Sure Signs of Tamas

#119 post in Dauntlesssathya (last post of 2018)

This lesson did not strike me until this week. It’s a powerful life lesson and any reader can benefit from. The lesson is simple but it took me a long time for the penny to drop – DON’T ARGUE OR REASON WITH FOOLS.  They are sure to bring you down to their mean levels. You end up hurting yourself.  Let me illustrate this from my life experiences.

            I used to tell V and L for decades: That you have not included me in festivals is something that hurts me. It reduces me to an ORPHAN status. Also when I fall sick or not in a physical state to walk to the restaurants for breakfast, I could do with a either a moral or physical assistance. Despite a million times of broaching this topic on phones, mails, in person and even a blog post they refused to get this into their minds. JUST BLANK IT OUT or wear a raincoat. Then I realized this: ONE CANNOT REASON OR DRILL SENSE INTO A CLOSED MIND. Latha was very finicky about the impression she creates with her industrialist sister-in-law. I even wrote to the tycoon expressing my disgust at L's behaviour and yet she did not have the courage to address.  One definition of TAMAS is “they don’t see reason even if you keep their heads on a western closet and flush it for a torture that is commonly seen in Hollywood interrogation scenes.” Or for an Indian imagery of shaking a tree for the fruits to drop. Some trees are so stiff that your hands would wring in exhaustion; these trees would rather prefer being hawed down than yield. Some people are sadly like that for a definition of INFLEXIBLE and INTRACTABLE. 

            Another person I drilled a hole in their head without getting anywhere was pUsHpa (she is always spelled this way to indicate a slithery snake). I used to tell her in the second half of 2008. “Look, you have your differences and I have my lists of angst against you. Let us meet, thrash it out. We owe this much to ourselves after Ahmedabad and Kodaikanal and Bangalore. Then we either reconcile or we snap away.”

            She just would not hear even as I warned, “ Please don’t call me for it affects me psychologically. Friends can become lovers but lovers cannot be friends. Either we meet in your next monthly visit to Bangalore or we put an end to these useless calls.” I was too weak of mind as I continued to take her calls. Once I even feigned a Vipassana retreat for a 10 days respite from these calls. On the eleventh day, she calls me repeatedly and my heart melts to take it in the third attempt. I am such a sentimental ass!!!

            With pUsHpA I read all the signs of a SNAP right but I did not have the emotional strength to put them in practice. She was after all my first and only woman whom I hugged and kissed. We were not suited for each other. I am much too honest and brainy; she was more a consumer who buys expensive clothes, change her car every second year, overseas vacation and a pseudo feminist. Very money minded as you could imagine a Sindhi while for me MONEY holds no special meaning as long it meets my living expenses. But she was deadly attractive when she wanted to turn on the charms with her humour and wit. Even in 2008 when she downgraded my stock from LOVER to a FRIEND on her own volition, I was not exactly enamoured. If I was, I would have flown to Ahmedabad and brought this matter either to a closure or reconciled our growing differences. Point is, DRILLING SENSE for more than 8-9 months and this woman just stood her ground. All the wisdom of a Solomon was wasted even as I saw my first romance go down the tubes ever so agonizingly slow. It was only when she went to Goa in February 2009 and start dating in March that I mentally wrote this relation off yet continue to engage over phones --- extreme STUPIDITY and DIFFIDENCE on hindsight.

            Even my mother is like that. Some times I used to grow large of heart to think even in my graduation days, “ This woman breastfed me in my infant days and so deserves respect and affection.” But such a noble sentiment did not last for a day. She would torture even when I was in the SHIT SHOWER SHAVE. That kind of verbal torture is something I am yet to heal completely. Again no amount of persuasion, kindness and gentleness worked.

            The point of the blog post is clear. YOU CANNOT HOPE TO REASON WITH TAMAS. You see your loved ones driving a car without a brake and you know in your mental vision that the racing car is tearing down straight to a crash. But you cannot do anything; you suffer in slow agony as they drag you down alongwith them. Then you understand how it should be with WISE people. When there is an emotional outburst or a direct charge against a wise man, what would be their options?  My surmise is EITHER dismiss the allegation as false or acknowledge it and learn from it if the cap fits. You either end up saying, “ You are unreasonable and I don’t share your feelings at all” and snap those ties or have the mental courage to say,” There is a lot of truth in what you say. I am sorry for your angst. Please don’t rile, I will do a course correction. “ A wise man is FLEXIBLE to change a thought pattern, acknowledge the errors and march forward while a TAMAS is a car stuck in sand and no amount of acceleration and power will make it move an inch. Some lesson I realized last week.  
Post Script: It is for this reason no SATTVIC person ever ventures out to advise unless the other person falls on the knees and begs for wisdom. Why and when did Krishna preach the Bhagavad Gita? to whom? Arjuna fell on his knees and crawled saying, "Krishna, my dear friend. I am at the end of my rope. I am going to pieces. Please advise me as to the right course." It is only after this surrender, Krishna dons the teacher's hat and not before. 

Bad Four

 Bad Four*

I was telling Mani Sir yesterday, “ In 2019 not one word on the BAD FOUR on my blogs.” He has a sardonic sense of humour saying, “That was your resolution in 2018 which you violated with immunity.”

            My mother seriously I have not a trace of hurt though she is the reason for my ship being grounded today.  V and L are siblings who I will FORGIVE but not FORGET for these acts of omission is an emotional scar as I realized this: We don’t worry about people who don’t exist but we take offense to people not taking up their RESPONSIBILITIES. Both V and L despite a million protests and even a stinking blog post don’t see sense at all. I felt that a murder is more FORGIVE-ABLE for it can be a rush of hot blood; but the sin of NOT CARING for three decades is prolong lapse of duties and height of grossness.  pUsHpa was a devil in angel clothes. We really hit if off and we could have had a life of a fantasy had she not been dismissive of love. To TRIVIALIZE love is a black crime worse than murder or stealing apples from a hungry child. She had a chance of a lifetime to get civilized in my company; I frankly lose nothing in the DUMP. It feels that she invited a penurious Mother Teresa for a dinner; then got into squabbles and kicked her out before the meals were served. Or give balloons and tell stories to kids and give them gifts which on opening is a snake about to unleash its pangs. It is a sick life to KICK OUT VIRTUOUS persons from your life given that the supply of gross ones is inexhaustible. As for me, pUsHpA fiasco was just one more in the series of MEGA HURTS inflicted by society. That I have grown stronger is a tribute to my mind and hard work.

            In 2019 I don’t wish to ruminate on the BAD FOUR. And if a pUsHpA or V or L were dangling from a rope and only me to cut the chord and bring them to safety, I will not do that kind act. These four (include my mother too) deserve the rarest of the rare as they say in legal parlance….death by hanging till the neck is broken. I may even volunteer to be the hangman. FORGIVENESS yes in terms of not generating a LIVE HATE ENERGY in the current account but they screwed up my past that my present and future turned black. But yes NOT ONE WORD ON THE BAD FOUR in 2019 however tempting. They are so evil and so opposed to the GOOD that my mind draws so many truths of life reflecting on their lapses. They serve a great lesson: YOU CANNOT DRILL SENSE INTO LOCKED MINDS. You only end up hurting yourself. But in 2019, not a word or Mani Sir I will pay you a 10 k fine and a lunch at Annalaxmi for any violations. 
Post Script: I wrote this post on THINKSATHYA as part of 2018 memories. Couple of good friends felt I was being too bitter and so I thought of shifting it here. 
* Bad four is CHEWING THE CUD. All the four characters don't spend one second thinking of me, though I spend quite a few. My interest is also primarily that of a WRITER for they are so BAD and EVIL and ruminating on them affords me a lot on perspective of right and wrong, besides I also gain a lot of metaphors and similes. The past is not so overbearing but since I resolve not to write ONE WORD in 2019, I might as well take a parting shot. 

