THE BLESSING
I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of.
Things of which the very thought of makes bile rise up in my throat, leaving me sick for the rest of the day… Amma has always told me that everytime you completely start hating a person, think of one good thing about them, something that they’d done to help you, even if all they did was bring a small smile on your face with a lame joke… Even if they broke your heart, even if they shattered your trust, even if they made tears slide down the tip of your nose endlessly… One good thing that they’ve done helps us forgive them. And that’s probably how I learned to love myself. Everytime I seriously started hating myself, I thought about one good thing I must have done for someone. I’m a big believer of blessings. From parents, teachers, random people who matter just for that one precious moment… I learned to love myself when Amma kissed me after my arangetram. I learned to love myself when Achan puffed up with pride and said his colleagues had complimented my writings. I learned to love myself when a homeless beggar touched my ankle in gratitude for buying him a day’s meal. I learned to love myself when a hijda on a train cupped my head and accepted my crumpled 10 ? note with a rueful smile. I learned to love myself when my grandmother gave me a knowing smile when I slipped her a sweetmeat without anyone’s knowledge. I learned to love myself everytime my hostel warden accepted my cheesy jokes and heartfelt compliments on a program well conducted. I learned to love myself every time a friend who had cried her heart out on my shoulder, gave me a watery smile, just to show that she’s ok…
I learned to forget the sour,painful taste of the bile in the back of my throat everytime someone blessed me…
With a smile, with a warm pat, with tears in their eyes, with a knowing glance.