I was born a dreamer. A nomad in my heart and in my soul, one who wandered between worlds and words with a curiosity to discover more realms beyond the mundane and the ordinary. While doing so, I was also breaking traditions and conventions without a backward glance. The only one who can persuade me to see things differently is SWAMI.
(Image: Radio Sai)
At 18 years, I fell deeply in love. Today, with Swami's grace, I am marking my seventeenth wedding anniversary with the same person whose every smile and conversation made me feel 'this is my world forever.'
We began our life together with just the blessings of our parents and our loved ones and most importantly, Swami's abundant love and blessings.
Till we got married, our lives had been fairly simple and closely protected. We had never taken the responsibility of managing money as our parents were always super protective about us and providing for our every need, as is the case with most middle class families in India.
We had never known what it is like to go out there in the real world, to haggle to buy essential items including spice boxes or steel vessels in the local market and wooden furniture that would be a refuge inside our homes to give shape to our daily activities.
The truth is that we didn't care whether we had furniture or not as long as we had each other to hold.
I know this is what the millennials are likely to call 'cringe-worthy' or 'cheesy' but this is the story of my life and it is the truth.
As I mentioned earlier, we had no clue about real life and how starting a life together also means planning for a roof over our heads, a job that would be the compass of our new beginning together and a future that had to be financially secure.
We were just like two kids on a giant rollercoaster, enjoying the fleeting glimpses that life was throwing our way, not caring, not fearing and not worrying about the future.
In a nutshell, we were young, madly and blindly in love. So deeply in love that we got married first and began our careers after marriage.
The real world is a ruthless place for innocence. The challenges that we faced stemmed from our ignorance of the real world and real people.
Our 'luxuries' were non-existent, which added to our incremental joys of daily living. Buying curtains for our rented apartment and two pressure cookers were the big 'events' in our domestic life, as was haggling and buying an 'expensive dinner' set of four plates that cost us two thousand rupees. I guess you are probably laughing at me by now!
Back then the value of two thousand rupees was something that blurred the line between cutting down basic essentials on our grocery list or skipping a much anticipated weekly treat!
A Thursday evening treat at Nathu's Bengali market where we ordered one dish called Dahi bhalla that we fed each other, oblivious to disapproving eyes around us. We just loved our weekly treat and made sure to order just one dish that we could spoon into.
The people around us would not have known that this one dish was a symbol of shared love, hopes and aspirations of a couple that had barely enough money to make ends meet nor wanted to go running to parents to ask for help. We were determined to make our parents proud of the decision that we had taken to start a life together, boldly and fearlessly.
None of this was easy. The challenges were huge.
Yet that one tiny weekly treat was a symbol of our triumph of having survived the real world and its darts.
The best thing about not having any material possessions to lose is that you put all your heart and soul into nurturing what you have.
Because that is all that we have: Each other.
Once married, we took the train to Delhi that very week and we started working for the first time in our lives almost twelve hours daily and getting barely enough rest on weekends because there was so much work to do and little time to spend with each other. In fact, our work schedules were so hectic that we barely spent time with each other. We rarely had time together for many years, not even for vacations together because it would clash with our schedules.
(Image: Pexels)
The cultural shock of moving from our protected cocoons was huge. Back then, every call on your cell phone, incoming or outgoing, was charged, which meant that even our conversations to parents and siblings had to be brief and to the point. There were occasions when I would just cry in front of Swami's photo because I missed my parents and sister so much. I longed to hear my sister's voice or just to hug her and maybe fight with her over silly things like who gets to sit next to Dad first at the dinner table!
Life had just begun teaching us the bittersweet lessons that we needed so that we could shed our old selves and grow out of our comfort zones.
When our son was born, our challenges multiplied along with our happiness. The silver lining is that we had tons of optimism along with rising diaper expenses. That combination is deadly, I tell you, so are the life lessons, especially after I took a six month break when Adi was about two years old.
Even today, I remember my smiling, super cute Adi standing out in the scorching sun while my husband would find a spot to sit while I went to attend job interviews. My heart would break every time I was made to wait for more than an hour or two at these job interviews because I knew my baby Adi was restlessly braving the heat for me. He always followed wherever we went and the only thing that would make his eyes fill up is when we had to leave for work. There have been countless job interviews where Adi has come with me, like a shadow, waiting for my return.
We learned the lessons of life the hard way. The lessons of scarcity taught me more about people than anything else. When you hit rock bottom in life, no one wants to be seen with you. Even friends have a way of vanishing into thin air. Scarcity blessed me with the most powerful lessons of life though it almost made me lose faith in humanity altogether.
Not everything is as bad as it seems. This is also the phase in my life when I experienced the power of the Internet and social media. People I barely knew came forward out of the blue to offer help, recommend job opportunities to me and so on.
A blog that I used to regularly read changed the course of my career curve and in that sense, my life altogether. In my daily prayers to the Almighty even today, I always pray for the success and happiness of the blogger and for the happiness of the blogger's family. That blog transformed my life and gratitude is all that I can send out in the form of prayers and thoughts.
The very few friends who stayed with us through thick and thin - I love them and remain indebted in my heart to them for their amazing moral support. They surfed against the popular tide and in doing so, they were being brave to us and to themselves, sticking out their own necks to show that they care. Love you, good friends - you know who you are.
Here, I have written a heart-wrenching post about what failure taught me and how some friends chose to treat me. Do read here.
[READ: Why failure can be a good thing in your life]
Here, I have written a heart-wrenching post about what failure taught me and how some friends chose to treat me. Do read here.
[READ: Why failure can be a good thing in your life]
Today, as Sanand and I reflect on our life's journey, our young dreams of growing old together, we feel grateful to Swami that He was with us every step of the way, protecting and providing for us in little ways that we may have initially taken for granted. We also laugh at ourselves about how silly and immature we used to be, assuming that life would be a pathway of roses when it handed out to us more thorn-lined pathways than roses.
Snippets of memories keep popping up in mind. On our first trip together to Jaipur, we opted for the most affordable two-day Jaipur travel package deal from Panicker's travels in Delhi. We were so careful about every rupee that we spent that we opted to have just two meals a day and skipped dinner to save for the elaborate traditional thali lunch the next day! That evening, we stuffed ourselves with fruits and chips and Coke and we laughed at ourselves.
Never did we feel unhappy. For us, being together is our happiness.
Lisa Ray, in her memoir titled 'Close to the Bone' nails it when she says: "It should be said that I have always lived with a faith that things will work out. I believe I was born with it, this positivity bias, weighing on my shoulders. This might come across as bravery or fearlessness (or lunacy) but what I think it is is old fashioned moxie: the audacity to go out there and take chances. Life is either for you or against you and this belief, I think, drives all of human experience."
Together, we have walked through many trials of fire just as most people do in their life.That's life for you. You don't win it all, you lose a lot too, sometimes more than you ever expected.
But so what? We walked together, hand in hand, sharing dreams, hopes, joys and sorrows, all a big parcel of human life. To live a life of integrity and honesty holds out the toughest challenges in today's world. It can take many years of austerity and professional as well as personal discipline. But the lessons learned are worth it.
And there's still a long way to go, grow and evolve into who we are. More promises to keep together and to the Sun called Jyotiraditya that shines brightly in our horizon.
Dearest Swami, I want you to know this, "Without you, nothing and none of this would have been possible. You alone stood with us, your grace alone protected us all these years. Without your love, Swami, I am nothing. There is nothing. Gratitude to you, Swami, for everything."
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