Patchwork of life

Patchwork of life

After the crazy deluge, squall that has left us all gasping with too much rain, its as if Nature had taken over a Shakespearean turn, I got a call from my Nani today morning and she said that she was un well and could not come over to meet me, but she wanted to give me her patch work bedcover.

I had wanted this bedcover ever since I had laid my eyes on it, thirty years ago. My grandmother had migrated to the US, on posting to Washington D.C. and had built her life there. Bringing up children, running a home, far away from the comforts of Punjab, Sahnewal and far away from Punjabiyat and her comfort zone. It was a huge step to settle down there for her. She had immersed herself in all things diplomatic, with other wives who were brought together just by a common thread of being Indian! Some of these ladies were from South (they have a natural advantage over us, more intelligent than us) and some from east and the language that bound them was Hindi, not Punjabi or Oriya or Tamil but broken Hindi that got them by and forged bonds to last a life time.

They enrolled in this patchwork making course as it was the American thing to do, all these women would labor to make linen, cushions and bedcovers and became a support system to each other while their husbands toured to different parts of the world, setting it right step by step; whereas these women tried to run their homes in an alien, all white country with snow and more snow!

I had always wanted this bedcover, made with love, stitched with love and dreams and sorrow and the vibrant colors all proclaiming life and the spirit. She would always, say patience, I will give it to you wait, when you’re older. Youth is always impatience; we have not learnt the luxury of patience and waiting for the right time. Everything we want is yesterday and that is what I was. Life happened, I grew older but still it hankered in my mind somewhere that when would she give this to me. She had promised it to me, an heirloom.  She grew frailer and weaker and I got busier in the humdrum of life, kids, school, life and just etching out my path.

However, today she called and she wants to give it to me.  And, I had tears in my eyes .I dint want it now, it seemed final . I feel we always get what is destined for us at the right time, right place. For us, to cherish and value things when we can know the true worth. Earlier, I might not have taken so much care, in the foolishness of youth, it would have got ruined, but now it’s invaluable. The love and care with which she made it and passing it to me, to take it forward to another generation. Isn’t life like that, we nurture, hope and pray for the best, forever wanting things to happen before and wanting them in a hurry but Fate always has other plans. As in the scriptures, we never get anything before the pre-ordained time however much we might desire.

However, it is the journey that makes us, the object is immaterial. Cherish the people and the moments with them. Life has moved to a level where we have started putting value on objects and the monetary value they signify and forget the people behind them, for their love and blessings and care is like none others. In our lives, this patchwork quilt is made with myriad people, hues, colors and seasons but we all should live it to the best !