2019 comes to an end

#157

On the surface this was a bumper year. A 50 years old man couldn’t have asked more than an earning skills and some real estate purchases that dropped out of the skies – out of the blue. So I must be happy and ecstatic; not exactly true.

            Just an hour back, Thangam had a last day at work. I felt sad and somber. I gifted her a brass lamp for ten years of loyal and efficient service. She promised to visit me at the new house when there is a formal puja ceremony. I have observed Thangam for ten years and she is a woman of character, who knows how to build a family from straws. She raised three daughters with a drunken non-productive husband; all three are graduates and married to families couple of steps higher on the economic ladder. Any time I think of a Meera or a Thangam in my mind, it is with respect and honour. 

            2019 had lots of Mumbai trips, couple of Vipassana retreats, and I engaged my time on learning and mastering to an extent on stock trading. Today I have a skill which will never see me hit the roads. More than just money – which is a great skill for those starving in India – I am obsessed by the game of numbers and probabilities.  

            At my mind level, I see all too clearly that I am in the finishing line of life. I have run a hard race and I could do with somnolence. I have fared as very few given such a lousy start – my parents inflicted such childhood traumas that I have taken a whole of my adulthood on a repair job. Now there is no one to blame; blaming others for your failures does indeed have an expiry date. As for me, the lessons forward are crystal clear – practice more of self-compassion, more energetic and get outdoors for I am as recluse as a cattle in a dairy farm or a chicken waiting for slaughter in a coop. I still store enough strength of mind to make something out of my life yet, but like the unpredictability of a Tata Steel or Yes Bank I am as much clueless as to what bread my life would bake. I am world class in four domains: writing, soft skills training, mindfulness and stock trading would be the latest addition. Even with such formidable skills you need a tailwind for any bakery of life in an oven. At 50 I know this with a certainty; not a blade of grass moves to the wind without divine grace. And grace is not something you beg or plead; it flows or it doesn’t and your job is to keep pegging. The universe is under no great compulsions to fabricate a purpose for your life; your destiny is revealed to you at its pace. Your job is gob up and keep doing what’s on the menu which calls for patience and more whips on the donkey’s back. So humility is a given; uncertainty a fact and ambitions as futile as those crushed cigarette buds after a smoke.

            In 2020 there will be less of dauntlesssathya blog posts – I find it nauseatingly self-centered. I hope to write on new interests and experiences in thinksathya but in 2020 there will be a conscious effort to be less self-centered in my blog writings. 2020 begins in a new apartment in Palavakkam, and a 3 days Vipassana course in Dindigul. I am ever the trier!!! And I sign off with heaviness in my heart: this is my last blog post from Besant Nagar which has been my home for three decades.  I am happy to go, it did serve me well though. 

M91/6 was very lucky

#155

The apartment I currently reside is bang opposite the famed RBI staff quarters. Besant Nagar was as suburban in 1960s than a Thoraipakkam or Siruseri today before RBI opened a residential quarter for their officers in the late 1960s. Besant nagar was famous for three things at the dawn of 1970 – RBI staff quarters, Astalaxmi temple and the cremation ground. Then in the 80s-90s this part of city became SUPER PREMIUM for its proximity to the Beach and later in the 2000s with the advent of Tidel Park and IT parks on ECR and OMR. Today Besant Nagar is perhaps the hottest place for a youngster, he/she finds the beach an ideal dating place with every kind of fast foods and eatery in the vicinity, the New Year celebrations in Besant Nagar is on a global scale (meaning every Chennaiite anywhere on the planet will talk of Besant Nagar New Year celebrations). In these 4-5 decades this part of the city has grown astronomically – one of my friends bought two and half grounds in Palavakkam for 30-40 k whose market value is over 9 crores today.

            Anyway I got distracted singing the glory of Besant Nagar but for a justifiable reason. I am finally moving out after spending the last 3 decades of my life here. Strangely I am happy moving out, there is too much vehicular traffic here, too much people movement and my heart aches for a bit of solace and quietness and a lot more trees which my new residence accommodates. As for me, my photographic memories of Besant nagar is walks on Theosophical Society lawns (I was a regular for years) and Swami Paramarthananda’s spiritual talks.

            Now let me get focused on what I had in mind when I started this blog post: my current apartment has been very fortunate, in the 12 months I spent here I have grown as a person and importantly on the wealth front. For the first time in my life I have a money making skill; Gods be infinitely thanked for this. I also had a lot of travels in 2019 and I will put down this apartment M91/6 in 2019 as the best of my three decades stay in Besant nagar.

