Not so small choice

The most difficult family member and the most adorable one both influence our lives in profound ways. My granny was controlling and manipulative, while my papa was full of love, non-demanding, calm, and self-content. Papa was often taken for granted by everyone, including the children, yet he remained relaxed about it. I always wondered how he managed that.

Granny was popular among family, relatives, and friends, often receiving all the attention. Everyone in the family tried to please Granny to keep her happy, but I did the opposite and often got into arguments with her. I thought, “If I am not doing anything wrong, why should I please her?” But deep down, I realized it was due to my subtle fear of her.

I kept fighting with her for 30 years and became more or less like her in certain ways, not accepting my own imperfections, let alone those of others. I became critical and judgmental. While she was subtle, I was vulnerable. My behavior was judged, and I felt bad about it. It was very much visible. Much later in life, I realized that my outer behavior and its reactions actually helped me identify myself more clearly. After a long process, I started practicing meditation.

As I meditated, the qualities of my papa surfaced within me, having been there subconsciously all along. One day, my five-year-old daughter Vrinda, after playing with her friend Molly at the swimming pool, came to me and asked, “Can we go to a restaurant with Molly and her family for snacks?”

I was not on speaking terms with Molly’s mother. We had fought recently. I said, “Baby, neither your friend nor her mother has asked me.” Innocently, Vrinda replied, “But she asked me, and I am asking you!” I thought, “I can easily divert my daughter’s attention, then I don’t have to face my friend. It would make me look desperate if I made the first move after a long cold war.”

What to do? For a few seconds, everything stopped in me. The next moment, I surprised myself by saying, “Okay, baby, I will go with you.” I slowly and quietly walked up to my friend. That short distance felt too long. I thought, “Why am I putting myself through this? It is killing me. At least she could walk towards me. My daughter doesn’t know what I am doing for her happiness, forget about being acknowledged.”

As I reached my friend and her family, my friend gave me a warm smile, and we started talking as if there had never been any conflict between us. Truly, we both missed each other.

I remember my papa did the same for everyone his whole life. What we presumed to be his weakness was, in fact, his strength.