Seven years ago on this date

 Seven years ago on this date

I travelled to Hyderabad to see daddy for one last time.

Then I was broken and shaken to the core, with doubts plaguing my mind about my ability to manage life without him as I was hugely dependent on him.

The anchor and guide, the mentor and guardian, the father and friend, he played multiple roles with ease and enthusiasm.

Seven years later, waiting at the same airport, remembering him fondly and thanking him for teaching me everything he could while alive.

He knew he would go someday soon, but we were unprepared to see him off. As a father, he left written and unwritten guidance on how to take life after him.

That guidance and wisdom is what I cherish the most. Material wealth may perish, but life lessons are precious and will remain for generations to come.

Rest in peace, father..

I will try to keep you alive through me.

You reflect in my sons smiles

In my daughters love for books

In my love for watching sports

In our kitchen every time I marinate chicken, I remember you teaching mother the importance of marinating the meat.

I remember everytime I celebrate a festival how you read stories to us from religious texts.

I emulate you in crises management.

I learnt from you the joy of giving gifts.

Rest in peace father..

Seven years later at the same airport, waiting to fly to Hyderabad to make some happy memories.

Dad, the time has gone by in an instant, I do miss you, but I don't cry anymore when I think of you.

We celebrate the time you spent with us, and like you, I started preparing my children by teaching them everything I know.

Rest in peace, dad!

All reactions:

41Jayalaxmi Takkala, Rahul Reddy and 39 others

Saturn : om shanti

 Saturn Reddy

12/01/2019

to

02/04/2024.

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We lost Saturn to multiple health issues, he has been fighting them for some time.

Yesterday evening he breathed his last in the arms of his father, in my presence and on video were his siblings connected from remote locations.

He waited for all of us to come together before he breathed his last.

He accepted Gangajal, and Tulsi's leaves and amidst the chanting of the holy mantra left for the heavenly abode. He was surrounded by his caregivers, his beloved people, his older brother Leo and family friends.

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To each one of you who made the last 15 fifteen days tolerable a big thank you on behalf of our beloved Saturna and myself.

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The best part of my work day was always coming home to Saturn.

Not a day went by when he didn't come to see me off at the gate with a sad face and receive me at home in the evening with joy and enthusiasm.

The last 5 years were the most beautiful years of my life. Saturn introduced me to the kind of selfless love, and loyalty hitherto unknown to me, my parents, husband, children, friends and family all put together did not make me feel as blessed as Saturn did during his 63 months on this planet with me.

I have been in and out of hospitals with him for the past 15 days, since morning I have been feeling so purposeless and unemployed without the responsibility of taking care of him

There is a deep void that is haunting me, and it cannot be filled by anything or anyone. The joy of knowing and being with my soulmate my satelove(saturn+love) is beyond words and expressions."

He made me fall in love with him, he taught me companionship, and he taught me loyalty and dedication. Every trouble coming towards me has to fight him first. He saved me from dangers and accidents manier times.

He fought back rigorously for a long length of time but in the end, he couldn't take it anymore hence decided to cross the rainbow bridge to claim his rightful place in heaven.

He kept space reserved for me too, Dear Saturn, wait for me my love I will pack up after attending to my duties here.

You and I together will live happily ever after.

If you ask for it, even the owner of heaven will not refuse to accommodate me next to you.

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We feel orphaned but nevertheless

Our Saturn is keeping a watch from the heavens to ward off every evil coming our way.

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Mutter = Green pigeon peas.

 Mutter = Green pigeon peas.

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What green peas are to North India =  pigeon peas are to my hometown.

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Recipes made by

 using green pigeon peas is very special during the winters in the place where I come from.

They are called SOLALU in the colloquial north Telangana region.

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During my childhood, I watched the spectacle of aunties sitting on the veranda shelling peas on most of the winter evenings. They never looked down while shelling the peas but their hands moved swiftly and artistically between the pods.

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Some of the homes had the peas coming from the village farms while others brought them from the weekly farm market. 

