Too many crooks

:(Sukumaran, mattress. Kannan)

I am no sucker. Though many feel I am one.  I have a heart for the poor and when any beggar says, “I did not have a meal today,” he stands a good chance to get a Rs. 10 note from me.

            First the knee treatment: I paid Sukumaran 10 k for 12 herbal dressings – we came to 8 dressings before the man shunted me out by doing a disappearing act. My knees were definitely getting better under his watchful eyes but for some reason he did not take my calls and I also lost interest. He has done me a lot of favours in the past and so I did not feel overtly disappointed. But one part of the mind screamed: This is not fair. I am being taken for a ride. So this treatment came to an abrupt end in the first week of October with the knees still needing expert care. I thought to myself: let me earn enough and try Sparcc. That would mean exhausting every possible treatment route. But at least they are in some shape for daily walks to the beach and his treatment worked and did me some good.  I still believe Sukumaran is extremely gifted healer but he lacks consistency to see it through. But I will have no more patience for this attitude.

            Straw mattress episode: It was the middle of October when this happened:

            I work from a desktop from a window of the drawing room for a view of the balcony and the main thoroughfare where the buses motor past in fourth gear. Seventh Avenue is a broad road – must be 80 feet – and the traffic accelerates with new found freedom.  I saw a family take shelter in the trees lining my side of the road. Most of the travelling lot like traders or gas delivery boys use the empty pavements and tree cover as a place for lunch as they unwrap the boxes. No one minds it a bit for the poor too must survive.
            I saw a family – two men and women – rest for lunch. I saw they were selling straw mattresses and plastic chairs. I went down and showed interest in the mattress. A woman who appeared for a tribal lineage with her saree in gaudy trinkets attended to me. She said, “One mattress for Rs. 500.”

            I said, “Rs 350” without a clue as to the cost

            She then found me an easy goat and went for the kill, “We carry this on the road, there is little money for us. I will give you two mattresses for Rs. 700.”

            I am bachelor with no need for a second mattress but she kept persuading and importuning and fell for it. I paid the money and when Thangam came the next morning I showed them. She said,” This is not worth more than Rs. 150 apiece,” which meant that I paid over the double the market rate. It does your morale no good that a tribal woman sold you a dummy. What was sad was even as I was paying Rs. 700 I asked her, “Do you have enough margin on this or is it a distress sale?” My lesson from this incident was “never buy a good without knowing its market price” and “don’t be a saint” – for everyone has it tough for them. Suddenly these two mattresses felt like sore eyes and I told Thangam, “Please take one of them, each time I see them it reminds me of my foolishness.”

            Monkey business this: Losing Rs. 700 on a worthless purchase happens to the best of us but it takes a special fool for fall for this. There was a Facebook character who is a small time film director, I invited him home and this tale was sadder than mine. Kannan came to my house around the same time, say mid-October.  He told me of this grim tale,” My wife divorced me 14 years back. I was a millionaire running ten businesses but the divorce got me so depressed that I lost one entire decade. That brought me to the roads; I lost my influence in the film world, my enterprises crashed with a lot of help from ungrateful friends. I had reached a point of suicide. I used to love my little daughter whose custody too I lost.”

            That tale got him a meal from me as I entertained him at Vishranti. Then a week later, he calls, “Sathya, I am having typhoid. I have no money at all. I am dying.”  I said,” I can spare you Rs. 500,” he immediately jumped on the offer, came to my place for the dough.

            Next week, he comes to my house and I tell him about my communication workshop. Kannan says: I know friends all over. I can easily get you 3-4 students with just a couple of phone calls. Which of course makes me happy! I have been on the road selling this monster for a month with only Prithvi’s son and Ram’s employee to show for those selling efforts.

            Kannan sucks me in by being extremely useful. He make a flower pot of an unused plastic container in the kitchen for a plant that I got visiting the real estate exhibition, he gives his dumb phone in exchange to mine but this comes with a memory card that came in handy in recording the Psychotherapy talks. 

Each time Kannan comes, I lose money. I did not see the pattern until it happened every single time.

