All Mine and Nine
D Women Who Made It Matter
By: Shubhaangi Kundalkar
Published by WSIC EBooks Ltd.
Copyright February 9, 2011 by WSIC Ebooks Ltd.
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Dedicated with love to my family
And
All the women in my life
Chapter Nine: Living Life with Purpose
When we say charity begins at home; I would also like to add that transformation too begins at home. Because in course of our lives, we imbibe the learning of our near and dear ones, draw inspiration from them, simultaneously mature, and develop to grow as a human being. In this world of unrest and chaos we need to find our own happiness and joy and to achieve that we need to continually transform and change. We have only one lifetime to live and we are here with a particular validity period on this earth. In spiritual terms we must be good, look for the good and do good to our fellow beings, and good comes back to us. For when we are gone, our footprints should be so carved that people remember us for our good deeds.
I feel very happy and immense joy to have been associated with all the women depicted in this book that are a part of my life, and am pleased to share their wisdom, experience and my learning from them. They have been instrumental in shaping my life and have added various colorful shades to it. Directly and indirectly, they have inspired me, influenced my thinking and have made me the person who I am today.
This book will take you through a journey, which begins from my home and extends to my friends. While I salute all of them, it is a promise which I have made to myself that I will practice their teachings and carry forward their exceptional qualities for the good and well being of whosoever I associate with.
All the women in this book are a storehouse of innumerable qualities and had I mentioned all of them, this book would have run into pages. However, I chose to keep it simple and have brought before you only one dominant quality, which had a remarkable impact on me.
This book covers examples, which reflect their incredible qualities. The incidents, which I have penned down, may not be sensational and have not been dramatized – they are everyday examples. They are common. By reading this book it is quite possible that you may see a reflection of your own self and may relate to some of the characteristics outlined. I wish to emphasize the fact that all of us are common but our exceptional qualities are the ones, which make us distinct and stand out from the crowd. The only thing that is required is that we need to appreciate and nurture them! Like me, this book I am sure, will also inspire you to look for the good qualities in people who are around you.
It is a human tendency to take people for granted. We normally fail to value our associations with people when they are very much around us. We often forget to acknowledge their love and affection for us. When they are around, we spend our time over petty arguments and quarrels, misunderstanding, and not showing enough maturity to see things in the right perspective. We tend to focus on what is going “wrong” rather than focusing on what is going “right” or how we can set things right. Our egos clash and in the pursuit of being “right” always, we let the sands of time run so fast through our fingers that one fine day, un-announced, the news of them leaving this world comes. The kiss of death is always unpredictable; it comes when we least expect it! We then come to our senses and sit back confused to ponder upon their contributions in our lives. What is left is only the “silence” then. There is a permanent vacuum and there is agony; there is pain. There are “ifs” and “buts” and all in vain as the person you would like to talk to and confront is gone and has already begun the new journey. You cajole yourself to guilt thinking about the many things you could have shared.
By way of this book which has some meaningful poems written by me, my earnest message to the readers would be to make every effort to express yourself and waste no time in telling them that you love and appreciate them. At least you will not regret later.
I have had my heartbreaks since two of my women are no more on this planet.
It is not too late yet – make a difference!
Thank you, God. I have written this book in partnership with you.
In the memory of my father and my mother; the two most wonderful and loving people in my life. Their never-ending love and blessings guide me all the time. I would like to acknowledge and thank all my family members; I love you all. Just like the mystical rays of the sun peek in through the doors and windows to wish us a Good Morning, the three mischievous tiny tots in my home show me the forgotten glimpses of my childhood all over again; they are so full of love for me.
With deep gratitude, I wish to thank all the nine women in this book for being a constant source of inspiration to me.
Thank you to all my friends who spent so much time to read and re-read this book. Their suggestions have been valuable and all of them have gone into this book, which has made it a wonderful reading. I felt motivated when you said, “I will be the first one to buy this book and treasure it”. I am short of words to express my gratitude for you all.
