Religion And Its True Meaning For My Mother
For my mother religion was the traditions and rituals laid down by her own mother and mother-in-law.
This involved the celebration of festivals and keeping fasts on certain
auspicious days to pray for the long life of her husband. She was a
devoted mother who was always there to attend the needs of her family.
We were living in a place which was surrounded by Muslims and Hindu
community. We were Hindu.
I was raised in a joint family. Our house was full of aunts, uncles and
cousins-all from my father's side of the family. There were a total of twenty four children in the house.
I was only four at that time and had not started walking yet, although my
two cousins were walking. They were of the same age as I was.
I used to sit on the big window ledge all day long.
One fine day my cousin Sharda was
distributing mangoes to all children after lunch. Ours wasn't a rich household, and yet we were not deprived of the small goodness's of life- such as mangoes on a hot summer day. And so, there was one and only one mango for each person. When Sharda had given out a mango to every child, she saw that she was still left with one-there was one child missing.
So she called every body's name and found that I was missing.
Every one started looking for me in the house. That was the day I
decided to walk out of the house and went into the street. My new found skill was a mystery to all, known only to me. To them, I was not able to walk, I could not walk, no one had taught it to me. My family did not know where I was.
Suddenly,
Maulviji saw me wandering in the street, crying and lost, without shoes. He took me in his arms and carried me to his house. Maulviji wore a white kurta-pajama and had a clipped, graying beard. His
wife was a kind and loving mother she took me in her lap the moment she saw me. I still remember what she wore that day -a green dupatta. With a spoon she fed me sevai, a sweet milky dessert that she no doubt must have cooked for the upcoming Eid festival.
After a few hours Maulviji carried me back to the street
from where he found me. There, I saw my father, who was frantically searching the street for me.
The moment he saw me he ran to me. Maulviji asked me, " Beti
do you know him?"
"Yes," I said, running towards my father.
A smile spread across his worry-stricken face.
It seemed that he was so happy to see me walking that he forgot the whole business of my being missing and that the whole family was worried sick looking for me.
As for my mother, she never really liked to be friendly with Muslims . She had
witnessed the massacre done during the partition of India and she carried prejudices against Muslim. My father had a few Muslim
friends who used to send food during festivals and my mother would always
tell my dad to keep it away from her kitchen-she was strict vegetarian. That day, when my dad walked into the house, with me in his arms, announcing to one and all how he found me with the Maulviji, and how he and his wife had taken care of me, my mother felt obligated to treat the Maulvi sahib and his family with kindness.
Slowly, her outlook towards Muslims was changed. The Maulviji's wife Shabana and my mother became friends. Though she refrained from eating meat, she tasted the sweetness of their sevai, and the next Eid, she cooked them herself, sending a batch to Shabana Aunty in my hands.
That day my mother discovered a new meaning of religion
which is love for our fellow-beings. This I think is the key of all happiness-love for our fellow beings, no matter what religion we follow.
ONLY LOVE CAN SAVE THE WORLD AND MAKE US HAPPY
(I presented this reading at Feneuil Branch Boston public Library, Oak Square, Brighten on 5/5/2009 organized by 57 Readers and Writers)
