, my ishta-devata for so many things in which He had let me down. My crazy manic-depressive self I blamed on the loss of faith- in myself and in Him. Suddenly, I went from being the rational logical woman, mother et al to a crazy illogical irrational demented devotee.
I had many fights to pick, many thanks to give and still many favours to ask of Him. I wanted another chance- at my faith. So I set out, determined to be miserable, determined to hate my travel companions, determined to feel bad about having left my kids at home, determined to be a major pain?
Strange what I am capable of coming up with at a moment's notice! Out of the blue, I decided to make this my personal pilgrimage to my God. I was determined to climb the seven hills in order to seek Him out. Once the decision was made, I sat back quietly and just let things happen all around me. Strange to feel good when you want to feel bad. Strange to find that the in-laws are not as horrendous as I make them out to be. Strange to have a strange little one on one's lap. Strange to have a strange little head lolling at my breast.
When I announced my decision, midway through the journey, it evoked typical responses from the in-laws and from dh. They were upset that I would not be around to chaperone them. Dh was insistent that he would accompany me on the trek up the seven hills. I argued with him that this was 'my' personal pilgrimage and that he could just go ahead and receive me at the top. There was the usual ugly debate before he told me that he had made up his mind just as I had made up mine! Good thing too- as I got someone to pace me and keep me on track. In all the gazillion years we?ve been married, we've never trekked together! A first! The first 1000 of the 3550 steps were sheer vertical. Glad dh was around and telling an 'old' trekker like me the advantages of staying ahead during the second breath! But while earlier I have embarked on treks with a lanky lean frame sporting the rucksack, now I had to lug the considerably filled out frame in addition to the XL sized handbag and the large pouchy growth which is loosely attached to the rest of me, covering my abs with an independent personality of its own. In fact, at a particular spot where I sat down to do some deep breathing and let it all hang out, there was this real smart-huge-assed dumb-chick who came upto me and asked if I was expecting!?! *#$@#! I trudged on determined to outrun her if it were the last thing I do! On a couple of occasions, dh was urging me on, focus one step at a time and I thought, one step at a time, one day at a time, sweet Jesus! Thought of the first time I had 'labour'ed with the collective womanly chant of One more push, much like the rambhakts chant of 'ek aur dhakka' and the final relief I got from the much needed epistomy. Then of the second ineffective labour which, due to its sheer non-progression, necessitated the C-section. (Before any of you say that I think a lot, remember whats written up there- I think therefore I am!) While dh was not pacing me, regulating my breathing through those labours, I was actually glad to have him with me on this one.
Along the way, I also met other characters, less judgmental, less refined, but definitely more fun. I was keen to try out my rusty Telugu among those rustics rather than the sophisticates who might have been offended by the form of my address. Much to the discomfiture of dh, I chatted and chattered with many of them- making it truly a pilgrimage.
Finally as we managed to pace ourselves well even after the gazillion years of marriage, I saw that in itself as a major act of faith! Thereafter, I was treated to the best possible darshan I have had of the Lord of the Seven Hills. I'm glad that when my call came, I was able to shed everything and rush to my cowherd- Govinda!
7 comments:
landed from pallavi's blog. nice blog you have got lady! :)
That doesn't sound like too anglicised...
i think it was also a sort of a much-needed break from ur hectic schedules.
Hi Mrs Vanilla! :))
Anjali, at times it hits me with an unexpected force that English is NOT really my 'mother' tongue! And that there is a far sweeter tongue which was dangled at me in my childhood- which I never 'grasped'. My Telugu is sadly insufficient for me to think in or express myself in, yet, I'm glad I can atleast comprehend portions of it.
Swathi, Hi! Yes, it was a break :) Waiting for your travelogues...
Not that I have too many commenters on my posts but even these few will get deterred if they dont see their comments appear. So here I go with a crude cut n paste job:
LAK has left a new comment:
"I guess the best things happen spontaneously! BTW, is Telugu your estranged mother tongue, too?"
MoodsAndColors has left a new comment:
"Hi Shankari
I have had these pangs of distress more often than you can ever imagine.In fact as an Indian child I was jeered at by my Czech friends for using English despite having rich languages of our own.But at the same time I fell in love with English and here I am, now teaching English. Lately I feel that we Indians will be able to encash English for our economic development. "
Thanks LAK & Anj, for checking out the post. Yes Telugu is the poor estranged mother tongue- English is the de facto one for me too!
Shankari,
Glad to know the trip went well. We all need such treks once in a while. Hope you feel more relaxed now, and the kids are feeling better.
Thanks for the timely birthday wish :). Wishing you many more happy returns of the day (belated or advance, I don't know).
Priya.
Wow Shankari !
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