Archive for February, 2011


Her letter to me runs like this and what a beautiful letter ! This is as beautiful as her pristine, spotless and loving soul. I am amazed

by

her simplicity and beauty. Without taking her permission to share it with all, I have dared to share it hoping she would understand my

compulsion of not being able to hold something exclusively to myself which should be, in my opinion, widely shared. Finding a jewel on

my path and keeping all of it to myself alone, not even giving a clue of it to others, is the one impossible job that can be expected of

me. But yes, if I get a can of poison then rest assured none would be passed on. Now let me quote her letter:

“I thought I might share something with you.. I had to move from a house I owned as property values plummeted in this area. I had

no idea where to move to.. It so happens I found a beautiful little house just perfect for my husband and I..What I really wish to

share is: there are huge live oak trees with Spanish moss dripping down into the back yard..I have started a new tradition. It is called

the Spanish Moss dance. Eventhough I lost my house I find the beauty in the new house and move on..I dance with great gratitude

to be here and to know you!”

The words that touched me most are ” …Just perfect for my husband and I.” Here is the emergence of a completely new type of

woman whose only delight in life is not to find faults with her spouse, not to lose any opportunity to berate and belittle him but being

a true friend and companion to him. Did anyone find in her words the slightest trace of judgement, criticism, accusation against her

husband for a situation in which he was in no way responsible ? She has not only the intelligence to understand the crisis and its

causes but also she seems to think herself as co-decision maker and as much responsible for the situation in their life as her husband.

Here, in stark contrast to thousands in India, the woman has chosen to live an authentic life instead of being a parasite on her

spouse. She doesn’t consider that the sole purpose of her husband’s existence is to be a mere provider to her unlimited wants for

goodies and amenities and luxuries. She doesn’t consider her role as a judge sitting on a higher pedestal over him to pass verdict on

him and bringing out his shortfalls to targets set by herself. Instead, she is happy that she is with him all the way through

a crisis that has affected thousands. She considers her husband as a true friend and I am sure the feelings from his side must have

been reciprocal and mutual. In short, for him she too is a real friend, most probably his best friend.

I know to some of you, dear friends, this reading of her letter, her words, may not have meant much. But to me the emergence of this

phenomenon in the west,namely, the wife as the best friend of her husband, fills me with a hope that no amount of reading of

nondual posts and literature in Facebook and elsewhere is ever able to bring me. The Indian society I live in is filled up with men and

women who have chosen to live a parasitical life and thus bringing much pain and suffering to their spouses and themselves too.

To this depressing and dehumanising scenario, her letter to me came as a draught of fresh air. America is rich for women like her. I have

a dream that one day India too will produce a million women like her, otherwise we will remain as pauper, wounded and in pain as

ever. The bizarre statistics of 40% of all murders in India are caused by the spouses of the victims themselves directly or through

hired killers is a cause of deepest

concern for all.

I hope this letter is able to cheer you as it has made my heart leap in joy and wonder at the great soul stuff my western friends so

often send me to stun me into amazement at their perennial resourcefulness, wisdom and ingenuity. Love you all so much, dear

friends. Love you dear friend, may your Spanish moss dance with your husband continue throughout your lives.

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Bhawani, it is not that you out of all my friends felt my silence, my absence. Some others too may have felt like you, just as I too felt your silence, your absence so deeply during this time. But the nature of our existence, our words and efforts in communication is such that existence soon peters out into nonexistence, words into silence and efforts of communications into dialogues in an absurd drama. Howsoever hard I try to convince you that I love you beyond myself, beyond the limitations of my little self, It never gets communicated. So I am back to square one, back to building the structure which has again failed to communicate my true feelings and lay around me in shambles. I again stoop to pick up the bricks and materials strewn around me to erect the proper edifice that would truly reflect and communicate my love and concern for you, but again I fail. Sometimes I despair and give up. But please don’t take that silence as indifference because that may be the time I am introspecting to come out with a better device, a better way of communicating my love to you. Just know that I love you dearly as myself.How can I exist without loving you ? I can never think of that.