2018 Images

Post: #117

2017 was a turnaround year, thanks to MINDFULNESS. I truly learnt to respect and love myself. I try to support myself. I am a lot more kind and compassionate to myself. 2018 should have built on those foundations but frankly this was a year when nothing moved forward.

            Even at the start of the year I realized that no one is going to pay money to learn SOFT SKILLS and so I stopped marketing and threw in the towel.  I made COLD CALLS to colleges but then it was hitting a brick-wall. STRIDES CONSULTING game me priceless SHADOW experience at St. Josephs and after that have kept mum – either they have more trainers or they are waiting for the next order.  Lots of insights here: HR managers paint all trainers with the same brush. My claim is I AM MILES SUPERIOR IN CONTENT N DELIVERY. Two, Corporates are cutting on training budgets and this is the most inopportune time for a rookie to ring the bell outside the front door.

            Shyam, a true well-wisher, says, “ Sathya, you have three skills and so don’t throw in your towel on any of these.” I am an EXPERT CONTENT WRITER, FLEDGLING SOFT SKILLS TRAINER and potential PRECOCIOUS THERAPIST. But seriously 2018 proved disastrous on the earning front.

            I watched 11 movies this year and I loved “The Post” and “Bohemian Rhapsody" the most. I also relished “Three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri” for an outrageous climax. I also caught up with “My fair lady” and “To kill a mocking bird” at USIS library movie screenings. The best was "It's a wonderful life"a 1946 movie for an all time classic in which Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed play the lead.  

            I did two 7 day Vipassana retreats this year; in April at B’lore and in September at HYD. Besides there were 3 dayers at Chennai, Thiruvannamalai, and Nagpur. My meditations have gotten deeper and lighter; this is not a ritualistic sitting on the mat but I am able watch my thoughts and energy flow in them. I am able to dilute strong energy patterns that don’t serve me. But this is still work in progress though emotionally I have gotten very strong. Any anger or fear or hatred don’t last more than 10 min in the mind and so lots of little things have added up here.

            Dubai was a dream that crash landed thanks to a fraud called Rajeev in Pondicherry. I am still hopeful that the cops will catch this rogue and compensate my 1 lac I lost from my naivety, pollyanna attitude  (meaning recklessly positive and trusting). I also finally QUIT applying for jobs. JUST DIAL interview in Noida opened my eyes. I had a fantastic interview and later I heard from an inside man that I was not considered due to my age. Ironic for a company to reject a candidate at 49 when their brand ambassador Big B is over 70+. This for me was the final straw at the jobs hustings. 

            The best gains of this year was IMT friends. Smita invited me for a Delhi trip, Neetu and Lalit connected with me there. My best IMT pal is Deepak Mehra who reads my FB posts and blogs. Then there is Lakhina, Anu, Darbari, Bansal, Anurag and counting. Lalit wants me to try a LIFE COACH even to extent of underwriting those expenses, I am having none of it. If I find it useful, I pay from my own pocket.

            TH Iyer mama is my best friend in life at the Beach. He calls me almost every second day. Then there is Dhamma Mani who I met at Chennai Vipassana centre, he is a man with a hearty laugh and tells stories with a flourish. I also like my budding friendship with Pandian who is the new owner of my apartment. He packs in a lot of grace and cheer. Meeting and interacting with Babu of LIC was some inspiration. I have not met a more principled man who stands out like a lotus in the muddy waters of corruption. My go to friend on telephone is Vivek Banerjee, a calm and sober personality. I have my monthly drinking bouts with Ranga, Manisha is still a regular caller. I can't thank my cook Thangam mami enough. She brings in wisdom and friendliness apart from home made tambrahm food. So on friends, my circle is expanding without me actually reaching out. I credit this to my new state of confidence and latent peace of mind; gains from MINDFULNESS.

            This year I gave two FOSWL talks – one on MINDFULNESS and another on VIPASSANA thanks to Iyer mama. Another gains of this year was SPARRC that has gotten daily workouts, I am like a sloth bear and now I have to exercise and I feel nice about it. Thanks to Venkatesh and Oviya there.

            I took two vacations. Guruvayur to overlap Diwali so that I don’t drown in my misery of sorrow in the midst of out of the skin gaiety. I loved the Kerala trip in November. In December I spent three days in Madurai and this was even better. I love to travel in budget. I saw three iconic temples in Madurai, a day’s outing to Courtrallam falls is something I fell in love straightaway. I plan to visit Courtrallam more often; this is some reckless adventure standing underneath the torrent of water flow that hammers your head in its ferocity. Rameswaram was a short three hours visit and I got the gist of that place. What I like about my trips is I take the passenger trains and local buses and avoid private transport as much as possible. I get to see the local populace and it furnishes so many learnings for my observant mind.

            I rate 2017 as a MIRACLE year and 2018 should have built on it but sadly that was not to be. But at least I got my SPARRC exercises and guitar going (I joined DOLCE music school for two class days in a week). I am a TRIER and a valiant soldier of life. I look at this year with a sense of satisfaction that I did my best. Maybe the seeds sowed this year may burgeon in 2019. As long as there is life, there is hope. Still then shut your gob and keep trying. 

November Nuggets

Again on the face of it another VACUOUS month but when I dig deeper, there are gains. I visit SPARRC (Sports Performance Assessment Rehabilitation and Research Centre) six days out of seven. I try my best to be there at 6:45 am and I usually make it and this has been the best experience of my messy life in a long, long while.

            I signed up with SPARRC for four months REHAB for my knees and the good news is the treatment is working. They have a big centre in Besant Nagar which is a three minutes’ walk from my den. I take an out of shape elevator at Spencers to the fourth floor and from there it is 50 minutes of stretching and strengthening my muscles. Sports Medicine as practiced by Sparrc really works – every exercise is aimed at strengthening the walking muscles. They are blessed with a friendly staff: Oviya is quiet and perceptive (she knows when I need the knee weights and she will wrap it around when those are in its schedule run). Venkatesh is smart and he keeps adding variations as I progress. One of the best things of a workout is your movements get better by the day; you add more complexity or the full version of it and this is motivating enough: what I did clumsily on Monday, I get the full measure of it by Wednesday and these little improvements feels that you are on the right path. Now I walk without a limb, next week I will try a brisk walk and pretty soon I should be jogging.  This daily workouts opened my eyes to this age old trite that FITNESS and CONFIDENCE go together.  Now I want to invest in daily gym workouts. Let my biceps bulge and chest feel as strong and sinewy as a barrel.  SPARRC shows that if you experience expertise, professionalism and a friendly air,  life isn't so bitchy and messy. This is a smooth running brook and at 50 k worth every pence of it. I will remember Nov, 2018 as SPARRC month of my life. I also loved my two days holiday at Guruvayur to escape the barren loneliness of Diwali.

            There were two weddings this month in the family that I skipped. My reasons were that “You don’t send a wedding invite after three decades saying: I have a son or daughter and please do come.” It’s a mental strain that lasts for over two days seeing relatives in decades. One of the gains of MINDFULNESS is avoid any action that brings discomfort to me. First let me take care of myself and then I shall follow the societal norms is a good working principle.

