he power of myth lies in its ability to communicate complex, profound ideas in a way that resonates on an emotional and spiritual level. Myths endure when they tap into universal truths and human experiences. And this myth from India has endured thousands of years and is still a living experience for hundreds of millions of people.
For Didi’s birthday night, I had planned a very special trip to the top of the Mauna Kea. The tallest mountain in the world when measured from its base, which is deep beneath the ocean. From its base on the ocean floor to its peak, it rises over 33,500 feet making it taller than Mount Everest. Measured from its base above sea level to its summit it is almost 14,000 feet. The most famous thing about Mauna Kea is due to its high elevation, clear skies and lack of atmospheric distortion, it is home to the world-renowned astronomical observatories and the home of the powerful keg telescopes.
We reached the opening. And stood spell-bound. In front of us was Hessian Lake – nestled at the base of Bear Mountain that was awash in brilliant hues of gold, orange, and red. Its reflection in the lake-water formed a perfect mirror, doubling the fiery splendor of the foliage. The stillness of the water enhanced the symmetry, and the scene felt like a painting, with the vibrant colors of fall blending into the soft blue sky above. The sun was jusssst coming up.
“Houston, we have a problem”, said Didi; which means elder-sister in Hindi. In this case, MY elder sister, was in the passenger seat while I was driving our 2000 Dodge Neon. We were on the Interstate I-80 somewhere in the middle of New Jersey. It was 1st of July 2004 and we were in the midst of another big move of our lives.
“Mummy, Dada! I came top in my class of 800! Are you proud of me?”, the message pops up on my phone.
Mark texted back effortlessly, “yes proud of you – and missing you – love Dada”. I wrote, “ummm…only a little bit” with lots of naughty emojis. Later I confess to Mark – I didn’t know how to properly respond to Sophie’s question. Mark asks me why.
And I find myself breaking into tears.
“Your daughter is the best thing that ever happened to my son.” Mark’s dad said as he shook my father’s hand. “She is just marvelous. You must be so proud of her.” he added. My father looked surprised, confused, mystified. He appeared to be at a loss of words; my father is never at a loss of words. One thing he didn’t appear was proud.
“You must be so proud of your dad”, the lady in the dazzling white sari said at the award ceremony. “He is a very smart man. Are you as smart as he is?” she asked me. “I am.” I answered without missing a beat, I was 9 years old. This evoked laughter among the adults around me. “She is your daughter indeed, Srivastav”, the lady said to my father with a chuckle. My father smiled benevolently at me, neither acknowledging nor refuting my statement. Maybe he thought I was as smart as he was. Or maybe not.
But we were sure – Mark & I – that we wanted to adopt. We looked into adoption, even international adoption – from India – and all of it felt like a tedious, bureaucratic affair that took years out of one’s life.
The Jazz Club we were at, is called Reduta. It is located in Prague, which is the capital city of Czech Republic, and which is where I was exactly one month ago.
I was invited to be the Keynote speaker by Farmingdale State College Multicultural Committee at their annual gala. Following is my full keynote.
I left India and flew back to America to my empty life. I got back into work. Amidst nightmares of losing Didi and days of bawling with grief, I somehow planned a trip – to spend Didi’s birthday; Mar 19th in Venice. Human beings are strange.
As the year passed, we discovered a phenomenon called “New Year’s Eve at Times Square”. It was all anyone would talk about – the exhilaration of the countdown leading to the ball drop and the romance of kissing a lover under a rain of confetti to the tune of John Lennon’s Imagine reminding us to live for today.
It was Christmas morning and I had just woken up. I was 8 years old and had never received a Christmas gift before in my life..
What tea would you like?” asked the waitress as she flipped open the top of a tea box in front of us.
“English Breakfast” said I AND Mark, almost in unison.
I looked at Mark and said “English Breakfast?”
“You are the red in my painting, the color in my life.” I said to my sister.
“And you are the light in mine”, said she to me.