He looks at my Samsung galaxy 3 smartphone that fails to boot saying, “This is a software problem and I will have it repaired for Rs. 500.” I give that money and couple of days later he comes to my place and says, “Actually the repair is Rs. 850 and do you want to still repair it.” I answer by doling out another Rs. 500. Later in the day he says, “The screen has some problem and it will cost you another Rs. 400 and so the total repair is Rs. 1450, “and I say foolishly, “Go ahead, “and give another Rs. 500. There is a lesson hidden here: next time attend to all mobile repairs or similar errands yourself, don’t entrust it to others. Don’t entrust anyone to purchase for you even if it is technical things like an electric switch or RCP or some such nonsense.

            Kannan attends my third class of the WORKSHOP and made a video recording with my digital camera. They revealed so many things about me: I speak too fast for one, a bit loud too. I thanked him for these priceless lessons before Kannan pulled another fast one, “My friend is a ADIDAS dealer and he is closing down. He is selling sneakers at cost price Rs. 750 which the market sells for Rs. 2500.”

            I fall for his bait as I dole out Rs. 1000. Next visit he says, “There is one model for Rs. 1750 and I have booked them for you,” which meant another Rs. 1000 is slipped into this man’s hands.

            One part of mind felt that this guy is robbing me blind. I reasoned thus: “A new smartphone will cost at least 10 k and if I can repair my Samsung for 1.5 k and if it were to last me even 6 months at least I am spared of those expenses now. On Adidas I knew that their range starts from 3k so if someone promises me a 4 k shoes for 2 k , it is a very smart purchase.”

            Kannan keeps promising, “Sathya, I have told all my friends about your WORKSHOP. One fellow is the Head of Visual Communicaton in Loyola. I will organize a talk for you. He will assemble all the students in the hall, you can make a sales pitch of the course content and hundreds of students will enroll.”

            By now I realize this man is just hot air and I was being ripped off – no repair of the Smartphone and no Addidas. I realize that this man has sucked me dry of Rs. 4, 700 in stages with an expert cheating streak. And no seminar sales pitch at Loyola!

            I was telling Thangam, “Already I am in bad shape and I allow a person to rob me in broad daylight. I now realize the maxim that money and fools are so parted.”

            She said, “You have a kind heart and besides you are such a recluse that you were just not equipped to handle such tricksters. It is a lesson for you to be on guard and not be carried away by other’s sob stories.”

            I have lived alone for a decade and no one has touched me this badly. I am sucker alright but I never lost on financial transaction. Of course I have had so many clients who commissioned me to work on their projects and not pay me which is an occupational hazard. But no one has tricked me like that tribal woman on straw mattresses and this failed film director. I said maybe I am getting softer with MINDFULNESS and so let me a little hard-skinned when anyone serves a sob story.  I consoled myself saying: If I get one EXTRA student for my WORKSHOP it would compensate for this patented foolishness. As for the lesson, it’s priceless and now no beggar on the streets gets that 10 rupee note when entreating on his starvation. 

27 November 2016

One year on. And I can never forget those times.

            Let me keep this as simple and to the point. My life was a disaster at birth. My mother was hopelessly sick with not a grain of love in her genes. So as infants we never knew motherly affection until we grew old enough to understand Nirupa Roy’s portrayals. Let me tell you this with all the conviction at my command: any individual who has not experienced his/her mother’s love ends up as dregs of society or in a lunatic asylum or gangster. A puppy does not need its mother so much; give it food and shelter and it will grow to a happy dog without psychological deprivation. But a human being, NO WAY

            Nature does not intend babies to grow on a diet of HATE and FEAR without damaging the neuro-circuitry.  Nature does however create mothers in the animal kingdom that makes a meal of its offspring. But these species are rare. Even in the wild, animals tend to their young with a lot of care and protection.  We digress and let me come back to my tale.

            I discovered that I had Bipolar when I was 21 during my MBA days. Since then I have always treated myself as a second class citizen. I never aspired for love and romance, marriage never contemplated. I did however have a modest goal which was to earn and feed my tummy.  To my achievement, I have managed that feat for 25 years.

