Yes, it was me. Only me, no one else, but she didn't look like me. She felt sad, morose, frailer than me, but her decision was strong. Not unlike her. She seemed to be lying on her death bed, chanting the name of the saviour. The name that had been her sole companion for the last fifty years: a life of renunciation revolved around her, when the venerable guru accepted her in his fold. A life of servitude, devotion was the only life that she knew of.
But today on her death bed, she wasn't able to chant the name of her saviour. She felt cheated. A life had been wasted. She didn't experience the joys of life: the warmth of a man's embrace, the passion of a kiss, the ecstasy of lovemaking, the melting of heart on the holding of a newborn.
All she willed at the last minute was the desire to savour the kebabs that she never had. If there was a God, who would meet her for her service of fifty years, she would ask, why a blissful life can't equate His worship? Why there is a need to renounce? And for her, she had never experienced joys.
Married off at ten and a widow at twelve, she joined the sect of mendicants when they visited her village. At least she would get two square meals. For her God lied in the grain that satisfied her hunger.
But today on her death bed, she felt that the life's joys were denied to her. If there was a rebirth she would like to experience the simple joys of life: a blissful matrimony and motherhood.
But today on her death bed, she wasn't able to chant the name of her saviour. She felt cheated. A life had been wasted. She didn't experience the joys of life: the warmth of a man's embrace, the passion of a kiss, the ecstasy of lovemaking, the melting of heart on the holding of a newborn.
All she willed at the last minute was the desire to savour the kebabs that she never had. If there was a God, who would meet her for her service of fifty years, she would ask, why a blissful life can't equate His worship? Why there is a need to renounce? And for her, she had never experienced joys.
Married off at ten and a widow at twelve, she joined the sect of mendicants when they visited her village. At least she would get two square meals. For her God lied in the grain that satisfied her hunger.
But today on her death bed, she felt that the life's joys were denied to her. If there was a rebirth she would like to experience the simple joys of life: a blissful matrimony and motherhood.