Whoever had them coming from the farm ensured the peas were distributed in the immediate neighbourhood. 

They never ate in isolation. Everything concerning food moved swiftly between the homes.

All the aunties knew each other's favourite vegetable items and all of them participated In reaching fav  food to their friend's  doorstep by employing children as the courier service.

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The most loved  and demanded  dishes  were brinjal+peas(which I cooked today) and peas biryani(tastes yummier than meat biryani)

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Some of my school friends who live away from INDIA  buy packed pigeon peas from supermarkets and ask for recipes from their moms back home. The pictures they present of the cooked dishes take us all down memory lane.

And each of us travels into the past  discussing the special tastes of our respective homes.

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As I did not have access to the peas in any supermarkets around the town I decided on the last season to grow them here BY MYSELF.

These peas go on t become tuar/arhar dal.

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The last picture of the collage is dedicated to the memory of all the aunties I watched growing up.

Thank you for leaving us a rich heritage of cuisines and values around sharing the food with neighbours.

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A Saga of Mothers Bangles

 A Saga of Mothers Bangles

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There was a lane dedicated to bangle shops in our small town.

It was a slim lane bustling with activity during the afternoon and evening.

The vendors were mostly Mohammedans, with their antecedents traced to Uttara Pradesh. However, as time passed, they learned the local language, culture, and traditions and almost became a part of the local Muslim community.

 The teenage girls, to be brides, married women everyone thronged the shop throughout the day.

On specific evenings, my mother and her friends used to visit the shop together. The ladies hardly ever kept a large stock of anything at home and only bought things when they were needed. For instance, my mother would wait until she had only three or fewer bangles in her hand before going to the shop to purchase a new set of bangles.

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There were plain and designer bangles, the plain bangles were cheaper in comparison to the ones with the golden imprints.

On festive occasions, mom used to buy designer ones and rest of the year plain bangles. Both patterns looked stunning on her arms. A dozen bangles in the center with gold bangles on both sides as borders was the most popular fashion trend of those times.

 As a child, I accompanied my mom to the market many evenings after returning from school. The shops were always filled with beautiful glass bangles, in a multitude of colours bringing so much joy to women from all segments of society in a small bylane of the main market.

Some of my male classmates lived in the colony adjacent to the bangle shops. I often used to spot some boys while on mom's shopping spree, but we were all prohibited from acknowledging each other outside of school. It was scandalous to speak to a boy beyond the school premises even if he was our neighbor, the cracks widened with time and more so as we entered our teens. 

_________

After we visited the bangle shop she used to remain careful while working in the kitchen to avoid collision with anything which may lead to the breakage of her precious glass ornaments.

The inimitable jingling noise from her armful of bangles while beating millet rotis or, when oiling my hair was melodious.

The tinkling sounds generated by the collision between gold and glass bangles always sounded an alert of her arrival. The one with the sharpest ears would sense it first and then throw a warning to the rest of us with his glances, it was always the older brother who led the pack. He was the vigilante all the time, making gestures to each of us to act as if were studying.

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The memory of her bangles is still vivid to me, especially the day when we got our year-end results or the day we fought in the colony with "so-called" friends. She used to call us three siblings and slap one after the other. 

This often resulted in the breakage of her bangles, and the sharp glass pieces would pierce her skin, causing her to bleed a little. She would then pause to remove the glass bits, and then continue with her fury.

That one minute of respite between the beatings was a godsend for us. We used to calculate in our mind,  

Is it going to end here?

Is the wound big? 

Does she need help?

Will she get distracted with the cut and spare us?

No, it never happened!

 She would start from wherever she left it and give us a nice thrashing for our blunders since the previous beating session. She had an excellent memory of our wrongdoings, she would settle all of it in a go, as she would get into a thrashing mode once in a while, to release the pent-up anger.

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Following the punishment session, my mother would prepare a modest dinner for the family, as a way of showing her disappointment towards our inappropriate behaviour and lack of dedication to our studies. We would all eat quietly and then return to our respective beds, feeling remorseful for our actions. 

