Compliments 2017

Suresh Kumar K R: Your writing is too good to be ignored. Perseverance will bring rewards. Positive approach is the need. I am sure your workshops will be a great success. September 16

Ashish Bansal Very well written. I'm truly enjoying each of your posts. You make it all come alive. Keep writing. Satya you are super talented, my friend……August 20

Deepak Mehra: Hi Sathya, I enjoyed reading a few of your blogs. You express very well...language of the senses!  July 18

Deepak Mehra: Sathya, you are an accomplished and a prolific writer. I am impressed by your style of writing. Very inspiring. August 29

Ramji Ramasubban: Sathya, so moved by your brilliant narration. What a way to characterise. I am able to see and experience your dear dad as if he is in front of me.  August 07

dr achla gupta: I totally agree with you A Sathyanarayan.During the journey of life Dr Vivek Banerjee proved it to me that he is the only person who cared when I got in trouble... And in the end, problem solved... September 04

tymkyn: In your inimitable style of writing you have portrayed me as a demi god. What a meticulous analysis drawing attention to qualities that I am not even aware. While I feel honored and cherished I must say that I am only a human with the usual feelings. Thank you Satya for reposing this immense confidence in me.             July 23
tymkyn: Heart rending. I wouldn't wish even on my bitterest enemy to experience this living hell. There is always light at the end of the tunnel. I hope and pray you find peace and happiness. As a literary work it's a masterpiece.  June 28

Sankaranar Raman: WOW! Sathyam Narayana!  You have become a Legeend dear brother! Convey my appreciation to the author for the True Narrative…August 01

Rema: Lovely piece of writing... Iam so thrilled to read the article and every bit of detail he has written... kept me reading on till the end in rapt attention! Jai ho Sathya ⌣  August 07

Anju Kamal: What a painful experience that was Sathya. You deserve happiness..... 21st July, 2017
Sudha Iyer: So well written, capturing every detail of Appa. Thanks for sharing will treasure the blog for all time to come! Cheers..... 18 September
Suloch: I'm deeply moved into tears after reading your endless suffering blogs. Believe in the Lord and HE will change the MESS in your life to a MESSAGE. You have gone through what many in fairy tales don't. .... 7th July
H P Zaidi: Dear Eagle,

Contrary to your belief, I have been reading your blog posts - albeit in a rather unusual manner ! I save your blogs on my phone and read them on long haul flights, sifting carefully through each word and trying to understand the meaning behind it all.

Needless to say, you write well. I see dashes of anger and melancholy every now and then, but I assume that's the staple of all writers.

It must be noted that Eagles cannot escape their destiny. They are to forever hover miles up in the air and forever observe the carrion and insects on the ground, swooping down as and when necessary.... Being up there is always lonely my friend....

Keep writing. People are reading and taking note. Not many may say so.... that's the way of the world.

Eagles should feel no shame... they are meant to just spread their wings and soar higher - to be able to observe what none others can.

You are a kind a generous soul, with all the earmarks of royal blood. To me, the most important word is kindness, which is what I always attach you with. Kindness, of course, has a cost which you almost revel in paying. Obviously, not everyone has the wealth like you have - to have the ability to pay this cost each day, every day... forever... (in a mail dated September 12)
                I thank Jissy Thomas, Shabd Darbari, Sandeep Lakina, T H Iyer, Siddhan Subramanian, Arun Kumar and so many who "like" my posts and kind enough to comment. Trust me, for a writer this is oxygen.
Thank you. I am a servant of each one of you. 

A nasty kick from nowhere

Last week a paternal uncle S K Moorthy came on the line to enquire, “All well, how are your knees?” kinds for a social call. 

            After my estrangement with my eldest sister for an entire mandalam now – forty days – I gushed forth like a dog gifted with a bone in my affections to the uncle. 

           In the midst of the chat, he said, “I was asking Athai for Prakash’s snaps. She keeps promising.”

            I volunteered: I have couple of his images downloaded from his Facebook pages. 

           For those new to these posts, Prakash is a cousin who died unexpectedly less than three months back.

            I asked, “Do you have a mail id or should I send to Gayatri’s mail id.? 

            Gayatri is his daughter who stays with him.  Something like ‘veetu mapilai” (how do I translate this? It means “Ghar ka Jamai” in Hindi and “son-in-law lodging in the bride’s house”)

            Telephone call over and I lost no time in sending couple of Prakash’s Jpegs to this Pozhichalur uncle (they reside in Pozhichalur, a Chennai suburb) to Gayatri’s email id. Besides I also sent ten web-links of my Portraits posts that contained images of the entire family beginning with my grandparents as a bonus. That was what I meant as excited as a dog that found an unexpected bone!  That enveloping enthusiasm was misplaced as the plot progresses

            This week he called me again and I enquired, “Did Gayatri show you all the images?”

            The Pozhichalur man at 76 is not overtly bright and quick of grasp said, “ Thanks I saw two Prakash’s pictures.” When queried whether he has seen my upanayanam images of 1979, he lost speech. He muttered a hesitant NO and I visualized that if I had seen his face now, it would have shown a dumb look and head shaking for a negative.

