I don’t think I would call myself religious, I just don’t have it in me to put so much faith in someone I haven’t seen. I like to think of Gods as fictional characters, it’s much easier that way.
However, my dadi is the most religious person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing in a regular way. She has built a small temple inside a cupboard in our living room (how apt) before embellishing it with gift wrappers, flowers, a bowl to keep the money our family business earns every day and her precious idols.
Dear reader, you must know she loves them dearly. I often wonder if they are her only friends, I hope they haven’t let her down.
Every year, on frequent occasions, I find her reading the large red-covered Ramayana on the couch with her light brown hyperopia glasses finding a comfortable seat on the bridge of her nose. It is a peaceful sight.
I often wonder if she also feels like a ghost in their story while reality starts to fade away.
Yesterday, I asked her what language the book is written in. Sanskrit, I was told. She told me she could understand the language as if it was her own and when I serviced more follow-ups to her, she caught all of them with some extra bits of information. I wasn’t actually interested in the story, you see, but her joy was so infectious I didn’t want to see it gone again. I hardly catch wisps of it anyway.
Today, when I went downstairs to get something to eat, she instantly started giving me updates on the proceedings of the book and her memories associated with it. She told me how, when the days were sunnier and the sky bluer, our entire family would read the epic until 4 am and yet they could never finish it on time. It’s much easier now, alone, she assured me. She only has to read 200 pages more and 4 days are still left until her self-imposed deadline.
Eyes can never lie, have you noticed? If one’s mouth says something its soul doesn’t mean, their eyes will speak for themselves and hers had glazed over in a melancholic fog.
I don’t believe in God, reader. Sure I blow my fallen eyelashes away with short wishes and close my eyes for a few seconds in respect whenever I cross a temple during my leisure walks but I hope that if such an entity does exist, it has recognized the love my dadi has for it, I hope it is listening and knows her like I probably never will.
She is worth all the love she can get. Everyone is, in some way.
Even you:)
I found myself requesting nature today, after I came upstairs with my food, to make her sun brighter and her sky bluer again.
I hope I too was heard.
