Maintaining equipoise of mind!!

 "I recently read a book on forgiveness by a speaker I admire. He used the story of Sita's abduction to illustrate the importance of maintaining composure during difficult times. He's right; controlling one's mind is a constant struggle, especially when challenges pile up, leaving no room for respite. While we all possess inherent divinity and deserve happiness, life often throws us into a relentless cycle of pain. Maintaining equanimity is easy when life is smooth, but far more challenging when it's not.

It's true, we all have things to be grateful for, yet that can feel hollow during intense hardship. We crave support and cooperation, but these aren't always available. I often question if my own forgiveness is reciprocated. It feels like I'm expected to give without receiving, to act without desire. "Expect nothing" is my mantra, but how can action exist without some form of intention? I know I haven't reached that state of pure detachment.

These trials have deepened my spiritual understanding, but I recognize how much I still have to learn. Sometimes, I wonder why I wasn't taught these lessons earlier, but dwelling on the past is futile. I'm grappling with a sense of detachment from everything I do. Is this a healthy path? I'm left with more questions than answers, a constant stream of inquiries."

Triumph and turmoil:A days reflection!!

 Today's entry begins with a story of triumph: Sailaja. If you remember that from my earlier post on real life stories about Shailaja. After years of hardship, she's finally achieved her dream of owning a home. Reflecting on her journey, I'm struck by the sheer resilience it must have taken. Raising her daughter alone, navigating financial obstacles, and securing a stable future for them both – it's a testament to her strength. Imagine the emotional weight of those years, the constant uncertainty. Yet, she persevered. She learned, she adapted, and she built a life worthy of celebration. 

 I can't help but wonder about the emotional toll, the constant worry, the sheer weight of responsibility she carried. It's a triumph, undoubtedly, but it also raises a fundamental question: why does life have to be so relentlessly difficult? We're given one life, and for so many, it's a struggle for survival. Where is the balance? Where is the ease, the love, the support we all crave? I struggle with reconciling such hardship with my faith. It feels like a fundamental imbalance.

Her youth vanished, consumed by the relentless demands of single parenthood, a constant battle against financial strain. The weight of sole responsibility, meant to be shared, pressed down on her for atleast 21 years until her daughter finally found stability. How does one sustain faith through such a protracted ordeal? Doesn't everyone deserve a life filled with love and joy? This felt like a silent, unacknowledged punishment. If divine mercy exists, how can such a fate be explained? What word describes this experience?

The journey of Shivaratri: remembrance and beyond!!

 Seventeen years later, your memory resurfaces, vivid as ever. I recall that time with startling clarity: my chickenpox, my youngest brother's looming board exams, and my father's hurried journey to collect me. We went to Vijayawada, his then-posting, where the doctor's medications painted my face with a thick, ominous coating. As a young girl, I feared the scars they might leave. The drugs made me drowsy, and I languished in my father's quarters, the humid heat a stark contrast to Bangalore's climate.

Then came Maha Shivaratri. My mother's call brought devastating news: your suicide attempt. You were in the hospital, conscious, but when you spoke, you addressed your mother as your sister's mother, not your own.

Now, I understand the depth of your anguish. The day after Shivaratri, my mother called again, this time with finality. You were gone. Shiva, it seemed, had chosen to end your suffering. I hope he granted you peace, a better existence. If reincarnation is real, I hope your current life is filled with joy. You would be around fifteen or sixteen now, perhaps facing your own board exams. Do well this time. Build a meaningful life, and don't give up.

Your tragedy, I believe, strengthened my mother. She nurtured me through my own emotional turmoil years later, teaching me to forgive, both others and myself. Forgiving others came easier than forgiving myself. Though I pretended otherwise, the guilt lingered for years. I never realized how deeply intertwined these events were.

Did your experience fundamentally change how my family reacted to my own struggles? Perhaps. Are we still connected in some unseen way? Could you be near me, unknown?

We often dwell on "what ifs," mourning futures we envisioned but never realized. Losing you is a regret that still haunts me.

This Shivaratri, my brother is moving, and I pray that Shiva will guide him in all his plans. Seventeen years, and the memories still echo.

I used to observe the Shivaratri fast since my third year of college, stopping in 2008 due to illness. I'm unsure if I continued the following year, but eventually, I stopped altogether. I felt Shiva had not granted my wishes. It took time to understand that perhaps he had, in a way that was right, if not for me, then for someone else.

This year, I've decided to fast again tomorrow. But this time, I won't ask for personal wishes. Instead, I'll ask Shiva to reveal his plans for me, to guide me. I want to see if this surrender, this acceptance, is the true wisdom I should be seeking. 

Ohm! Namah Shivay!!

Colouring with broken crayons!!

 Today is Vijaya Ekadashi, and it fell on a Monday, which meant less cooking for me. However, I felt rather down all day. My mind raced relentlessly until evening. Some days are just like that—they come and go without offering any relief.

I felt a little better after evening, though. I had this sense that life has shattered me into pieces, but then I remembered the saying, "Broken crayons still color." Even though I felt restless, I continued with my duties. It's exhausting to maintain hope in a seemingly hopeless situation, to keep my spirits up, knowing that my hard work might not be as rewarding as it should be.