            Another gain of November is Mr. Pandian who is purchasing my apartment. It now feels like selling this place to a friend. We have long chats on life and how Indians corrupt it with their existence. He has a genuine respect for me saying, “Sir, you will definitely see good days in life. Your talents and thinking is formidable. I was reading your O my darling, India and this is great writing skills.” This is a compliment I cherish as I did Anurag’s “Powerful words of an excellent writer and few can match your skills.” I turned to Dhamma Mani Sir for advice for investing in a LASSI SHOP franchise. He said, “Sathya before you start looking for locations or signing the cheque, go meet them. See how the whole thing works and then take the plunge. Don’t forget that you are a MBA in marketing from what is that institute…..IMT Ghaziabad before all this writing madness took over.” Shyam advised on investment, “You don’t need to invest all the monies in equities or MFs or debt instruments at one go. The market is volatile now, allow it to settle and do it in stages, “as he recommended a few MFs that gave him good returns.

            I watched “Bohemian Rhapsody” and it is my best movie of this year. I felt sad for two days feeling how Freddie Mercury squandered his god given skills for wild excesses. I have been listening to Queen for over two decades and this man made me cry for the operatic “Bohemian Rhapsody” and the plight of loneliness in “Somebody to love.” And I quote the lyrics of “We are the Champions” so many times in social contexts and even my blog posts. I felt sad that he died so young; but then what a celebration and joy his life has been. I also patted myself on the back that I was listening to Western music as young as 7 or 8 without any promptings. I first heard Carpenters “Yesterday once more” and “Kungfu Fighting” that my dad brought as a cassette to our first tape recorder in the mid-70s. It takes an intelligent mind to cultivate its own musical taste and thank god I ploughed a lonely farrow for such phenomenal returns.

            IMT friends continue to give satisfaction. I spoke to Lakhina last week and he said, “Sathya, you can call me anytime you want.” Lalit engaged a session with a life coach in Velachery as he said, “Sathya, please don’t thank me. There are so many people in our batch who care for you.” Neetu has been threatening to call for a while; she again vibrates friendship and care. Deepak writes with a lot of concern and compassion. Seriously, I thank every person who harbours a kind thought of me.

            As the house sale process will conclude in a week’s time, I thought of a visit to Madurai, Coutrallam and Rameswaram for a weekend sojourn in December. I found a flight ticket to Madurai for Rs. 1500 and did not waste a second booking it. So something to look forward besides joining a Guitar course. On my own steam, I tutored myself to Mel Bay’s level two and now I do need guidance. At two days a week, this should bring in positive vibes. I changed my guitar strings last month and I spend an hour on the instrument as my fingers leapfrog over the frets. Again simple pleasures but you work hard to earn them.

            November has been kind and hopefully I build on it. Now I no longer have the drive to hunt for soft skills assignments or an exploratory trip to UAE, I will check out this LASSI SHOP franchise. It looks a good thing but let me take my time and explore.  Even on investing the sale proceeds, I am becoming smarter as I plan my portfolio. It’s lonely out there but let me bat for myself with more conviction as the winter months do take their toll.  One thought the movie stuck me with: one may be exceptionally talented or even a genius, you don't demand anything of life. Life in its wisdom confers its blessings and grace even as I wait for my turn with patience and faith. It's hard nonetheless is there anything better? I ask in false modesty and theatrics, some Freddy influence.

Art of falling in love

When and how does it hit you that you are in love? Is there a “thunderbolt” feeling when you meet your soul mate? First of all, does nature pair a male and female and conspires to have them meet? Is “soulmate” a marketing jargon full of hot air or is there something to it?

            I don’t wish to confer myself an authority on this subject but then I am a well-read person with a thinking mind. My mind was drawn to this domain unwittingly, the premises came raining down and so I am sharing this.  

We had a talk by Dr. P S Kumar at FOSWL meeting last month where he was talking on the power of thoughts and argued that if you harbour strong thoughts consistently then it comes to fruition. Said he, “When I was in college, I had a strong desire to work for L&T. But somehow I joined a local firm and I happened to meet a L&T top honcho in one of my flights. We were seated next to each other and by the end of the flight he offered me a job.” Dr. Kumar said, “That’s the power of my thoughts attracting that person and also this experience.” Another instance was I fervently wished a book on VALPARAI. You won’t believe that someone sent me an advanced copy of the manuscript even before it went into print.  Your thoughts attract similar thoughts in others and they always come to fruition.

            I came home and immediately made a list of my life-goals: a job in UAE, woman for whom my heart would beat for would really set me up for writing glory. So I made a PPT with pictures thinking that if I go to bed with these pictures on a lazy browse of a smartphone, maybe these will come to fruition as well. No harm trying, kasa panama (Tamil idiom meaning it does not cost any penny).

            One thing led to another as I worked on this VISUALIZATION ppt; I find some faces of movie stars and singers attractive. I prefer a round face in a woman than a longitudinal one; as in Dia Mirza, Tamanah, Julie Delpy, Amy Adams, Andrea Corr, or even a Soundarya. The ideas developed off its own steam; that’s the gift of a thinking mind.

            This exercise showed that I was drawn to ARTHA and KAMA just as any human would. My wish list included trekking, swimming, coming home to an embrace of a woman my heart went crazy for, a stupid Toyota car, a duplex apartment in Besant Nagar and you can fill up along those lines. And then it hit me!

            Premise one: “you don’t love a woman for her virtues or brains or dress sense, but you love her as long as she is interested in me.” I learnt this lesson very well from my sindhi imbroglio. Then this premise two came in from the visualization exercise: Never choose a woman to love on the basis of Artha and Kama – meaning never estimate the worth of a woman in terms of money, education, or any economic class or if she is tall or short or chikna or gora or the colour of her nail polish or lip stick. Why? Even the most attractive woman today will age to flabbiness and hanging skins. Proof: look at the recent photographs of a Sadhana or Saira Bhanu and you can see the mischiefs and ravages of time. Even a Rekha or Hema Malini or Madhuri Dixit in 2018 is not a show stopper sight. These women had their days and now no one would spend a dime to look in their direction. This leads to an interesting premise: you love and marry for DHARMA and MOKSHA and not Artha and Kama. Dharma means a woman with values which that Sindhi had not a miniscule, Moksha is an attitude of a person who believes in continuous self-improvement. There are very few people who invest in themselves; and take concrete steps to grow in wisdom.

            The folklore of Savitri gives the hint. She was given a carte blanche by her father, “Daughter, you can marry anyone you wish.” She went on a world tour for a year and settled for a penurious Satyavan who had less than a year of life. Savitri was supersmart in her attitude: it is better to live a year with a virtuous man than live a century with a mediocre or a monster. A year is thousands and millions of moments and in the right hands it can be heaven. Sita displays this utter scorn for money and power as she accompanies Rama to the forest. She says, “The travails of Dandaka forest is nothing compared to the pleasure of your company.” She rejects with contempt the temptations of Ravana that no amount of gold and money would equal Rama’s companionship. Both Savitri and Sita were unconsciously voting for DHARMA and MOKSHA. In other words VALUES and an ATTITUDE for SELF-IMPROVEMENT

            After this insight I am no longer drawn to a Tamanah Bhatia who frankly is a piece of meat I would have hammered in a bed of my imagination. It pays a million times to be alone than be tied in knots to a dross like pUsHpA or any woman who spends all her time in beauty salons and fab india apparels. The beauty of a woman lies in her ability to bind and capacity for self-sacrifice where she always places the interests of her husband and kids before herself all the time. Not a prima donna who is obsessed with French Perfumes or spends all her time on the latest winter collection or hair do’s or manicure and pedicure business.

            ARTHA (which is money and what money can buy) and KAMA (shape of tits and dresses) are programmed to wither and decay but DHARMA and MOKSHA are seeds that grow into banyan trees in time. What’s more they never die.  So don't believe in all this nonsense of "love at first sight" or a "thunderbolt" or "soulmates" for TRUST, FAITH are germinated and cultivated in the seeds of VALUES and brutal HONESTY.  And these take TIME and it's always a WORK-IN-PROGRESS but at least get the direction right. 

