Wedding Anniversary Prayer

First Anniversary  
Thank you Lord for this day and the three hundred and sixty five in between this and that day before Your altar when we gazed into each other’s eyes -- or was it Yours? -- and said our I do’s. I thank you for the love you have shown me through his caresses, his concern for me, his scolding, his acts of giving and forgiving, our time together, the movies, the one sandwich we shared on a broke day, the time he stood up for me with his family, the ... Oh so many big and small events... Thank you for all that love, so big that it could not be ours, not his nor mine. It is yours. Poured out into us. This I know and I thank you.

Second Anniversary
We have gone through two whole years, thank you Lord. But it has not all been smooth sailing, you know. I am seeing sides of him that I hadn’t before and not all of them make me happy. His job and his career ambition have become a thorn between us. We have had arguments, fights, sometimes severe, exchanging hurtful words so much so we thought it would be the end for us, but now I know it was only the miracle of your love that made things right again and made us feel that nothing had happened to the caresses, the concern, the acts of giving and forgiving. Thank you Lord.  

Fifth Anniversary
 He’s a wonder. Our little Rahul. Two years old already. Just looking at him makes me want to sing hosannas to your name. He takes up all my time and can be quite naughty. But he is cute. His father is so proud of him, you’d think the brat’s name is not Rahul but Mozart or Einstein. Thank you, God for this gift. Again your love for us. It is so big that you needed one more vessel to fill it in. And so we keep pouring it from one to another like warm milk that will not cool. Thank you Lord. Thanks again.  

Tenth Anniversary
Thanksgiving day again, Lord. Both Rahul and Reena are growing up beautifully. Rahul as a beautiful voice and has won prizes for his singing. He tends to show off a bit and that worries me. Reena tends to answer back already, but it is only with me. She is OK with her father. He has again gone back to giving his job all his attention. There seems to be trouble in his office. Politics. He comes home tense. Doesn’t speak. I try to soothe him down the best a wife can. But it doesn’t seem to work. I know he loves me, but he is certainly not showing it right now. I know what you are doing now, Lord. Your love is playing a little game with me. But I can take it. With a little help from you.

Twentieth Anniversary
What are you doing to me, Lord? And why? We don’t seem to have any control over both our children. Serves us right, you will say, for our pride. Both come home late every night. I am afraid for Reena. The world is not as innocent as it was during our time. I am afraid of consequences. Their father loses his temper and threatens to throw them out of the house. In all this, I know there is love. Between them and us. Your love. Playing peekaboo in the corners of our despair. With some difficulty I say thank you Lord for this anniversary.  

Twenty-fifth Anniversary
Beautiful day, Lord. Thanks a lot. The parish priest came home with his holy water sprinkler and he blessed us as we exchanged vows and rings again. My fellow looked handsome even with his paunch and I think that he had not noticed how much weight I had put on since the last time we said I do. And friends, Lord. Wow! So many! Where did you find them for us, Lord? Like bells ringing out our joy. Yes we know. This love of yours for us, so big that you had to find more and more vessels to store it in. And it still spills over. Thanks.  

Fiftieth Anniversary
From Silver to Gold. I didn’t think we would make it. But you decided that we should. That there was still a lot of love to go around. For each other. For our children. Our four grandchildren. And our many, many friends. And You, the source of it all, still pouring it in plenty. Thank you once more. I try hard to hide my wrinkles now and he his limp. But how does one hide one’s love?  

Fifty-ninth Anniversary
I’m celebrating today. Only the memory. Dressed in black still. We buried him six months ago. But funny, I still feel married to him. See. I still have his ring on my finger.This sacrament of yours is a stubborn thing. It sticks to one for ever. Strong glue this. Your love. Pouring out on us from that day in Eden.

Two Brothers

Two Brothers

Rahul sat in the last row with his wife, Sheila. He was too nervous to sit up front. There were all kinds of important looking people there. Some were in uniform. The others in well-pressed suits and saris. He had worn his best kurta pyjama, which his wife had ironed for him that day. He cast a sideways glance at her in affection and gratitude. His wife, he thought looked good in that sari. He had bought it with his first bonus. Oh, she looked so good, he thought. She could sit in front, he thought, but not he.

They were there that day to applaud his younger brother, Randhir. A jawan in the army, he was one of those who were to be awarded a medal for bravery. He had shown great courage at the border, where he and a few others had confronted militants and overpowered them. This was a big day for the family, Rahul thought. He hoped they would take pictures that he could frame.

Sitting there, his mind went back to that other morning, ten years earlier. He had woken up with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He rushed to the mori, that small enclosure that served as bathroom in their one room home. Involuntarily he coughed up blood. At first he thought that his gums were bleeding. But then after cleaning his teeth with tooth powder on finger, he coughed again. Blood. He decided not to tell his wife. Why bother her. She had her own problems, poor thing. Their five-year old son was constantly falling sick and Sheila had to take him to the municipal hospital and wait in long queues for almost the whole day, while he had to go to work.

He was a loader with a transport company. Every day he thanked God for the job. It barely provided his family with what they needed to keep body and soul together. But he managed, somehow. He worked extra hours to get overtime. His brother, Randhir was then living with them. He had passed his 9^th standard. The school had granted the boy a freeship. But his books and uniform and an occasional tuition fee all added up to quite a sum. After the 10^th standard board exam, Randhir expressed the desire to study further. His friends told him to forget it. Randhir should start working. But Rahul thought about it. He would send him to college.

Randhir did well. Passed his 12^th standard. On the morning of the bloody cough, Randhir gave Rahul the news that he wanted to join the armed forces.

Life was not easy. Rahul kept coughing up blood almost every day. One day, he took an hour’s leave to visit the municipal hospital’s OPD. It was TB, he was told. He had to take his medicines regularly. But more important, he would have to stop doing his kind of work. A loader’s job was too heavy for a TB patient. When his company came to know of it, they told him they could not have him work there any more. He was given three months pay and asked to leave.

This hit him hard. He went home and wept like a baby. His wife watched him for a while. Then she took his hand and said, “Look at me.” Slowly he looked up, his jaw hardening with resolve. “Look at me, she said. I am there. Don’t worry”.

The next day Sheila found work in two houses. But Rahul could not bear the thought of doing nothing himself. He took the three months pay, went out and bought himself a second-hand cart, loaded it with bananas, oranges and fruit, which he bought in the whole sale market. Every day he went out in the sun selling fruit.

Yes, life was not easy these past ten years. But they had survived. His tuberculosis had left him, thank God. Life was still quite hard, but he was not complaining. He was alive with the best wife and son in the world. And now this brother of his! God is so good, he said under his breath.

He heard Randhir’s name being announced. He saw his younger brother in uniform walk up to the dais and receive his medal to loud applause.

Then his brother did a strange thing. He unpinned the medal from his shirt, held it up and briskly walked down the aisle. The audience followed him with their eyes as Randhir came to the last row to where Rahul was sitting.

He pinned the bravery medal on to Rahul’s kurta, clicked his heels to attention and stood for a good minute saluting his older brother.

For the Agnel Ashram Magazine May 2015