A surrealist masterpiece, René Magritte’s 1928 painting, The Lovers, (via google images )

Raj family had migrated toNew Yorkafter Aditya’s marriage.  He was in the family’s diamond business and had entered into a 50-50 partnership with his childhood buddy Shiva who was already settled inNew   York. The ancestral home had been in their family for almost two hundred years and he had left it in the able hands of his younger brother Satya and grandmother. Their parents had retired in the holy place ofBanarasbut the old grandmother refused to leave the home where she’d come as a bride. No lure of a holy place could pry her away from this house. Then five years ago just before grandpa’s first death anniversary, grandmother had taken ill and passed away. Satya was single and had no desire to wed, hence joined Aditya inNew   Yorkafter granny’s death. The house was left in the care of their old faithful cook and jack of all Ramu and his wife.

Aditya and son Vijay had a good night’s sleep and were ready to walk down memory lane. This was their first visit after granny’s demise. Sounds of joyous laughter and scampering feet reverberated in their ears. Granny’s beckoning voice the loudest. She had a whole repertoire of fairytales and delicious goodies to share with her grandchildren. The kids adored her. Neighborhood children came by even after her grandchildren had migrated toNew   York.  She never tired of telling stories.

Zeba Khan was very attractive. Classic features, long brown hair and almond shaped eyes and an hourglass figure made her an instant cynosure for all eyes. She had eyes for Satya Raj only.  No one else existed as far as she was concerned.  All alliances put forward by kith and kin were summarily dismissed.

By one pretext or another, she would visit Satya in his oldDelhijewelry store and chat him up. She intimated that one of her ancestors had been an important minister inDelhi’s royal court where Satya’s ancestors were the royal jewelers. She shared many such anecdotes with facts and figures leaving no doubt in Satya’s mind that indeed, their family lines were interconnected.  She tried to dangle a family secret as a carrot as she was madly in love with his looks and demeanor. But Satya would have none of it. Zeba was beautiful he admitted to himself and had gotten under his skin but he never gave up his resolve to remain celibate like his beloved deity Hanuman. Plus he was a staunch Hindu and she was a Muslim. His folks would be scandalized, not that he wished to marry. Then granny had passed away.

Caretaker Ramu and wife, in order to properly care for the house and make some extra money on the side, rented the house without Raj family’s knowledge. It was Zeba and her elder brother Ali who had rented the house. Unbeknownst to Ramu and wife, both Zeba and Ali searched the house every night. They especially targeted granny’s room. They had almost finished searching every inch of the room when by accident, Zeba’s hand hit upon the center rose carving on the bed’s head board. With a whirring sound the rose opened up and inside was a secret drawer. Full of excitement, Ali pushed his sister back and stuck his hand inside the drawer. A velvet pouch touched his fingers. With shaky fingers he extracted it and opened the bag.  Out popped a priceless diamond, the size of an egg. This is what they had been seeking.  Finally their hard work had paid off.

Ali was up to his eyebrows in gambling debts and needed money badly. He was aware that he was living on borrowed time. Zeba cried that in all fairness half of the money belonged to the Raj family as it was their property. As family history ran, this diamond was meant for the favored Queen of the King but she had been mysteriously poisoned and subsequently the King had declared the diamond unlucky. Raj family had since then hidden it from view for sake of its safety and family honor. Ali had no intention of sharing the proceeds from the diamond’s sale even with his half sister Zeba. Hence he had no compunction of ending her life. He smothered her with a pillow when she was asleep and fled. Ever since that day, Zeba’s ghost roamed the corridors of the old mansion always on the lookout for her beloved Satya Raj.

The caretaker and his wife had come to know about this ghost as it had appeared to them while cleaning the house. The police case had been closed after thorough investigation due to lack of clues.  Ali had vanished into thin air.

Ramu and wife reluctantly confessed to renting the house in their absentia and the murder thereafter. Aditya and son were quite upset. Somehow Aditya felt, maybe that was the reason he had this urge to return home. He decided to play it by ear. That night he slept in granny’s room with her favorite shawl around his shoulders. After a while, he felt the air around the bed change a bit and he felt a presence. He saw the floating figure of granny and she seemed to be looking at him with love in her eyes. Aditya’s eyes moistened involuntarily. Granny seemed to be pointing at something. Then her finger elongated and touched the carved rose on the headboard. Aditya decided to examine it. He tapped it gently and it sprang open. Excitedly, he put his hand inside but came up empty. Then he pushed it further and came into another compartment and in that he found a small diary and a pouch. He removed both. The diary was written in pristine “Urdu” language (Urdu -is a register of the Hindi-Urdu language that is identified with Muslims in South Asia).

Luckily Aditya knew Urdu and read the diary with growing excitement.  In great detail it narrated the story of their ancestor, the royal jeweler.  His son had been fatally wounded while fleeing from dacoits.  The ancestor had prayed to Lord Krishna promising a twenty one diamond studded crown in return for his son.   The son healed in record time and now the promise was yet to be fulfilled.  Somehow, the favorite queen got a whiff of this through her spies and wanted a necklace made with the biggest stone from the lot of 21 diamonds.    Even before Satya Raj could plead his case, the queen died mysteriously after being poisoned.  The diamonds were declared unlucky and went underground.  This news did not deter the court’s greedy sycophants.   Thus began the quest for diamonds.  The promise to the lord remained unfulfilled.  The chase was on.