             The registration for GREEN PARK is getting pushed by the week. If I get a HDFC housing loan, the papers will be signed tomorrow. If I don’t make it to the loan – strangely banks lend on the basis of salaries of employees or IT returns of businesses when more people are getting fired and more businesses turning red. I have a skill which is only now showing good returns but “banks play by the safety of numbers” than make an allowance of skills- then I borrow 5 lacs for a personal loan and finish this matter. I most certainly will shift to GREEN PARK in Palavakkam before Christmas or on 31/12 as the last of my Fixed Deposit matures on 28/12. So that’s how things stand today. I am comfortable with both though a housing loan would make my life infinitely easier.

            I narrate this personal tale just to make this point. Raghu who I befriended just a little over two months said of his own volition without any nudging, “Sathya, if you fall short of 4-5 lacs, I will be happy to loan it to you.” I was talking about GREEN PARK housing finance as I briefed him on the  HDFC housing loan before he made this voluntary offer. No one in my life has placed such trust on me. I will never risk such a confidence, I will go for the Personal loan but Raghu’s words cooled my hearts like never before. Here was a person who is extraordinarily good in today’s rat race world of selfishness and it is that act that I wished to record for a blog post.

            I visited my mother this Sunday and she looks on the edge. Her face is shrunk from no teeth at all. I was there only for 30 min fearing that my sister would make an appearance any moment and my mood was revolting against that encounter. So I sneaked in like a thief and sneaked out. Next day I spoke to my sister in ages saying, “I am buying an apartment and would you come if I invite you for a puja in the middle of January?” This is no noble gesture from my end except a little warmth with a sister which will not make me feel like a sneaking thief in my next month’s visit to Adambakkam.
            I feel sorry that Thangam's tenure as a cook comes to an end with this shift to Palavakkam. She is a classy person though she was plagued with bad health this year. I gave her a 25 k bonus for 10 years of faithful service, also an assurance, "Please contact me anytime if there is a financial emergency. I will be more than happy to lend." Thangam speaks little; there's a lot for me to learn in terms of daily discipline, commitment to family and she carries more grace than I can ever muster in any social setting. She was good, even great and it will be sad missing her company. Now I pray for a new cook with some proportion of these qualities; it's vitally important that a person with a good heart cooks your daily food. 

            As the year comes to an end, I spent over Rs. 3,000 on books – I got one on Alexander the Great and another on Hannibal. I also ordered some stock trading books. This is one domain I have thirst for learning, I don't wish to squander this state of mind by distracting myself elsewhere. I have a wish in 2020 – buy one BBC documentary or a National Geographic Special each month I gross 4 lacs in monthly earnings. These DVDs don’t cost much except a delivery service from a UK or USA but I would treasure them with my life. I also have a couple of material goals for 2020 – finalize the Kumbakonam villa deal, then have a two wheeler for transportation to gyms and nearby restaurants (in Besant Nagar everything was walking distance) and finally afford a car. Car is a luxury I can live without but I would like to have that experience before I can cast it aside. The purpose of this post was 2019 was an extraordinarily good year for me, M91/6 was inordinately fortunate for at long last I got something out of the marketplace for an earning.

Life’s trivialities – 3 insights

#154

I checked the meaning and it says “of little value or importance” but nothing gives more insights on life than normal mundane living.

            First tale: Thangam, my cook, was scrupulously duty conscious in the first 9 years of service. The last 12 months has been a horror.  She entered my services in January 2010 when life was throwing all kinds of bouncers at me. I was unemployed the whole of 2010, I was boiling inside after a woman dumped me in October of 2009, I still had fantasies of publishing fame. Thangam is a taciturn character to the friendly Meera, the earlier cook. We took more than a year to speak more than two sentences. In the initial years I was content that my food problems were fixed. Thangam is quiet German efficiency.

