Please note that this story is purely a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, events and locales are either a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictous manner. Any resemblance to any event and/or person living and/or dead is purely coincidental. We do not intend on offending any race, religion or community.
”Well Diya,” asked Vivan still gazing at the moon through the window, “have you ever felt so caged that you just couldn’t breathe?”
Diya looked at him for a moment and then picked up her glass of water. She closed her eyes and memories of her past flooded her head.
”A few years ago,” she said opening her eyes and looking out of the window, “I was dating someone and……….it just didn’t feel right.”
“Now thats different,” he said, “I am not talking about feeling tied to someone. I am talking about that feeling of having no say in your life and when every choice you make is heavily crticised and…”
“And you are always made to feel that you are wrong and dont know how to handle things,” said Diya thus completing his statement.
”Thats exactly what I mean,” he said, “have you ever felt that way?”
Diya smiled at his innocence and leaned back on her chair.
”I know the feeling,” she said, “why do you ask?”
”Its just that for the last few months I am having a really hard time with my parents,” he said and paused for a moment.
”Go on,” she said, “you can share this with me.”
”They think that I am weird,” he continued, “they feel that I am wasting my time on learning about moonology. They say that I waste my money on tarot card readers and they feel that it brings them shame.”
Diya remembered her own arguments with her parents. She understood how miserable it felt to be treated that way. But then love always knows best.
”Your parents,” she said looking at him, “are being the best possible version of themselves,” she said.
”By looking down upon me the whole time?” he asked feeling surprised by her answer.
”By constantly trying to make you the best version of who they think you should be. But thats not who you are or want to be. They cant get that you see.”
”Their behaviour is not acceptable,” said Vivan drinking some water.
”Have you been kind to them?” asked Diya wrapping her shawl around her.
”I dont think so,” he said,” we have been having a lot of heated arguments.”
”Have you ever tried to infuse kindness in such situations?”
”I cant say,” he said, “how is that even possible?”
”It is,” she said, “my father calls me very often and mostly all he talks about is the shame I have put him through. But you know what I know that his words and actions are a product of his inner self feeling unloved the whole time. Those who are unaware of their own inner love never truly understand what love is.”
”How do you define love?”
”I dont know,” she said, “but love is not attachment. Our parents feel attached to us and thats why they cant let go of their judgement and harsh words. Attachments lead to controlling behaviour. It becomes an amplified version of concern and creates bondage. Love is above that. Love is liberation.”
”So are you trying to say that my parents dont love me?”
”They dont love themselves either. They dont even spare themselves when it comes to judgements and criticism. They are not deliberately behaving this way. They just dont know how to be any other way.”
”I am getting it,” he said in a relaxed tone,” but how can I be kind to them when their words make me feel so angry?”
”You can heal your anger by facing it. Yes, its true that their words do hurt. But for every harsh word, one kind whisper is enough. It will happen slowly. Just stop expecting them to behave differently. Give up this fight and surrender your anger. Send them prayers of kindness and also be kind and loving towards yourself. We all are beings of light connected to each other by bonds of love. If you can see the light in you, you can see it in others as well.”
Vivan leaned back and closed his eyes.
”I am willing to forgive them,” he whispered,” may I only see the light in all.”
He opened his eyes and to his surprise he saw a glittering shimmer in Diya’s eyes. It seemed as if her eyes were as sparkling as the moonlight.