Gafoor Ali Khan was one such greedy minister plagued by his many wives for expensive baubles. To end his money troubles, he set his sights on those diamonds.  In the interim, Satya Raj had a master carpenter build a solid bed with a carved headboard with secret drawers.  In the first drawer he had placed a false diamond; the size of the largest one to misguide any would be thief.  He had the carpenter swear to secrecy on his only son’s head.  The elder sons of the clan were privy to this secret only.  Time sped and the diamonds stayed hidden in the second drawer, to this day.

Aditya Raj was inNew Yorkon business when grandpa shared the family secret with granny on his deathbed, to pass along to him only as Aditya’s father; their only son was unworldly and had no interest in family affairs.  Granny had waited to convey this secret on grandpa’s first death anniversary when Aditya was sure to come down fromNew Yorkbut died without revealing it.

Aditya got in touch with one of his old trusted craftsmen.  He had him overnight craft a beautiful crown for the lord studded with the promised twenty-one diamonds under a cloak of extreme secrecy.  After swearing him on Lord Krishna’s name, he quickly left for the Lord Krishna’s temple in Vrindavan to make good the promise and uphold family honor.  The Lord had a playful smile after receiving this offering.

Aditya and son returned toNew York.  As promised, he checked into the hospital for the by-pass surgery.  He felt on top of the world.  A sense of well being pervaded his person.  The doctors were mystified.  After several tests, they discovered that his heart was completely normal and blockage free.   The Lord smiled mischievously in his temple inIndia.

*Lord Krishna and Hanuman are Hindu deities

Gorby (Govardhan) – Ghost, Ravi’s friend/adversary/ TV-movie star

Biba – Gorby’s love, Monu’s mom, Ravi’s wife

Monu (Mandeep): Ravi’s son fathered by Gorby

Kaka- bungalow caretaker

Ms. Rosie: Monu’s nanny

~~

Silently, ninja entered the house. Surefooted, knowing exactly where to go, he reached the bedroom. He tapped awake the sleeping man ever so gently.  It was movie and TV star the Great Gorby.  Once he was awake he threatened Gorby menacingly, “Leave Ravi Talwar and his family alone or else you will be sorry!”  Gorby quietly extracted a gun from under his pillow and tried to shoot but his hand was shaking badly and the nimble ninja deflected the gun. Gorby shot himself instead.  The gloved ninja left same way he’d come.

After initial hue n cry, the death was declared accidental. Mumbai’s tinsel town, notorious for its short memory span, soon forgot Gorby.

Gorby’s ashes were ritually immersed by his grief stricken dad but he never left.  His ghost roamed the bungalow determined on seeking revenge.    The caretaker Kaka was sorry that he had rented the place surreptitiously. He should’ve asked his “sahib” first.  It was too late now.

Ghost Gorby was bored.  He longed for real people to scare.  Ever since his ignominious end, he had been thirsting for revenge, stuck as he was between the living and the dead. To date, he had merely scared caretaker Kaka and a bunch of adventurous kids.

Ravi Talwar was a restauranteur in New York. He had had no desire to join the family business that was well run by other family members. Quick wits and hard work had paid off and now he owned three successful restaurants offering ethnic Indian food.  He had dark thick hair, laughing eyes, big forehead, biggish Talwar nose and full lips. His body was athletic due to morning workouts and careful eating.  Altogether, he was a well dressed easy on the eye marriage prospect. Happy and ready to settle down, he proposed marriage to his childhood fellow prankster and love, Biba.

Biba was a distant relative of Ravi’s mom and often came to stay in their house with her parents who were also their business partners.  Only child of doting parents, she had become a spoilt princess and being beautiful, everyone simply indulged her shamelessly.  Only Ravi did no such thing hence Biba had a love hate fascination for him.  She always tried to get the upper hand but failed- this had earned Ravi her grudging respect.   She even felt a sneaky kind of love for him. The minx had determined that only way to make Ravi succumb was to marry him. So far, Ravi had held out.

Ravi’s proposal had been everyone’s dream come true and they became engaged.

Gorby after graduation had left for tinsel town Mumbai to try his luck in movies.  A few pulled family strings had panned out and he had landed a small part in a TV serial.  He was a consummate actor and soon got noticed.  His drop dead looks, green eyes and chestnut hair also helped.  His mom had been a fair green eyed Kashmiri beauty whose family had been uprooted from their beloved Kashmir valley.   Enroute to their second home in Dehradun, militants had struck again and she had died on the spot.  Pandit Kaul hastily made a makeshift pyre to consign the body to flames and waited for dawn to gather her ashes. Thereafter, he hid his three year old son under his shirt and headed non stop for Dehradun.  His wife’s ashes were duly consigned to the holy Ganges there, amidst tears and chants.

Mr. Kaul’s close friend and neighbors, the Talwar family had taken them both in and healing had begun.  Talwars and Kauls were business partners and to occupy his grief stricken mind, Mr. Kaul took upon himself all out of town travel secure in the knowledge that his beloved son was in caring hands…  Gorby was easy going and charming but with a flexible slant to life unlike Ravi who had been molded by his mother and grandmother in strict moral code and conduct.   He and Ravi were close buddies.