            The foolish Sathya still gushing enthusiasm said, “ I will sent those images again to Gayatri and this time not as web-links but Jpegs.”

            I sent a second mail with these Jpegs and forgot all about it till the daughter writes: I understand you are being nice to my father. But I prefer you not to email or call me. My father will be fine if you keep away; in the meantime sort out your own life.” 

          I read this and was swamped by waves of hate. Even if Buddha had advised me to take it easy he would not have succeeded in stopping this intuitive response: May you rot in hell. Get your facts straight for it was your father who asked for these images. Come under the wheels of a MTC bus and don’t inform me when any of you kick the bucket or any woman delivers another genetic garbage.

            I read this hate mail on a Friday night at around 8:30 pm and felt drowned in vortex of hate and misery with each passing minute. The import of Gayatri’s response was clear: She is close to Viji and maybe taking it out on me after reading my blog posts. Or was Viji and Latha spreading poison about me in the relations circle? Or is it just the priest getting angry when the Lord himself is cool and relaxed when a devotee switches loyalty to the other side? My composure was fast crumbling.

            One part of the mind said: This is a good time to practice mindfulness. I just had this thought: Why shoot myself a secondary arrow after a primary one has been shot by Gayatri? I allowed my mind to listen to this wisdom and concentrate as a palliative to the strong currents of negativity. Believe it or not, I found the mental storms abate and within an hour I was back to my normal countenance.

            I slept that night without this baggage.

            Next morning, I spoke to my cousin Arun who has become a Facebook buddy as he “likes” all my posts. I told him the entire sequence of events and he responded like a dream, “Gayatri is high-strung and given to throwing weight. But anna, your response is a bit heavy. It’s like shooting a nest with a Bofors gun.”

            This fresh insight on Gayatri further improved my mood. I have no contact with this woman; she is four years younger to me whom I only chance in family weddings and cremation. We briefly met at Prakash’s death and as we rushed to offer our condolences to the aggrieved family at Mylapore.

            I kept telling Arun, “I am a total recluse. I don’t call or email others out of turn. This is such a wild allegation as though she was waiting to insult me.” 

         Women in our family wear trousers and the first thing they do after brushing teeth is to practice war cries. All of them carry such strong baritone as to fell a tree and even a fort. I can’t think of any woman in this family who stored any value for modesty and reserve; every one of them from the fishing markets.

            In the evening Pozhichalur uncle kept calling and I refused to answer. I switched off the mobile and learnt a wonderful lesson: Just because I stay alone, I don’t need to gush. This was an instance of an over-enthusiasm backlash.” I also thanked my stars: Being alone is heavenly for there are no Gayatri kinds prowling the house. I now understood why women with virulent tongues can make a man rush to jump off the building or hang from a noose.  

            This lesson is so wonderful that it needs repetition: Just because I stay alone and no opportunity for the speaking mouth, I should not be lavish in my affections when people come contacting. Two, staying alone is a huge blessing I have not given myself enough credit.

            I narrated this incident to Srinivasan, my maternal cousin saying, “I furnished drinking water to a thirsty man and instead of being grateful, the fellow spits on the face.”

He said to a reassuring response, “It happens to me all the time. Maybe we are born under lousy stars.”

Ranga who came in the evening gave an expert’s take: Sathya, welcome to the real world. 

August friends

I love Besant Nagar for this reason alone: I run into old friends. I used to walk in the Theosophical Society for decades for a huge haul of friends but in last three years my arthritis knees can no longer do 4 kilometres.  

            I ran into Rao garu and his sister Varalakshmi in the middle of August.  Mr. Rao has a face with the largest grin and that makes the other loosen up instantly. We met in years and exchanged hellos.

            I said,” I need a spell in the Gulf to set right my finances. Besides I have this M90 flat issue where a corrupt doctor is driving us nuts.”

            I explained all about SYNAPSE clinic and Vara, his sister broke in, “Please don’t get into a fight. Just sell and go,” and even went on to furnish a real estate broker’s name.

            She reasoned: Your apartment on Seventh Avenue has a big problem. Keep your gob shut. You are desperately trying to sell; don’t lose sight of the fact that they are people who are desperate to buy an apartment in Besant nagar.”

Varalakshmi made it convincing with a vivid imagery: It is like a man who is desperate to divorce his wife and there is another ready to grab her. So never de-market your flat with your big mouth.”

            I turned to Rao garu and said,” God, I never knew you had such a wise sister.”

            The lady was in devastating form and in a zone; Sathya, when Shiva cut off Brahma’s fifth head, HE had committed Brahmahatti dosham. The head remained stuck in Shiva’s hand and after years of penance and expiation, HE found a way to get rid of the face. Each time he dipped his hands in the Ganges, the face would sink down. But the moment he took his hand off the brook, the face would attach itself. Your problem is like that; get rid of this flat and you’ll find your retirement days lighter. This is no time or place for heroics. You don't stand a chance taking on these political heavyweights.”