Mindfulness works

There is something about life which makes it mysterious. Even the best brains, me included, can’t determine the speed and direction of flow of life. My life is a miracle of humongous proportion: Bipolar at 21, heart surgery at 29, TS and Swami Paramarthananda at 29, first writing job at 37, first girlfriend at 38, first dump at 40, Theni where I almost died of a paid suicide at 47 and now couple of years later, I have never been better; in the best of health and spirits as they say.

            For me MINDFULNESS was the cornerstone. Whatever I learnt before integrated into some solid healing and oasis of peace. This year I was listening to Shauna Shapiro’s “What you practice becomes stronger” and Kristin Neff’s Self-compassion which is a masterpiece.

            Dr. Kristin talks about the comparative merits of Self-esteem and how self-compassion is more comprehensive and an effective tool. She really is a wonder woman having to deal with a messy divorce and an autistic child; she speaks with a lot of poise and leaves me feeling soothing and better of myself. Her three components of self-compassion: Self-kindness, shared humanity and Mindfulness is a masterpiece for a working definition and practice. Also how a reptilian brain in us produces Adrenalin for “fear and flight” response and our mammalian response of intimacy and self-assurance can iron the mental voltages spikes. I heard her Ted talk and god, that set me thinking for the next two days.

            For me MINDFULNESS is not just a buzzword or an impressionable pinup slogan to impress the world. It saved my life and so I practice it almost half my waking hours.  It works and my life is infinitely richer. I was travelling to Thrissur by Alapuzha Express that leaves Chennai Central at 9:05 pm and I found myself sandwiched between two coupes of a boisterous marriage party. There were more than dozen – kids in the age-group of 6 to 14 running around – and making a nuisance to everyone around. The clock hit 11:00 and I just could not slip into sleep try however much. I curbed my tongue and then told the head of the family, “This is an overnight train journey and please we also deserve a bit of sleep and less of noise. Kindly don’t outrage us with his non-stop vociferous merry making.” The noise continued as I practiced MINDFULNESS telling myself: They are out to enjoy themselves, possibly relations meeting in ages and over-excited children who were similar to me when I was young. I am SORRY for myself for destiny placing me in the worst seat in the train but what the hell, this is how I must have sounded to others with my big bass mouth. So take it as a lesson. Bite your tongue.” Once I accepted the noise and commotion, I fell asleep. Nature always works if you keep the troublesome mind out of the way.

            For me, I am amazed by the flow of life in my time. Lousy parents made me grow to this level of maturity, I sincerely thank the Sindhi woman for deserting me. Otherwise I would have missed this wonderful nectar. Today I dare say that there are not very many in India with my intuitive knowledge of working of the mind processes. It’s not a brag, once I knew how to heal myself and now I can heal just about any other mind if it seeks my support.

            Kerala was soothing for the nerves and pleasing to the eyes. It is a state overflowing with green vegetation for the eyes. The people are graceful, there are no shouting mobs in India’s most literate state. Guruvayur temple attracts thousands of devotees and most of them feed solids to the babies the first time here. So I got to see hundreds of young families with the fathers carrying their 8 months in the nook of their arms. The Kerala women is a postcard of beauty in white saris that come with gold embroider. Again no shouting or squealing or whining or dominating women, they behave with a lot of poise in a public place. Two days in Kerala and I even thought I would be fortunate to romance a Mallu woman and even settle down here if that OVER-SMART destiny were to line me up for the slaughter. 

           

             I say this for the millionth time: Nature or destiny or God or any super computer that programmes all our lives is 100% accurate. You get your medicine of experience when you are ready, you only learn when you are open and able to see a pattern amidst the humdrum and noise of life. Take me for example, 3 years back I would have died selling this Besant nagar home and now I am so light-hearted and happy and even feeling that it is a good riddance. I am blessed with a lot of friends but I still believe that I must strive to be my own best friend a million times in the day. Thank you Kristin Neff for your work on self-compassion, someday I would like to have a dinner with her and Eckhart Tolle and Shauna. Having these three on a dinner table would be nice. The message of this post is simple: make peace with your mind moment to moment and the harvest is always rich.    

Cold November Rain

After last week’s soft skills experience at St. Josephs it is back to the familiar NOTHING. I dare say there is no human being with such an empty plate as me; the flow of life just doesn’t drag me even an inch. I may as well be living in Rama’s era in treta yuga or Krishna’s dwapara or now in Modi’s kali yuga.

            The sole cheer and activity of the day is SPAARC’s rehabilitation exercises. I love this hour of the day. I go there by 10:30 am and work my muscles now that the therapy part is over. I can perceive almost a daily improvement and it won’t be long before I will be jogging. This is a miracle of a great kind.

            I had almost forgotten how to walk before Suganya taught me: bend your knee, land on the heels for a stride and then bend the other knee for the next one. I watched others at the temple looking at the heels and it was basically what she was saying. Such a simple thing like WALKING and my brain has to re-learn at 49 after almost two years of near limping.  Going to  these rehab exercises also got me motivated for BUILDING my body. I am going to invest in building muscles and do those push-ups for a chest that protrudes out. Certainly, it does your confidence a world of good if you’re physically as strong as an ox. It is no wonder they don’t get into street fights and when a bull is provoked it is a bull in a china stop and no one in their senses would show a red rag to it. So it’s a nice goal: Get stronger, develop muscles on biceps and triceps and have a barrel for a chest. But once jogging is resumed then I would feel so much alive.

            The North-East hit the city this week for rains at all times of the day. The NE is fast and furious, there are little of the drizzle kinds and the skies get overcast and gloomy. It is one season I personally hate for it accentuates my loneliness.  I spend the afternoon days on a Kumbakarna sleep and a lot of guitar. My fingers blithely jump over the frets and this is something I am beginning to feel proud of.  I also spent my time reading DAMIEN BOSSES blogs and God, I realized that I am a genius writer. Or was a genius writer in once upon a time kinds. 

            The process of house sale goes on with the UDS certificate coming from the housing board. Now it is should take less than a week to ten days for the final transfer. On my monies, I am going to have a rock star attitude. I will not be a cautious investor and I will play the game more detached and almost to a gambler’s appetite. I know for certain that my monies will outlive me and I will not drown in financial poverty, but emotional poverty very much YES.
            I had a lunch at New Woodlands with Dhamma Mani Sir on my request on Monday. I fancy this restaurant for I believe that Kannadigas are the best cooks for South Indian and a full course meal is divine here. Dhamma Mani Sir is a raconteur; I have not seen very many narrate a tale with such flair. The way he talks of his grandson in Coonoor ordering meals, to his wife's contracting a painter, and his latest temple tour in Tirunelveli is a feast for the ears. I am a decent storyteller myself but Mani Sir is the gifted one.   

            On Sunday walks in the TS, Geetha said, “Sathya, you are a big talker and kindly give others a chance at the restaurant.” I was so incensed that I came home and whatsapped after a long thought, “I am sorry for disrupting your Sundays and you are a wrong number for a connection.” I still cannot hold my fire and I don’t want to. It is not in my genes to take things lying down. I would rather rot in hell than be scorned in heaven for a personality kink I don’t wish to iron out.

            I store not a decimal of faith for Gods and rituals now. FAMILY and FAITH go together. My life in contrast has been a definition of loneliness. I live such an aimless existence that nothing ever happens in life. Even the crows outside my window and the ants crawling on the computer desk have more interesting lives. It is DIWALI time and it scares the hell out of me. Last year I went to Pondicherry and Chidambaram to escape the cracker noise; this time I may go to a Guruvayoor. Being alone on Diwali feels worse than a criminal on death row and being dragged to the noose.

