A Valentine’s Day to Remember

Some days have a mind of their own and if you let them flow they will take you to wonderful places. Yesterday was one such day.

It was of course the ubiquitous Valentine’s Day but a string of happy co-incidences tugged at its label till it came un-stuck.

It started off with an email from an old girlfriend who I hear from very rarely. It was just one of those forwards, which I generally tend to delete as soon as they land in the inbox. But I read this one all the way to end because it spoke of the other women in a woman’s life and the merit in holding on to them.

Something every woman who has crossed thirty and has had a good look at life would agree with. So it was sent off to a list of other friends who wrote back saying how true and thank you.

The husband was away so it was going to be just my daughters and me all day. A ‘mother- daughter day’ we call it. My six year old made me a lovely card with bunnies and hearts asking me to be her Valentine. When her older sister tried to tell her it doesn’t work like that, she asked “Why not? I love mummy.’ That card is going into my shoebox of special memories.

We played some games, watched telly and when they had had enough of me they went off to do their own thing.

I had a whole afternoon to my self, a rare treat which deserved another. A book. Without much thought I picked one I had bought last year on my visit to India, an anthology of short stories set against the backdrop of myth and folklore. The stories spoke of inspirational women in the towns and villages of India who imbibed the very spirit of the all-powerful, fearsome yet loving and generous Goddess. They were tales of the Devi in our time.

Before long the stories had transported me to a ‘no-man’s land’ as the author calls it. A difficult, mysterious, happy, sad and magical place. A place that reminded me of the many remarkable women in my life.

My grandmother serene and fearless, wise beyond words.  Her simple but beautiful life was reflected in the simple and beautiful way she passed away, completely at peace and in a manner of her choosing.

My mother who is neither very religious nor spiritual but has always believed in the general benevolence of the Universe and ‘God’. It is from her that I have learnt to find a silver lining to the darkest of clouds. There is always something good lurking behind the bad in her world. She is also my biggest champion; urging me on to do things I have always wanted to do, telling me it’s never too late.

My sisters and friends who inspire me with the way they live their lives even when their lives haven’t always gone to plan.

My maid in Mumbai, who herself an illiterate, threw her drunk husband out of their little house and raised her daughter single handedly. The daughter was well on her way to becoming a cost accountant when I last saw her.

I remembered the hot sultry afternoons at my grandmother’s during the long summer vacations when my aunts gathered in the coolest room to chat and laugh. They laughed a lot. It was a soul-stirring, happy laughter from women who had embraced their not so perfect lives completely.

There were many more, leaping from the pages like the many forms of the Goddess herself. For several hours I lost myself in their world.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the usual fare of chocolates and red roses and was even amused by the animated Cupid and a winged heart that was fluttering on the top right hand corner of my TV screen all day (Indian music channel). I am a hopeless romantic. But, yesterday was not so much about the man in my life as it was about the women who have graced it.

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