            When nature gives you a problem it also gives you flickerings of solutions now and then. My first act of grace I perceived was “heart surgery” at 29. The nurses looked after me well and for the first time I felt a human being take my BP or change the wet cloth on my forehead for I was dying of a high grade fever. These little acts of human touch got me healed a great deal; such was my deprivation.

            The second act of grace was Swamiji’s weekend spiritual lectures and walks in the Theosophical Society but the greatest gift of nature was the “gift of writing”. I went to Bahrain where I got a bit worldly-wise thanks to a human hound called Ajit.

            The first miracle of my life was Manisha who came into my life when I was 37. I was in the grip of the darkest depression when a psychiatrist walked into my life and treated me with the concern of a sister. For the first time in my life, I felt a deep well of gratitude and this emotion lasted for the next three years. The second miracle turned out a flash in the pan. I fell in love with PW and she was everything I ever dreamt in my fantasies. No human being ever gave me so much hopes and happiness and rich hues of dreams than this romantic interlude that lasted 6 months. But then, I was dumped with a callousness that even hardened criminals would shy from.  PW was beautiful in most ways; but she set such high standards for a man that it felt I was appearing in an exam every day for the madam’s approval. I felt a genuine connection, pity is she did not either feel it or kicked it away. This took a while in healing and I was 40 when I added these scars to my childhood ones!!

            I knew from my deepest gut in every atom that my life-force cannot go on to old age. I was hopelessly left alone. Mother continues to be emotionally fragile and still spewing either fear or hatred. Both my sisters never cared for a moment for they were wired so strongly for a belief that once married,  they wash their hands off the previous family. It wouldn’t surprise me if my dead body is dumped to a hospital for use in an anatomy class of a medical college. The most charitable I can take of their point of view is they too grew in the same hostile environment but they somehow managed to be on the right side of the equation of life. So I knew that I HAD to plan my exit. I can’t place my fate to God and wait for HIS agents to take away my breath. Even in Abu Dhabi when I was earning almost 2 lacs a month, I never felt an ounce of joy or hope. Loneliness does all that mischief and more!

            So when 2015 dawned I knew my day of reckoning had come. I had to consume those barbiturates that I had carefully hoarded. But it is never easy – thoughts of dying is one thing and actual dying is something especially for a person who has had over 2 decades of Upanishad teachings.  So I did the next best thing: I kept postponing. I told myself: DIE WHEN YOU CAN’T AFFORD TO FEED YOURSELF. Till then, it is fair game to be alive even if you are HOPELESSLY alone and not one soul to turn to.

            I slipped into a depression in April of 2015 and for the next two years, not one hour of the waking day passed without this macabre thought: should it be today or tomorrow. I didn’t wish to die in Besant Nagar and so I went to Theni, 500 km away.

            I befriend Govind Raj a car driver in October, 2016 when I went on a three day trip to Swami Omkarananda ashram. I met Govind Raj who was very friendly and I marked him as my man. We spoke over a month before I left for Theni again and this time to enlist his help in dying.

            I spent one day convincing him. He even spoke to my sister and then he said, “Sir, I agree with you. You have reached the dead-end and I will help you end this pain. I clearly see that you have exhausted every avenue to living; if you linger longer you either go to an asylum and so this is the best course for you.” Any mental disorder with no family support is something even an illiterate car driver can arrive at.  He then said, “Sir, I know a person who does this thing. He has an injection and you come to sleep immediately and never wake up. I see you are desperate and my expenses are 6 k.” I happily paid that money and wrote a “suicide letter” so that he was absolved in every way possible.

            Govind Raj’s was a man of action who believed that there should not a trace of my dead body. He said, “We will inject you this fatal drug and immediately take you in a car to a deserted farmhouse for a quick cremation and no one will be wiser.” The date was fixed for the next day, 27^th November.

            I did not sleep a wink on 26^th night. I felt a strange emotion. On one hand my entire mind relaxed knowing that my troubles were coming to an end. I wasn’t scared of karmic punishments for no one would have been a more loyal devotee of the Lord than to plod through 47 years of “unloved and uncared” existence.

            The next day Govind Raj came to my hotel room at 1:30 pm with his hack doctor. One look at the gigantic man and my mind did a somersault.  I said, “Give me the drug. I don’t to die today.”

