Simi's Mum's Diary: The Daughter of all Battles

Now that Simi has moved from baby steps to more confident strides on Buddha’s eight-fold path, the Grizzly doesn’t come over anymore. Simi is unusually chatty these days — God has evidently brought us closer. I only wish that all her conversations weren’t centred around Him.  I’d prefer chats about materialistic girlie things like shoes, instead. Even so, I pretend to be deeply interested in her God-speak.

‘What’s this “num num” thingie you chant?’ I asked.

Simi looked at me patronisingly. ‘Don’t make fun of religion, Mum. That’s so not on. And it’s not “num num”.  The chant is “Nam myoho renge kyo”. It’s from the Lotus Sutra and it kind of means, like, devotion to the mystic law of cause and effect.’

I felt too ashamed to confess to Simi that I had absolutely no idea what ‘devotion to the mystic law of cause and effect’ meant. But must say I’m very, very proud that my baby understands arcane stuff.

I bought Simi a CD of Tibetan chants, hoping that it would inspire her to start a funky Buddhist band — the silly girl hasn’t been playing her guitar lately. This bothers me because music is her only talent. And some religious rock bands are amazing — take that Hare Krishna band Kula Shaker for instance.

BTW, those Tibetan chants are pretty cool. Love how they fill Simi’s bedroom with positive energy. Must buy a boombox for the kitchen as well because Philo is brimming over with negativity — I cannot afford to raise her salary anymore, so God must intervene. She’s started cribbing that she resents eating non-veg meals on the sly.

Admittedly, Simi’s insistence on pure vegetarian fare is beginning to drive Rohit and me crazy too. A few nights ago, Simi caught us sneaking out of the front door on tiptoe and hauled us back in.

‘This is the fourth time this week you guys have gone out for dinner. Do you have anything to say to me?’ Her voice was dangerously quiet.

‘Erm, would you like to join us,’ Rohit meekly ventured.

‘Stop messing with me, Dad! I know you’re going out to eat non-vegetarian food.
Right?’

Rohit stared at his shoes.

‘Well?’ Simi demanded, looking at me for an answer. I quailed.

‘It wasn’t my idea, it was his,’ I stammered.

And then the stern lecture began. Simi touched upon dishonesty, irresponsibility, lack of commitment et cetera. We have never felt so ashamed of ourselves before.

Even worse, I discovered that Simi is still pining for Manav – she wants him back! One of the neighbours told me - not in those exact words, though. She casually mentioned that she goes to the same Buddhist meetings as Simi when I bumped into her in the garden.

‘You should come too,’ she insisted.

I shrugged. ‘Religion is not my thing.’

‘Arrey, I’m not going there for religion, baba.  I’m trying to get my daughter married.’

I gaped and the neighbour told me that the chant ‘Nam myoho renge kyo’ works like magic – you can get anything you want if you chant it long enough.

‘Mrs. Mehta from C-block told me that it works wonders. Remember, her daughter had a Rajput warrior-like moustache and hair on her chin? She got 5 o’clock shadow daily, even after waxing. Then she started chanting this and look, she’s happily married to a wealthy banker. It really is magic!’

I must have turned visibly pale because she anxiously asked me if I was feeling okay. I nodded weakly and turned to leave, but then the realisation that you have to fight fire with fire stopped me. I wheeled around, dug into my bag and whipped out a pen.

‘Tell me that chant again,’ I beseeched and scribbled it on my palm.

‘Sit in vajrasan, okay? And remember, the longer you chant it, the sooner the debts in your previous life are paid. Trust me, you’ll find a wonderful boy for your Simi,’ the neighbour warmly promised.

Just then, I caught a glimpse of soon-to-be-doctor Imran on the jogging track and felt as though God had given me a cheery thumbs up sign.
To be continued...