Special thanks to my mentor and guide; her constant inspiration and support to me make my life easier.
Having been associated with each and every person on this Earth in some way or the other has added to my learning and in my quest of transformation. I thank each one you.
And finally, I thank all my readers in advance for their time and interest in this wonderful creation of mine.
Forgiveness is next to Godliness
My Mother taught me to forgive
MOTHER
She holds the magic wand of affection,
Like GOD she is a symbol of creation.
Her warmth is like a water stream flowing,
It is only in her lap that one sees her child glowing.
Immeasurable is her sacrifice,
She undergoes agony of pain but is still so nice.
Her demeanor for her child is unblemished,
Upbringing of her little one is so much cherished.
.Every child blooms in this fairy mother’s nursery,
The word “Hate” never finds way to her dictionary.
She can feel the hurts and wounds of her child,
Her attention and care are one of its kind.
GOD could not be at all places so he sent mother,
She is the devoted one and no one in this world can replace her.
She is gentle like the moon and her child is a star,
Her bosom is filled with love, which has no bar.
In the life of her child, she is the creator and sculptor,
She is nothing less than an angel, always love her.
HURT
Is hurt like a dreadful bee sting?
Oh, does it really pinch?
No my friends, hurt is not a curse but a boon,
It is a lesson of life for you to learn.
Why the revenge? Why the mixed emotions?
Can we not turn around our mind’s wrong notions?
If someone hurts, bear the brunt,
Carry on with life and happiness must you hunt,
Never carry the weight of hurt so long,
That you forget to forgive, for life is short.
We are on a mission to spread joy and happiness,
Remember that to forgive is next to godliness.
Make friends not foes, in this one-time journey,
For friends are valuable more than money.
Just as the crack of dawn tears the nocturnal darkness apart,
Erase all the hurt from your delicate heart.
Through my mind’s eye my mother was beautiful to me. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder - then it can be anyone. It was the innocence on her face, which glowed with all the warmth that made her beautiful. Due to strong belief in people she could never make a distinction between the ‘right’ and ‘wrong’; it was very easy to mould her to one’s ways of thinking. My father’s patience was tested more often to let her know her follies. Two rings made out of gold were happily given away to the face readers in saffron clothes who had fooled her saying; “Some period is bad and difficult for the master of this house. To please the deity, one holy ritual needs to be performed at a far away place. This can save his hardship”. We never saw them again. Naïve she was. Several rituals were performed because of her affinity for the divine. There was nothing left for us except to fold hands and forcibly participate. I cannot make myself sit for long hours chanting something and praying. To me worship means to speak silently with God. My mum had her own ways of praying.
I believe that people with a pure heart do not want to get into the complications of over thinking. They are not judgmental and so they get along with what is being said; my mother was one of them. Kind hearted she was and her acts of kindness brought her close to many people. The masons or lady labors could leave their children to play in our balcony and continue their work being assured that she would be there when needed. Serving tea or food to the vegetable vendor was never a concern for her. There were never any arguments over prices with the vegetable vendor.
If our milkman shed a few tears saying, “Behenji, meri bhains mar gayi, mera bahut nuksan ho gaya, mein kya karu?” (My buffalo died. I am at loss these days, what should I do?) Immediate help would reach him saying, “Tum rona bund karo, mein kuch rupaiye deti hu. Jaldi se nayi bhains kharid lo aur accha dudh le ana" (Stop crying now. Here is some money, buy a new one and provide us with quality milk). Till we left the place, we bought milk from the same milkman, which was mixed with water, obviously!
Anyone could just walk in our home and share their sorrows and she would never think twice to lend her helping hand. Gullible as she was, she took the problems of others rather seriously as if they were her own and believed that it was her duty to extend help. “I do not care if the other person is speaking the truth or not. When things come to me, I feel responsible to do my duty towards them. Rest will be taken care of automatically”, she said. She regularly provided money to our housemaid to educate her daughter. Such typical expenses were never let known to my father.