            We argued to and fro for an hour. He said, “I have invested monies on logs and fuel to burn your body. You have no choice but to go along with these arrangements.” One part of my mind wanted to die but another said, “I don’t wish to die so unloved and uncared.” I was firm, we even got to blows. He was heavily drunk and I pushed and threw him on the floor. Govind raj refused to give me the vial but I was more relieved that it was my decision that prevailed. I took the first bus out of Theni at 6:00 in the evening and reached Chennai the next morning at 4:00.

            All my life I wanted a peaceful death and when someone offered, I dithered and got cold feet. Instead I went back to Lithium tablets and anti-depressants!  Vivek Banerjee is a true friend and he was truly shocked to hear of my Theni escapades. He arranged a writing assignment with his brother-in-law. That gave me money and something to work during the day. 

            In February, I went back to Louise Hay’s affirmations. I used to hear her talk for 4-5 hours a day and make notes. I used to get up in the morning and do the “mirror work.” My only friend in the day was Chris who I used to meet at Eliot’s Beach in the evenings.  Working for a small firm in Gurgaon had a lot of advantages: the work never took more than an hour’s time and I was growing stronger. And then MINDFULNESS happened.

            I first heard Jon Kabat-Zinn in April and that led me to Eckhart Tolle in May. Iyer mama came from Australia in April and he was steadfast in his concerns and affections. I was still working my ideas on AFFIRMATIONS and MINDFULNESS poring every energy and over 4-5 hours of dedicated study. My mind for the first time saw something bigger than death and dying, I soon learnt about energy fields (which was my "aha" moment) and childhood trauma. And then another miracle happened: I got my writing back as I wrote my first blog in 30 months in the middle of June.

            Once writing is in, the other aspects of life followed. I started to attend Swamiji’s class and then went to monthly “amavasya” tharpanams that I had abandoned for 2 years and slowly kept adding my usual routines bit by bit from dusting my guitar and playing it or blasting rock music that even my neigbours said, “Sathya, when you shout you sound just like AR Rahman.” By July and August I had never felt so calm and serene in my entire life. I learnt about “loving myself” and “Self-compassion”. By now I was reading and hearing podcasts of Jack Kornfield, Dr. Kristin Neff and Tara Brach where I learnt the science of healing.

            The rest of the story is easy. Friends chipped in. Ramesh said, " Sathya, do a communication workshop.  I will support you.” Then Shyam chipped in saying,” I will bear the cost of the venue.” And when Arun gifted me the T-shirt for Diwali and Mani came with sweets, I knew my healing was complete. When the mind is serene, people around you notice and beam at you and offer a hand to shake. I suddenly made a lot of new acquaintances at the Beach. I found some IMT classmates read my blogs and that revived old ties for a morale booster. My go to man any time I feel like talking is Vivek; he is by far my best friend. Manisha too chips in with regular mails. Thangam is a pillar of support.  Iyer mama is steadfast in his affections. I get a lot of attention and friendships at the Eliot's Beach. 

            It has taken me less than 6 months from my initiation to MINDFULNESS in May. My healing was slow and steady. I changed every toxic thought pattern that was hurting me. I learnt to treat myself kinder, I told myself, “If my parents did not parent me, no problem. I will parent myself. “I never knew that one can love oneself, all my life I was seeking love and acceptance from the outer world. Now that I was practising self-love with mirror work and regular affirmations, I believe these led me to MINDFULNESS and that’s when I stayed healed.

            With growing mental strength I re-organized my life. The first casualty was my eldest sister. She was only giving me negative energy of abandonment daily and so I put an end of her phone calls for a great insight: It is better to be alone than to lean on a cardboard chair. She was sort of an emotional crutch and once I gave that up, I rapidly grew stronger reminding me even more intently that “I am on my own” and “I have to love myself more.”