            I am very liberal as an employer - I give 4-5 days a leave a month without question. I also give my cooks the use of the ration card from which they get 4 kgs of sugar, cooking oil and other pulses at subsidized rates. Thangam is now 60 and fast ageing. For one who was never late by more than 15 minutes in the first 9 years of service the last 12 months have been a horror show. She takes more leaves than I can digest, irregular timings that rattles my cage. If you are supposed to come by 9 am, 30 minutes late is acceptable but not 11:00. This happened 3-4 times this month. Her reason is using this prime cooking time for her physiotherapy sessions for a sprain in the arms. This sloppiness makes me feel like reducing her bonus from 50 k to 20 k,  a gratuitous gesture,  as I shift to a new residence when dispensing with her service. What pains me that she just does not care or give an ear to my censures. I tell her gently, “You have worked for 10 years here and you have earned the right to take as many leaves as you wish. But please don’t promise to come at 8:30 am and call me at 10:00 saying you’ll be an hour late.  Please remember that there is a person waiting for breakfast and any delay after 10:00 is rats in my stomach.”  She just doesn’t get this simple message soaked in thick layers of SELF-CENTEREDNESS (Thangam has a rich selfish vein of selfishness). If I am having a cardiac arrest and were to call Thangam for help, sure she will respond but not if she is attending a physiotherapy session. There is an insight that Thangam taught me unwittingly: How much ever you are absorbed in your work or physiotherapy sessions, please spare a thought to the other person. Don’t be so selfish and self-centered as to earn the wrath of a very hungry man. 

            Second Insight: One of my pet scratching emotional wound is "try to hurt my siblings" with couple of stinker mails annually. My grouse against both my sisters is they have not included me in festivities for 3 decades knowing full well that I am a loner and zilch family support. I tried hammering in their heads that they owe me a certain hospitality but a drilling machine to make holes on a concrete slab would have been easier than putting any noble thoughts on their heads. I also realized that I get no support from them when I am sick (both my sisters never visit me in decades, so absorbed they are in their pre-occupations with their husbands and sons and daughter-in-laws and grandsons that a poor brother can’t fetch even a fleeting glance of concern).

Normally I write a stinker mail to them around Diwali for a yearly ritual and include in the "cc" their kids and their samadhis as my outrage and shaming them to people they hold near and dear. Yesterday I was tempted to write "both of you have such stone hearts that it will do you good to work in a crematorium. Your task would be collect the bones and ashes after the bodies are cindered to ashes. A few days work and you will realize the wealth and flesh are ephemeral." I kept debating in my mind before this thought stopped me in the tracks: In this world there is so much misery and sorrow, let no one - however much I am provoked - suffer on account of my words or actions. It's a nice thought to remember, so I repeat: I will not do a thing to wipe out sorrow in others caused by million myriad factors but I will not be the cause of someone's sorrows.

            Third tale: When I started the TOI job in February, 2007 I was asked by the HR department to open a salary account at HDFC bank which I promptly did. Though I have a savings account at SBI, HDFC has been my main operative account since then. When I sold an apartment last December and those people saw 1 crore in my account, the VP (investment) invited himself to my residence. We had elaborate exchanges on my risk appetite and expected rates of interest. Those blokes drew up an investment plan that to my rank amateur eyes looked hollow and out to suck me. For instance, they were giving me a 7% interest on Fixed Deposits when the outside market gives 8%. So I told the man in suits, “Thanks for the trouble. I will manage my funds myself.” My thinking was simple: It is better that I risk losing my monies out of my own steam than get someone who will tell me after a year and in the meanwhile enjoy fat salaries and foreign vacations signing up dumb goats like me.

            Last month I sought an appointment with their relationship manager asking for an overdraft facility or a home loan. They simply refused despite me having 10-15 lacs parked in my savings accounts at any given point in time.  I wrote to HDFC Bank CEO on the level of pathetic service and the branch manager called me saying, “Can I come and meet you at your residence?” The lady did not as much take any initiative to meet me in 12 years of banking that a simple complaint mail to the CEO got her jumping out her seat.

            In the meanwhile my builder Mr. Mugudavel, an enterprising man, urged me for a home loan to consummate the transaction as quickly as possible. He banks with HDFC, Kottivakkam branch while I bank at Besant Nagar. He requested those people to contact me. Those chaps visited me, saw all my documents and are now willing to give me a home loan which makes my life incredibly easy. The insight here is simple: Those who have known me for a decade just don’t care while a stranger sees merit in my case. The Kottivakkam team is speed-rushing my application and for once I thank them of their competence and decision making process.

Busy as a bee

#153

These are fast-paced crazy times. Too many things happening and I am just waiting for this week to lapse to get my breath back.

