Urmila Quotes

You could always call her secretive, masking her feelings beautifully lest anyone intrude into her inmost realm of hidden thoughts. It was a defense Urmila had evolved since childhood.

Surpanakha, Ahalya, Renuka, Urmila—each one had a story of her own. Each one had followed a path of her own. Her path, her way, was hers alone. Sita had learnt what she could from their experiences. At first, she felt only disdain and anger for them. Later, when she understood that the anguish in their lives was similar, she felt a camaraderie, a companionship with them. When Sita heard the sufferings of others, she realized that she was not alone. The awareness that she was one of them gave her strength. And it was that strength which enabled her to withstand the disgrace and bear her children, to give them a happy childhood and to train them in all the skills.

Who would hold her hand and guide her through that darkness? ‘Am I not here, my girl?’ The affectionate words of Mother Earth gave her the strength of a thousand elephants. Her mother was independent. She would go to her mother. Her mother was omnipotent. So she could take Sita into her embrace. Sita had now seen it all—sons, fathers, sons’ obedience to fathers, wives’ faithfulness to husbands, motherhood. But there was one thing she had not seen. Nor had Ahalya, Surpanakha or Urmila experienced it. It was what Renuka had faced—the brutality of her own son. She had seen the dharma-bound cruelty of her son who, taking his father’s word as the word of the Vedas, was ready to hack her head off. She then realized what the foundation of that cruelty was. How many whirlpools must have stirred in her heart then? And how deep they must have been? In fact, so deep as to challenge Arya Dharma itself.

Don't just listen understand it.

Life is like a ocean just live like the waves,

Many poets have wondered about Urmila, the wife abandoned by the husband who considers duty to his elder brother more important. Through her, they have expressed the status of the Indian woman, as being servile to the larger institution, the husband's family. Even the husband is servile to his family. In the Indian social order, the individual is inferior to the family. Individualism is expressed only as a hermit; else one has to submit to the ways of the household. The household is this bondage, from which one yearns for liberation.

Vani showed concern in a manner that disturbed instead of soothed. From Vani, I realized that even humming could be loud and a sleeping person could be jarring. I learnt from her, a manner that, like my husband once said to me, “makes your invitations repulsive.” From her, I understood that caring was about taking over and not about surrendering. Desirable

Sharing the echos of my soul ..

I have sealed my Lips. Shackles my arms and steps. But my heart, My heart still echoes Paradoxically, why i want to let you know the echoes of my heart when I don't want to admit it to you. And my soul still feel yours. Magnificently.

I have sealed my Lips. Shackles my arms and steps. But my heart, My heart still echoes And my soul still feel yours. Paradoxically Magnificently.

Sharing the echoes of my soul..

The beauty of it, Myth or Simply is. I am in you and you are in me. I am not you. You are not me. Surely, We are one.

The beauty of it, Myth or Simply is. I am in you and you are in me. I am not you. You are not me. Surely, We are one.

Sometime you can spend days and years complaining about or wishing for something yet put off every single day. Why not making the constant steps daily? I have learn complain do not bring anything, rather self pity and giving up tendencies. R ealize what you complain are about and make efforts to change it. Try .. at-lest don't fail to try even if it require some tough time or dedication. Life is a gift, make the most of it. And do not forget gratitude. It not always what you receive, it also what you contribute. We create our own happiness and magics.

I am in you and you are in me. I am not you. You are not be. Surely we are one, The beauty of it, Myth or simply is.

Initiative and starting something is good, not just for one day when you got motivated, you gotta commit to it all other days .

Sometime you can spend days and years complaining about or wishing for something yet put off every single day. Why not making the constant steps daily? I have learn complain do not bring anything, rather self pity and giving up tendencies. Realise what you complain are about and make efforts to change it. Try .. at-lest don't fail to try even if it require some tough time or dedication. Life is a gift, make the most of it. And do not forget gratitude. It not always what you receive, it also what you contribute. We create our own happiness and magics.

Sometime you do not miss the person or time, you simply miss that giggling and fierce part of yourself. Lost in a matrix.

Relationship requires constant collaboration between the two to make it work and grow beautifully, if not, it grows resentment., and love get lost admits. Only love does not guarantee a lasting relationship.

Initiative and starting something is good, not just for that one day when you got motivated, you gotta commit to it all other days.

Marriage did not hold much interest for Urmila but it was a social discipline she would have to conform to. She would rather seek knowledge instead of a suitor.

Urmila suffered immensely, silently. Her husband left her and went with his elder brother and Sita without saying anything. He could have asked Urmila whether she wanted to accompany him to the forest, but he did not do that, and Urmila was left alone for fourteen years. Urmila’s husband was not only impolite but also cruel. He represents Indian bigotry, as he was a male chauvinist,” Ammu said.

Urmila stared at him, openmouthed. ‘But he’s meant to come to our flat for dinner tonight,’ she began to explain, meaninglessly. ‘That’s why I’m cooking this fish; that’s why I’m going to be late for the press conference …’ She shook the bag of fish under his nose once again. The secretary sneered. ‘You’re either mad or dreaming,’ he said. ‘Mr Haldar is booked on a flight to Bombay this evening – he has to attend a meeting there. He had no plans to visit you or anyone else here.’ With a gesture of dismissal, he turned to the chowkidar.

There is something noble in the act of secretly shielding a lover, even an undeserving one.

fashion wasn’t as important to me as to Urmila. There would be time enough to wear my mother’s saris. And in any case Ram’s eyes were on me all the time, too.

The words that ware exchanged. The friends made. The moments. The smiles. The sharing and The dance. Always being a smile.