            I also evaluated PW a character my mind had fogged those memories that felt from another age. Those were healings as I realized: I don’t need to give up on myself even if she had. I also realized she herself was mighty sick: she had grown disrespectful of love after many past failed relations. Such a suspicious streak, she will drive angels and Mother Teresa (s) away. This thought was another liberating thought as I was growing into more and more open space in my mind and beginning to feel a lightness and freedom I had never felt before. The proof that so many were suddenly opening up to me: Arun, my cousin connected in Facebook. I was making new friends almost every week at the Eliot’s. And would you believe it, even stray dogs started to leap up in affection sensing some kind of tranquility. And when I got into occasional tiffs with anyone, my blood never boiled for earlier even a chance remark would lay me low for weeks. I knew I could be provoked to the extreme but I learnt to recover to base in 10 minutes!!! 

            By June, I knew I had turned the corner. Doing those blogs was therapeutic. With each passing month, I knew I will survive. I will earn my bread, no problem. My knees are in terrible shape but I am exulting: If I can crack bipolar I can heal just about anything.

            Less than a year, I paid a man to kill me. And a year later, I am in an eternal love affair with me. I learnt to trust and honour myself and believe me, it came easy, And more importantly, I stay healed.  And how do you know you are healed? You are comfortable in your own skin and others around you want a piece of you.  And after such a close encounter with death, I consider every day of living a bonus. Destiny keeps me alive for a reason and it will unfold at its own pace; sufficient unto the day I concentrate on my communication WORKSHOP and MINDFULNESS blogs that keeps piling up. 
Post Script: Look, I never came clean on BIPOLAR in eleven years of blogging and now I do it for a casual reference. It is easier to talk of a problem of your past than when the wound is still live for another insight. When you overcome a chronic condition, one feels a freedom and no shame attached. Rather it serves as an inspiration to others that you can dig yourself from the pits of hell and I will verily show you the way. 

"Sounds True" & the rest

I am loving this phase of life. I have been listening to at least 3 hours of “Psychotherapy & Spirituality” talks that “Sounds True" organized from 31^st October. Each day 3 speakers are featured and the recording is available for 24 hours and so I put everything aside and solely concentrate on these.

            I find these talks fulfilling my heart’s desire. I have been searching to address my own childhood trauma and these talks have not just given me optimism but a conviction that I am already healed.  The premise of these talks is the wisdom gained from combining Eastern philosophy and Western rigour in Psychotherapy. 

            The speakers are mostly PhD's from an Ivy League College or practicing at the most renowned medical centers or best selling authors – it is a whos whos of the best therapists in America. I got acquainted with jargons like Depth psychology, spiritual by-passing, ayahuasca ceremony, enneagram for personality types, healing of parts, and more.

            Eastern traditions like Buddhism and Yoga have a great tradition of training the mind and this when combined with over hundred years of psychotherapy of the West yield amazing results. Say Buddhism addresses issues of sorrow that stem from sickness, old age, death and emotional states for anger, lust, animosity etc but they are not equipped to address modern age trauma issues of childhood abuse (am I not prime example of this!!), low esteem, sexual abuse, drug overdose and things like that. The West has a tradition of healing the mind through visiting childhood memories and an expertise to release the fears and other toxic emotions of the mind that was abused in one’s infant years. I had a great time listening to masters like Stan Grof, Dorothy Hunt, Jack Kornfield, Richard Schwartz, James Hollis, Thomas Moore, A H Almaas, Gabor Mate etc.

            Listening to 30 of the best therapists in America is something you can reschedule your regular activity. So from 31^st October to 9^th November I was hooked on these talks. I made notes and these will be posted on OBSERVESATHYA in November.

            I learnt a lot of things, most of these ideas were just the food the mind was actively seeking. Like “controlling the self-critic” in you to “ leading an agenda-less life” and healing the traumas gently and smoothly by observing them rather than fighting or suppressing those. 

          One lesson I learnt in the last 6 months is that any resistance multiplies suffering, observing in a loving presence is transformative. Hearing these people I couldn’t help a gushing gratitude: had I met a therapist of this quality, my 2015-2016 years would have been salvaged.  I languished in self-pity and depression for nearly 30 months and very close to the edge. Had I come across such therapists, I would have taken less than 4 sessions for a complete healing and less than a fortnight’s time. That’s the quality and class we are talking about, and so it was no surprise that I relegated everything else to the backyard and just focused my attentions here.

