By Neha Sonpar
By Neha Sonpar
Why is the house so full of water? Why are all my bras missing? I am in the old Sharma house, living with the in-laws. Black vase with red flowers had month old water in it. Rusty stems were swimming past me. I was worried. I grab the Dettol. Grab the mop. The fire-engines would come soon. I need to call someone. The alarm rang.
The alarm rang. I hear my husband groan. I am in Alberta, Edmonton. Outside the window, two feet of snow.
Two feet of snow. White, pure. Keeping me safe, secure. The cold mountains and plains were God Shiva’s abode. Dad said, “Go away! Go away from here. They will shred you to pieces here. Go!” Maha Shivratri was here. The celebration of the God of Destruction. Almond-cardamom-poppyseed- rosewater milk had to be made. It would take time. Coconuts to be bought. Also flowers. White flowers. White flowers for Shiva! Every night the same ritual. Her favourite mantra, her mother’s favourite mantra. Maybe her grandmother’s too. Om Namaha Shivaya! He would scoop them up and lay them down to rest. Rest at the foot of the mountain. He would be their protector, protect them as they sleep. From His head, the sacred waters of the Ganges flowed. Why fear? Let the waters flow, flow out of the house. Watch the waters flow slowly out of the house!
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