The mother, weighed down by guilt, would often toss and turn in her bed, perhaps shedding a few silent tears. 

She would then call us to her bed, wrap her arms and legs around us, and drown us with her affection. It was like a dog licking her newborn pups with care, love, and conviction that only she could be their saviour.

In that moment, all of her rage and guilt would disappear, replaced by love that would lull us into a peaceful and happy sleep.

 The next morning, we returned to our usual uncivilized behaviour, as if the punishment had never happened. 

Finally, it was time to visit the bangles shop lane again.

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In the loving memory of my mother, I adorned my arms with the abandoned bangles from the remote corner of the dressing table drawer.

These bangles were gifted to me by the welcome team of Chidambaram Palace employees.

We are all fighting the same battle.

 We are all fighting the same battle, but in different roles and at different levels.

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The Maid fights against domestic abuse every day, which is sadly prevalent in every Basti of India.

The diplomat's wife feels like a bird in a golden cage for being forced to live in a foreign country with her husband. Rich women moving in big cars are not always enjoying that luxury. Behind the Dolce and Gabbana shades are not the happy eyes always.

The lower middle-class girl gets rejected by multiple suitors for her father's inability to give a motorbike in the dowry. Even the most useless BOY of any village in India will demand a bike in dowry.

Competent women are forced to chop their wings and made to stay at home for family honour. The most brilliant women are demeaned for the colour of their skin and the shape of their bodies.

Women from a certain segment are conditioned to go out of the house only if they oblige to cover themselves in a burqa. The lady is allowed to send her daughters to school in burqa till the men decide to get their daughters married to men of any age.

Wives of the richest homes get limited monthly allowance, they are always kept in the dark about family finances. They are usually the first victims of depression as everything around them is controlled.

Men decide what to cook and how much to eat in many homes, and the men save money for alcohol and other vices.

Women are beaten black and blue to appease other members of the family, the men in many homes use this technique to display their machismo.

In some homes, it is imperceptible torture, women are not treated as equals despite their academic background or are never made a part of the family dialogue to silently show them their place. In many parts of the country, women are sold in the market by the men of their homes to fulfil their appetites.

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These are daily struggles for most of us.

Women from all sections of society are opposing a different category of male dominance and patriarchy. From both ends of the spectrum, it is a laudable resistance.

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Rather than supporting each other, we tend to engage in gossip and criticism, which only serves to diminish and undermine one another. We often comment "She is rich, what problems can she have"

or she is a working woman, with total financial freedom"

"She is an officer's, politician's wife, all fun" or She has no responsibilities as she has a good mother in law"

_________________

Being rich and staying at home does not make one feel any better than the one who is going out every day to make ends meet.

The one living in the AC rooms at the mercy of their husband's benevolence is equally pained as a mother working hard to pay her child's school fees.

Our struggles are identical but circumstances may be different.

Some space, respect and an acknowledgement of equality are all we are asking for.

Let us support every victim of discrimination and cheer them on in their battle for self-respect and equal rights.

We should all be together and accept that nobody's fight is less than another's. Do not demean fellow women if your struggles are not in sync with hers.

Stand in support and solidarity of people in your surroundings, be empathetic, listen to their stories and reassure them that they are not alone.

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We are all fighting the same battle, but in different roles and at different levels.

 March first week is always loaded with events to celebrate women's empowerment.

This year too, for the 8th March afternoon, I was invited to attend a women's day event. As the program was in a mall, I asked the daughter to join me.

Preesha jumped in, saying she could spend time at a bookstore while I attended the event.

A day before, too, I was at another women's day event hosted by Raggnee Agarwaal

While we were driving to the place, she asked me: mom, what do these events mean to you?

Every year, you get busy around the 8th of march speaking on women's empowerment, whereas you at home ask all of our permission to go on a three-day holiday.

Don't you feel disempowered seeking approval from children, husbands, maids, and pets, like now when you are willing to go on pilgrimage with Neeru aunty? You are so stuck here because of my upcoming board exams.

