Less than two hours after I’d pressed publish on the last chapter, I received a call from my sister-in-law and an email from my brother, with the subject heading: “I have the best news ever for you!”
With my guru Om Swami ji’s Grace, that day, my world changed in ways I could not have dreamed of.
On the day I’d sat on the sofa by the fireplace at Kailash Manor (the beautiful nursing home in NW London where my father is currently being cared for as he nears the end of his life), on the afternoon I had sat there to write the that chapter of my story, I had no idea that just days later, I would be on the same sofa, but this time, I would not be alone.
I could not have conceived that day that the object of my thoughts, the source of my tears of intense love while writing, would be sitting right there with me, smiling at me, misty-eyed, hugging me, holding my hands.
YES! Almost 14 years after I last saw or heard from him, my dear younger son, whom I’ve named Veer in my story, reached out, and we have reunited!
I was convinced that I would never see my children again. I had accepted my fate as I knew it. But the Universe, it seems, knew differently. ‘Veer’ found out my brother’s name from a relative and searched for his socials online. He sent my brother the sweetest message. Veer wrote that he missed me and wanted to reconnect with me. He’d heard I’d moved to the Himalayas and become a monk. Although it was not his father’s preference, Veer had been building up the courage for years to find me, and now he was asking my brother for help to contact me.
When Veer reached out, he had no idea about this blog and that I’d been writing my story. And he had even less of an idea that I wasn’t far-far away in India. Providence had brought me to London to be here to serve my unwell father. And so, I was not thousands of miles away in the Himalayan mountains this time. I was, in fact, only 4.5 miles away, a 17-minute drive.
And I still can’t believe the timing of it. I’d protected my heart for years by not allowing myself to think of my children too deeply. And here, now I’d just written a post about the last time I saw them, going through all the emotions again of a mother mourning her children … and I receive a message the very same day! Even though Veer had no idea that I was writing and thinking of him so intensely. The cosmic play of life never ceases to amaze me.
When my sister-in-law phoned me about Veer’s message, the shock that this was finally happening stunned me into silence. My knees buckled beneath me, I dropped to the floor, my hand went to my mouth, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I think I made some muffled sounds to let her know I had heard what she said, but I couldn’t speak. My gaze went straight to Swami ji’s photo, and a prayer of immense gratitude overflowed.
With love and patience, my sister-in-law allowed me to process what I’d just heard. She said she understood, and I didn’t have to speak; she went on to explain how the message had come about and said that Veer had provided his telephone number!
Over the years, I had trained my mind to be so much in the present moment that I hardly thought of my past anymore. It was my protection mechanism so the painful memories couldn’t derail me. I had, sometimes, though, allowed myself a brief indulgence. Of course, I’d imagined how it might happen if my boys ever reached out, ever wanted to know me again.
Would they show up at my parents’ home or even at the ashram? What would they look like? How would they feel? Would they be angry, demanding answers? Or would they come with love and understanding? How would I feel? Would I cry? Would we hug?
I’d then let my mind settle back into silence as it has become accustomed to doing, before it became attached to the idea that I would ever see my children again at all. Believing that I wouldn’t and getting on with my life was the only way to remain alive and sane.
Since I’d been back in England, though, whenever I went anywhere in England, especially around London, although I tried not to, I would scan the cars, tubes, buses, streets and buildings, just in case. Someone had told me that my elder son, Jai, lived and worked in the financial district of London, and so, naturally, I couldn’t not think of my Jai and Veer going about their lives close by in the blur of the city’s faces.
And then, that day, it was a fantasy no more.
My darling Veer, now 22, had been brave enough to question his reality of the past 14 years, ready to know more than he had been told growing up.
Veer longed for his mother with the same intensity and fervour that I had cried like a child to the Divine Mother to bring me Home to Her and make me Her own. And when the Mother hears Her child, She comes running with open arms, ready to scoop them up.
And that’s exactly what happened to us both. Mother Divine scooped me, her broken child, up, and I had my child in my arms again.
In the time I have spent with Veer, I have been blown away by how tender his heart is. He is polite, a deep thinker, and sensitive to the world’s needs.
And Veer showers me with the kind of love that I have never experienced before, ever. The last time I saw Veer, he was 8. Of course, he showed me he loved me with infinite hugs and kisses when he was little, but the way he expresses himself now as a grown young man takes my breath away
I was putting off writing the chapters after “She’s Inhumane…” because my biggest concern was how it would make my children feel if they learned my side of the story.
I assume they had been angry at me and then got on with their lives, and the last thing I wanted was for that anger to rise again and be redirected at their father.
I have nothing but gratitude in my heart for him and his wife. Maanav and Maya gave our boys a beautiful home to grow up in and every comfort anyone could ask for. I know they love our children. And I say ‘our’ because they are our children, the three of ours – mine, Maanav’s and Maya’s. If you ever read this, thank you, Maanav and Maya. I bow my head in heartfelt gratitude to you both.
I will continue to write with Veer’s permission. He’s heard everything I have to say and is happy for me to continue sharing my truth. We are on a healing journey together.
Although my older son, Jai, has not expressed a desire to reconnect with me, I am absolutely alright with that. I respect his wishes and his journey. I hold on to no expectation.
My darling Jai, if you read this, I love you. I hold you in my prayers and wish only happiness and peace in your life. If that means I am not a part of it, it’s okay. Be happy, be free, Beta. And if you ever change your mind, if you ever need me, you know how to find me now. I am here, my arms are wide open for you just as they are for Veer 🧡