Maya – kalyug’s Ekalavya - A short story

Not far into the distant past, when modern day conveniences --like internet, mobile telephony, and mushrooming TV channels promoting any and every art form from the most sublime to the least inanely ridiculous,-- were all beyond the realm of one’s imagination, Maya was born to a modestly rich parents.

Those were times when many families found it difficult to spot in their wards latent potential in anything other than what were manifestly obvious and restricted to the academics field, even when sufficient evidences presented themselves.  This was simply because of their innate naiveté and ignorance -- mistakenly assumed to represent a more noble spiritual pursuit to one’s existence—which more or less blinded them. If and when after overcoming enormous diffidence, an attempt was made by the ward to present some facet of his/her proficiency in a field other than studies, it was more than likely that these were met with derisive laughter, especially if it were from the female offspring.  Maya belonged to one such family.

Maya to a casual observer was just a plain simple girl, but once you moved with her it was not difficult to realize that she was much more than that; she was quite beautiful thanks to her extraordinary goodness, which seemed to add a certain charm to her personality. She was more than an average student in studies which with a bit of guidance could have blossomed well, had very good potentials of excelling in sports, and was fairly good in music, perhaps from an inherited gene from her mother who was well versed but rudely prevented by the father who regarded this art-form as debasing, and not fit for a pursuit especially in homes devoted to spiritual paths.

Regardless of these, most of the homes of those times (the south Indian ones especially) had musical Instruments like a Veena, a harmonium or a “sruthi potti” (a gadget to fix a musical scale like a thampura), etc and for sports a carom-board was an automatic choice and of course not to forget – a “singer” sewing machine. Except the carom board Maya’s household true to this tradition, had all the others, which helped her in honing her music without a tutor,(and during the absence of her father), and learn sewing. By the time she was about 4 there was an addition to the family and a brother arrived adding a huge amount of cheer to the family.

The institution Maya studied, reflected attitudes somewhat similar to that of her parents- only the ones who were very good in studies were automatic choices for sports. Maya’s talents were therefore fated to remain hidden being just about average.; neither her home nor the institution she studied had any wherewithal to spot innate talents in areas other than studies, and sadly this mindset was not only acquiesced by society without demur but this was even regarded as an acceptable norm . The amazing part was that girls like Maya by and large were quite unaffected, comfortable as they were within their small circle of family and friends.

By the time she was ten and her brother – whom she adored- was six, tell-tale signals of pampering besides a more lenient treatment for the boy from her father were clearly visible. By the time she was sixteen she accepted these as a matter of fact with that wisdom that quite naturally seems to dawn on girls brought on strict orthodoxy and discipline.

For instance, the carom board was an addition mainly to satisfy the boy who would invite all of his friends home and play, leaving very little time for Maya who had a natural flair. There was a racquet for playing badminton which Maya had to contend with using while the boy was away, though she was fairly good unlike her brother who was less than average. She had to perforce learn how to cook, sew, and be nice to others- all in a sort of training process-- just to be able to qualify as a good daughter-in-law later in life.      

She was fond of literature and was attracted to poetry and like her talents in sports these were beyond the notice of her father who had time only for the boy, and could find merit in him when none existed. There was also the usual reluctance to send her to college, and so Maya was only too relieved when she could manage to convince him to let her take up whatever was available in a college nearby; the institute’s closeness to her house being the sole criteria.

She graduated in history and soon was married off to one Yogender , whose major qualification was his being the son of a well-to-do family and due to his father’s influence had a decent job. Maya’s preferences were never considered as that would have amounted to sacrilege.

Maya’s marriage was not anything to write home about, except that being rich helped enormously. Though Yogender was less than average in intellect, he was blessed with a tremendously fortunate fate. And with likeminded fellows of his ilk, he had a huge circle of friends with that combination of almost similar IQ, plenty of cash and of course connections in the right places. With such an overwhelmingly wonderful living style, that was possible with such money, all Maya’s misgivings about her fiancé’s lack of great education, simply vanished, though at rare times the surrender to such sheer materialism and absolute indifference of Yogender  to both her talent and interests bothered her.   

