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    Me - Destination vs. Destination
    Me - Destination vs. Destination
    Me - Destination vs. Destination
    Ebook58 pages52 minutes

    Me - Destination vs. Destination

    By Neena Prabhakar

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    About this ebook

    Me is about the journey of a writer who went through many ups and downs in life. This book is a work of art, in which each word comes from a deep meditative state. Deciding from the title of the book to the content of the book has been the direction of the supreme po

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBlue Rose Publishers
    Release dateApr 20, 2024
    ISBN9789362619426
    Me - Destination vs. Destination

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      Book preview

      Me - Destination vs. Destination - Neena Prabhakar

      My Life

      Dear reader, I have been born twice. Once, when I was taken out of my mother’s womb, and then, when I met Guruji, I was born again. So, naturally, it would have been much better if I started off with my journey into the mystic pathways of spirituality, but then again, without knowing what came before it, you would be left clueless.

      And my purpose here is to not make you more confused, but to have you settle in to get a glimpse of my carnation and incarnation in the same lifetime. And if you are able to get anything out of my ups to face your downs, then, dear reader, that would be our victory. As we are both going to walk the same path now. It would be better if we got acquainted.

      As for me, I was the eldest of four siblings. My mother was a teacher in a government school in Punjab, and my father had left his job to build his own business. I never knew him personally, so all I know about him is from others, and what I have gathered is that he was not very stable in his earnings. And as a result of this, at the tender age of five months, I was sent to my maternal grandmother’s place in Delhi. From then on, that place was my home.

      Dear reader, have you ever looked back at your life and found points where, had the circumstances been a little more favourable for you, your lives would have been different? I have many, and this is probably the first in a series of them. My grandmother’s family included my grandmother, my grandfather, an aunt (my uncle’s wife) and one unmarried maternal aunt. Since I had no other option, I made them my family too. I mean, I know they were already my family, but having people in your family and making them your family are two different things, aren’t they? Back then, I wasn’t much of a diary person, so I do not have much to look back on. I only have vague memories of how my life was back then, but I do remember that I was brought up by my mother. My maternal aunt. And she was, in fact, literally maa si (like mother) for me, for I used to consider her my mother until I was made aware. But we can only have good things for as long as we can, because soon she got married and moved on with her own life. It was around the same time that my younger sister was also put in my Nani’s care.

      Initially, I did not like that even a little bit. But this feeling didn’t last long, as slowly and gradually I developed a beautiful bond with her, and before I knew it, we were partners in our happiness and sorrows.

      Don’t get me wrong. My Nani’s place was comfortable. But even with all the riches around, the ache and the urge to know your real family were always there. You can only try to fill in the hole in your heart to know that what you have been missing all your life is just a family to acknowledge and love you. For me, this was a distant dream. Usually, the ache was just a noise in the background, but when our classmates in school talked about their parents, we couldn’t help but sit quietly and listen to the life we could not have.

      As I said, I have no complaints about how our lives were at my Nani’s place. My maternal grandparents were usually very considerate of us. Until their sons and daughters, my maternal uncles and aunts, would come to India for a vacation from abroad, then they used to become indifferent towards our existence. And this went on for three or four months, every year. Some of them didn’t mind staying, and some were sympathetic. Yet, there were a few who were outright rude and understood the whole scenario as our father’s inability to take care of us.

      Otherwise, why would someone throw their kids at the mercy of their maternal grandparents? Some of these aunts would abuse us and treat us as servants, and no one would listen to our sufferings. Not even our mother, who would also act indifferent in such matters.

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