Biba heeded to her inner drummer alone.  In their heart of hearts Ravi’s mom and granny would’ve been happy if Ravi had chosen another.  But love is blind and they were happy enough with this choice.  Better to deal with a known devil than an unknown one.

Dashing actor Gorby swept Biba off her feet at the engagement party and she fell headlong for him.  He praised her looks outrageously and encouraged her to become an actress.  Ravi and the rest were unaware of this.

A week before the marriage day, Gorby and Biba eloped to Mumbai.  Spoilt Biba was in for a rude awakening.  Nymphets like her were a dime a dozen and she was not amenable to the casting couch.  She was blacklisted and Gorby had to apologize to everyone and mollify Biba as well.  He genuinely loved her and wanted to marry her.  They both felt terrible about backstabbing Ravi but were madly in love.  In a moment of weakness, they made love after another scathing rejection of Biba.  She became pregnant.  Both were aghast as they did not wish for a child.  Repentant and tear stricken she returned home.

Ravi still loved Biba and both the families quickly got them married and soon after they left for New York.

The nurse brought the wailing baby to Biba but she turned her face away.  She had gone into depression.  Ravi singlehandedly took care of both and finally engaged an Indian nanny to care for his son.  They named the baby Mandeep but called him Monu.

To prove to herself her own self worth, Biba soon took an interest in the restaurants and became a cordon bleu chef. Digging out old family recipes and begging family ladies for recipes, she dabbled and created new dishes.  She gave them exotic names and gradually introduced them in their restaurants.  Their revenue trebled.  Finally the family had come together.  In time, she came to adore her geeky son Monu as well.

Monu was in the process of boarding his school bus when a brakeless car slammed into the bus injuring several kids.  Monu’s spine was injured and he lost the use of his legs.  He was only ten.

After trying all treatments, devastated Ravi and Biba decided to sell everything and return home to their beloved Dehradun valley.  Fresh air, Ayurvedic massages were next on their agenda.

Exercise equipment, physical therapy aids, computers et al had been shipped in advance.  The bungalow was readied for wheelchair accessibility.  It was then that Kaka made a clean breast of having rented their bungalow to actor Gorby without their knowledge and his subsequent accidental death. Kaka was unaware that Gorby, Biba and Ravi were childhood buddies.  He also said that their house was haunted.  Ravi and Biba laughed in his face.  Sheepish at this reaction, Kaka slunk out.

Monu was a nerd and it had been agreed by his US school principal that he could appear for exams online- so everyone was happy. His Indian nanny Ms. Rosie had agreed to travel with them and Ravi and Biba were relieved.

Monu was a night owl and as he worked on his homework, he felt a presence. He turned his swivel chair and saw a man seated on his bed. He was looking at him with love.  Monu asked, “who are you?’  Gorby replied, “I am your dad son! “ But how can that be Monu cried my dad is Ravi and not you! But Gorby insisted.  Then Monu asked why are you  still here? Gorby said he wanted to know who had plotted to scare him to death literally.   Then he saw that Monu was unable to stand and was stricken. He came to know about the accident and their move back home.

During subsequent days he noticed the love and devotion Ravi had for his son and he softened.

The day before, he had been seething in anger when he’d overheard Ravi and Biba talking.  Ravi had confessed to Biba that he had sent his close friend, a New York cop to scare away Gorby from them for good.  On chatting with a local Dehradun friend, he had come to know about the paying guest in their bungalow. The town was all excited to have Gorby the actor in their midst, his friend had expressed. He had had no intention of killing him he told her emphatically.  She’d believed him.

During childbirth, Ravi had come to know that Monu was not his son, but had forgiven Biba and loved Monu as his own flesh and blood.  Now he only wished to keep Gorby away from disrupting his family again.  That was all.

Gorby forgave his childhood buddies and quietly departed from their lives.  Next to Monu’s pillow they found an exquisite cameo with Gorby’s mom’s picture in it.  Gorby had worn in his neck when alive.

Needy kith and kin who had given him the wide berth before now suddenly found his whereabouts and closed in.  Smarmy and wheedling they soon ingratiated themselves to him.  Success can and does go to one’s head and he too was not immune.  Drunk with success and shamelessly pandered to by his many hangers on, Sanjay became insufferable. He still helped people but made them grovel besides humiliating them in front of his coterie.   Aid seekers were grateful to him for his timely help but in their heart of hearts they started resenting him.  Sanjay’s one saving grace was that he never forgot his bad times and often helped many needy folks secretively, no one being the wiser.  Only his personal chauffer knew this side of his persona.  He had sworn him to secrecy.

Trying to keep up with the in crowd of society had slowly weaned the creative side of his personality.  He had been a fine poet in his time.  He no longer penned ghazals and verses.  His refinement had been overtaken by shallow superficiality.  He was oblivious to the price eked by success from him.

Sanjay’s old mother saw what had happened to her elder son.  She was treated like a well preserved cared for antique and nothing more than that these days.   Sanjay no longer visited his mother in the evenings like before.  She missed him dreadfully and grieved… The old lady prayed to the lord to knock some sense into her generous albeit misguided son.  But it was too late.