            Buying an apartment is as tough as getting a daughter married is an age-old Tamil proverb that I am now facing the full brunt of it. I have just the money for the purchase but some of it is locked up in Fixed Deposits (one is maturing this month-end and I hate to lose out on the interest part especially when it on the last month of the finishing line). A friend once insisted that I handle 75 lacs of his money after realizing that I am going at A+ levels in the stock market. A month back I was cavalier and dismissive for it is “infinitely better to win or lose one’s money than play with the trust of a client. But now on the last stretch of an apartment buy I reverted back to him, “I can’t handle 75 lacs but I can promise you 20% return for 25 lacs which is a mental pressure I can handle without changing my trading style.” If he agrees, I get the apartment without any overdraft or loan otherwise I empty out my pockets for the GREEN PARK apartment at Palkalai nagar. This week should answer that question: whether I go for an overdraft or being an investment specialist for a neighbor.

            I don’t really fare well under any kind of pressure. I am like an African native who does not mind waiting for a bus in a bus stop for two days. I want time to pause, reflect, masticate. It’s not in my grain of genes for a thoughtless, heedless rush of time where I am simultaneously doing two dozen things in a moment and tick-off items of a checklist kind of living.  It’s fun for a month or so beyond that I can’t take that load of baggage.

            Tirupati trip was a miracle thanks to Thirumalai the driver. I also learnt that I talk too much in a coach kind of setting. We were 10 of us and I was sizing them up to the extent of doing a blog post on each one of them. But yeah there is too much noise I bring to the atmosphere and there’s no excuse. But my only weak defense is I rarely venture out of my apartment and so make the best of a talking opportunity. But when I do an overdose of it, I end up educating others. I see myself as a sage and philosopher by accident, my life is so far removed from the usual humdrum. I also feel so much superior in the midst of people when I see moans and groans of “I did not get the promotion I deserved” or “I cannot afford French perfume or the latest winter collection” or “I am having a tough time deciding on the curtain’s colours” kind of lifestyle living when I am very comfortable living without power supply for hours of a hot humid Chennai skies or warding off mosquitoes that has drawn first blood on my skin. Life the eternal courtesan, I find it attractive and drawn to it like iron filings to a magnet. Life as it falls on me and others. Everyone I meet is a puzzle my mind wants to crack (I have this ingrained Holmes streak since childhood!!!), each one of us have whales of stories to tell. There is no such thing as normal which is what you will find in a TVC where a happy couple is selling insurance with a playful boy and an aspiring girl all doing aerobics in the living room. Life for most part is tough, not at all easy in our times.

            Then I had a three days Vipassana which one would have thought was a breeze. We had the biggest rains of the season and “how I managed to reach Besant Nagar in one piece after being stranded for three hours on the road in the middle of nowhere” is enough material for a blog post by itself. Point is, each time I go out of my house, there is a story that descends on me.

            2019 has been a fabulous year – possibly my best. 1998 was a great year where I had a heart surgery that led me on a journey of wastrel idleness through weekend Vedanta talks and a king’s walk on the Theosophical Society lawns. These were the main courses in the day and I loved it without the pressuring of earnings or placating irate clients or fire-fighting or any stupid glory at the corporate.  Then 2007 everything seemed to fall in place; my first writing job and my first & last tryst at romance. But 2019 is special because this is the first time I was not short of money and I made the best use of it – four trips to Mumbai by flight, a holiday in Delhi, Vipassana courses in Igatpuri and Banglore and now these short trips to Kanchipuram and Tirupati. This year I had a lot of outdoors and they have definitely impacted my mind on how others cope with a witch called life.

            My mind is so full of trading that I am having little time for these blog posts. I wanted to write “Adventures in Trading” for sharing my experiences on Tata Steel and Bharti Airtel. I also have a pending blog post on “Vipassana @ Chennai” which I should fit in by this week. I record my thoughts on a mobile so that I don’t forget the raw data as it were of life memories and that’s when I realize the power of a written word. Nothing comes close to writing, not even a high quality audio recorder.

            2019 gave me a glimpse of life that I have chosen after trading. There will be more trips and even monthly 3 days Vipassana breaks in 2020 from the stress of the stock market. I am planning a weekly planner where I can jot down the daily BPL (Booked profits or loss) and total MTM (Market to market) gains on a day. Then have a schedule of 3-days retreats at BLORE, HYD and MAA (Chennai code is MAA in Airlines book) for a monthly Vipassana break and weekend travel in South India to compensate for the stresses of the week.

            I am thankful to Ganesh Shenoy for his boisterous cheer, Raghu, Gopalan, Iyer mama, Manisha, Yohanan give talking and listening pleasure. Yesterday I got home with a heart as excited as a formula-1 car driver after battling the rains and spoke to Ashish Bansal for a sounding board. He really is wise beyond his years; each time I speak to him I am richer with an insight. Said he, “Sathya, you seem to be living without any baggage of past while most us are limited by our experiences.” That, my friend, is due to the daily practice of mindfulness. In the end nothing counts as much as love and trust you confer on yourself. You are indeed the hero and villain of your life, don’t allow any frilly petticoats with shaved legs and western skirts baring thighs to disturb the peace that is inherently gifted to us by creation.