            As the clock turns November the mind goes more introspective for 2018 is on its last legs. My goals in life are still: a stint in the GULF or maybe I would prefer some SOFT SKILLS here. My life will still go nowhere if I don’t find a woman or a hobby to drown in. On Swimming Dr. Rajaram said, “Don’t hit the pool now for there is a definite viral in the air. Maybe any time after February should do for a new initiate.” He has a thinking mind and so I will pay heed. These are still lonely days and if I had a gun, I would shoot God first and then me. Desperately looking for some fuckin thing to happen in my life even if it is a fracture of my hands (the arms string look sexy enough) or maybe commit a murder and spend some time in the jails. That way, I may even have company. But as a Guns song goes: It is cold November rain now. Show me a more patient man than me in creation and I will show you a liar.   

SPARRC & STRIDES

#112 Post

This post should be interesting for I have some outside events to report and analyse; most of the time I keep psychoanalyzing. 

SPARRC INSTITUTE

Dr. Kannan Pugazhendi is regarded as a maverick doctor who gives excellent results for knee pains. I consulted him a fortnight back and it was some experience: he just pressed my knee muscles and the calves and the spine and kept rattling names like “this muscle is weak; that needs strengthening” as his assistant kept taking notes. Dr. Kannan sees over 100 patients in three hours and no patient gets to open his mouth for a ONE MINUTE examination. The consultation fee of Rs. 700 is worth its weight; soon his team take over and advise for “Therapy and Rehab” sessions.

            This man sees patients at Alwarpet centre while I do the therapy sessions at Besant nagar centre. Rs. 25 k for 24 sessions is value for money; I would have been happy to pay twice that sum.

            Venkatesh is my physiotherapist and he is hardworking. He spends an hour massaging my abdomen, knee and calf muscles where I am reduced to agonizing oohs and aahs. At times it gets so painful as I ask him to stop; the muscles are treated as Thangam my cook kneads wheat for making chappatis. He explains this mode of treatment, “Sir, there are muscle trigger points which we are trying to relax. This way the pain comes down in a couple of sessions before we teach you strengthening exercises for each particular muscle.” At the end of each session there is ICING the whole structure and I definitely feel an improvement in my knees.

            Venkatesh went on leave and the therapy sessions are done by females. This is a real back-breaking work. They press the fingers hard on the skin, at times using their elbows to add pressure at those conjoint points. I feel nothing but gratitude. Truth be told, Suganya is better masseur than Venkatesh; she has an intuitive sense of the pain points and goes attacking them with pressure and elbows that reduce me to biting my tongue to suppress a yell.  There was another very young therapist, Protima, who said, “Sathya, your muscles are now free but your mind is not registering the healing.” She added, “You are used to a limp walk, try lifting your knees for each stride.” I followed her advice as she taught me how to walk. I had really forgotten the gait and good news is my knees are on the mend.

            I walk to the beach and regulars at Eliots say, “You sure have a funny gait with a half limp and half bends, It sure is sexy for a visual.” As for me, I recommend SPARRC to anyone with any kind of pain. They sure are effective as hell. Besides very decent people. 

STRIDES CONSULTING

            I had a three days Soft skills training at St. Joseph Engineering College at OMR and it was a fantastic experience to watch other trainers in action. Over three days, I attended the sessions of 13 trainers and I learnt an ocean of a lot. I am glad that this company is kind enough to put me on as a SHADOW where my job is only to watch others in action.

            One learning I had was “Soft skills is a career and of course you will be impacting lives but  that should not be your primary focus at this first year engineering students level, this is a career for you. Your objective should be to get a good feedback at the end of three days.”  I can aim for glory at the corporate level or when the audience is matured where there is scope for daring experimentation.

            I must thank Priscilla Joseph for her kindness in taking me under her wing. I am so fortunate to attend the sessions of high quality trainers that I feel a sense of liberation and feeling right. Now I am mentally prepared for this role.  Strides Consulting has enriched me both on content and delivery for an very important insight: there is no such thing as a perfect content or a preferred delivery style. You walk your way through and the course content will take you to the destination.  It is such a pleasure to see tongue-tied students open up and speak so fluently on a public platform on day-3. Another insight is: You need a team of trainers, the lonely bird does not get the contract. This is an interesting space; you only get paid for "working on for the day" and you are free to work for anyone on idle days for a daily labour kind of feel but what the hell, there is never a dull moment on the WORK days. 

            On Monday when I came back from the day’s labour of 9 to 6, my head swooned in dizziness. I am used to fever, cough, knee pains but this head dizzy spells got me in a panic. I kept vomiting – threw up the entire dinner in the closet – and felt the Yama was riding his bulls in the vicinity. The next morning when I told Venkatesh of these faints, he said, “Sir, it might be due to high BP or even vertigo.” He took my blood pressure and said that at 150 it is a bit too high, “Sir, avoid salt and oily foods.” That morning assurance felt divine and timely, He really is gifted with a good mouth and a great heart. Thank you, man.

Miscellany

I am fortunate having Pandian as the buyer of my apartment. He said, “Sir, I don’t intend moving in. You can reside here as long as you wish by paying market rate rentals.” I told him,” Thanks man, I don’t intend staying for more than 6 months here.”

            I will turn 50 by April end and I wish to celebrate it in a new home. I don’t want to purchase any apartment and I feel it is better to live on rentals. I am investing over a crore in mutual funds and equity market and hopefully these can fetch a 15% return on year to year basis. As for as my next residence, I am planning a Abu Dhabi visit for December (hoping that I will be jogging fit by then) for a job search. Sabeesh, my ex-colleague at Adline, said, “Sathya, I will arrange you the best bed space in town and near your favourite Sangeetha restaurant.” I must make 50 k  in Chennai but I am doubtful. If Dubai shows an empty harvest, I plan to settle down in Bangalore for 2019. I don’t think I will miss anything leaving Besant nagar except the friendly expertise of my cook, Thangam Mami. She truly was as reliable as a clock in the last 8 years and I plan to give her a good purse as a parting gift.

            And as for me, I am happy with life. I am slowly winning caring friends like Neetu, Lalit and Ashish Bansal. There are quite a few who care for me from my IMT circles. TH Iyer mama supports me unconditionally and he says, “Sathya, mad fellow, don’t leave Besant nagar at any cost. This is paradise on earth and I like to see you daily at the Beach.” Then there is Dhamma Mani Sir, Deepak called from Dubai to advise on investment basics and so many really. Yesterday was my dad’s 29^th death ceremony and both my mother and Viji were here. I was telling my sister, “Of the three, I am the smartest and most intelligent. Even if I die today, I have a body of work that will be read and respected by the next generation.”  She nodded heartily as I said, “If I ever have a publishing contract for an autobiography, what a tale that would make. Very few know how to heal childhood traumas and bipolar and I have done that. It’s a story that could be of interest to millions of readers. I will pitch for a contract in Europe or USA and trust me I will die both rich and famous.” I also replaced all the guitar strings and it sounds divine as I spent at least an hour on it. The fingers leap across the frets with a new found expertise. Sathya is great, Sathya is genius much like my heroes Sherlock Holmes and a very real Alexander the Great.   

Post Script: I must work on a blog on "Alexander" which I have been putting off for over a year now. Another must be on Sherlock Holmes, Granada Series which had Jeremy Brett in the lead. Actually I grew up on Arthur Conon Doyle's works, Star Trek and so many beautiful things in my school days. Doordarshan was splendid those days with Lucy Show, Yes Minister that I go nostalgic even today. Someday I must also attempt a blog on Vadivelu, a Tamil comedian I admire a lot. 

Finally life comes to this

Life the ever cruel bitch.

