AnuKathaa

The haze and the smell hit me first. The offending frankincense burns in a copper urn, struggling to create an atmosphere of divinity. I look at the mass of people sitting in the room. The smell of their anxiety competes with the frankincense and I feel my insides heave.  Pic credit: Rosco Spectrum I make my way gingerly to the front of the room, following close behind my mother. I’m tempted to hold on to her saree pallu as I did when I was a little girl. But I don’t think it will go well with her now. She’s grown so distant, and I won’t be surprised if she smacks my hand away.  Amma is bowing to the godman sitting on the little stage. His keen eyes take her in, and with an imperious nod of his head, he invites her to share the problem. She points at me. The godman shifts his gaze to me, and a random memory flashes past my mind. Amma hugging me after I had accidentally knocked over her cherished porcelain vase. I wasn’t a problem then. Now, I am. Problem with a capital P. Or PROBLEM i