            As for me, I am just waiting to make the final payments for securing GREEN PARK and then shifting into it. The rest are mere details now. I have done very well in 2019 for this is the first time in my life I have a money making skill. Gods be finally blessed for liberating me of this plight for decades. 2020 should see me get a villa in Kumbakonam and maybe even my first car. But there is no woman in my mind for a determined resolve. Life is good as it is, there is too much risk losing my new found wealth and freedom. Finally there is also a growing insight that "Whatever I do, I am world-class" - be it creative writing, soft skills training that never got a platform, mindfulness literature and now stock market trading. Which is a comforting thought for a mind which is genetically rich in diffidence. Gods be blessed for making this year so packed with activity and purpose. 

No one cares!

#152

A more positive title would be “You are on your own” but I am in an outrageous mood with a rich hue of morbidity now.

            I last celebrated a Hindu festival in 1989 which makes it 31 years. Who is to be blamed for such apathy? My siblings of course are culprits number one. It’s sheer, broad as daylight abdication of their duties in this digital age of selfishness where people have time only for themselves, others may as well drown or hang from a noose, I care a damn. I tried to drill some sense to my eldest sister for decades, “Look, if I die in a road accident the cops will bring the unclaimed body to your house. Being a sister of a bachelor means you are my guardian even if it sounds distasteful.” My sister is blessed with an intellect of a buffalo chewing the cud in the shadows of a tree on a hot summer day. You can beat the buffalo, skin it alive or hack its neck in a slaughter house, but it cannot learn differential calculus no matter how good the instructor is. It is easier to move a mountain and carry it on your back than drive sense into a recalcitrant tambrahm woman. Or bang your head in the wall, either the wall will come down or your head mangled beyond any surgical correction but some women will never learn. So I continue to pay this cost: 31 years of no festival. I am no saint though as I curse with all the venom at this gross negligence on an Everest scale: may they experience a bit of my suffering.

            Then the neighbours should have included an orphan man into their festivities which is what Kalpagam did. They would gift me festival sweets for years and I was infinitely grateful to the extent of addressing her AKKA. Then a stupid clinic came, we had a massive disagreement and all bonhomie built over decades disappeared in a moment. The supply of festival goodies stopped, we even stopped wishing each other face-to-face for neighbor whose front door is opposite yours in the apartment. It is here Chennai fails, This city has not a considerate nerve for the underdogs, no city on earth is more selfish and self-centered.

            Then we come to friends in the Eliots beach. I might know 10-20 regulars for no more than a hi and bye. Again it does not strike anyone’s minds that here is a fellow who gets to be alone on festivals. I praise a lot of friends in my blogs, but none as much harboured a thought to include me in a Diwali or a Pongal. None thought of wishing me on the phones much less visit me with a sweet packets and smiles. This gesture even escaped the minds of venerable Sarada Mami or Ranga. In Chennai each one considers himself as an island, there is no common human thread or any connection. So I end moaning my lot on festival occasions.

            My nerves cannot stand the revelries of a Diwali where everyone is exuberantly happy; womenfolk visit the temples in new silk saris, children bursting crackers from dawn to dusk, families calling on each other and here I am with no one to bother. So I would pack off to a Vipassana retreat before money came in recently. Two years back I went to Pondicherry, last year it was Guruvayoor while this year I was so preoccupied with stock market trading to feel the full agony of loneliness on a Diwali day. Trust me, nothing feels more scorned and discarded than that on that day.

            It takes a noble heart to realize another’s sorrow. But we live in an age where even if you should shout from rooftops your angsts no one will bother. If Balakanth was ever aware that there is a human being on earth who has not seen a festival for 31 years, he would have flown to that place, hired cheer girls, ride on an elephant for the biggest celebration of lights and crackers. His heart was large. And if he knew a friend has not seen a festival in three decades, he would have died of shock.

Happy days are here again

#151

This post is going to be a ramble and so be forewarned.  I fill my days on stock market and I have reached a professional expertise level on Future & Options trading. I can safely say, “Let the stock market throw whatever at me, I will make money. The fear of losing my shirt and pants is long past gone.” Stock market is like driving a car on a highway, it is joyful cruise if you know how to ride. But if you are clumsy you stand a good chance of a hit and loss of life. So is highway driving safe or risky is a question that entirely depends on the skill of the driver.