She continued, on the one hand, you preach about fundamental rights for women; you talk about how every female should have the right to choose her life goals and methods to reach there. And look at your double standards here, seeking approval from family to go on a spiritual sojourn.

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I paused and played with the car stereo as her questions made me uncomfortable.

I took a deep breath to frame my answer; I try to be very careful while speaking to her because, as a mother, I will be setting an example for her to emulate in the future.

I said :

Someone has to do my job when I am not around; hence I seek your permission to outsource my responsibilities and hold you accountable. I am sorted if you care for pets, garden, kitchen, and maids.

But these days, I am also worried about your exams. I know you can manage. But there will be bizarre onlookers judging me for going on a pilgrimage two months before her daughter's boards.

I can hear the murmurs behind my back :

HAA, what an irresponsible mother, imperfect parenting, mother gallivanting around before her daughter's boards. Shame on her etc. etc

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Maa, again double standards; why should you worry about what the world has to say.

If the problem is my exams, then it is between you and me, and now that I am asking you to join Neeru aunty, you should go.

If your problem is the world, then I don't appreciate your thought process at all, and By the way, if I do well in exams, it is good for me, and I know that my failure and success is my responsibility, not yours or anyone else's.

I need you around, but I will be happy if you cater to your needs and care for mine.

And what is this obsession with temples? Why don't you go to Maldives, Greece or Goa?

I said: I feel rejuvenated when I soak in the energy around spiritual places. I know this is a passing phase; I will soon outgrow this need once I uncover the answers to my questions.

Last year, at the holy shrine of Vaishno Devi, one of the fellow pilgrims once narrated how he had started feeling disconnected from spiritual places. After visiting all the Hindu places of worship, the wisdom he derived was to seek God within.

Then I prodded him on why he was visiting Vaishno Devi for the Third time?

His reply made me happy; he said, "I just came to give my wife company". Like you, she is also searching for God in the temples.

I said I am not here purely in pursuit of or love of God; I have selfish reasons. I came here out of fear, greed and thankfulness in equal proportions.

He said you would evolve soon.

________

So mom, do you think you have evolved in this one year of whirlwind tours to multiple temples?

I answered her back with a question.

So finally, can I go preesha, On a four-day break?

She said, go, momy go, live your life!

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Teerath yatra is not a comfortable luxury holiday; one has to stand in a long queue, use unhygienic public toilets, may get lost in an unknown town, and be exploited by fake pandits. The challenges are manifold in every temple town.

During my childhood, I have seen many women(widows) and retired couples getting into tightly packed yatra buses to escape ON a month-long pilgrimage in the company of strangers to faraway destinations.

On their return, the entire village used to gather to take the prasadam, collect souvenirs and listen to the fantastic stories of the pilgrimage. Each visitor returned home with a single dream in their eyes to someday visit char Dham, go to Kashi and bathe in the Ganges at Haridwar.

Tirupati and Shirdi are the shrines that people in south India accomplish once in their lifetime. The ultimate destination is crossing the Godavari, surpassing Narmada, reaching Ganga and ending in Gangasagar.

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Watching my grandparents and mother-in-law take long voyages into faraway lands seeking divine grace has influenced me.

Recently, I made a mockery of my Sister-in-law Manitha Reddy when she repeated her visits to India from the USA to seek shelter in ashrams for days together. She became an expert in doing yajna, Japa and mantra. She is engulfed in bhakti now and thus delegates all her happiness and sorrows to the divine.

As Srila Prabhupada calls it, "The nectar of devotion" I guess this nectar, once tasted, converts EVERYONE into an ADDICT.

Only the blessed get a taste of it once during their lifetime;

This trip of mine, too, is pursuing one such addiction, Preesha!

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I know I am swimming against the tide when it comes to parenting.

But I must break these stereotypes that children are only mothers' responsibility.

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I am thankful to my friends for helping me and being my companions in visiting various temples across the length and breadth of India.

Aruna Raprolu, Neeru Sharma . Shakuntla Shekhawat Vani Reddy Archana Rachmale

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