Faith has a funny way of appearing sometimes, and you just can't shake
it. It surpasses anything rational and takes a firm stance in the
forefront of your mind.
With all of the prep work going on for the wedding, I'm meeting so many people that had interactions with me when I was a baby, and they all wish me and Akhtar well in our new life together. I am constantly saying "thank you" for these beautiful prayers and feeling grateful for every one of them.
Even with all of those heartwarming vibes coming my way, faith left me for a moment. We went to the graves of my Nani (translates to maternal grandmother in Gujarati) and Fakir-ka (the name of my childhood caretaker, my partner in crime, my friend) today. I prayed for their souls, and then I found myself thinking about how after their deaths, I just imagined them around when I was in certain situations and they were and still are such a comfort. Looking at their graves today, it was emotional, but not in the way that I thought it was going to be. I wasn't overwhelmed with how much I missed them, which I do, but rather I couldn't see them the way that I normally see them- an image of how they were when they were alive. Instead, the scientist side of me took over and all I could imagine was bones in dirt. It wasn't a good idea to go to the cemetery. I needed to find a way back to seeing them as I used to, a way back to faith :/
I got it when later in the day, I visited my grandfather's house again. We sat for a few hours talking about my childhood, my mother's childhood. My uncle told me how when I was a toddler, my Nani would wake up early to get the chai started, and I'd wake up soon after and cry for my milk bottle. Because she was busy, he'd say that he would take care of it, but instead of giving me milk, he'd fill the bottle with water. I would start to drink it while still half asleep, but then I'd notice that it was water and throw the bottle half way across the room from my crib and start crying again. My Nani would come to see what's wrong and discover him laughing at his prank. She would scold him and take me away to get real milk. Apparently, he got such a kick out of me throwing the bottle that he'd repeat this a few times a week. But of course on other days he'd give me the real milk bottle so my Nani would think he's rehabilitated, but he wasn't- he'd just do it again a few days later.
Now that I just wrote it out, it seems like my uncle was quite the cruel schmuck back then :-P But in his defense, I'd probably enjoy watching a baby throw a bottle, too! But anyways, the point is in that moment, I got my Nani back in all her full glory- the loving, caring, hardworking woman that she was.
With all of the prep work going on for the wedding, I'm meeting so many people that had interactions with me when I was a baby, and they all wish me and Akhtar well in our new life together. I am constantly saying "thank you" for these beautiful prayers and feeling grateful for every one of them.
Even with all of those heartwarming vibes coming my way, faith left me for a moment. We went to the graves of my Nani (translates to maternal grandmother in Gujarati) and Fakir-ka (the name of my childhood caretaker, my partner in crime, my friend) today. I prayed for their souls, and then I found myself thinking about how after their deaths, I just imagined them around when I was in certain situations and they were and still are such a comfort. Looking at their graves today, it was emotional, but not in the way that I thought it was going to be. I wasn't overwhelmed with how much I missed them, which I do, but rather I couldn't see them the way that I normally see them- an image of how they were when they were alive. Instead, the scientist side of me took over and all I could imagine was bones in dirt. It wasn't a good idea to go to the cemetery. I needed to find a way back to seeing them as I used to, a way back to faith :/
I got it when later in the day, I visited my grandfather's house again. We sat for a few hours talking about my childhood, my mother's childhood. My uncle told me how when I was a toddler, my Nani would wake up early to get the chai started, and I'd wake up soon after and cry for my milk bottle. Because she was busy, he'd say that he would take care of it, but instead of giving me milk, he'd fill the bottle with water. I would start to drink it while still half asleep, but then I'd notice that it was water and throw the bottle half way across the room from my crib and start crying again. My Nani would come to see what's wrong and discover him laughing at his prank. She would scold him and take me away to get real milk. Apparently, he got such a kick out of me throwing the bottle that he'd repeat this a few times a week. But of course on other days he'd give me the real milk bottle so my Nani would think he's rehabilitated, but he wasn't- he'd just do it again a few days later.
Now that I just wrote it out, it seems like my uncle was quite the cruel schmuck back then :-P But in his defense, I'd probably enjoy watching a baby throw a bottle, too! But anyways, the point is in that moment, I got my Nani back in all her full glory- the loving, caring, hardworking woman that she was.
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