            On 12/11 I had a wonderful trip to Kanchipuram for a thanksgiving at the Mahaperiyava Samadhi. I loved the suburban train travel which reinforced my belief that anytime I get a chance to travel on suburbs I will do so with a childlike delight. The best thing of suburbs is you can stretch your legs, take a walk, stand or sit which you can’t in a car or a bus. Then there is life unfolding around you – people get in and get out and I get to observe a whale lot of people in a short span of time which has an incredible impact on me. These are true sons of the soil affording me a chance to get the pulse of the people and character of the city. I feel an average Indian is entrepreneurial (I see so many selling chikis or headphones or fruits), I see a lot of valour and courage there, of course there are morons too. But this is life unfolding and I think a suburban train travel makes for the best observatory. Trust me!

            13/11 was Appa’s 31^st ceremony and as usual none of the womenfolk in the family came and it’s good as well. My father used to work 12 hours working days for 40 years without a break and it’s those efforts that bankrolls my wastrel and idle existence today. I had given a “remembrance advertisement” of my father in the 10/11 issue of Adyar times, a neighborhood weekly tabloid and behold an elderly gentleman spoke to me from Boston late in the night, “I chanced on the online version of Adyar Times here in America. The face looked familiar and I distinctly remember your father. I was his colleague during 1967-1972 years at General Electric which became Nelco later on.  Just as you have described, he was very hardworking, soft-spoken, and considerate to others. I am coming to Chennai next month. I want to meet you and your mother." This gave me a lump in the throat. Imagine someone remembering my father after 1972. He was such a giant of a man. That conversation took my own mind to this enduring image of my father distributing fruits to everyone around him – be it cut apple pieces or pomegranate seeds or even bananas after the skin was peeled. He was one of those who would crack the shells of peanuts and give it others or make huge balls of “parupudi sadam” and offer it to us. His was a large heart, kind to others without any fanfare, he educated all his younger brothers and got them their first jobs, he did not marry till he was 31 until both his sisters were married off, he would give his entire salary to his mother for running the home, and best of all he did not chest thump his generosity. He had kindness and royalty in his veins which I have inherited to a large measure. Let any beggar accost me and I empty out all the coins in my wallet. If anyone says I am hungry, they stand a good chance to get a tenner from me. But my father was kinder, softer, and never hurt people while I am a bit of rough and tough who loves to put people in their place once they start to misbehave. I make obscene amounts of money in trading, I am one of the best thinkers around,  certainly a world-class writer on any scale of estimation, one of the best exponents of mindfulness, I am blessed with cooks of character for the kitchen, I have no one to nag me, but nothing gives me joy as this: I am my father’s son and that’s enough for me. If an ex-colleague connects with a son of a death man of 31 years reminiscing his friendship in 1967-72 times, then can there be greater honour to life? My father brought grace and dignity, these qualities come naturally to me just as giving. Truly it is not the wealth that a parent should leave to his wards, it’s this kind of respect and affection, and these values that are soaked in the genes. If there is one lesson my father’s life teaches me today it is KINDNESS in words and GIVING in action; a good ideal for me to be inspired for the rest of my life.

            As you can see this incident shook to my roots and forcing me to reflect on my own evolution as a person. Vinod was my role-model in the sense that “If I could become someone like him, nothing would make me happier kinds”. Now I might be at Vinod’s level of 1989 – he had an overweening belief in himself, he spoke his mind without mincing words which meant he could be scathing at times. This would perhaps describe me today. My another hero was Balakanth; he was blessed with singing and he was one person who lived moment by moment. It’s true that in your passing years you unconsciously grow into the mould of your heroes.  My other inspirations are always Jeremy Brett playing Sherlock Holmes in that fabulous Grenada series version and Alexander the Great. I revere Gautama Buddha to a cult degree, every atom of my body and mind feels a deep gratitude to him for the gift of Mindfulness and Vipassana. But if you ask me for a role model, it’s Alexander the Great.

            Gopalan and Raghu are my newest friends and they give me a lot of comfort. Raghu said, “I will help you in shifting.” He is so kind and helpful that I asked him for a reason. Like all great people he said, “I was in Aurangabad for thirty years and so many people have helped me beyond comprehension. In the first year I found the food so insipid that I wanted to run away from the place. But do you know what those at office and my residence said, “If food is your problem, we will make your kind of food and give it to you.” Gopalan is all ideas for me on raising money for the new property, “Check out whether a overdraft will cost you cheaper or a home improvement loan.” These are two people I would approach for assistance should I have a heart attack today.