            Reading the transcripts would not have made a dent to the mind but watching them speak in real time felt real and very reassuring. I have no words to express my Sukran Jazillan - thanks a million times - to "Sounds True." 

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Latha’s son’s engagement came and went. I did not put in an appearance. I did feel sad that as siblings we never learnt to fix this relation. Both V and L were CALLOUS to a staggering degree and an idiom for APATHY when my boat of life was burning. They just watched from the side-lines, they never lifted a finger to help me. Both symbolize the total breakdown of the family structure – such a toxic level of SELF-CENTREDEDNESS bodes no one any good. 

             Their crimes are many, chiefly they never bothered to include me in any festivities since dad’s death 28 years ago. Not even a phone call of greeting on Diwali or birthdays or Pongals or Ganesh Chaturthi. The second reason was “we have gone so distant that I felt that they would not even come to the hospital even when I would be fighting for my next breath in a ICU”. They have a mindset only for rituals and make a show of affection in a relatives gathering. 

            One feels sad that such specimens are your sisters. We all were victims of a diseased mother but these people have gone on to build happy families for themselves but they never spared a thought for me. They job description never included a brother grappling with bipolar and its attendant loss of career, poor health (even my heart surgery in 1998 merited no great show of concern) before Theni in 2016 and Prakash’s death this year showed that the clock had passed for any reconciliation. My heart had hardened and I wasn’t going to be anyone’s fool any longer.

            You don’t shut your door for 3 decades, wake up one fine morning to say “My son is getting married and you are invited.” Actually Latha was very upset with my portrait of her in THINKSATHYA, Viji is breathing fire and brimstone over my description of her. As for me, I really don’t care for these opinions are not new. I always aired them in person for decades and my final revenge was these written posts for a closing finality and that kind of penetrated those thick skulls. There is a lesson here: when you have a speck of virtue in you and someone rails against you; you listen and may even course correct. But most of humanity are assholes. They read any criticism as a threat for a rush of adrenaline and close the circuit. Suits me fine, even better. 

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The communication WORKSHOP started on 5^th November with Prithvi’s son Rishi and Karl Marx (who came through Ramprasad, another friend and well-wisher). I have taken two sessions so far and I am loving the experience. I am doing well because on both occasions I was dropped to my residence.

            I break-even with 3 and I am still hopeful that I might reach that number. TRAINING is a new door of opportunity of my career and anything is better than being a CONTENT WRITER. If I get this right, I might even get an opportunity to go back to UAE as a trainer than a writer and it’s such a liberating thought.

            The course content is entirely mine and I dig deep to source content – mostly from my life experience – that best serves the class. I will get better as a teacher with each class; Prithvi attended the first and he was gushing in appreciation and for the second class Iyer mama observed me. He gave me a huge thumbs up. So this feels a right course for me, I am hoping and praying destiny co-operates. Ideally I would like to organize 10 such workshops a year, this activity wins a lot of friends and mentally less taxing and no sadistic bosses to tow.

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It is the time for North- East and Chennai is fast drowning in the deluge. But Besant Nagar is the best place to be. This is level ground and no water logging. We may drown from rising water of the Bay of Bengal rather than a 200 mm rain in 24 hours.

            I have been regular to the Beach whenever there is a respite from the showers. I am making new friends at Eliots. I keep rankling Raman, a IIT professor, saying, “ Buddha is advanced version of Adi Sankara.” I also find a 90 year old Raghuraman absolutely inspiring for Saranagathi. Surrender to the Lord comes easy to Vishnavite genes. He said today, “Sathya, there was a time when I knew owners of Hindu and Indian Express intimately. I would love to have seen you as a columnist. But now no one will listen or even know me.”

            I have not asked any favours from anyone and when he learnt that I was a writer from a common friend, he expressed such a heart-warming sentiment. I feel truly blessed. Life denied me blood relations but has enriched me with such well-wishers. Then there is Sathyan who loaned me a mobile phone handset for recording. In all, I feel an enveloping sense of bonding and protection.  These are definitely good days. May I build on them with a bit of a helping hand from destiny.