Cycle of destiny took a full turn.  Long period of drought took its toll and Sanjay “the wishing tree” soon suffered huge financial losses.  The multi business branches were chopped for financial reasons.  The Wishing Tree became a mere shadow of its former glorious self.  The hangers on vanished like hair from an age ravaged bald head.  Sanjay was now left with only his own small family, faithful jack of all chauffer and mother.

This change in fortune strangely enough did not perturb him. In reality Sanjay felt at peace.  He had more than enough for his family’s needs.  The old lady smiled contentedly knowing that her “wishing tree” son would flower again but with prudence this time round.

Notes:  No personality can be termed black or white. Everyone has saving graces/ redeeming qualities along with in between shades. That is my contention.

In Hindu mythology, Sanjeevani is a magical herb which has the power to cure any malady. It was believed that medicines prepared from this herb could revive a dead person –source-wiki

Ghazals: is a poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets and a refrain, with each line sharing the same meter. A ghazal may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain. The form is ancient, originating in 6th century Arabic verse. It is derived from the Arabian panegyric qasida. The structural requirements of the ghazal are similar in stringency to those of the Petrarchan sonnet. In its style and content it is a genre which has proved capable of an extraordinary variety of expression around its central themes of love and separation. It is one of the principal poetic forms which the Indo-Perso-Arabic civilization offered to the eastern Islamic world.- source -wiki

Every winter the story teller came south to a heartwarming welcome.  His advent was eagerly looked forward to the whole year by both the children and adults.  His spun tales enchanted everyone.

He began, “Today I am going to tell you about the Wishing Tree.  It is a true story.

It was an exceptionally warm day.  Everyone was trying to cool off with flavored ices and frequent showers.  Rains had been plentiful that year.

We were a ten strong group and moved everywhere in unison.  Two brothers in our group were catholic and attended the localchurchofVirgin Mary.  It was Sunday evening and we had congregated at our favorite spot near the town park’s swings.  It was a sticky hot day and we had cleaned out the sweetened crushed ices seller of his ices.  He had left for the evening.  It was then that the two boys blurted out something that startled us all.    Both of them had seen tears streaming down the face of the Virgin Mary during morning mass.  They had spoken to no one but invited us to verify for ourselves.

We  rushed to experience this phenomena for ourselves.  We took our cues from Johnny and Tommy and knelt in the pews and stared hard at the Virgin Mary.  I can still feel goose bumps even now in recollection.  We all saw the tears stream down.  We decided to ask the church pastor about it.

So far only our group had seen this miracle.  The pastor came and verified too.  He was all excited and kept making the sign of the cross again and again.  In exuberance, he had the church bells rung to beckon the believers.  They all came and marveled too.  No one knew what to make of it.  The bishop was also informed.  After a week, the tears stopped.  Thereafter, within the church complex, a dead tree stump suddenly came to life.  It was as if the tears streaming down the face of Virgin had brought it back to life.  Soon it grew to its full height with strong branches laden with healthy green leaves.  It was the holy *Peepal tree, much revered by us Hindus.

A worried mother, wrote a note to the Virgin asking her aid in healing her one and only very sick child.  She tied this note to the tree branch.  Within a week, the child was healed.  Soon others wrote notes to the Virgin asking for help.  The church coffers filled to bursting and on hold repairs were finally undertaken.  Then the Virgin appeared to the church priest in a vision night before Sunday mass and said that everyone whose wish is granted must untie one note from the tree and help that person as pay it forward and she would help through that person only.   Next day during mass, the priest shared his vision and thus the town started helping each other through the notes tied to the Wishing Tree.

One day an agitated neighbor came and knocked our door.  My father was theKrishnatemple priest and much revered among the Hindus.  His advise was often sought to settle petty disputes. The neighbor had sought help from the Wishing Tree and in return had brought back a note which had shaken him to the core.  He wanted advice from father on how to go about fulfilling this wish.  The note said, “Dear Virgin Mary, I live in the orphanage and long for a mommy and a daddy of my own who will love me.  I was left at the church steps when I was very little.  Since I am nine years old, no one will adopt me as everyone says I am too old.  Please help me.  –signed Rose Da Cunha.”

Mr. Shiva Sharma was a devout Hindu and it would be very hard for him to fulfill this wish even though his own had been met by the Wishing Tree.  He looked at father for guidance.  Father suggested that he talk about this note at home and ask for everyone’s opinion.  Since the family wish had been met, they were honor bound to pay it forward as desired by the Virgin Mary.  It had been very easy to ask help of the Wishing Tree in the church ground but very hard to cross the bridge of religious differences.  Sharma family was divided.  The Sharma children were open to sharing their home with Rose as their adopted sister but their mother would have none of it.  She had a hard time managing her own brood of three boys and two girls and now a sixth one and that too a possible meat eating Christian would be too much for her to handle.   She stayed adamant.

It was early morning time and Mrs. Sheila Sharma was busy performing the daily prayer rituals and had lit the lamp before the deity.  Suddenly, the image of herKrishnaidol became that of the Virgin Mary and she beheld tears streaming from the idol’s face.  Mrs. Sharma rubbed her eyes to reassure herself whether this was real or not.  Her belovedKrishnaidol had morphed into Virgin Mary!  She had a change of mind immediately and agreed to adopt Rose as her sixth child.  She realized that the inner divine is the same in all religions.  Rose was rechristened  *Roshni Sharma as she had brought enlightenment into their lives.”

