Your Goodness Will See You Through Life (15) - ZorbaBooks

Your Goodness Will See You Through Life (15)

Chapter – 15 ( Your Goodness Will See You Through Life)

In the last four days I must have written as many as four stories. It is difficult for me to state that among them, which one is my favourite. I wrote about a week-hearted teacher who fell a prey to the guiles of a student and thought it best to take his life. I called that story “The Rapist”. Last night I authored another story on my own prompt for The Write Practice. Something that went like:Write a story about Twins. The wrong one got all the acclaim and accolades at the cost of the one who sweated and toiled real hard.

I liked the beginning where I started with one of my most favourite writer, Somerset Maugham’s classic “ The Ant and the Grasshopper” and ended with Azex, the lazy bones,who preferred to spend his life chasing damsels in distress, receiving The Nobel Prize for Literature as his dead brother Alex, to honour his late brother’s last wish. That story got entitled “Nobel Nibbled”. This afternoon I wrote another one for World Pulse about a mother’s dream from her only daughter in a secure, Utopian world some two, three decades down the line. But now, sitting in my own graying room with the sight of the fading, departing sun handing over the upkeep of the world to the gorgeous, grave mountains; I know that my heart doesn’t lie in the stories. My heart lies in My Sis: Through My Eyes, a novel that should remind posterity of a brother’s love for his sister. I have to write a sentence like that as my sister’s love for me has been immeasurable, more refined and, justifiably so, less expressive.

I’ve been worrying over my last post on FB since last evening. My sister, despite her feeble protests on the contrary, is helpless today. But all I want to tell her is that you get to know the real world, who all your true friends are, in times of difficulties. I have been thinking whether I’d have dared to write about anyone else, ANYONE, in place of my sister, including my family. My other siblings have their families and my nieces and nephews wouldn’t let me sleep in peace if I raised a finger at anyone of my other brothers. Be that as it may, the fact of the matter is, my sister has been quite forgiving towards me. I called her an egoist believing others’ views of her as true, when the truth of the matter is that she has never ever been egoistic. Of late, she has changed so much that she accepts whatever criticism others heap on her, uncomplainingly.

Any other person in her place, would have cautioned, warned me. Reminded me of the fact that I was crossing the limits. What does my sister do? She takes time to make up her mind before pressing the ‘Like’ button! Fine bro, if that’s what you think about me, let it be LET IT BE! I don’t complain against anyone anymore when God’s against me.

I am sorry, dearest Sis of mine, that instead of being your support or strength, I have been acting like the fool that I really AM. Forgive the foolhardy of this brother of yours. In all my recorded memory, I can never recall an occasion, when I found you taking advantage of others’ weaknesses, or deliberately trying to destroy their happiness and peace of mind. The remark that you get misled (I heard it from someone very close to me when he was accompanying me to the busstand many years ago), holds some water especially when it concerns people you trust like this bro of yours or our late Ma, for the matter. But I can’t level that criticism against you either. Show me another who is an exception in this regard!

Anyway, the purpose of writing this chapter is to beg your forgiveness wholeheartedly. I can’t, even in my wildest dreams, think of hurting your feelings. The belief that my late Ma, who has been my greatest teacher so far, inspite of the privilege and pleasure I’ve had of having been taught by three First Class First Professors, all from the University of Calcutta, during my college days (I.e. Mr. Jogesh Chandra Bhattacharjee, who besides his First Class First in English also had the enviable distinction of holding the same honour in Sanskrit as well: Dr. Amitabha Ghosh and Dr. Deepak Das respectively), instilled in me one glorious afternoon still holds true: Muna tokay ja bhalo base, emon dekha jaina. ( The kind of love Muna has for you is plain incredible). The best thing about our late Ma was her milk of human kindness and basic goodness. Show me another Ma, who inspite of the innumerable criticism levelled against her, sometimes by her own children for producing such a large family, went on to win the unofficial title of ‘Ratnogarva’ the woman with the blessed womb. God sees the truth. If you are really good, despite Mejdi’s tragic end, good things will happen to you. If you are faking good, then the consequences may be unimaginable! If you are really good, caring, loving, unpretentious, sympathetic and empathic – good is bound to be yours and no power in the whole, wide universe, can harm you a gram or in other words, lay a finger upon you.

I am sorry if anything I have written in the fifteen chapters so far, has hurt you, My Sister. If something has, if you take me for one of those guys, who tries to keep mum about every single happening in and around his life, and goes on raising a hue and cry about others’, do please forgive me considering that this youngest brother of yours was never known for his practical sense or wisdom.

If there be God up there, your love not only for your siblings but also for anyone you set your eyes on, CANNOT go in vain. Remember: Good things come to those who WAIT and WATCH.

Let me wind up this chapter with Khaled Hosseini again. The writer, who has taken hold of my soul presently. He met his nemesis in the cab driver while he was on his way to Afghanistan. The man introduced Khaled to his brother in the hut contemptuously, answering what had brought him to the city in ruins at the time under the Talibans:

“What brings them all back. sell this land, sell their house, collect the money, and run like a mouse. Go back to America and spend the money on a family vacation to Mexico.”

The writer, despite the hurt, preferred to keep quiet. Imagine the shame and surprise of the cab-driver when he found out the truth about the purpose of the author’s visit to the country Khaled’s heart cried out for. The driver didn’t know where to hide his head then!

Bear with all the taunts, traumas and torture being inflicted on you right now, my Sister. These darkest hours are just a precursor of the brightest dawn about to unfold.

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