This festival season and incipient winter weather screws my moods every year. These are dark months I write off knowing well over the years that this is a season with not a ray of sunlight for me. Even my writing takes a backseat; I try to fill them with Vipassana retreats.

            I sold my apartment to a gentleman for small mercies. At least the process has been smooth so far. I will be happy to receive the final cheque and clear out. It’s a strange feeling to a definition of mixed emotions. On one hand I feel that I am a consummate failure as to sell dad’s property for survival, on the other hand I feel a sigh of relief. Leaving Besant nagar should bring store good tidings for me; this place vibrates negativity and sickness. M90 suffers from bad neighbours and a stray dog problem; besides it never got me one ounce of growth or happiness even as a fleeting sensation for the mind for decades.

            I was speaking to Dr. Rajaram today saying, “I don’t see myself ageing to 60s or 70s for a desolate existence. I don’t particularly love myself to wait for a God given death. I must fall in love in the next 5 years; it can be a woman or a dog or even some new hobby. Otherwise I don’t see myself lasting further. No life is a bigger burden than having nothing to look forward to.”  I narrated him my cousin’s life. That man is stinking rich, a widower, he can’t stand his son and daughter-in-law but loves the grandson. You need some blooming thing to hold on to.

            He said to an instant understanding, “Sathya, I know being you is so difficult. Hopefully you will find something to immerse yourself in.”

            My blog posts always refer to good friends but I realize that at the core, or when it comes to the test where I am having heart seizures or even death, no one will involve themselves from registering at the hospital or to rush to the Corporation for a death certificate. I must arrange everything before-hand and that makes my life so meaningless.

            The world outside is a callous one. It is friendly and it will offer you the right words but anything more, you are will be disillusioned ten times out of ten. Same thing with falling in love. You never fall for a woman because she is virtuous or good looking or great in bed; you only fall if you feel a love in the air. Love means caring and caring in our times translates to “waiting for you at the clinic when sick; hovering around a hospital ward when incapacitated and giving you a funeral when your time is up.” These few months I have grown cynical of life. Living in India is a huge karmic sentence where you are condemned to inferior people and living in an ant’s colony. This is one place where mediocrity will drown you in inches; a death by drowning in the Pacific or even the dirty polluted Adyar River is swifter and kinder.

            I start my Soft Skills training with a firm tomorrow. I pray these activities fill my mind with fresh winds. I guess I have one more month of stay in Besant nagar and I am just as eager to get out. I am planning for a swimming course as a distraction and a respite from the monotony of idle living.  In this murderous mood, if I had a gun I would have blasted myself.  But for now, I have this clarity that I need a purpose to living. It is something I cannot plan for, either it descends down on my plate or there is always that stupid gun.

Failed Relations & Forgiveness

Besant nagar chapter of my life comes to an end. The parent family took possession of the apartment in 1989 under trying circumstances with my father on his last legs. His cancer had ravaged the body beyond redemption and he wanted to die in Besant nagar than in Hyderabad and so it was.

            I loved Besant nagar from day one despite the jolt of losing a father not even reaching 60. Then two miserable years at IMT and these were desperate “moodswing” years. Thankfully I had a heart surgery for a divine intervention and a miracle and life stabilized a wee bit from daily THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY walks and weekend Swami Paramarthananda’s lectures in Vidyamandir in Gandhinagar.

            There are four people in my life I call BIG BAD FOUR. My MOTHER was hopelessly sick and she is the prime cause of my suffering. If I am bachelor and in perennial hunt for jobs, then all credit goes to her. Strangely I have never felt an atom of angst and hatred. She is simply a naughty kid who refused to grow up despite my pleadings a million times. LESSON from her life is that you don’t marry and procreate if you are mentally so tangent.

            Then the Gujarat Sindhi for sheer OPPORTUNISM. Even my heart is extremely vast and willing to forgive will hesitate. I thank my MINDFULNESS lessons for sizing this female and finally slot her as a JACKAL in my memory. We were never ON as a couple; her values were from nether regions of hell. LESSON that her life teaches is it never pays to be so self-centred beyond a point. I am convinced she will suffer but I am far too gracious not to make a song and dance of it.

            Then my two SIBLINGS who failed big time. A little affection and this property could have been saved. They never invited me for festivals and so I have not celebrated one in three decades. My knees need treatment and it would not cost more than a 20 k which I cannot spare in today’s earnings. A little support here and there, maybe I could have come through the fires of life better. They never got it in their heads that I need some LOOKING AFTER, that the family owed me some care in a terminal illness and run my cremation show.

            I used to HATE my sisters intensely since my MINDFULNESS initiation which at least showed me how deep these lapses are. But as I let go of Besant nagar, I realize that I have become a saint. I really have hated them so much that there is no more energy in the tank. The heart and minds have hardened, there is no wish for a rewind button and our relations ever correcting itself. I certainly don’t owe anything to this family except impending cremation duties to my MOTHER when she croaks. Otherwise the well-being or deaths in my sisters’ families is of no concern to me just as much as my illness, hospitalization and death are news that will not reach their doorsteps.

            One of the best things I am learning these days is to burn the book of negative stored up scars. I have no one to love me nor do I love anyone; so hating someone corrodes my mind from that base zero. MINDFULNESS taught me this lesson: ACCEPT REALITY however dark it is and then work around it for some solace. There is a deep clarity nay a DISCERNMENT of these BIG BAD FOUR. I feel sad that as human beings they were ignorant of BASIC HUMAN VALUES and in their failure these LESSONS impinge on my mind deeply which is JUST CARING for another being. CARING such a beautiful yet most don't get it. At a cosmic level there is no male body or female body except that all BODIES are matter; similarly there is no MIND of a BIG BAD FOUR or saints. It is just MIND which is an arena for THOUGHTS that is a deliberate action and its resultant FEELINGS and EMOTIONS. My forgiveness is complete as I learn these lessons when others violate them with impunity and a devilish glee.

            Of course I am sad that Besant Nagar goes under the hammer. I can still salvage it but there is a weight of this sentimentality attached that this apartment gave me no happy memories. This is verily a paradise on earth but my life got stuck like those car wheels on desert sand and no traction on the ground. Besides money in SAVINGS grow faster than a PROPERTY VALUE and I should survive from here as I always have. Besant nagar brings a curtain to the BIG BAD FOUR as I find many things in my mind to love and live for: meditations, guitar, and quality friends.  Maybe it is time God wrote a better script for me, better still let me get my knees treated and go on a America trip that I have always lusted. Let me live and let me learn and let me forgive and let positive people come into my life is a prayer as this phase comes to a grinding halt in agonizing slowness. 

October Octopus

This is one of the blog posts I start on a blank mind. Usually I am driven to write for outlets of the mind to find a landing place but today I find the mind numb and dumb. But I plod to capture this state of mind too.

            Usually the winter months find me grumpy with life as they accentuate my loneliness. This is the best part of the year with the city taking a break from surfeit of the sun and these four months the scales are perfect; the migratory birds find the city a haven from the harsh winters in Europe.  The Nov-Dec music season washes the city with mellifluous music as the North East monsoons empties out a few storms and depression usually landing on Machilipatnam coast for some oddity.

            As I near my 50, I realize the whole weight of loneliness. Even if I had a loving brother or sister or even a nephew or a niece, this weight of my shoulders would have mitigated a lot. But then I am orphan and going into a fifties feels as though reaching a dead-end street. I am a recluse like no other; I don’t involve or even go near crowds as in family weddings or cremations. Those occasions and festivities psyche me out, I come home and mentally conked out for a couple of days before I get my breath back. It’s a poor life that has no one to care and embrace for. But god is great. If there is one person I am totally indebted to in the last three years it is TH Iyer mama. He is 86 and we either meet each day at the Beach or he calls me for the news of the day. He is extremely well placed in life; his children are all over the globe and on matters of money and people, he is extremely well-off in contrast to my penury. Today I asked him the reason for his affections and he says, “At times I am guided by Lord Krishna who goads me into keeping an eye on you.” He feels my plight (not many do, infact I can’t think of anyone who puts himself or herself under my skin) and affirms for a hearty encouragement, “Sathya, you are going through a passing phase. You have struggled for survival so hard that one day you will blaze the skies with your intellect. Fame and money are just round the corner. You have everything now, it’s just a matter of someone discovering your skills.”