Coming from an affluent family of eight, she was the eldest with five brothers. At a very young age, when she was in her fifth class, she had to take-up all the daily chores of the house and also go to school since her mother often was unwell. Managing a large family along with taking care of her ailing mother was no joke but she shouldered the responsibility. There was neither any option and nor anyone to hear or listen to her complaints; her father a Mamlatdar (Head of sub-division of a district) then, would be away on official tours. That could have been the reason which never constricted her to think for “self”.
Her weakness - ornaments in gold! She saved money to buy them. We stayed in a township but the fast life in cities fascinated her. Watching movies along with her cousins in cinema halls, relishing samosas (spicy snacks) and popcorn with cold drinks in the theatre eatery and shopping in malls was her favorite pastime. With her love for music; she sang occasionally at few functions. Do people who love and get immersed in music have an extraordinary ability to ‘Let Go’, I wonder. They get so lost in their own worlds. If she had pursued her interest in singing, she definitely would have been a professional singer. She would play her favorite songs loud. So many times, I had caught her drumming on the table or even her lap going exactly with the rhythm.
Her interest in good attire and parlor activities was extraordinary! The lady doing her facial had to work on her face listening to her snoring! Hahaha. It was within seconds she would fall asleep. Varieties of saris in different colors and shades adorned her wardrobe though she loved the green and magenta shades the most. There would be a fashion show to seek our approval when she purchased new saris. Though my father never accompanied her to the shopping trips, he would join us in giving his feedback. How we enjoyed all of it…….such pleasant memories! There was no count of her sari collection. As she liked to collect so she gave them away; that was never difficult for her. She did not like to hoard things for long.
She loved life; a luxurious one. Except the luxury of a car, she enjoyed all. By the time we bought one, she was no more. Unlike my father who never watched cricket; she loved the game. “Why are the bowlers never declared out” was her innocently intelligent question to her friend. Hey, nobody must have ever thought about this. I do not remember how her friend answered her. Money was a means to buy things and the material stuff. To value people was more important. “Value associations; you never know when you will meet them again; you never know you may need them. Take every opportunity to help them when needed and seek help when you need it”, she often said. Spendthrift in nature, she spent money generously. Often my father would jokingly say, “If I give five lac rupees to your mother, I wonder if she will bring back any money.” If at all he asked her the account of money spent, it would be right on her fingertips. As easy as that!
He had promised to take her on a world tour, which never happened. But he gave us good outings. We visited all parts of India. Both my parents enjoyed sight seeing and adventure; except experiencing travel by ship, we have had it all; by the bone cracking bullock carts, bumpy camel and elephant rides and horse rides (one on the elephant is the most comfortable; try it out, guys), planes, and yes; sitting on the buffaloes was something new. There were jungle treks or visits to the natural waterfalls. On a few occasions staying in tents with bonfires to ward off the wild animals was a thrill. It got more enjoyable with the food being cooked on chulha (fire) at the venue. All we had to do was to move around and collect dry sticks required for the cooking. Boiled eggs and savoring the freshly peeled potatoes out of the fire was a good combination with cooked meat and bajra (millet) rotis (bread). My mom enjoyed getting-up with the cooing birds, and swaying trees during the lovely early mornings at an unknown natural surrounding. Bathing in a nearby river or hungrily eating near the waterfalls was an experience beyond imagination. When the drops from the gushing waterfalls would hit our faces we squealed with joy. If we got lucky with our catch, we cooked fish too. Even now when I close my eyes and think about those days, I hear the music of the waterfalls ringing in my ears. Mom wanted us to experience all that was good and fun loving in life.
They were a couple made-for-each other. Theirs was a happy marriage full of togetherness. Though an active member in the Ladies Club, her evening times were meant only for my father. They would go for long walks everyday. Their day would begin over a cup of tea, which he made, talking to each other and reading together.