The storyteller then dropped a bombshell.  He said his wife’s name was Roshni.

Notes: Roshni means light and Peepal tree: The Sacred Fig, Ficus religiosa, or Bo-Tree (from     Sanskrit  bodhi: “wisdom”, ” enlightened.

The revered heirloom had to be kept within the family and not sold.   The four brothers had no solution for the only condition in the will.  This became a real headache as they lived world’s apart managing the family’s vast foreign holdings.  How to meet this condition?

Their beloved housekeeper came up with an ingenious solution.

She said,   “Each of you should keep it for a year and a week before the time runs out, you should gather here in this family home for a vacation and then hand it over to next in line.  This will keep you all closely connected, even your children.  Consider it as a yearly family vacation.”  Everyone loved the idea and it was at once agreed upon

The Cossack patriarch beamed in satisfaction from his portrait above the fireplace.

My earliest memory takes me to the one person with oodles of grace and that was mom who gave of herself in every which way wholeheartedly. It annoyed us no end. She willingly allowed herself to be exploited by clever friends with nary a crease on her brow- now that is grace. Another person I was blessed to know was our family” employee Dajiba” more like a brother really- he oozed amazing grace. Purportedly he claimed that divinity manifested in his body with such strength that he could cure with mere touch on forehead when he called upon IT after an hour of prayer. How many of the gathered throngs he cured are anybody’s guess but he transferred upon his slender self all the numerous childhood fevers and nosebleeds I was stricken with. He declared that he was stronger than me and could weather them fine. I never questioned and ran off to play while he writhed in pain and mom plied him with numerous cups of ginger tea etc… Later it was impressed upon me that I should have borne this “karma” myself and not allowed another to physically suffer thus on my behalf. He exited from our lives when mom left us. That mom reached home was amply conveyed to us by divine manifestation.* -will not digress here. Now come to think of it- maybe mom and Dajiba knew one another from previous lifetimes- he never offered to help with her illness- guess he knew better.

One other memorable incident that comes to mind is about the intriguing relationship between my cousin’s mother-in-law and their young hired help. This boy was so attached to that lady that when she passed away –he jumped off the roof and gave up his life rather than live without her. We were all shaken to the core. Such “bond” between an employer and employee cannot be pigeonholed. It left an indelible imprint on my mind.

One unexpected but welcome event that did occur upon mom’s passing was the unstinted love extended to us by an aunt (dad’s younger brother’s wife) who had never ever shown any interest in us before. It took me a while to realize that it was as pure as it was genuine.  She filled the gap somewhat that mom had left behind.  What motivated her to do this beats me but it was so welcome.  On and off we spoke, connected with one another when ever I visited India. She left us last month.  She had this amazing grace which shamed my initial cynicism. She genuinely wept when life served me lemons and celebrated when it came up trumps. No one else did that for me.  Even though much older, she celebrated the child in her and we had some truly fun times travelling together in India. We chortled and cackled like two kids rather than grown ups when she shared some of her rather harebrained antics away from the prying eyes of her “bahu” *and daughters. May she RIP.  Really miss you “chachi”.   To be contd…. (* bahu= daughter-in-law)

Amazing Grace (personal journey…2)

One person who features as numero uno fairy godmother in our lives is/was mom’s younger sister. Cinderella’s fairy godmother cannot hold candle to this one as she was the living breathing real McCoy. She added whipped cream, glaze, glam and dazzle to our otherwise humdrum lives seamlessly without even trying.  I have never seen such understood deep love among siblings.  It was that perfect.  We simply basked in that glow.  Thank you masi.  She was amazing grace personified.  A 24 carat brick in letter word and spirit. Such people value add unobtrusively in a rather nonchalant manner. She was that rare bird.

One person that also begs mention is that seven foot Nubian dark iterant monk who stopped by for a meal at our place inBombayon his way to the holyHimalayas.  His towering stature that impacted more was his aura that glowed from his person.  I felt rather blessed in his presence.  He left an indelible footprint in my mind.  He placed his hand on my head and showered me with blessings. In my hours of grief and agony I hugged that blessing to myself often in recollection and took heart.  We had two lamps fromKashmirwith carved faces.  I often visualized that monk in those faces and experienced solace.

That about sums up our Bombay years in this regard.

One lady who carved a place in my heart is my middle sister’s mother-in-law.  She had such a large heart that it had room for just about everyone.  She was simple in worldly ways but genuinely good hearted.  She filled the hole mom had left behind more than amply with her amazing grace and love.  Yes, I have experienced amazing love in many unexpected places and many faces.    She never made me feel unwelcome in my sister’s huge joint family.

USA years

One person who came into my life as a give n take deal was Josephine Ferraro.   Truly a remarkable person.  She took me under her wing- and gave me a to and fro ride from work in the wee and late hours without quibble.  Her listening capacity and love shored up my neediness amply.  Initially I paid her but later on she refused to take anything from me.   She was there like a rock during the uncertain days of our lives when we were caught in the sudden downward slide due to market‘s economic depression.  She is very much in our life even today and considers my son as her grandson and his kids as her gr8 grandkids.  Just spoke to her (Dec. 26, 2011) and she told me she carries the babies’ pictures in her pocketbook.  I truly feel blessed.

