Copyright © Tara Anand, 2017 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, by any means, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright holder. ISBN: 978-93-5288-126-0 (print) ISBN: 978-93-5281-986-7 (ebook) Cover Design: BespokeBookCovers.com Interior Design: Gessert Books Published by Dhyana Life www.dhyana-life.com For Anika, may you unfurl your petals and bloom in all your glory Dear Reader This book is deeply, deeply personal. I was hopeful of completing it within six months, as the writing began in an inspired burst (at 3 a.m. one morning) and went on for several months quite effortlessly. But, thereafter the going got tougher and tougher, and the timeline kept getting extended indefinitely. In the course of my writing I have had to struggle with fears and anxiety about sharing intimate details—not only from my life, but also from those closely connected to mine. I was worried of not being objective in my portrayal of certain people—of depicting them as villains, whereas in truth all of us are only human, struggling to do the best we can. I was worried readers would misunderstand my intentions—believing I only wanted to sensationalize my story (I have to admit the story in itself is quite dramatic!) I found myself considering other options such as leaving out many portions from the book, or writing it as a novel instead. However this would have diluted my original purpose—providing a firsthand vulnerable account which others facing similar challenges can relate to. Mine were to make hard choices at a time I felt trapped in a dark and endless tunnel. I had to take painful steps—snapping the chains of my past baggage and societal conditioning, one link at a time—to get unstuck and move forward. Even after I completed this book, I remained unsure of publishing it. Here’s a poem I wrote while mulling over this: Why must I publish this book? Insults I’ll surely have to brook… Must I publicly disrobe? Isn’t it a foolish hope— Others will learn from my mistakes? My hard-won honour must I stake? Isn’t there a better way, To inspire and to motivate? Why must I publish this book? Insults I’ll surely have to brook. Yet, why bother with the multitude Who could get judgy or be rude? Rather, focus on the few like you: Lonely, scared, abused, confused. Your words may help remove their doubts What if like you they too break out… Of shackles society’s put on them? That’s what I hope, Dear God, Amen! Keeping my reasons in mind, I decided to self-publish this memoir, since I wasn’t sure my story would be handled with the required sensitivity by a publishing house. All names mentioned in the book besides those of Aadi and Anika have been changed. While describing my experiences, encounters and conversations with other people I have tried to stay true to the emotional tone at the time. The process I followed was both exhaustive and exhausting—I had to dig out emails exchanged, pull out old journals, delve deep into memories I preferred not to recollect and work with the emotional outpouring that would often ensue. Many a time I would cease writing for months altogether, till I had worked out my residual pain and conflicting emotions through meditation, yoga and self- enquiry, and was sure I could be objective—that’s why this book has taken over two and a half years to come together. I am grateful to my parents for the role they have played in shaping me as a person; I believe they truly did the best they could for me. I would like to thank my ex-husband for the friendship we shared and for not objecting to this book—even though he didn’t agree with my take on our relationship when he partially read the manuscript. This book gives my perspective only; those who find mention in it are likely to have a different view, which is expected, as all of us view life through our own unique lens. I request you to read my experiences with this in mind. Thank you Aadi, for holding my hand as I wrote this book, for being my sounding board through endless hours of soul searching, and for helping me edit the numerous drafts right till the moment I finally pressed ‘Send’. Without your encouragement and belief in its value, this book might have just remained an incomplete document on my laptop. Thank you Anika, for being brave and allowing me to share our story, and for nudging me lovingly whenever you saw me hesitate to write further. And most of all, thank you Master, for taking me under your