She knew about the whereabouts and family of the newspaper boy who delivered it at our home in the early mornings. He was studying commerce and worked to pay for his college fees. She never missed offering him tea almost everyday. His example was repeated to inspire us to study well. On getting a job the boy came home one day with a sweet box. “It was not the cup of tea which your mother offered but it was the concern for me that made the difference”, with tears in his eyes he had said to me.
A crow who sat on the edge of our kitchen window happened to be the first one to get breakfast everyday. It never ate if the first ‘Paratha’ (bread) that she made was not offered. There was an unexplained relationship between them. I never really understood how the crow appeared exactly at the time when she entered the kitchen. It never bothered us when she was out of town. That went on for many years till we left that house. How mysterious!
It was in her womb I found my existence; she introduced me to this beautiful world. The very first memory about her was I saw her cry while she nursed my wounds. It is only a mother who can feel the wounds of her children! There are also some vivid memories of her holding the pencil in my hands to teach me how to write. She was the first person who introduced me to the world of written communication who shaped my scribbling on pages to teach me alphabets. Ummm…….Mmmmmm, and then ‘Mama’ was the first word that I spoke. No doubt, I felt more attached to her as compared to my father. He was another wonderful person in my life but it was she who had held the strings of my life in her hands to skillfully groom me. That is why the special attachment.
Her love for all, our family, relatives and her friends was affable. Being on her own was an option she never chose; she loved to be surrounded by people. If she would knit sweaters for us, the entire family including all the members of my paternal and maternal side would have sweaters. She never wore a sweater though! Whenever she would shop, gifts were carried for all; no exception!
We had a wonderful childhood. We siblings would often ask her, “Mama, tell us whom do you love the most?” “You all are dear to me”, would come her instant reply. Ours was a close-knit family where each one’s preferences were taken into account. She learnt to cook several varieties of vegetarian and non-vegetarian food since my father never liked to eat out. During rainy season, if anyone of us got stuck-up in the rains, she would wait at the door with a towel in her hand to pat us dry. The wafting aroma of fried stuff and steamy hot chocolate would fill our nostrils and we could not wait to relish them. Having coffee around bonfires during winters was a fun. Saturday nights were special. We would gather in our bedroom for a chat which went on till late in the night. The ant and the elephant stories were famous at that time and we would ask her, “What did the ant say to the elephant in his ear that it fainted or why did the ant run behind the ambulance when it was carrying the wounded elephant?” Obviously, she never had answers to this funny stuff! When we cheerfully said her answers that the ant said to the elephant – “I am pregnant with your child” and the ant ran behind the ambulance to donate blood to the elephant, she would break into laughter. We shared with her the overheard gossip too.
I feel proud to be a part of her. It was in her arms I found peace. I shared all my concerns with her - petty fights with my siblings, jokes with my school and college mates, difference in opinions with people around me, and almost everything. I was very open with her. She gave a patient hearing to all my chatter. I found her shoulder to cry on every time I was upset. Most of our chatting happened in the kitchen where I sat on the cylinder placed in the corner while she cooked. Cooking has always been the last thing on my agenda. However, our talking together, unknowingly made me observe how she cooked. Maybe because of that I know it to some extent. I can cook all types of pulses and vegetables, knead the dough but I make maps of all kinds when it comes to making rotis! The situation is the same even now.
Being the first child in the family I was pampered and a notorious kid. Girls in the neighborhood were very few so we played with the boys. I was a bit tomboyish! Cleaning the floors of our home due to newspaper bits and gum stains and flour kept my mother busy due to my favorite activity of pasting kites. My kites soared high but that came with a spanking or two from her! My father must have fallen down a couple of times from our relaxing chair because I removed the rods, which held the cloth to the chair. Whenever any damage was done to our neighbor’s house while playing, she ran behind me with a broom. Occasionally I got spanked. Ummm........part of growing-up!”
I had a fascination for particular brands and compelled my father to buy only those of my choice. He needed me to be genuinely happy with the purchases. If new footwear was purchased for my sister or brother, I also needed one even when my footwear did not need a replacement. To me it was always a “yes” or “no”. There was nothing in between. If I asked for anything “No” was never an acceptable answer. My mother taught me to get friendly with that “NO”.
