Hate Is Not Our Purpose
I am ashamed of myself for having hate in my heart.
Imagine you are 75 sitting on a bench in a public park and suddenly you realize, ‘Why did I hate that person so much? What good did it do?’
One of my close relatives is swinging between life and death. She is an old woman who I used to hate from the bottom of my heart. Why?
Because she lived to make my mother’s life hell. Trust me, as long as she was healthy, she made sure to make it painful for my mother. She has been doing this for over 20 years now. And I can take anything but if you say a word to my mother, trust me, even God would be afraid to save you.
Though, I couldn’t do anything to her. I couldn’t say anything to her. Imagine this as a typical movie scene.
Seeing that old woman hurting my mother in every possible way made me hate her so much that I don’t have the words to describe my feelings. Every time I looked at her face, which by the way looks so innocent as of a child’s, the burning fire of hate would rise above my throat and I could feel my body getting hotter.
I always thought that the day, I saw her suffering, I would be happy. I would be satisfied seeing her karma biting her back.
Now, you might be thinking ‘Renuka, you are so bitter.’