            That someone discovering me or giving me a PLATFORM is what I have been hunting for decades. I am mighty glad of my stint on earth. Born of lousy parents whose only gift to me was scars and messed up psyche; I also realized even in my teens that I am not a regular 9 to 5 Joe. At times I get caught in the peak hour traffic and that affects me to the roots. I can’t for the life of me understand that is the daily diet of a common man regular on the streets. The traffic snarls are a mile away; trudging 3 kms can at times take an hour. Our generations don’t give credit to ourselves for we are saints on the wheels. Life is worse than a dog’s yet people keep at it for decades to feed a family and have a pretense of a lifestyle. Not for me. I am much too brainy for this rat existence; urban life is worse than a gutter rat race. When my father died, I resolved that I will die with head held high and no corporate slavery. I will discover my god given gifts and I have: over 30 short stories, over 1000 blog posts and these will certainly outlive me. Then there is my love for music which is more than my penchant for words. By God, I have lived and I am lived much on my own terms. I never kissed anyone’s ass and I have come this far for which I am mighty grateful and glad.

            I also found my mind FORGIVING my siblings. They did their best, they never wanted to associate even a shred with this family and who’s me to find fault. They see this family worse than a rotten apple and so give it a wide berth. I am now more philosophical. Let them go their own way, let me not ridicule and find fault. There is no homecoming here; our relations are buried in the sands of time. I have hardened my heart and attitude and there is no rewind button in my mind.

            I heard Radha sold her M91/4 for 1.25 crores and mine should fetch that price. In today’s mood I will take the money and shift out of Besant nagar for good. Three decades of living here and I have experienced it to the full. Time to put my tent in another locality and hopefully for a better menu; frankly I don’t see myself touching a 70 or 80.  At my today’s state of mind, I will do myself in before my 60^th birthday. A human needs some calories of affection and without it life is a marathon no one can run forever. God and providence and destiny be damned, I will write my own sentence and time my own death. I have earned that right; orphans always have that say.

            A soft skills company has signed me on and so finally I might see a 40 or 50 k earnings in a month. I am looking forward to this; maybe this will be one adhesive force for me to cling on to. I will strive to be a good trainer and I should find myself in this domain.

            It’s cold outside, raining throughout the days and the sun hiding beneath the clouds for a muggy light. That more or less describes my life. I am talented and almost genius on any calibration but life has not given me its dues but then it never owes anyone any favour. My life has not even reached a level shore and I guess it never will but mine is a tale of raw courage and honesty. I have soldiered for decades and warriors know when to write the climax for their stories. But if there is a tailwind, I will be grateful. And if I ever were to find love, I will be saved. But there is no faith or hope for Gods forsook me even at birth. I am much like Gandhari cursing Krishna, “ I spent my whole life worshiping you yet you did not spare even one of my hundred sons. For that cruelty, I curse you to infamy and a cruel death.” Sathya in 2018 is not much dissimilar to this steely lady. We march on; one more year without festivals and this is the 29^th year. Even bulls would have croaked down but not me. I am still sturdy.

Festival season blues

It's been a very tough 2018.

            For once I did not eat and sleep and Facebook for a life. I tried SOFT SKILLS and found no takers, I even got bold into sinking my last rupee being a FOOD CATERER, also met a venture capitalist for PUBLISHING a neighbourhood weekly. None of them took off the ground; the plane ran out of fuel on the runaway. Then came the DUBAI fiasco immediately followed by DELHI comedy (I am glad that I spent a week in Delhi to realize that my health is so gone down the drain that I cannot work anywhere but Chennai and the GULF).

            TH Iyer mama is in Bangalore for a month and I stopped walking. Earlier I used to be a regular at Eliot’s Beach for a bit of his company. There are many “nodding friends or even good morning” ones but I don’t want to aggravate my tendons already crying for attention. Yesterday was Ganesh Chaturthi and I spent the whole day cursing my siblings.

            Miraculously I fell into a slumber in the afternoon (there is no miracle sleeping in the afternoon but the movie that ran in the head was certainly one hell of a miracle) and the mind played this movie so graphic and vivid that I finally get it. I ask myself so often, “Why is my life is so often grounded for years? “ I use the word “flotsam” to describe it which is a piece of junk that is tossed about from the shore and sea repeatedly; the fuckin thing never settles either on water or land.

            In my nightmare my sister promises me to take me to some vacation. Then she sneaks away leaving me to my mother. We are having a huge war of words that has descended to blows. I see a wet vestti that was being washed; the second sibling turning in unexpectedly. Then after an hour I still see the cloth at the taps; I get infuriated beyond reason and turn into a devil. Suddenly I turn on my mother like a hound and we are tearing each other apart. I wake up and then I am shocked at the vehemence of the hate. Then I finally get it: Why is my life stranded and going nowhere? I had a mother who single-handedly drove me to the sand. If she had her way, I would have either gone to an asylum or a grave. She certainly wished my death repeatedly; my mother is more than capable of murdering me for she thinks I am the villain of her life. In truth, she did everything to SINGE the mind of a two year old ME.

            I reflect on my school years. I am a Science graduate and never understood even the IIT JEE question paper. Only now I can crack those pulley problems finally getting the vector concept. Meaning, even my studies were severely affected. If I had a normal parent, I am sure I could have been a physicist or something like that at IIT. It was HATE that drove me into shaping as a wordsmith; it was as though nature was determined to make an ass of me. No child on earth deserves such a mother; it would have been kindness had she wriggled my neck and cremated me as a child than put me through the gas chambers of hate and regular supplies of “ayyos”.

            It was this blueprint nature gave me in life. From there the rest of tale makes sense. Both my siblings were also affected by poor parents. Viji had a normal childhood for she was raised more by a normal grandmother; Latha suffered a lot but she found her saviour in marriage while I never found anchor. The Sindhi came and went; she was one person who gave me peace and love for a while and to my horror it was short-lived and phoney.

            I am a man who has walked on oceans to reach where I am today. Anyone in my shoes would have probably become a criminal or drowned in the sea in a long time. Even I don’t give myself better odds. I will blast myself probably or most certainly in the next five years. It’s an innings I am intensely proud off. Frankly I have not seen any hero outside of myself in real life or in novels. My mother was so sick that it’s a wonder and a miracle that I am so sane today.

            I am a saint in temperament. I don’t mind being mocked or taunted. I am so used to failures that I am genuinely surprised when anything nice happens to me which is rare by the way.  There were moments when I jumped with joy – like getting my first creative writing job and that too in Times of India in 2007, to being invited to Delhi last month for a job hunting by a IMT alumnus.

            My days are done. I hold my head high but I am past the expiry date much like a drug on the store. There is no tailwind anywhere near the horizon. There is no last minute twist in the tale. There is no woman waiting to fall in embrace and kisses. There is no hidden treasure in terms of a career straightening itself. I was gone long back, now I realize.