In New Delhi,India

Have experienced many miracles and visions and what have you- whether they were self induced stupor(ed) or real is anybody’s guess but I felt uplifted and fresh with new hope.  By nature I never give up and never stayed down for long.

A negligent doctor injected something lethal and my husband fell fatally ill.  During those harrowing days in the hospital inIndia, do not know from where, a father and son came into our room and brightened it with their selfless service and gift of laughter.  The father actually sat on my husband’s bed and massaged his head and feet with infinite love.  It filled me with a state of shock mixed with wonder.  Being finicky by nature it would’ve been repugnant for me to do likewise.  The love and light in his face was Amazing Grace personified.

They left with their recovered kin soon after but before leaving he gave me his full address and phone to contact in case of need.    I thanked him with wet eyes but never called him.    During those days, even the Nepali help who had been in my past employ bandied together and offered their help 24/7.  My husband and I had always treated everyone just the same as we did our own child most of the time.  Hence they too gave back their love in full measure when it was sorely needed.  I am truly grateful for that.  During those years, we had been robbed and I’d lost a chunk of my valuable jewelry among other things besides valuable electronics and cameras et al.

In India, often the eunuchs come around and invoke terror and alarm in people because if you do not give in to their demand for money, they roundly curse you in coarse epithets.   Such a group landed at my doorstep as well.  I opened the door and faced their sing song demands stoically and then beckoned the leader to come close.   I told about how I’d been robbed and how my husband lay in the hospital fighting for his life- He/she immediately changed his belligerent stand and became soft and misty eyed and then placed his hand on my head and blessed me with everything he could muster.  He told me I have much happiness in store and to never lose heart.  He filled my despairing heart with new zest and fighting spirit.  I salute that eunuch for his genuine amazing grace.

Part 3..conclusion

After the eunuch episode, I lost my husband and became a widow. Found many helping hands but most came with invisible strings.  I longed to fly solo- soaring freely without any encumbrances but being a widow in India is never a piece of cake. It can be pretty awful.  Pity can scotch one’s spirit to cinders and one dies in inches. Somehow I felt I’d landed from the fire into a frying pan or vice versa.  I felt forsaken by my inner beloved.

My faith was sorely tested but I hung on nevertheless.  The option of checking into an ashram never had any appeal for me.  I missed the freedom I had enjoyed in USA.  I longed to return.  Help came from a most unexpected source and things fell in place and I returned to USA.

The day I was leaving for USA turned out to be truly memorable.  During last minute shopping, I espied a tiny image of my beloved deity “Krishna” and I entered the jewelry store to purchase it. But the store owner refused to sell it saying it was their “resident store deity” and hence could not be sold. I offered a large sum to no avail.  Disheartened I left the store dragging my feet.  Suddenly we heard someone running after us.  It was the store owner who shouted, “Please stop”.   Then proceeded to give me the deity and said, “ HE wants to travel with you to USA”. I was taken aback.  I failed to ask how he had come to that conclusion, instead gladly accepted the “deity” and with a huge smile on my face proceeded to the airport.    This deity accompanies me everywhere on all my journeys away from home base.  In case I forget to place it in my purse, we usually have to return for one thing or another.  I have learnt my lesson well and now pack it first when leaving town.  This is HIS amazing grace.  I always feel blessed now.

In conclusion I have to acknowledge the ready help extended by both of my bosses when I had surgeries scheduled and my husband was in India.   They picked me up and waited patiently when I was done. Is this amazing grace or what I do not know.  It was selfless.

I also felt comfortable enough to call Supriya( an efriend/daughter) and share my anxiety with her and she poured some horse sense in me and forced me to rush to my surgeon doctor instead of bleeding from burst varicose veins and wasting time in phone chatter. I thank my “Krishna” to have her in my life.  She is a blessing as well.  Last but not the least I must thank both malathi dechiraju and meghana Joshi(two efriends) for selflessly putting together my two books of poems by  generous offer of their valuable time.  They truly floored me with their magnanimity.  That is also grace! One person who meant the world to me was Vickie Chiong- a Cuban Chinese office colleague.  She added so much meaning and substance to my life.  her friends grieve for her to this day myself included.  Here is my eulogy for  Vickie Chiong:

To try to qualify or quantify what she meant to me

Is to try to pin down the will-o-wisp that was Vickie

She was a pint sized ball of pure effervescent energy

A master in  aikido, reiki and other healing   arts

Her generosity knew no bounds as she gave of herself freely

Her helping hands imparted instant relief to many aching limbs

Her occasional inscrutability came from her oriental origin

And her practical quirky earthiness made her fun to be around

Her presence in my life brought a nice richness to my persona

And I can emphatically say the gain was all mine, just mine

She had no bone to pick with anyone, least of all, her destiny

And she sailed through life sublimely, taking all in her stride

She was only four feet tall but could tackle any hefty person easily

Her diminutive looks were as deceptive as the depth of her spirituality

She entered my life like a breath of fresh air and managed to show me

Myself, for what I really was inside out so that I could measure up

I will miss her dreadfully but know full well that her spirit will always

Encompass all her loved ones giving courage and acceptance, with grace

Go forward free from pain, dear friend even though we will miss you

But know full well that you now reside in blissful greener pastures.