            In two weeks I will be moving out of Besant nagar and I am not slipping into nostalgia or any regret or any pangs of separation. Palkalai nagar is just 4 kms south, it has a better and cleaner beach, more sun and wind, and I am going into an apartment that I fell in love with straightaway. I am calling this house GREEN PARK and my Kumbokonam villa ANANDA GOVINDA. I am one of the enduring characters of Besant nagar and it will miss me more than I would. I bring a lot of smiles to vendors, I often tell Muthu, the vegetable vendor, this for a standard fare, “Cut the drumstick like you are hacking a chicken or did you bring the snakes (for snake gourd)” for a smile. I also tell Oviya the therapist at SPARRC, "I came hoping you would on leave so that I can have an easy session." So our everyday chat is something like, “Oviya, tomorrow is Friday and praying at the church at 6:30 am will please lord to no end” or “Do you have any friend’s wedding to attend tomorrow?” Everyone enjoys this bit of humour. Much like my greeting Dr. Rajaram with, “What you know about ENT can be written on the back of a postage stamp.” Or the immortal banter with Prabhakar, “Your daughter is settled in America, your wife is professor and you are a General Manager, what do you do with so much money?” I say this each time I meet him, and believe me it brings the house down for everyone in the hearing zone. Life is good. If you respect and honour it, life does pay you back strong returns of love and peace as much as stock markets are making me money. 

Busy as hell

#150

If there is one word that never applies to me, it is BUSY. I am unemployed, recluse, and spend all my time before a computer or guitar or meditations. But now I am frightfully busy, swamped as it were, with enough on the plate and a fish to fry (btw all these are synonyms of BUSY that I just googled).

            I have taken to Future & Options trade like a duck to water.  In October, I had 8 trades (HUL, Axis Bank, Infy, IOC, SBI, HDFC Bank, Reliance, ACC) and I made decent money in 6 of them. I have an intuitive grasp of numbers; my mind can visualize “what happens to premiums when CMP goes up or side? What is the time value of trade? What is the best profit zone to exit?  This is one love affair I am grateful to the lord. This is the first time in my life I have a money making skill – writing blogs does not get me richer even by a dime, my communication workshop refused to kick start before I threw in the towel. My life is an example that Grace works even on a perpetual diffident soul like me. All it demands is honesty and courage; that’s all.

            I have signed up to a property in Palkalai Nagar, Palavakkam and that’s getting me running like a headless chicken on financing. I love this apartment and have named it GREEN PARK. I will be shifting in there by 30/11 for my first BUY of real estate.  I signed the agreement on 6/11 for one of the happiness days of my life. It was on 6/12/2018 when I signed away my father’s property and the recovery has come in 11 months. All thanks to stock market trading.

            I plan my trades at 9 am in the morning and watch stock movements on my desktop for 30 min. Then I check on my stock positions every hour on the mobile phone, there is an excellent moneycontrol app. But the mind is obsessed with possibilities – should I buy an option? Or should I hedge this position for the q2 results could go either way? There are so many things you could do with numbers. The stock market is GOD; my favouite stock market instructor Mr. Kapil Mokashi says that markets are smart at finding your inherent weakness. He advises us: To become a successful trader, you need a simple, rules-based approach and the discipline to stick to your approach and avoid temptation. Doesn't it sound so similar to life? Keywords: SIMPLE, RULE-BASED, DISCIPLINE, AVOID GREED.

            All these numbers keep floating in the mind for different permutations and combinations has ensured that my writing has come down by a factor of 90%. Infact, my mind conjures up possible themes but it’s burnt out. Like I wanted to write on "beauty of a woman" from the heroism of Meera and Thangam who raised wonderful families against bigger odds than my own sisters or anyone I know in the vicinity. But I never write when a mind is on a boil, there must be some freshness and an itch to write. I also want to do a blog post on “Besant Nagar” for I am vacating this heaven on earth after three decades of residing here. But I am not writing till my feverish mind gets somber which I think a small holiday would help. Stock trading is less than 2 hours a day work but it occupies the mind like a consuming love passion where you sit and dream of your lover in various coitus positions or removing the dress in a million different ways. Primarily it’s not the money that gets me this stranglehold obsession but a domain to test my hypothesis with a play of numbers. It also helps when your hypothesis come out right after 2-3 days and you are richer by a 20-30 k.

