She sat in the corner looking at her reflection in the broken mirror wondering what "something" was that messed with the flow of life. What had gotten so stuck in rut that her smile was mostly halfway incomplete . There is no evidence of anyone else to be held responsible. As many blame games she wanted to play, the only reflection that stared back was her own.
Life is the ultimate prankster and all of us its victims. God gets pure pleasure in seeing us chasing our tails. Humans are the most entertaining reality show props.
In that exact moment sharp 1pm, lounging in her goodwill chair, it was decided. This character doesn't serve anymore. All it does is create vicious cycles of pain and suffering. To make it worse, the chosen fallen one seeks sympathy and attention from society which gives no care till you die.
What version was about to arise? Was it the wake up in the morning, do your yoga, say OM and be thankful for your green smoothies? She could find a lot of spiritual books and turn vegan. Shop at whole foods and tell people about GMOs.
Could it be the one that starts every Sunday reading the works of the only enlightened one most of the Westerners know and don't even understand fully. That poor guy sits at the end of every sermon and thinks of all the idiotic ways his words are interpreted by sheep.
She could also be a garden enthusiast. This character would need an umbrella hat, tons of sunscreen and murdering more plants than anticipated. She will talk about hows and what's of permaculture. Maybe move to Hawaii and pursue the goal of growing mangoes from scratch.
What were her dreams and aspirations as a kid? How come she never had the idea of becoming an Olympic gymnast or the first woman to go to space? How was she enjoying her childhood and most of her 30s oblivious to money issues? Why wasn't she attacked by adversity in her 20s so she could fight back better?
All the Whys that are never important started hounding her.
She had stopped logging in to Facebook. With all her friends and their kids making tiktoks together and posting it constantly made her nauseous and even wonder if she really ever wanted that life. Is there more relief in depth of sadness than shallowness of happiness? There is also a chance where these people were good at handling life and Malaiah just never nurtured those skills. What skills did she nurture?
If there was life advisor we could trust, if there was a path that wouldn't hit a dead end, if life had a simple formula to not tangle itself, IF IF IF IF ohh we were not so good at making mistakes that cost a fortune of a lifetime ; there will no medications to be delivered by Amazon and marijuana farms would be a myth.
What would you choose if you were given a miraculous rebirth which every Hindu gets? How does your alternate life look where all the choices lead to pure happiness and contentment?
All of a sudden, she was struck by the realization that she lost the power of thinking. With all the men in her life suggesting "Honey would you mind doing it this way", there was no way an original idea will dawn. How was she supposed to know sex costs a whole lot of identity loss? There were a bunch of feminists warning the crowd but that seemed like a total exaggeration to her. She would rather watch a Netflix tv show and experience life through fake storylines.
Overwhelmed by the loss, she knew the only thing that could help would be a nap. As nap turned into a three hour long affair with the dreams she couldn't escape, nap was more tormenting than real life. At least while awake there was televised news with pretty anchors to talk about how people in third world countries suffered more. It's funny how mothers, sisters and all broken relationships show up in dreams. Like real life, they are not very supportive and enjoy judging directing your life from the rare video calls with their perfect choices and functional family structures.
Zoey Whiskers pulled her out of the nap with a mean meow reminding Malaiah of her Cat Lady duties. Mixing the food and pouring it in the bowl as Zoey nearly bit her leg, the solution was obvious.
Malaiah needed to leave. She couldn't dream of a future living on past's grave. If our character was a super successful executive bored of her rich monotonous life, she would fly to India. Write a book about her adventures and hardships of Indians being super accepting and polite. Make more money, go to Ellen's show, audience would make sounds like awww and applaud her for the courage.
Lets face it Malaiah is poor. She could sell everything and buy enough fuel to go no further than next town.
Instead of ruminating more, she cooked MISO soup with carrot, cabbage, celery and corn. She sat in her Goodwill chair. In the background played domino pizza ads followed by her favorite song ""Birds flying high, You know how I feel". Scooping her soup gracefully, enjoying the salt and lemon pepper that made it noteworthy and swaying her hips dancing in the chair with Zoey;
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath in. The wind carried the fragrance of Gardenia from her nemesis neighbor's garden. It was clear she had everything she needed right there.
The character, the newest version was her. She had forgotten how beautiful and sparkly her eyes were. When she looked real close, nothing was ever lost. With every experience, with every mistake, with every failed relationship, she learned and evolved.
Malaiah burst out into ecstatic laughter crying her tears out.
In her next trip to goodwill, she got a new mirror.
The world can point at so many things, all the deficiencies and inaccuracies from normalcy. People like Malaiah live on the edge. They have witnessed the fragility of life. They have seen how unconditional love turns conditional in a second. All the spiritual teachings mean nothing when you are rich laying on an outdoor sofabed sipping Pina coladas feeling the sunset "fully".
We are it. The best possible, most capable we will ever be. This is all we have. Trust me, struggles and abandonments make a soul golden.
Keep believing, dancing, singing, enjoying your spicy MISO Soup.
Loads of love