A daughter was soon born and very briefly Maya nurtured a faint hope that she would be able to help her kid to realize all that she wished for herself either in sports or Music or in any other field, which was not money-driven. This was short lived though. Her daughter was self-centric, spoilt, not too good in studies, but yet popular with colleagues in school, and a darling of her father. Maya had another daughter about 4 years younger in whom Maya at last to her satisfaction found some traits common with her own. The girl was fairly good in sports, music, but above all turning out to be a warm and affectionate kid.

Yogender meanwhile was so fascinated with his circle of friends that he had hardly any time to notice his wife, let alone any greatness connected with her. He would invite his friends with their families for dinner at home, and in spite of her painstaking efforts to bring out excellent dishes, there would hardly be a word of appreciation. His friends being equally insensitive would add insult by commenting on a most innocuous side dish of a vegetable salad or a raita like a wonderfully meaningful advertisement getting an award for its ambience!!

Sakhi, a colleague’s wife however was quite different from this crowd, and was mulling over ways to bring forth – to a larger audience—Maya’s hidden talents of which she was more than certain. She had her own talent search organization and was an expert in assessing people. Somehow in that brief few minutes during one of those dinners, she gauged Maya as something more than that shy, obedient bharat-ki-nari stereotype she projected herself to be. The upshot was that she found time to visit Maya often when she was alone and found out amongst other things her interest in poem writing.

It so happened one day, that Sakhi managed to sneak in a short poem written by Maya in a house magazine where Maya’s as well as her own husband worked. And surprise of surprises, this poem got a consolation prize, much to the shock of the gang of males who had never thought much of this lady except as Yogender’s comely wife. But being wise they had this immense ability to immediately associate themselves with this talent by claiming close and intimate proximity to the family.  Sakhi was more than happy, Maya didn’t know what to say, Yoginder sensed an opportunity to use this to advance his social standing.

Times passed by. Maya’s elder daughter was married off to a rich boy and went abroad. The younger daughter was married to an excellent boy and both the daughter and the son-in-law loved Maya. Just when everything looked ideal, Joginder passed away. For Maya this was a new beginning. After marriage to Joginder, the spiritual side of her had taken a back seat, with the former having no great faith except when rituals/celebrations etc, became social events of one-up-man-ship.

She had however a problem; all thru her married existence her identity was restricted to being Mrs Yoginder. Her social standing was directly in proportion to her husband’s importance in any gathering. Since this suited her, she never really bothered to cultivate an image for herself, content at being happy in her husband’s shadow. Having no one close enough, she decided that she will revisit her childhood days and follow procedures as she knew them without being unduly worried about their correctness.

She started reading religious texts, and slowly and perceptibly was beginning to savor her new found identity with lesser demands from mundane commitments, and also a unique kind of comfort. She re-started writing poems, even enjoyed some of them without being worried about how people would kind of view it etc.

As if to spoil this idyllic pleasure, disaster stuck; she fell down one day and broke her arm. Her second daughter who was indeed a terrific company had to leave town as her husband was transferred. Luckily money was not a problem, and she could afford a 24X7 attendant to take care of her. She could not help though wondering about these sudden developments which absurdly seemed to suggest a co-relation with her new phase of spiritual pursuits.

In a few days into this, she chanced to read an article about a famous actor who after a tragically somber role he intensely essayed in a film, found to his dismay that the whole thing rubbed off him so much that he was mentally disturbed. Directors and well -wishers advised him to do an out and out comedy to relieve him and get back to his normal self.

This stirred her thoughts; if portrayal of a mere fictitious character in a film can have such a devastating effect as to make the actor forget his individual identity, what chance do we mortals have to be able to remember our identities as part of His creation and not be affected or influenced by the material world all around us?  She could not also help chuckling to herself that her own name represented a major element of His creation which like a devil’s advocate constantly lured one into a perpetual illusion of secured identities, in a deceptively manifest universe.

