May All The Evil That Has Been Done Be Fruitless

They came from all directions - swanky sedans, timid budget sedans, haughty SUVs, dainty hatchbacks. And people seemed to be pouring out of them. Amidst all the angry honking and shouting, such good-looking, flamboyantly dressed people (men in magnificent whites and women in every colour other than white) were stepping out of the cars, that you could tell the shouters and honkers just couldn’t be them – probably their uncultured chauffeurs and servants. It was 3pm in a Mumbai suburban lane on a bank holiday. Beyond this little island of activity, the neighborhood bore the uneasy hum of machines silenced against their will and disposition. 

The Husband dropped the Wife, the Daughter and the Son near the entrance and slowly honked away scouting for parking space in adjoining lanes. The Wife stepped out and adjusted her new saree and put the Berkin at just the right place on her arm as she greeted with an amiable smile a wide collection of women. No one could have told she hadn’t eaten a morsel in the last three days as she made her way through the crowd, greeting friends and relatives. She showered the benevolence of her acknowledgement to other women carrying ugly little cheap bags they got from their Mahila Mandal and basked in the glory of those who had donated more ghee than her, these past few days.

The Daughter whatsapped her friends and they all gathered near the entrance, all of them wearing their first sarees and eye glitter – perfect little mannequins, holding their miniature little purses just like how mommy taught them to.

The Son was his mommy’s escort till the time the Husband came back. He was cracking funny jokes with his mother’s friends, always sounding charming and witty. The women were pulling his cheeks and patting him with quasi-affection, telling them how he reminded them of his father, as if that should make him proud. The Son was charming-er with moms having perfect little daughters of marriageable age. The Son in his fashionable chikan-embroidered, specially tailored kurta set for the evening was then talking to a girl he had gotten acquainted to over the years, through a long string of social occasions where every subsequent encounter saw her breasts grow and eyebrows shrink. Today he was stealing glances down her low-neck, backless blouse and getting closer to her to whisper something in her ear, the aforementioned honking his excuse.

The Husband was back, all drenched in sweat thanks to the late monsoon humidity and he whisked the Son away.Soon the loudspeaker blared, asking women to be seated on the ground and first floors and men on the two floors above. The Jain festival of Paryushan was drawing to an end. And most of them were visiting the prayer hall one last time in the year, to do the one big, 4 hours long pooja – Samvatsari Pratikraman.

The Son could hear a rather shrill, adolescent voice take over the prayers. They usually get some newbie to recite the biggest prayers of the year to advertise how the religion is alive and well and being passed down to the new generation. This particular specimen was like all the others – coming from a lower middle class family that couldn’t find a way to get rich so found an excuse to denounce it in religion, topper in school and college and studying for 15 hours a day to become a Chartered Accountant. He knew all the shlokas because he was the king of rot learning in school and the elders liked him because he recited the shlokas fast enough so that they could be home in time for Tarak Mehta’s Ooltah Chashma.

The Son obviously couldn’t be bothered because the Husband could afford to buy off the guilt of not educating his son about his religion by funding the temple trust. So 10 minutes into the prayer, the Son was checking his iphone 5 for time and updates. Little mobile screens kept blinking all around the unlit prayer room like errant fireflies, inviting disapproving grunts from fathers who were trying to wipe away the perspiration with the same cloth that they had tied across their mouths.

The newbie was now singing a hymn while the Son was whatsapping that girl he met before:

“Just as fire is not quenched by the fuel and

the ocean by thousands of rivers,

similarly no living being is satisfied even with

all the wealth of all the three worlds….”

“Me: That was a nice saree you were wearing there.

Had forgotten how beautiful you were.

Been a long time :p”

Now the newbie was uttering the great words of the teachers:

“That with the help of which we can know

the truth, control the restless mind, and

purify the soul is called knowledge and….”

“Girl: Haha, thanks

But been a long time since?

Don’t play games with me! :p

Out with it!”

The newbie was now speaking on behalf of everyone:

“I forgive all living beings,

May all living beings grant me forgiveness.

My friendship is with all living beings,

My enmity is totally nonexistent….”

“Me: Listen, are you seeing someone right now?

How about we get together some time?

Maybe next week? J”

An older fellow then took over to dispense some universal truths:

“The true seeker of the Self possesses the seven cardinal virtues

namely; compassion, peace, equanimity, forgiveness, truthfulness,

renunciation, and non attachment to worldly relations and objects….”

“Girl: How about tonight? :p”

After four hours of praying and sitting in all sorts weird yoga positions, the Pratikraman had ended and the lights were switched on. There was happy chatter all around as the 8 days of ‘penance’ had come to an end and they will be able to get back to butter pav bhaji and Katrina Kaif the next day.

“Michhami Dukkadam” (May all my evil acts against you be fruitless)…

Muttered the Husband to his estranged brother who he had duped of his hard earned money by offering to buy him profitable shares, 10 years ago

Whispered the bejeweled Wife to her bejeweled mother-in-law who had called her a witch for breaking up the family, in front of 30 relatives

Quipped the chirpy Daughter to the only other Jain kid at the birthday party of her school friend, as she bit into a succulent kebab

Exclaimed the Son to the girl with mocking earnest as he undid her spaghetti-strap blouse on the terrace of the prayer hall

Uttered the naked dude with a halo around his head as he butted out his cigarette when he noticed he wasn’t alone on the terrace