Hot Sun above, one end of my grandma’s saree protects me from the heat and the end of her pointer finger protects me from within, as I walk my way back from the flourmill, long distance from home.
Bustling traffic, Pavements filled with shops and the whole place thrown up with colors. Colorful clothes, bags, accessories and home needs, Meenakshi temple in the center. It is a maddening Diwali crowd of Madurai. Hand in hand together, Mom and I enjoy our time shopping as if we are from a different world bonded together.
In a pink and white frock, holding hands and baby hopping, going to the loo and back, going to the school and back, going to the playground and back, our hands never parted. We grew but the hands continued to hold each other. That was the tender school age where almost all of us felt safe. I remember my math teacher, trying hard to keep me and my best friend from holding hands. That was one of the reasons why she was never in my good books (my math teacher I mean).
She waits near the stone bench, I am in red and white today and so is my nail polish. I was famous for my matching nail polish in college. Here she is, holding my hands and busily peeling it off as we share sweet-nothings. My friend for life, she still is. She still is famous for holding my hands and easing my heart.
As an unwritten rule, the newly wed me and my husband, held hands as much as possible, silently letting each other know we are there for each other. The embarrassing moment of being tied hand in hand with a silk cloth as soon as we got married still lingers fresh in my mind.
Three hours of intense labor, my husband and mom holding my hands, enduring my crazy squeezes, gave me the energy, nothing in the world would have possibly given, to push the big baby boy to this world. Holding the tiny baby hands in mine gave me a new meaning to life. The excitement of the little baby brother curling his fingers around his finger was one big amazement for my little big boy who was 2.5 years old. The little big boy is 16 now and holds my hands and snaps his fingers in style, that is the connection he does to make each other bright.
Years of prejudice melt away as I hold my mom-in-laws hands as she is taken back home from the hospital after a hip fracture. I am humbled at the peace between us, it let our souls connect to a deeper level of forgiveness. Wish I had done this early on in my life.
Holding a loved one’s hand, sitting in silence, letting the soul do the talking is one of the best feelings in the world. A shoulder to lean can be ultimate, a sun rise or a sun set, mountain or a beach in front can be divine. If holding hands can be so powerful, then why don’t we do it very often? Science also back my feelings stating that human brain release oxytocin, a-feel-good hormone when we hold hands of loved ones. The good news is, this does not cost a dime. Yet, we often forget the delicate needs of the soul and get going with our busy lives in search of what we know not. Take time to enjoy the limitless you from within with your loved ones.