I also was straightforward. My father never objected. But she had some issues and needed me to curtail this behavior. “You must learn to be polite and you must know how to speak”, she said. She taught me to control my overly frank nature. When I was in IVth class, my father had sent me to the bank to deposit a cheque. While there were several other people who stood in the queue, one man barged-in from somewhere and tried to get his work done across the counter. I remember asking that man to stand in queue and wait for his turn. The man who eventually turned out to be my father’s colleague had narrated that incident to him.
She believed that if anyone spoke ill, let him or her do so. If anyone hurt or harassed, be of help to them in all possible ways. She said, “If you want to lead a peaceful and serene life, learn to control your anger and pride”.
I guess she learnt this important trait from her family.
Smiling was her second nature. My goodness! Her endearing smile was enough to instantly get rid of all the frowns. Her small and even sized teeth made her smile so beautifully; that made her eyes glimmer. She found happiness in the smallest of things. They could be fruits or unexpected gifts and sweets. On their wedding anniversary we siblings gifted our parents with a gas frame with grill that was carefully packed and placed on the dining table. While the joy of this unexpected gift was much evident on her face, my father broke into laughter because he had already guessed what the gift was. ‘How did you know?” Was our question to him? “The stand of the gas frame was seen as you all did not pack it properly”, he said. She enjoyed the day. “Accept gifts gracefully. Never ever see the price tag attached to it. Learn to see the underlying emotions behind the gift” was what she taught us.
There were several occasions, which I witnessed when a particular set of people did offend her. But she would laugh them away. She had say, “Let them say what they like. Why to react? One should learn to respond rather than react”. I would be utterly surprised when I saw the same set of people who had upset her, again finding her shoulder to cry on. Never paying any heed to back biting, she said, “It is no good speaking ill about anyone behind their back. It is always better to speak upfront and get clarifications. Forgiveness is beautiful; it is the beginning of love”.
After I graduated, I wanted to work (objective - to earn my own pocket money!!). It was a fantasy to work, which led me to the city of my dreams. My father was against the idea but my mother let me go. That was in September 1988. Least did I know what it meant really to stay at relatives place? It was just to have fun and enjoy vacations that we would visit them but that time the reason was different. Experiences were not so good and as the days passed the situation became bitter, which revealed to me sooner that I must go. Relatives!!!!!!! Are they good only for fun time? Yes is my honest answer.
I would write to my mother but she never replied. That time there were no mobiles. We didn’t have a land line either. I was not comfortable and began loosing hopes. When I could take it no longer, after a stint of six months, I came back home. (I wonder why we did not think of opting to stay in a hostel. My inner voice says – “No, my dad would never have preferred that option because of my young age at that time. He knew how lonely one can feel in a hostel since his sister had experienced it”). I cried out my heart to my father who cried with me. Hiding her tears from me; my mother cried alone! None of my parents wrote to my relatives or uttered a single word nor demanded any explanation from them. They were however intimated about my safe arrival back home.
To my surprise after two days I met an old classmate who spoke about a job opening in a construction company and asked me to approach them. In March 1989, I attended an interview with them and got it. My first job! More than me, my mother was overjoyed.
As the days passed, things fell in place as usual. I opened the door to the ‘ting tong’ one day to find our relatives at our doorstep. It was a Sunday and my parents were not at home. All the devils (emotions) at once sprang-up and without even exchanging a ‘hello’ I asked my sister to attend to them. How mean of me. The pent-up anger was so intense that I did not want to see them. There was a time when we looked forward to meet each other and enjoy time together. Time had changed like the changing seasons! While they stayed with us for a few days, I took every opportunity to be away from them. Except me everything was normal. I was battling with my emotions constantly and some how could not get over them. Without bothering me, my mother was observing my attitude all the time.
