Letter to the Goddess

:) Hi.

You know it, right, that I can never fathom the extreme hullabaloo over the festivity surrounding you? You are the mother, you reside in my heart, you are a constant, how can I? I much rather appreciate the vacation you provide, the break in the routine over the summer and winter hols. Do you feel bad? Please don't. You know I love you, don't you? This customary crowded celebration over the 'appreciation of art' is unusually boring.

You must be knowing how I used to dread the sound of drumbeats at our family residence in Tinsukia, Assam. That was just such a sick place. I loved the green composure that Dibrugarh provided. I used to be angry with you when my granny-time in Tinsukia had to be divided for an irrelevant 'pronam' that I had to offer to you. I was angry at you, especially because you knew I was angry at you.

We have come a long way since then, and how. I thank my stars that my parents have never pressurized me to feel and behave over you, like others do. I feel blessed that you still bless me in spite of me not visiting you. I specially love it that you have kind of allowed me the luxury to accept your blessings via my mother. Yes, I know she is cooler and saner and more pious than I am, thank you. I love the notion that you propagate, familial. It is intimate. What is to my distaste is the length of the queue and  thickness of the traffic and the many etceteras.

Goddess, you are grand. And your grandiose is cemented in the fact that you read this and smile, and reply. Even though you are busy decking up for and appeasing the people. Goddess, you are sweet, and strong. Goddess, I love you, I have always. But more than anything, Goddess, you understand. And accommodate.  I can never have enough of that. You accommodate everyone and everything -- how supreme must you be, how incredibly patient, how terribly big-hearted.

When you visit us this year, I will again send Mother to fetch my share of blessings. I love that smell of familiarity in the smashed petal inside a book, even if just for half a day. I love the sense of protection that the doing of the deed provides -- that mother will touch my pen to your feet. Goddess, when you visit us this year, I will be at the mountains -- from where you come -- and much though I want to say I will miss you, you and I both know I won't. I have you within me, intact. Intimate.

Enjoy the apparels and emotions. Enjoy the lights. Enjoy your vacation, Goddess!

Love,

K.