Leaving from PARO

Everyone used to describe her as a lotus in a swarm. Lotuses die soon; they die in that swarm. She did not associate herself with that lotus. She did not connect her life with that of a multitude. She never has and never will accept that kind of death. You cannot tame a physical body when the conscious is the rebel.

Images of my grandparents having tea while reading the newspaper every morning at the porch steps fill my mind. I would sit beside them, spending my mornings researching great schools outside my tiny built-up world-family, friends, home, and school to step out and experience the universe outside. We would talk about everything possible- the education system, ethics, politics, and spirituality. My grandmother, who couldn't go to a school after Grade 10th due to cultural norms, dedicated her heart and soul to becoming a woman who is not only looking after us but "looked upon" by everyone. From growing up in a village with no outside exposure-untamed to a refined woman, she seems to have little interest in our discussions. She would often tell me about the importance of becoming an attractive woman, which would usually revolve around the lessons of physical beauty, etiquettes, and house making. Our little routine was determined and straightforward. However, on the 13th of April 2019, I recall my grandmother not bothering me about my poor performance in our training lessons, which she offers me every evening, and her worry that I wouldn't be able to find a man. But that wasn't all. It was the moment of truth about what my future holds for me; the day of my dream university's decision, I worked to change the setting sun's direction. As usual, I opened my laptop to complete my daily tasks, and almost shiveringly, I opened the e-mail. This particular day stands out in my memory for many reasons, the most prominent due to my rejection.

It was very early in a winter morning; it wasn't busy, and an only screech of traffic and people strolling off to work actively planning meetings on call or just plain work gossip and kids to school laughing away with their friends or playing street games. It was only just some cheerful birds swooping in the dawn and flowers bending in the weight of the sun's first crisp ray to be showered upon them. It was just the plain grey buildings and zing waiting to start once again as the clouds clear away and the warmness of the sun embraced them. Everything was still; silence drowned every single object and creature present in its mere. The only entity that dared to make a roar was the ticking off the clock.

"Have you spaced out again?" My grandfather asked. "When I come to think of all that you ever taught me is a waste. No power or no light has listened to my prayers! I haven't prayed for much, have I?" I sighed. We're continually fighting an internal battle, with one side assuring us that forgiveness isn't necessary, while the other claims the opposite. However, in situations where forgiveness is Saudade and obscure, the battle seems irrelevant. "Light!" he raised his eyebrows." It's hard to ask than to give," nanu smiled. Nanu is something which I call my grandfather as out of love. My mother was working in different parts of India meanwhile to provide me for a prosperous life ahead and therefore was always like a wind in my life-sometimes powerful as such that you could not look up while the other time as soft as engulfing you in a blanket full of warmth.

"Well," he continued, "to be someone or to get what you want, you must give endlessly, Prajna. However, the sad part is that sometimes you wouldn't want to give, you wouldn't be ready, yet you would do what's asked." he turned to me and patted on my head. I was still astonished at his words.

How could he say all of this after raising two independent daughters who were not taught how to stand for themselves, who were grown up no less than a man. How can this man be the same person standing beside me who years ago told me to never bow in front of anyone if they're disturbing your peace? Maybe like so many other people, his mind guided him to change his behavior to save some tears and disappointments after going through turmoil. Nevertheless, it's a hard pill to swallow." If you think this way, why did you let mother make the choices she made? Did you give up on your daughter?" I questioned him. I was always the one who never wanted to dwell in the past through the days I can remember. I'm not the person who wants an answer to everything. Life is good as it should be. There's nothing I can ask for except maybe some peace; I would highly appreciate that.

"No. Never. I feel surprised you feel this way about this situation; we tried our best." his voice started to quiver, and his eyes were getting moist as he looked far into the skyline. I may be having a lot of pent-up emotions, but I cannot think of hurting him, not even in my insane mind. I draped my arms around his left arm and rested my head on it. He is at least 6 feet tall- I couldn't reach my head to his shoulder, but this feeling makes me feel like a little girl every single time, his protected little girl. Holding him like this, life seems a bit alright.

~

I believe comfort develops for you right where you want. It seems reasonable to be living in a comfortable state, whether physically or mentally, but it is not necessary; it is the right place to be in for you.

It's been several years since I have visited my home and nanu. However, as much as I would like to, the new land that has become my home would not allow me to do so due to my paperwork to formally acknowledge myself as a  resident. I'm once again at the mercy of the decision-makers with my future. I am desperate to go to the porch and pack their belongings to come here. I may not have turned out to be the girl my grandmother expected me to be, but over the years, I've learned to breathe a little easier away from societal expectations and the baggage it yields. One thing I wasn't aware of was that he is no more.

The peace that I never found back where I was born and brought up, and the peace that I wanted him to experience isn't worth anything-not; the single piece of a stamp I threw myself in piles of sheets worth burnt to the cost of the ashes.

And now, here is the leftover of what I have of him. And maybe writing it here to the young generation full of aspirations and always looking at the future opportunities, To everyone who knows all the things they want, the right words to speak and to be somewhere they're not. It is worth enough to know your hero might be old, or your hero might start as a stranger. Still, their influence, their teachings would be running inside your veins like slowed gentle streams, and they will undoubtedly gush out electrified, opening the dam gates as if they were caught in prison every single time.

Fine mist, blends of flowers

replaced the blade and the pills.

Look, the rose bloomed, and the thorns complimented it.

Even though I deserved a path full of punishments, my hero watched me even if not present in proximity. I made a few friends. Oh my god! Did I skip this part? Yes, a person like me has established a few friendships.

These people have answered my prayers and removed what I always looked upon as a demon. They have loved me more than I see of myself in the mirror, and they have helped me become a better person who is now not afraid to give. Who is not scared to put love in everything she does, whether being a homemaker or a lotus. She couldn't bloom like a lotus if she wasn't adapted to that particular soil. She became what she wanted to be and found a family beyond blood.