After they were gone my mother who had not spoken a word about my stay away from home one day asked me to join her to a nearby park. “Gubbu, come let us talk” My pet name because of my chubby cheeks! We all siblings and our next generation are blessed with chubby cheeks. I knew she had not approved my behavior. It was a quiet evening except with a few visitors; time for the birds to return back home. Holding my mom’s hand, we walked towards a bench. Resting her hands on my shoulders she had made me sit to face her and then she began, “Do you know what you did?” I chose to keep mum. “You made a show of your hurt feelings before them; what did you gain?” She let me speak my heart out, and listened to me patiently. “What was it that stopped you from behaving normal?” Your purpose is solved. So what if it is not in the city of your dreams? What is bothering you now? Are you still having thoughts of vengeance towards them? What makes you trouble yourself? When we are with you why should there be any hurt and conflict? Learn to forgive, my child, you will otherwise remain unhappy and bring in suffering for yourself. This bitterness and resentment against people will do you no good”. Her way of reprimanding was unique and with love. There was no anger in her words. She had put everything so calmly while the setting sun spread its various shades across the sky and was in the verge to say goodbye for the day.
“Think broad; have an open mind”, she said. “Our relatives might have found it difficult to accommodate you for whatsoever reasons. So what? Does this give you an upper hand to be bitter towards them? Dreams can come true even while you are here. You should know how to make them big. You can never look forward to the future if you cling to the past; leave it behind; it is no use thinking about it. Now that you have got an opportunity to prove your worth, make the most of it. I would like to see you earning laurels and recognition. I trust your capability and I know YOU CAN”. Her trust in me was right. I proved my worth and within three years of time had begun to climb ladders of success.
Her wisdom of teaching me to “forgive” meaning “giving way to my bitterness towards people and not holding on to them” did not bring in much transformation in me. I continued living my own ways. It had become a habit to hold grudges and remain upset with people who hurt me. Probably my EGO was the reason for my inability to vent out my feelings. I could brood for hours but could never manage myself to confront. I failed to realize that in the bargain I was troubling myself. I had been deaf to her teachings. Though, she never missed any opportunity to counsel me. She was actually teaching me the simpler ways of living life. However, I was taking time to absorb all of it what she was suggesting.
My father succumbed to a road accident in 1994. Emotionally strong, she took his death in her own stride not letting the pain and loss be seen on her face. It was because of the goodwill she had earned over the years, we had got all the needed help and support from our neighbors and family friends. At times, tears in her eyes would bring back my father’s memories. “He was the best of the son-in-laws in the family worthy of praise. Your grandfather was very proud of him. Some dreams, which your father and I shared, remain unfulfilled. Tere mere sapne ab ek rung hai, jaha bhi le jaye raahe, hum sung hai (A Hindi song which means wherever life takes us, we will be together as our dreams…….), was the song which your father had written in his first letter to me after our wedding. He sang this song often. Your father never hurt me; even once.
My father’s sudden death brought in some transformation in me. It set me thinking from my mother’s point of view and I would hold her by me and let her tears give away her grief. A daughter needs to take the mother’s role when situation demands to let her mother know that everything is fine. Except my brother, and me the rest of my family members had shifted to my hometown. It pained me to see my mother in white that always wore vibrant colors. The smile on her face had somewhat died. She read the Bhagwad Geeta and joined prayer meetings to help her tide over her painful emotions.
There was one incident that comes to my mind, which shook me and churned me from inside out. She had used some of our savings to help her brother who was in need and I was against that. We should hold on to our savings for future and you should not have committed any financial help to anyone. She probably had not liked my thoughts and I had left for the hostel after an argument with her over this. I began feeling guilty about my behavior and immediately wrote an apology letter to her explaining that I was not against extending financial help but we needed to maintain our resources as well. She replied to my letter in which it was mentioned, “I helped my brother. Will you not help yours if he asks for?” The last lines were – “I love you so much and so will still forgive you”. These words haunt me till date and I feel ashamed of myself. I knew I had terribly hurt her.