THE AMBROSIAL HOUR
The Supreme One was looking at a soul approaching the luminous mass. It had finished one more of its journeys on the planet and had successfully risen above the karmic web spun around it on that journey. There was one more test it had to take before it could move to the higher level and there would be no need to take birth again. In this journey, it would have to take the female form.
It would be absolutely necessary to don the garb of a woman and take this ultimate test of patience and perseverance. It would be a necessity to be a mother for the soul to exhibit the selfless state – the supreme sacrifice that came along with this role.
A woman, a mother, could face the tough challenge and life’s unpredictability and also rise above all the odds placed in her path steadfastly. A mother is a
formidable combination of calmness, compassion and ceaseless courage. Being a mother is a role that would foster and assist in creating the correct cosmic connection and help enter the spiritual realm.
For a woman, after she receives and conceives, it is a long penance of nine months when her mind, body and soul work in tandem to create a conducive atmosphere for nurturing another soul and giving it a form. It does not stop with that. The austerity continues well after the severance of the umbilical cord.
Motherhood is a life-altering event, when she is no
longer the centre of her own universe. She is quite contented conceding that position to her children. Every step she takes is a cautious one. The wellbeing of her creation takes precedence over everything.
The message was communicated to the creation by its Creator.
He was humming to himself as he parked the car in the basement.
What a wonderful life he led. Monday to Friday was spent slogging at the office. Weekends were reserved for his paramour. He pressed the calling bell. She opened the door and went inside the house without even looking at him. She had always been busy looking after the kids.
As he entered the room, she asked him, “Tea or coffee?”
He replied, “Tea.”
She nodded and went to the kitchen to get it.
He looked at the infant and the toddler sleeping on the bed. Such a lovely sight, so peaceful. He thought of
their mother, his wife. Such a blooming idiot. Under her very nose, he was carrying on his affair, yet she seemed so oblivious to what was happening.
He thought of his mother. How well she understood his needs.
THE AMBROSIAL HOUR
“Son, don’t marry a professional. You needsomeone to look after your home and hearth. We will look for a girl much younger than you, who will be able to attend to all your needs.”
What she meant was: We will get a daughter-in-law who will be financially dependent on you, and no matter how much you torture her physically or mentally she would
find it difficult to part ways.
They had found her—a college lecturer’s daughter,who had to seek early retirement due to his frail health. She was in her final year of graduation, came from a small town and belonged to a family with a modest income. She matched all that his mother and he were looking for.
She handed him the cup he had asked for, went into her room, bolted it from inside, let the tap running in the attached bathroom, stuffed the end of her dupatta inside her mouth and finally let the tears overflow. She had to be careful, lest her sobs disturbed the two children sleeping peacefully on the bed.
It was six years now, and every day was a struggle trying to look for something positive to wake up to. The first time she had confronted him, he had denied
His mother came to his rescue, “Leave the house immediately if you can’t trust your husband. All he has done is spend a couple of nights with his friends in the beach house.”
Her husband took the cue, looked at his heavilypregnant wife and said, “I am not going to take this kind of behaviour, Aditi. Prove it, take it to court, do whatever you feel like, but remember, in future, once more I hear this kind of allegation, you are on your own.” The water bag had burst almost immediately.
Aditi had looked at her infant daughter in her arms, in a blissful slumber, completely unaware of what she
would have to face. She had gone through all the options she had. Not many.