Saturday, the start of the much awaited weekend, yet mundane in our household. The chores seem to multiply as all needs are to be met before the quiet, peaceful Sunday. Slowly completing tasks and errands, waiting for magical Sunday to dawn, we go through the day, making lazy plans for the upcoming day of rest .
Running through the list of duties for the help to complete, I wait on her arrival. Quite indifferent to the disarray ,oblivious to the disorder around, I wallow over the breakfast preparation. When she does arrive, it is earlier then habitual, and I look up to see, instead of the customary recalcitrant, an uncharacteristically cheerful face greeting me.
Draped in a colourful saree, decked in jewellery, earrings and bracelets of gold, silver anklets and painted finger and toe nails . Curious I ask her, what is the occasion for such splendour, the saree covered with sequins, the dangling earrings, the bracelets, the jangling anklets and the purple coloured nails .
And this she told me, most profound, with not a moment of hesitation, leaving me speechless. The saree is old, though it looks new as it was packed and kept away. The jewellery, though not worth tuppence, yet so glamorous, the painted nails, courtesy her errant daughter in law, who left for her mother’s home in a huff, leaving behind her makeup kit .
She went on to say, why do I store, why do I save, when my days here on earth are numbered, why do I keep for a generation most ungrateful, ? Why can I not enjoy what I earn, enjoy small luxuries, indulge in some of my fantasies, when I am still alive ? After my time, no one will remember my sacrifices, no one will care for my cherished possessions . So why should I not live abundantly , each day for the rest of my life ?
Her simple words struck a chord in me! Like a fountain of wisdom, an understanding flowed through me. Our endeavours, great or small, our achievements, significant or insignificant, our passions, our possessions and our sacrifices, are just momentary, like a puff of wind . A moment in the sands of time that is erased quickly, a moment that is buried deep, with each new falling grain . Why do we then hoard, why do we put away for a time that can not be ours ?
Throwing open my wardrobe after this brief exchange, I see clothes arranged in different categories, day wear, evening wear, special occasions, some seldom worn, some decades old and some have never seen the light of day, all neatly stored for a tomorrow, that may never be mine . Quickly whisking out, the old the unused, casting away that which can never be used, I pull out my favourite dress, my Sunday best, to wear for a mundane day of chores and errands . I pray, the Lord give me strength and courage to live and love each day, as if it were the last day .
Mary Jacob 