Ideally, I should be thinking about early retirement at this age. Instead, my plans have gone in the opposite direction. It's disheartening to experience delays in everything I aspire to, but do I really have a choice? My introspection leads me into a whirlwind of past decisions, choices that seemed right at the time but ultimately didn't serve me well. Nevertheless, I survived.

I don't understand what life is trying to teach me, or why. I just believe I'm still the same person I was before I entered the real world after graduation. Somewhere deep down, I'm still that girl who simply did her part without thinking about the consequences.

The bare minimum!!

 The phrase "I don't need much doesn't mean I deserve the bare minimum" resonated deeply with me. It made me realize how this applies to so many areas of life, not just material possessions.

For instance, I'm not a foodie. This doesn't mean I should eat bland, unappetizing food every day. Yesterday's dinner outing brought this home. We rarely eat out, and I'm perfectly fine with that. However, I occasionally crave non-vegetarian food. My husband is a strict vegetarian, and before we went to the restaurant, I specifically asked him if they served non-veg. He said yes, but it turned out to be a lie – it was a purely vegetarian establishment. I was incredibly disappointed. I've compromised my own food preferences for him, yet he can't even occasionally accommodate my desire for non-veg, even once a month.

If I had met my husband before marriage, I might have given up non-veg entirely or never would have married him. But that didn't happen. I entered this marriage largely for my family's happiness, hoping to find a loving and understanding partner. Instead, I'm faced with someone unwilling to respect even small, infrequent requests.

My mind keeps circling back to why I got married in the first place. I married with the hope of finding a partner who would exceed my expectations. I've been committed to my duties as a wife, but why do I have to constantly remind someone of their responsibilities towards me? Shouldn't these things be freely given?

Yes, I'm not a foodie. I prioritize healthy eating and cooking. But it feels like no one understands my needs. My mother advises me not to expect anything from people, only from God. But where is God in all of this? Why have I received only the bare minimum, with nothing extra to feel even a little contentment?

Arranged marriages: a gamble of your life!!

 I recently heard a disturbing story about a woman in Punjab who faced immense pressure after giving birth to her third daughter. She was told not to return home from the hospital if the baby was a girl. It's appalling that women are still subjected to such cruel treatment for something they have no control over – the sex of their child. No educated woman should have to endure this.

This situation highlights the immense societal and familial pressures that can lead women into marriage, often without truly knowing their partner. A woman might not discover her partner's true character, particularly regarding support and acceptance, until after conceiving. This underscores the importance of knowing one's partner before marriage, yet many families in India still prioritize arranged marriages, viewing marriage as a union between families rather than individuals. While some are fortunate to find compatible partners, others suffer regardless. What are your thoughts on this?

The buzz around the Hindi film "Mrs.," a remake of the Malayalam film "The Great Indian Kitchen," is hard to ignore. Yet, I've chosen not to watch it, not wanting to dwell on a reality we all know too well. Indian women, sadly, have often internalized these domestic expectations as simply part of their duty and life. While progress is being made, and some women are fortunate to have supportive partners, is this the norm? Certainly not. Societal change is happening, but at a glacial pace. Too often, women lack support from their husbands, fathers, and brothers when they need it most. The "kitchen politics" from in-laws and the constant scrutiny from even their own families can make women feel less like human beings and more like commodities. And yet, we still boast about the greatness of our culture.

Today, I acknowledge, without reservation, that this aspect of our culture is far from ideal. Marriage often feels like a lottery, and the realization of its true nature can be deeply disillusioning. This, perhaps, explains the rising divorce rates, the increase in extramarital affairs, and the growing number of women choosing to forgo marriage altogether.

The unspoken "what ifs"

 A short story about a young househelp, forced into early marriage, resonated deeply with me. She yearned for the chance to have chosen a different path, one where she could have pursued education and explored the world beyond her family's confines.

This feeling of "what if" struck a chord. Even though I married in my late twenties and had a child in my mid-thirties, and my marriage wasn't forced, I still wonder if I could have made different choices. That nagging sense of unrealized potential sometimes makes me question my self-worth. I find myself asking, "Why do I feel this way?"

Perhaps this is why I understand the projected decline in marriage rates by 2050. Are we destined to bear responsibilities without truly enjoying our present? How can we shape our lives to achieve contentment, happiness, and fulfillment? These questions constantly occupy my thoughts. I'm currently working on something that I hope will address these feelings, but I'm not ready to share it until I'm certain it will come to fruition.

I was also inspired by a story about a classmate's 72-year-old mother. After retiring from her career as a lecturer, she began investing in and selling flats in the Delhi NCR area. Her resilience is truly admirable. I remember from our school days that her family had faced some difficulties. I never had the courage to ask her about her father, but I knew he was either absent or had left them. Her mother, with the support of her parents, raised her and her older sister single-handedly. To overcome such a traumatic experience and build the confidence she now displays in her seventies is remarkable. I have so much respect for her strength.

These resilient women serve as powerful examples of how to live a fulfilling life, even amidst life's challenges. I hope more people will share similar stories of courage and resilience.