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They say that when you face death, your life flashes before you. For me it was three hours of willing myself to survive, to remain calm whatever happened.
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When you garden, nature is your partner. She is both older and wiser than you, and it is a good idea to let her lead the way.
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Suddenly, the emergency bag-dwelling tampons poke out of my pocket for the world to see. Oh, hello Ms. Postal Person! Hi there, Vegetable Vendor! Look there, across the street, it's So-and-So from work! I'd better stick my hand way up in the air to wave and further expose the contents of my skirt pocket!
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Familiarity breeds contempt, of course, and modern Indian women have heard the term "Sati-Savitri" used too often, too thoughtlessly. For them, it now means some simple village female, shuffling along behind her husband with her head covered. These ideal women are much more; they are as complex as real women—loving and caring, but willful and passionate as well. As images of womanhood go, the image of a woman who can debate with Death and win works for me. If we must have images of women to inspire us, why should we settle for anything less?
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It was a gentle enough question in a workshop of my peers, but my reaction was out of proportion. I went off on a sustained rant à la Philip Roth, which lasted about ten minutes and left the rest of the group stunned. After a short and painful silence in which the woman who had questioned me sat turning her wedding ring on her finger and refusing to meet my eyes, we took a break.
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My father died of cancer when I was five years old. I don't remember much about that time, but I do recall spending my childhood thinking a great deal about death, wondering how God decides when it is
time.
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"Please don't cry," Christa said. "Here, I want you to open your present early." When she set the gift on my lap, something tickled my arm. I pulled my face from the pillow and wiped away tears. The most adorable kitten I ever saw stared at me.
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