The Meaning of Life

My alarm beeped loudly and from the deep confines of sleep, my hand reached out automatically to turn it off. I’d trained my brain well. It knew. Alarm = off.

I rolled, the blip in my sleep barely registering and knocked myself out again.

It wasn’t until hours later that I stirred, stretching lazily. Cracking one eye open, I squinted at the clock. 11:45 AM. Ugh. Hadn’t I meant to wake up at 8:00 AM today?

Oh, right. I’d turned off the alarm.

Maybe tomorrow. I really hadn’t meant to stay out so late last night but it had been Aditi’s birthday and we all knew how Aditi got when she was the centre of attention. Drunk out of her mind, she insisted we walk the length of Marine Drive at 1:00 in the morning and refused to leave until we all got on board.

So, we walked Marine Drive, got Aditi in Raunaq’s car who promised he’d drop her off safely and then finally left. By the time I got home, it was 3:15 AM. Obviously then, I wasn’t going to wake up by 8:00 AM.

I sighed and rolled over. These parties just weren’t fun anymore. Actually, if I was being honest, I never really had a great time at them. I just went because it gave me something to do and I got to hang out with my friends for a bit. It made me feel like I was back at college. I wanted to feel like I had a purpose again.

College had given me that. Even if it was just assignments and exams, I was working towards something. I was working towards my degree.

Now? I had no clue what I wanted.

My stomach growled. Damn, I was hungry. Aditi had taken us to a restaurant at 9:00 PM so that we wouldn’t get drunk on an empty stomach. I hadn’t eaten anything since then.

“Ma!” I called out groggily. She’d get me tea.

There was no response. Lately, Ma and I had been fighting a lot. She didn’t get that I just needed some time and space.

“Ma!” I called out again. Still no answer.

I frowned. Really, was it too much for a daughter to expect that her only mother get her some tea? I had a serious headache – a nasty hangover, obviously, but I wasn’t going to tell Ma that.

“MA! Really?!”

I shoved the covers off me and got up, groaning. Fine, I’d go myself.

I shuffled out of my room, making my way into the kitchen.

“Ma, ugh!” Why was she ignoring me?

I pulled myself onto the kitchen ledge and glared at her. “If you’re done ignoring me, can I have breakfast?”

Ma was chopping vegetables. As I watched, she put a kadai on the stove. “Breakfast was served at 8:30 AM, Myra. It’s 12:00 PM now. We’ll have lunch in another hour. Why don’t you have a banana until then?”

Why was she being so rude today? And I hated bananas. Like she didn’t know. “Yuck. Fine, at least give me some bread.”

“It’s in the fridge.” She continued to cook, silently watching the stove. She seemed extra annoyed, more so than usual. What was up with that?

A couple of minutes passed. I wasn’t sure how to fill the silence because normally, Ma would say something. But she was just quiet today.

“What are we having for lunch?” I asked, just to break the weird vibe.

“Carrot dal and beans sabzi.”

I grimaced. “Why can’t you cook something more interesting? It would be nice to have pasta or like, biriyani!”

Ma just looked at me.

“What?” I asked defensively.

“What do you want, Myra? I’m busy,” she said pointedly, continuing to cook.

All of a sudden, I felt worked up. I hated it when Ma got upset with me. “Why are you pissed at me?!” I asked. “From morning, you’ve been acting irritated.”

“Again, Myra, it’s 12:00 PM. Not exactly morning. You’ve been awake for all of 10 minutes.”

Ugh! “FINE! What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you, Myra.” She looked at me and the expression in her eyes made me feel small. Unworthy. “You and your life which you’re doing nothing with, squandering it away on useless parties and outings. You got home at 3:00 AM last night. My problem is your intelligence which you refuse to use, choosing instead to watch show after show on Netflix. My problem is that my only daughter refuses to get up off her behind and make something of herself. You are more or less an idle squatter in this house. That’s my problem.”

There was silence.

I was stunned. More than anything, I was devastated.

Ma’s opinion meant the world to me. And now, I had been reduced to this. A… what had she said? A squatter.

All I wanted to do was figure out my seasons of life. Why did nobody get it?

I felt my eyes fill with tears. Before I could stop myself, I broke down.

I sensed Ma move towards me. A few seconds later, her arms went around me. Her gentle, loving touch after her harsh words made me cry harder.

The frustrations, the pent-up disappointments of the past few months, my fear and uncertainty about my future – all of it came tumbling out.

I cried and cried. Maybe it was only for 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. Eventually, I wiped my eyes and extricated myself from Ma’s arms. She’d hurt me with what she’d said. But perhaps it was time for me to share what I was really feeling.

All we did was yell at each other.

“I know you’re unhappy with me,” I said, determined to be honest. “But you want to know the truth?” I met her eye. “I’m not happy with my life, Ma. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Nothing seems to make me happy or satisfied. And I don’t have answers to my questions. Why am I not happy? I don’t know. What is this life I’m living? I don’t know. What is the meaning of life at all? I really don’t know. I’m struggling, Ma. Maybe I don’t show it. But I thought you’d get it. But clearly not. Okay, whatever,” I ended, feeling hurt all over again.

She stared at me and I saw that her eyes had filled up. Crap, I hadn’t wanted her to cry. She held out her arms and I walked into them, struggling to put aside my own hurt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in my ear. “I know I was very harsh.”

“Yes. You were,” I said shortly.

“But,” she pulled back and looked at me, her hand holding mine, “you’re going to keep feeling this way until you push yourself to try, Myra. You’re talking about the meaning of life.” She laughed. “Believe me, that’s all anybody is trying to figure out, including us oldies. Without experimenting, you’re not going to understand what makes you tick, what makes you feel excited and what path you want your life to take.

“You have to at least try.”

I sighed. There it was again, her “try” dialogue. The worst part was, I knew she was right. If only my fear wasn’t so crippling.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I said. “I’m just…scared. And yes,” I added as she opened her mouth again, “I know what you’re going to say. Push past the fear blah blah. You believe me, I’m trying. I know it doesn’t look like it but I am. You’re going to see some changes soon.”

She shook her head and smiled. “Alright.”

“Great!” Ma’s smile made me feel cheerful and suddenly, everything felt okay again. “When will lunch be ready?”

She rolled her eyes. “Once I finish cooking.”

“Okay,” I let go of her and began walking away. “Let me know once it’s ready. Gotta catch up on my show, bye!”

Now that Ma was okay, I felt okay too.

What was it about this mother-child thing that made it seem like the world was alright only when they were?

Sigh. I’d never get it.