 Yes I am truly blessed and there is a reason and a season for everything. People do enter and exit from our lives as ordained and not a second before or after.

these babies have had free ride for long.  time to set them free.  she researched , planned to nth degree.  zeroed in on best of best finally.  D-day had arrived.  her only stipulation was to be an eye witness before signing on dot.  Agreement was arrived at.  Plastic surgeon skilfully reduced bust to relieve her back.

Murder

Bent on vengeance, Sheila thought “murder”.  Finally she got the expected tweet.  Her best friend Judas Judy would be arriving any minute.  She had made her the laughing stock among their friends.   With her toy gun cocked, she bided time.   This would surely scare living daylights out of nervous Nellie JJ.  Sheila savored the thought.

Accident

Overturned car teetered at cliff’s edge.   Occupants, mother and toddler lay nearby.  Help was on way.   Weepy boy appeared to be consoled by his mother.  Crowd parted as blaring ambulances neared.  EMTs  checked  injured.  They shook their heads sadly as the mother had died on the spot but miraculously the child had escaped unhurt.

Amnesia

Falling on head on icy driveway had caused Sam’s amnesia.   Doctors assured Mona his memory would return.   It was critical he recover fast.  Company they’d built by hard work lay at brink of disaster.   Their stock had fallen steadily in the market, investors were  nervous.   Only Sam knew safe’s combination containing those valuable bonds.

Hysteria

Their only daughter Tiffany was getting married today.  It was four hours since she had gone to the beauty parlor and not returned.  Marge, Tiffany’s mother felt a steady rise of hysteria.  How would the senator and she face their VIP guest?  Horrible thoughts like kidnapping or  that Tiffany had runaway in panic, plagued her.

**

Ram loved old things and recalled his grandparent’s grand old mansion which now belonged to his cousins.  He too wanted to build a similar house in its full glory and it would be a perfect property for film shoots as well.  After all he was a businessman.  Before the structure was pulled down, he had salvaged all usable mantles, doors, windows, fixtures et al.  Now they were preparing to lay down the foundation.  It was then that his laborers found two urns full of ashes.  They were covered with red cloths covered in ancient script.  The work was halted as the urns were carefully lifted and placed in a secure spot.  Ram decided to investigate regarding them.

**

Three houses down lived an old priest called Shastriji.  The priest’s ancestors had looked after the needs of the whole neighborhood since times immemorial.  Be it birth, death, marriage or special prayers, they were much in demand.  Recorded journals with names of all the family members of every family with detailed history were in his possession.  Ram hit pay dirt when one of the local workers told him to approach the priest.

**

Ram:   “Greetings Shastriji.  I’ve bought that old house three doors down your lane and seek your help”.   The priest sat up straight as these days clients were a rare sight.

Shastriji exclaimed, “Oh! So you are the one that bought that house.  I know the history of it well.  No need to refer to my detailed journals. This will take up a while so I hope you have time to spare.  Let’s share a cup of tea first.

That house belonged to Surya Pratap the younger son of Raja Ratan Singh of this state.  He was an ascetic and a devout Hindu who preferred all things Indian.  He had no love for the East Indian Company and the British upstarts.  He was married off to the beautiful second daughter of the royal family of the neighboring State.  Sita was so beautiful that Surya Pratap succumbed to her charms in no time.  With love and patience she smoothed out the sharp edges of his personality.  Surya became mellow and less obdurate in nature.

They had four children.  Three sons and one daughter   Eldest son and daughter was educated in England at the urging of his wife Sita who herself had schooled there and the other two received their education in local schools and colleges.  Their daughter Chandni was incredibly lovely and the family’s lucky charm.  Ever since she had been born, many good things had occurred in their lives.   Whole family doted on Chandni and she too had a lovable nature.  Chandni had long curly dark hair, big almond shaped light blue eyes and perfect features like her mother Sita.  She was a great archer and equestrienne too.  She met and won many a challenge her three brothers posed.  She was their match in every which way and more.

Chandni finished her education in London and returned home to settle down and eventually get married.  Many alliances arrived from far corners of the country for her hand.  She turned them all down.  She wanted to spend more time with her loved ones.

Then, something unexpected happened.  A young British officer Peter Pruitt had been sent to the nearby Company Residency as a second in command.    He was very handsome and loved all things Indian.  He was kind hearted too unlike his haughty supercilious colleagues.

Chandni’s best friend Tara had given a birthday party and Chandni was looking forward to catching up on the local gossip.  She dressed herself in simple clothes and even then she was the cynosure of all eyes.  Peter Pruitt and his fellow officers had been invited by Tara’s parents as they undertook contract work from the Company on various projects.  They managed the local workmen well and hence rarely was there any friction or untoward incidence.

At the very first glance Peter and Chandni fell headlong in love much to the consternation of everyone present.  Chandni knew her family would never accept Peter but she had lost control over her wayward heart.  Peter’s state was equally bad.  His friends too advised him against it as Chandni’s father’s reputation as a stern Hindu was well known.  He was inflexible on many fronts.  Soon the affair became known to Chandni’s parents and even as the lovers were eloping with the help of her faithful nanny, all the three brothers caught up with the fleeing lovers and in a heated moment, the hot headed eldest brother shot the couple.  All present became stunned and he the most.  He was shocked at what he had done and in reflex action shot self too.  The remaining two brothers quickly carried the three bodies home.  Peter and Chandni’s bodies were secretly taken to an underground cave to be dealt with there.  All the servants were sworn to secrecy for fear of repercussions at the hands of the cruel firangi (foreigners).  It was decided that since Chandni had disobeyed the family, she and Peter would be secretly cremated and the ashes would be kept in urns and buried deep in a chosen spot by the family priest.  The urns were then duly sealed by red square materials that had a fine print of tantric mantras all over.  As a punishment, the ashes were not released in the holy Ganges.  The lovers were left to languish in anguish till eternity.

