How easy is it to be me…
When I start my day with my morning cuppa, the most pressing thing on my mind is planning my schedule for the day – juggling school/football pick ups, deadlines, meetings and of course, the day’s menu.
A tough day for me, is a clash in my schedule or a tantrum-filled day with my tween.
But however tough a day is, a spontaneous hug from my little one or a kind word from my spouse will be all the pick-me-up I need.
I’ve also been lucky in having a father who lived to 75, providing with solid emotional support and a mother who was and always will be my conscience.
Still, I’m on edge most of the days, juggling schedules, handling irate maids, unresponsive customer-care, annoying telemarketes and so on. So many times in a day, I wish for some peace so I can just curl up with a good book.
I have no political affiliations whatsoever, but in the last few days, during the wait and watch game on TV, which was followed by mourning of the iron butterfly, I couldn’t help feeling ashamed of all the cribbing I’ve done about my everyday life.
Here lies a lady who faced only trials and tribulations throughout her lifetime. Insults, injuries, court cases, imprisonments, were all part of a single day for her.
People ranted against her, enemies plotted against her, others waited eagerly for her to stumble and fall, but she held her ground through it all.
Without a family to support her.
Lost her father at 2, her mother in her twenties, no husband, no child to warm her heart.
She faced tough challenges on her own. And not just faced, but fought back with courage and determination.
Her only emotional support probably was the adoration by the masses.
Now, I don’t know, nor do I care, if she died of natural causes or was slow-poisoned by her trusted aides. But whatever it was, she’ll always be an inspiration to me and many other women of this city.
I suppose till now, we, the educated & supposedly worldly-wise women have been openly jeering her autocracy and winning elections with freebies.
But we did have a grudging admiration for her grit.
The same men who pulled at her sari and tried to shame her in public years ago were prostrating at her feet now.
The same arrogant men who threw her out of the cortege all those years ago were now reverentially carrying her body in one.
The feminist inside each one of us cheered. She won us all in the end.
I saw the sea of people milling about, tearfully seeing her off on her final journey,waving two fingers that symbolises ‘victory to the two leaves.’
But on this solemn occasion, I felt it was more like they were saying “Victory to you, Amma! In death, you conquered all!”
Rest in peace.