THE LINES ON MY PALM

I look at the criss-cross of lines on my palm, trying to make sense of the scroll that God put in my hands with my first cry. They are enigmatic hieroglyphs. I look at my life and wonder, as I doze into oblivion; trying to make sense of my past.
I lacked for nothing; healthy nourishment, fashionable clothes, sophisticated jewellery, all the other baubles that flatter a girl’s ego, male attention (now unwanted in my middle age), boyfriends (now unwanted in my middle age), a stable family life, the many accomplishments, the many signs of self betterment, the forays into academics, the conscious effort for erudition. They were all in place.
To a large extent I made myself, even if the spoon that God placed in my mouth was of platinum, studded with diamonds.
I enjoyed life, it was in my control, I kept it clean. I lived life the way I wanted to, with my ethics, my morals, my principles intact. I didn’t trust people overtly, neither did I mistrust them. There was not a reason to.
Over time life changed; people changed it for me. Gone were the days when I felt crisp and well-laundered; instead I juggled lies, deceit, cunning, and all other nouns and adjectives that sum up Man’s depravity. They left greasy, indelible marks on my well-starched self.
But I still sought beauty. Orchestrated connivance was not going to change me. And I got my way. I stood up to craftiness, perjury, instability and every dart that could have broken me even though it was not the aim. I was the hapless victim. A victim of circumstance. A victim of simpleness. In all the cases the reasons were selfish. Thinking of the self without thinking of the pitfalls.
Today I cry for justice. Who will give it to me? God? At least I emerged perennially victorious. Was that the justice I sought?
I realise that I will have to disentangle myself from the past if I am to move on with my life. I can forgive and forget, as I have been implored to, but in which permutation and combination? The all-or-none phenomenon?
Forgive and forget I will have to, it is important for the future. The healing process is slow and long-drawn, interspersed with faith, belief and determination. I will have to carry along on my journey those very people who hurt me. I am the stronger and they are dependent on me. I have not turned the other cheek, though, magnanimity does not become an insignificant soul.
When next I look at the lines on my palm, I hope I will be able to erase the naiveté that made me succumb, and understand why I had to make peace with my destructors and make them an indelible part of my life. It was ordained. I will have to completely unfurl God’s scroll and learn to read the hieroglyphs. Alone, and then alone, will I realise my role in life.