The son was given a royal sendoff with all the rituals.  And that was the beginning of the end of this family.  Their luck ran out with the departure of their lucky charm Chandni and they fell on hard times.  Soon everything dwindled- lives, money and the hangers-on leeches.  All the fine carpets and fixtures- everything was sold off one by one and finally only the bare bones of this lovely house remained.   Hence, this property was sold for a song.  People swear that they have seen the lovers’ ghosts on the roof in the evenings.”

Shastriji became silent after that and builder Ram’s mind began racing.  He rubbed his hands in secret glee. He was not perturbed at all.   This house was going to be used by movie makers and the ghostly touch would be an added allure.  But first he vowed to give the lovers a decent sendoff with full fledged rituals and fanfare.

The renovated house’s inauguration and the Lovers’ send off simultaneously would be great publicity.  Ram silently chortled to himself.  Thanking Shastriji profusely, he hurried off sporting a huge smile on his chubby gum chewing face.

Lalaji sold his compact two bedroom place, banked half and left for his village, to live out his remaining days basking in old memories in the mellow surroundings of the ancestral home.

Shalani, an childhood friend and favorite cousin saw him under the ancient banyan tree surrounded by children and came over to greet.  They had been very close as children and soon Lalaji spilled his guts and wept.  He missed his grandchildren left behind in the city. Hence he showered his love on the village kids who soon came to love him and addressed him as Grandpa.  Shalini decided to teach Lalaji’s three sons and their wives a lesson.  She had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Shalini’s daughter Leela and her husband Ram were close neighbors of Lalaji’s sons Amit, Sumit and Ankit and she decided to call them for a party.  Her wedding anniversary was within days and would be the perfect excuse.  Once Lalaji’s family was within earshot, Leela said to a friend,” you know it is a real shame about poor Uncle Lala Amar Nath.  His sons deprived him of all his worldly goods sucking him dry and then got rid of him like yesterday’s newspaper! The shameless ingrates.  My mom Shalini told me that she was very happy that they did not come to know about uncle’s safe treasure”.   Then, she glided off leaving Lalaji’s offspring aghast!

The mercenary sons scrambled to huddle in a corner and palaver over this new information nugget.   Their wives urged the sons to seek out the old man and invite him back to the city after showing abject remorse and seeking a pardon in piteous tones.  The old man was sure to melt as he doted on his grand-kids.

Lalaji was seated at his usual perch surrounded by children when three sets of feet halted near him.  In unison they genuflected before him blubbering for forgiveness.  Shalini was standing behind the banyan having come there on an errand and became privy to this show of crocodile tears.  She snorted and laughed wickedly.  Her plan had been foolproof after all.  Now it will be smooth sailing for cousin Amar Nath she thought and left with a happy relieved frame of mind.

Lalaji resettled in his family’s bosom where all his three sons lived in the dream home he and his beloved wife Shanti had built and they’d  inherited from him.  Each son lived on a separate floor and had separate business as well.  Hence life was a smooth sail.

Lalaji was made much of each week by a different son and his shameless effusive wife who’s eye was only on the main chance of knowing more about the safe treasure.  Lalaji stayed mum after having been stung so bitterly by own flesh and blood.  He enjoyed his grand children very much.  They never tired of his folk lore and fairytales and tales from the Panchtantra and the great Hindu epics.  Thus their morals and moral fiber strengthened by gentle advise imparted with love and humor that matched his twinkling happy eyes.  He silently thanked the good fairy whoever he/she was that had wrought this miracle.  His sunset years had become full of light.

Lalaji had only hours to live.  His family gathered around his bedside.  Finally the youngest grandchild of five egged on by his mother asked grandpa about his Safe Treasure.  Grandpa smiled and all the puzzle pieces fell in place.  He remembered Shalini, his cousin called him a safe treasure- full of sound advice and a treasure trove of folktales for tender ears.  Silently he thanked his beloved benefactor.

In a firm voice he said, “Listen children, the safe treasure you seek is me.  Cousin Shalini always called me a “safe treasure” as she loved my stories that I weaved constantly and which she never tired of.  Regarding any cash and valuables, I have in the bank a nest egg of a quarter million which I leave up to you three to divide equitably amongst you.  However, if you can give me a proper sendoff in the traditional Hindu way and immerse my ashes in the holy Ganges River, your mother’s soul will be at peace.  I do not care one way or another.  Also if you my three sons, can on a regular basis visit a home for the aged and bring some cheer in the lives of the forsaken all your sins will be washed away.   Your children will benefit immensely from such trips as well.  I leave the decision up to you all.  That is all I have to say to you”.  Then he turned his face towards the wall and journeyed on.

** Pañcatantra, Sanskrit:  ‘Five Principles’) is an ancient Indian collection of animal fables in verse and prose, in  frame story format.