            I loved the fable and Rao garu must have seen the impact of the tale on my mind as he joked, “My sister is too wise for all of us.” Both Rao and Vara were people I used to meet in my good old TS walking days.

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Then in the Eliot’s Beach, I narrated my SYNAPSE troubles to TNEB retired Krishnamurthy. At 70, he has a rich crop of hair, ready smile and instant likeability especially as he greets us with “Loka Samastha Sukino Bhava”.  

He advised, “Sathya, this is no time to take on politicians for we have all passed into the age of oblivion.”

Then he told me a lovely story: in 1997 I used to teach in Anna University and would take a bus at Besant Nagar terminus to Guindy. As I was getting in, a college going boy rushed out so forcefully that I was thrown off balance and I fell on the road. What made it worse was the driver ran over my knees! Others shouted as the driver applied brakes. I was badly mauled and one set of passengers suggested that we take the bus to the police station and register a complaint. There was another office going crowd that felt that I should not delay the bus, instead rush to a hospital. I found that those who suggested the Police were in no mood to help me; the poor bus driver had leaked in his pants. I told the crowd that it is definitely not his mistake; while the terrified college boy ran for his life as soon as he saw me hit the ground. I took an auto and went to the hospital; it showed a cracked bone and I spent a week as an in-patient and months recuperating.  Now tell me Sathya, what could I have done any different? Sometimes we find ourselves in hopeless and desperate situations, take it in your stride, don’t mop and lament. On your M90 issues, sell and go and buy peace for yourself.”

            I shook his hands in genuine warmth and respect saying, “You have strength of character I can never reach.”

What made it impactful was Krishnamurthy’s narration; the smiling face never frowned and not a shred of malice in his voice as the word flowed with a smooth flourish.  

             Still smiling and eye gleaming, he rubbed his hands as we sat on the promenade wall with the sun rising at Eliot’s Beach behind our backs saying,” Consider that you have gifted the FREE COMMON SPACE to Synapse and not as a land grab. The mind is a funny thing; give your troubling thoughts a good spin at least for the sake of your emotional health.”

            I came home and wrote the words “pass into oblivion” and “Yes, I donated the FREE COMMON SPACE” and at once felt good positive vibrations flooding the mind.

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I had a lousy retainer arrangement with a Delhi based company on social media content for the first half of 2017- 20 k for half an hour work is not morale crushing but I don't break-even.
              This arrangement went for 6 months before I felt the strain. The man I work is  a prized jerk - he is a rabid BJP baiter to the point of participating in dharnas and stone-pelting besides he piles on guilt at every opportunity.  I don't even have a voter ID and politics is the last thing on my mind. I am more like that song in Tamil: It does not matter whether Rama rules or Ravana; my prime focus is to light at least a 40 w bulb on my doorstep. 
             I worked with Ramesh on content before and when I approached him for work, he said," Sathya, forget content writing for a while. We live in times where we need to have couple of streams of income. How about corporate training? Your spoken English is good and I am sure you can hold your ground on this domain."
            I was not so optimistic though," If I can't succeed in the area of my expertise, it feels too heavy a burden to convince the mind I can do better in a new one."
           Ramesh laughed, " We will, when you are forced to adapt. Sathya, step out of your comfort zone for once, you might discover new talents in you."
          And so I agreed and he said, " I will help you out on venue and gather a crowd. From there it is your show."
          I came home and did a course schedule and course fees; I get 10 participants and the show should hit the road. I spoke to Prithvi, a common friend who said, " Ramesh is marketing your communication workshop. I intend enrolling my son who is in engineering final year. Knowing you, it will do him a lot of good." Strangers are friends when they see your virtues even when you don't. I am moved by Prithvi's enthusiasm and Ramesh's marketing efforts for a vote of confidence I don't store much on myself. 

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Suloch is my neighbour; he resides right under on the ground floor while my quarters is on the first. Before going to Africa after his monthly annual vacation, he said, “Lord Jesus has a miracle for you. By the time I come back in 2018 you would be rich, happy and I foresee a girl in your arms.”

            I said, “A simple earning of 50 k earnings a month from home is good enough.”

            “Sathya, you don’t know your worth. Mail me your resume, I have friends in Dubai. Let’s cast our nets, anyone would be lucky to have you as a writer.”

            We have been neighbours for over two decades and now we address each other as “Brother Suloch” and “Brother Sathya.” He started the brother thing and I love the sound of it; be it in mails or as a waving goodbye.

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Then how can I forget the 70 year old Chris. He said, “Sathya, how about a holiday to Thailand, Veitnam for a sex tourism?”

I said,” Love to but no money in the wallet now. Long drought in earnings.”

Instinctively he said, “I know, you bum. I am a millionaire many times over, be part of my entourage and I will give wine, women and air-tickets. Your job is to give me company, just bring your humour along.”

I laughed it off. You bet, I will never enjoy a holiday with another man’s purse.

August has been richer with these moments. So a blog post for a store of good memories, so few these days.