She was enjoying herself, as for the first time in her life, there was no fear of a derisive laughter from her father, or a shrugging disregard from her husband, and she could fantasize and savor all these unusually comforting moments brought about by the chain of thoughts, without a shred of fear. Going thus she realized that she did not have any teacher or a Guru, to guide her and all of it had come about by sheer grace of God and remembered that famous mythological character by name “Ekalavya” who wanted desperately to have the famous archery coach as his mentor only to be rejected rudely.

She was more or less in the same boat; she had no teacher, she was sure that Ekalavya’s subsequent mastery was due to His grace; Guru Drona’s turning him away, his learning process, his giving away his right thumb to the same Guru Drona which  prevented him from being the best, etc., were all part of the script of a huge film produced & directed by Him. Similarly hers, her husband’s, her parents, and indeed every living/non-living being, the entire universe all were/are part of His script and our life’s mission is to live these roles and pray for His Grace to enable us to remember our original identities and not waste time on co-relationships between events. Though it is His Will which decides everything, one can still hope and pray that He changes script once a while to give us succor, if we get too absorbed in the role as that famous actor, and suffer the consequences.

She felt nice that evening and went to bed ruminating on all those thoughts that passed earlier in the day.  Having lived her life first as a daughter to her parents, and then as a wife to her husband, she would have preferred being a mother to her two children, and this was a small regret. But then with her new found wisdom, she was determined to face life as it came, and went off to a blissful sleep.

Next morning she was pleasantly surprised to hear from Sakhi; the old friend who had been instrumental in getting some recognition for her. She had a distant relative by name Mohan, who had a sixteen year old daughter Geetha, and who had recently lost his wife which was a bit of a sudden thing. It also happened that he was transferred to where Maya, Sakhi and all were living and Sakhi wondered if the small portion in the second floor of her large house could possibly be let out to him. Maya promised that she would see Mohan and her daughter Geetha before committing though she was sure her answer would be positive as since it was Sakhi who had recommended, there was really nothing that could possibly make her change her mind.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that Mohan turned out to be the boy who was in the neighborhood when she went to school and a few years her senior, and whom she secretly admired. Not known to her Mohan had similar feelings for Maya, but since his father had been transferred, they lost touch. Geetha was an extremely beautiful girl and Maya liked her instantly. The decision to give them space on rent was therefore just too spontaneous and perhaps influenced by the fact that not only was she happy with the father and daughter, she felt that it was in God’s script that she be a mother to this sweet little child. 

To borrow a famous phrase from a recent Bollywood movie “Kahani abhi baaki hai bhai” meaning the “story is still to be completed my friend….” One fine morning a courier package arrived to announce the arrival of her first daughter from the States.  The tenor of her letter was far from her usual matter-of-fact style and was full of regrets for her attitude to her mother in the past and how God has chosen to punish her and that kind of stuff. Her 6 year old son had some kind of an unusual numbness which made it very difficult for the boy to use his legs effectively. She had heard of a place close to where Maya was staying a doctor was known to have developed a kind of ayurvedic treatment which she had heard had miraculous curing effects and she had decided to come to India for a treatment  which could last over a year. Her husband was also planning to perhaps try and relocate himself back to India.

Mohan as it turned out had excellent contacts with this institute, and knew the doctor personally. Maya could not help marveling at His ways; her earlier regret at not being able to satisfy her urge to be a mother had been more than adequately taken care of by not only giving her these two girls ( hers and Mohan’s daughters) but a grandchild as well to take care of.

She remembered a prayer song from an old Hindi film where the part of the lyrics goes somewhat like this

“oh Lord You are an ocean of love and compassion, please come and whisper in our ears where we have lost our way, from where we had come and whereto we have to go”.           

Her script being clear to her, she looked forward to essaying her role as best as she could.

Hope you like this folks. Love

Vichu