That Day In June

Tomorrow marks one more year since mother left all of us alone, to lead our lives normally without her. Every time she told us that once her children me and my two sisters, were all grown up and settled in life, she would leave us all and go to find some peace, and to live life according to her own terms; we never took her seriously.

that day in june

She used to bicker at us so much in her loud voice. We always would wonder in the comfort of the bedroom that we sisters shared how a mother could treat us like that, never a kind word, always looking at us from behind our backs and reprimanding us.

There has been no news of her for so long now and I kind of miss all the shouting. Now when the silence within the house is deafening, I realize that however she had been, whatever sacrifices she had made, she had always ensured that we always got the best; at least afraid of her incessant grumbling, we had gotten into the practice of settling for nothing but the best in our lives.

I still remember that fateful Thursday, when I had returned home after my guest lecture at the Princy College, and found the house locked. It had never happened before, whatever time of the day it was, mother always made it a point to keep the doors open by the time one of us was expected home, she didn’t like her girls standing outside the house, waiting to be let in. The spare key, very rarely used, let me in to my own house. There were post-it notes stuck up everywhere in the house, the kitchen, the fridge, the bottles, the almirah, the drawers where the clothes were kept as if to make sure I could find my things in her absence. It was then that I found her note – I still have it, tucked away in an old diary. It had been very short a statement conveying that she was leaving us for good, her hopes that we would fare well in life and asking not to search for her, ever.

Right at this moment when I am sharing her story with you, she might be sitting in one of those temples drunk on the bhajans, or watching the sun set along any of the beaches. Wherever she is, I hope she is loved and cared for.

This is a fictional dairy entry of a girl, whose mother took sannyasa once she considered her duties as a mother were over.

The Wikipedia defines sannyasa as: Sannyasa is the life stage of the renouncer within the Hindu scheme of Åsramas. It is considered the topmost and final stage of the ashram systems and is traditionally taken by men or women over fifty or by young monks who wish to renounce worldly and materialistic pursuits and dedicate their lives to spiritual pursuits. People in this stage of life develop  vairÄgya, or a state of dispassion and detachment from material life, renouncing worldly thoughts and desires in order to spend the remainder of their lives in spiritual contemplation. A member of the sannyasa order is known as a sannyasin (male) or sannyasini(female).

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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

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