wing and being there for me every step of the way. —Tara Why the Lotus Blooms The seed was released —alone herself she found; pitch heavy darkness weighed down all around. “Where, what, why…?” —bewildered, she cried, after a short while, gathering herself she sighed. “There must be a purpose to my being here I have to believe— in time it will be clear.” Trembling all the while, emerging from her shell, she sent her roots down to anchor in the bed. Groping in dull waters, she looked around confused— relieved to see above her a golden beam diffused. Reaching for the shimmer, she extended herself up, trudging through the mire without the slightest fuss. She rose to the surface —by now a reticent bud savoring the air, stood tall above the mud. Warm rays embraced her and lovingly kissed her face; she had made her way home . .with splendor & grace. Her joyous petals whispered… “Inspire them, tell your story,” so laying bare her heart… she bloomed. .in all her glory. Tara Anand Contents Dear Reader Why the Lotus Blooms PART I: DARKNESS ALL AROUND Chapter One The Doomed Choice Chapter Two The Powerless Choice Chapter Three The Assertive Choice Chapter Four The Guilty Choice Chapter Five The Empowering Choice Chapter Six The Defining Choice PART II: REACHING FOR THE SHIMMER Chapter Seven The Unthinkable Choice Chapter Eight The Wise Choice Chapter Nine The Freeing Choice Chapter Ten The Skeptical Choice Chapter Eleven The Firm Choice PART III: STANDING TALL ABOVE THE MUD Chapter Twelve The Student’s Choice Chapter Thirteen The Seeker’s Choice Chapter Fourteen The Disciple’s Choice Chapter Fifteen The Woman’s Choice Chapter Sixteen The Daughter’s Choice Chapter Seventeen The Clear Choice Epilogue: Two Years Later. The Butterfly’s Angst: Embracing Her Power Glossary PART I: DARKNESS ALL AROUND Chapter One The Doomed Choice Scarlet Petals Scarlet petals on white cotton Lie in wait, Blushing expectantly, Sighing with sweet longing; The hollow ether echoes distant giggles, Unswayed by the sensual perfume of dreams; I strangle my screams, As the deadweight atop, astride… Crushes the Bleeding rose. Tara Anand 1 The Doomed Choice My wedding day. Standing alone in the dimly lit dressing room, waiting to be escorted out, I nervously look at the mirror for a final check—the wine-gold silk saree looks exquisite and the pleats fall neatly. I gently tug them to ensure they are secure. Reassured, I slowly move my gaze up and find myself looking at a tall, slim woman. Meeting her eyes, I recoil in shock. “Who is this apparition? Why does she look so miserable?” I look in horrified wonder as it slowly sinks in. Without warning a hot ball of panic and dismay rises, nearly choking me. “What’s wrong with me? This is not how I was supposed to feel on this day. Especially not when for the past seven years, I have wanted nothing more than to be married to this very man.” The door swings open. “It’s time for the Jai-Mala. .come with us,” my cousin- sister grins at me with twinkling eyes. Pulling myself together, taking my place between my cousins, I demurely look down as Indian brides traditionally do. As I step outside on the red carpet, a harsh light blinds me; I hold onto my cousin’s arm for support. I am slowly led toward the stage—the solemn sound of shehnai announces my arrival. Hundreds of eyes, awarding points for beauty and grace, bear down on me. Carefully climbing the stairs to the stage, my eyes search for the groom—hoping the sight of him will dispel my gloom. When I do, my heart sinks even further. He stands with his cousins with a distant, smug look on his face. “Is this the man I am going to marry? He seems like a total stranger.” The proceedings get underway; I repeatedly try to connect with him hoping for a reassuring look or gesture. But he seems lost in a world of his own. “He hasn’t even said a word about how I am looking, unlike everyone else.” Distracted by loud voices, I notice my cousin-sisters talking to him. “Be prepared to roam around barefoot after the ceremony. We won’t return your shoes unless you meet our demands,” they tease him. “Don’t expect any money. You can keep the shoes,” he says dismissively. “We can easily arrange for a backup pair,” his cousin-brothers add. My sisters exchange a perplexed look, as I look on incredulously fighting the urge to step in. “Maybe he has been drinking,” I tell myself—furious at how a friendly ritual intended to build ties has instead created walls.