Prapti

“When Radha and I were children, we used to play a game. She would ask, “What is the true color of the world, Didi?”
And I would say, “Green.”
“Why green?”
“Because the trees are green. Grass is green. The new buds on the plants are green. Even the parrots are green. Green is the color of the world.”
“But, Didi,” Radha would argue, “the wheat stalks are brown. My body is brown. The field mice are brown. No, the world is brown.”
“What about blue?” I would say. “The sky is blue. And it covers the whole world, like a mother who loves and embraces all her children.
Radha would fall silent, and I would remember that she had known our mother’s love for even fewer years than I did. So I would take her in my arms and hold her, to make her know what it feels like to be loved.
Today I know the truth: The true color of the world is black.
Anger is black.
Shame and scandal are black.
Betrayal is black.
Hatred is black.
And a roasted, smoking body is Black, Black, Black.
The world, after witnessing such cruelty, goes black.
The waking up to a changed world is black.”
― Thrity Umrigar, Honor

“What to do, Smita? She had everything but the gift of years. Nothing we can do. What cannot be cured must be endured.”
― Thrity Umrigar, Honor

“But surely, she argued with herself, life was more than this relentless getting ahead? Surely, there was more to life than self-actualization and ambition and success? What was wrong with linking one’s happiness to that of another human being? Why should fifty years of peak capitalism eradicate something that the Eastern philosophers had taught for thousands of years—that life is about interconnectedness, interdependence, and yes, even sacrifice?”
― Thrity Umrigar, Honor

“Because a woman can live in one of two houses—fear or love. It is impossible to live in both at the same time.”
― Thrity Umrigar, Honor