            We don’t reach a premise on rational basis; I got this perspicuity on that slumber. You don’t see your life situation as in a Xray through deduction; you feel in your bones and the last atom of your tissues that's were we live and die each moment intuitively as I saw in those images . One raging, mad woman fell me, hacked me, and uprooted me. On the other hand, she was verily the cause for my growth and maturity but on balance I am finally done. Each year I die a thousand deaths between SEPTEMBER and NOVEMBER when the Hindu calendar ticks off a Ganesh Chaturthi, Dusherra and Diwali and it is a very very poor life on earth not to have celebrated one festive moment in 3 decades; now tell me was a Rambo or Rocky that strong???  I feel nothing but a stream of love and compassion for this child that was forsaken; now verily the last act remains to be played out. 
Post Script: Blasting your head is always there but I must have some strategy to add people and events in my very EMPTY life. There is a "negativity bias" of the mind (with a specific definition in Mindfulness literature) and so I must go on daily walks, attend Swamiji's  weekend lectures even if I have passed that stage of development, exercise before going to bed (these nightmares are real). I am sick and tired of M-90 and more than ever wish to DISPOSE it and go to a new place. I am too COMFORTABLE with my loneliness here; change of scene can only be to the better. Get some gardening it; add new strings to the guitar; or even good old Rudram or Gita chanting there are so many ways for the mind to uplift itself. Try and try, death is always there but for the moment let me still hang on. 

August Augury

This was some action month. 

I spent a week in Delhi which is a major miracle and a lot of IMT camaraderie. It’s been an interesting month but for starters let me get the negative thing off my back.

Defamation: On 10^th August I get a crank call from a mad man in Ahmedabad saying, “You are a pervert and you have gone back to your defamation ways. I will put you in jail for this.” I shouted him down, “Yes, I am a pervert in words while your client was a pervert in behaviour.”

            Now this is old story, I have not an ounce of emotion in that garbage quagmire. My life essentially has been a victim of four women and in my blogs of over 1000 posts this strand appears now and then. On pUsHpa I genuinely thought she had changed her surname and in my posts it was only the maiden name. I did post a google talk which I am not entirely certain whether it is libelous in character or not. But someone’s photographs or mails are not exactly one’s private property; of course I am sure these can be put up on a blog medium. I have no time or energy to check that out with an expert lawyer’s view; but once I do then I will do everything under the law to write my posts as I deem fit. If anyone has a case for defamation, please bring it on.

            Since my focus these days is jobs and earnings, I removed couple of blog posts on the advice of one of my UNICEF friends. Mr. X (let the name be anonymous) is one of the UNICEF heads in the South and a very good friend and he advised, “Remove this lot for it does no one any good. But if there is a case filed against you, I will help you with lawyers or talk to her bosses in Gujarat.” One good thing that came of this unsavoury was I looked at her profile and she looks my aunty for a great insight: women age rapidly while nature goes easier on men. That’s why in the older days WIVES were a good 10 years younger. pw is a piece of shit and no amount of French perfumes can douse the foul odour.

This did leave a bad taste in the mouth for a couple of days before the strains of living got my attention elsewhere. But rest assured this female has it coming once I set my house in order and once I get a lawyer clearance.

Ex-PW club: I posted this story in writersathya and the very next day an assistant director of Bahubali wrote to me saying, “I would like to meet you in Pondicherry.” This time I took his mobile number, spoke to him before taking a trip on 12/8. Some lesson I learnt from the Dubai fraud. As fortune would have it, again let me call him Mr. Y, smsed saying, “My financier’s father just passed away and we are rushing for condolence. So kindly postpone your trip. But let me assure that I am still interested in the story.”  I got this message midway through my bus journey; I continued for a day out at Pondi for a break from solitude and meditated in the Mother’s Ashram.  And I came back home refreshed and exhausted.

            Yesterday I spoke to a Bollywood producer who happened to be my 1992 batch mate. She said, “Not my scene but I will see if I can put you on to those in this genre.”

IMT cares: After a dozen of my alumni read these posts and one 1992 classmate who wishes anonymity called on 31/7 saying, “Sathya, I have a spare apartment in Delhi and you can use it for as long as six months. Chennai is a graveyard market, come to Delhi and explore this market.” Such an appeal was hard to ignore considering this friend has done spectacularly well on the career front since our passing out in 1992.

            I booked a ticket in Air Vistara on 15/8 and it is the first time I am flying after the Abu Dhabi fiasco in 2014.  My friend was extremely hospitable who trusted me with the keys to a swanky apartment that comes with a swimming pool. This is affluence on a scale where a Aamir Khan or Salman Khan would reside.

            I was there for a week and realized one thing: there is no fun staying on another’s hospitality however large-hearted and sincere well-wishers. I also stumped on this insight: There are no jobs @ 49. No company in the face of earth would hire for my resume. I can only get a job based on my talent which must be experienced in freelance assignments.  Once this thing penetrated the skull, I booked my return journey much to my host’s surprise.

            I met the Kalyani family at Lajpatnagar and made friends with Manisha and both her brothers. Prashant’s daughter who was 6 months old during my last visit in 2008 is now old enough and smart enough to read my blog posts.  I found that girl super smart. They gave me a wonderful dinner and Santosh dropped me at the railway station for the third time in as many visits – in 2006, he dropped me at the station, 2008 at the airport when we were stuck in a traffic jam and I just made it when the counter was closing and now in 2018. I value my relation with this family. I loved my travel on Delhi metro and was zapped by the yellow line, magneta line and blue line and all that. Truly an international city in terms of infrastructure; I also found them friendly. Maybe it was my pronounced limp or grey hairs, Delhities offered me a seat even in crowded trains much to my discomfiture. But I loved the respect at least my age was fetching me.

            On the last day, 22^nd Aug, Lalit of IMT 1992 batch called me from Indonesia, “Sathya, one week is too short a stay. Try for couple of more weeks before you return to base.” Then Neetu, another alumnus called, “Hey, Sathya so nice catching up after 25 years. How about staying for Kochie’s 50^th birthday celebrations when the whole batch will congregate and it will be nice to catch up.” I spoke to Anurag at Mumbai and he promised to help me in his firm. I always find an intrinsic decency and nobility interacting with Anurag and Darbari. Shabd wrote from Los Angeles, “Sathya, don’t lose heart for God does not forsake anyone. Having faith and trust makes the journey easier,” for a message I am not going to forget in a while.

            Lakhina hosted a lunch at the Galleria and he was friendly and concerned and what I can say about Smita who heard all my life tales with sympathy: abusive parents, apathetic siblings, whore for a date and how my life has been laid low from factors beyond my control. I said, “All I heard from this pussy was her daily menopause and hormonal changes for a year.” She said, “That woman got it wrong for no woman can hope to find a more romantic and committed man like you. I clearly see her mistake of committing in early and then backtracking. But Sathya, don’t worry. Your best days are just round the corner.”

            Seeing such warmth from friends who have I not seen or interacted since 1992 felt overwhelming. Certainly North India cares and I loved Delhi for such generosity and friendliness. I gifted DARLING INDIA to Lakhina and Smita; I also read that on the train in decades and I loved it. I normally don’t read what I write but once in a blue moon they really fill the heart with abundance.

            I am more or less firm on selling the apartment unless JustDial or NIIT were to click. I am a bit sceptical here. Mani Sir advised me from Doha, “Sathya, you have a big terrace at Besant Nagar and why not do roof top gardening. It will fill up time most admirably and you also stand to generate a good income. I know of a person in Coimbatore and I will put you on him when I am back to Chennai.”

            August was that kind of a month. I got a lot of affection from Iyer mama and Shyam in Bangalore and so many people. I live a life of a recluse hermit but I love these human connections. I also learnt that I am blessed with a lot of caring friends who will haul me up even as I drown in the abyss of an ocean floor. They are lots of good people in the world was the realization for a hard-boiled cynic in me. This was verily a good month for some life-long memories and worth cherishing.