            Raghu and Gopalan are the friends of these times, T H Iyer mama is another constant factor of support. His son Mani was here from USA and he is one of the coolest chaps I have met. I asked him at the FOSWL meeting, “Do you travel in business or economy flying from America? He said, “You must be kidding me. If there is a class below economy I would have taken it like travelling in the baggage sections with cows and lambs.” This man is hugely successful and his blessed with suavity and incredible charm.

            These are the best days in a long, long time. I have to work feverishly for two months – Nov and Dec – to break-even on the new house. It’s a strong motivation as any. Then I plan a 4 days holiday to HYDERABAD as a gift to myself visiting my school and college, the market places and the homes and neighbours in the 70s and 80s. Hyderabad is my city, every road has a story for me. Those were the days of growing up and innocence makes for nostalgia than anything I know. Then there is a impending visit to Kancheepuram for thanksgiving to Mahaperiva, another trip to Tirupathi from a vow (I prayed last year: let me reside in M90/4 till the end of 2018 and it miraculously came true) and my father's 31st shraddam on 13/11. I have never been busy and now I am forever running around in the mind. It's a new territory for me, come 2020 and I should get back to my cozy lazy self. I am not made for excitements, I am more for laziness and writing. 

Festival season (2019)

#149

This is the best festival season month in 30 years without hyperbole and without a whit of doubt.

            First Gopalan hosted a Diwali lunch, it’s been ages literally decades since I had a meal in a home much as I am only saddled with restaurant meals. It was a noble gesture of him to invite, first time someone did in living memory. Ashish Bansal wished me from South Korea and Neetu spoke to me from Delhi were the other well-wishers. So did Manisha and Vivek. 

            The second highlight of the month was Online Options classes from 21/10 to 26/10. Kapil Mokashi is OTA’s best instructor was my conclusion after this online class. He is mighty committed and gave it his all in terms of vocal energy. It is not easy to speak 4-5 hours at a stretch when your students are spread all across the world. We were of 50 of us with only the chat text messages for our side of communication. I worked so hard squeezing every bit of neurons of my mind to understand Options after September classroom on my own steam that I was primed up for this RETAKE class. Now my understanding of Options trades must be at B+ levels which is very impressive under two months. Remember the stock market is not a History or English question paper where you can fill pages, it is a Maths paper where your answers are either correct or wrong and nothing in between. 
                SBI got me started on FO trades and it was nature’s blessing to watch this slow moving stock that afforded me a lot of room to experiment of various call and put options for a massive learning experience. I was working on Q2 results trades; made handsome monies on ACC, Reliance, Axis Bank, HDFC bank, HUL before Infy wiped everything away for an invaluable lesson: all your profits can be wiped out in one single trade, so managing your risks is imperative. 

            Stock Market trading is the best thing to happen to me in ages or since I was born in a hospital in Andhra Mahila Sabha in 1969. Such a claim may appear a ludicrous exaggeration but let me explain: this is an activity that does not require others, you trade as and when you like, and if you have skill you will make handsome profits. Now tell me which business or money making activity come with so many pluses especially for a world-class recluse? The best thing of the stock market is “it brings out your true colours” as I found myself GREEDY for rewards and I also discovered that I am an AGGRESSIVE trader where my gut plays a huge role. Kapil added a note of caution: you have to manage risks to earn consistently which for me will be a Veda Vakku (voice of God).

            After three weeks of FO trades in six stocks I wrote down my rules of trading:

-         a)  Never fish in troubled waters especially when a stock is rising like a rocket or falling precipitously. On the surface it looks easy money but it can wipe out an entire month’s efforts. Remember this golden rule always: the markets never give easy money, and if it does on rare occasions it will quickly take it away.

-          b) Be smart while covering profits especially when you fear that the stock will retrace quickly and you take a premature hasty exit. My simple strategy is: the profit now looks good but I am not finished. I will buy a PUT option to protect my position and wait for the stock to float before I do a “profit booking” a word every trader loves more than his wife’s kisses and hugs

-          c) Lastly don’t second guess what is going to unfold at the start of the day for no one in the universe can predict the movement of a stock except you can gauge its trend - up or down or sideways. Your job is to plan your trades, enter them without haste at the planned entry points and wait for it to play out without anxiety, Sure the market will behave with a mind of its own but your job is to manage risk. 
            The stock market is always right and it rewards DISCIPLINE and PROCESS. One can make 5 lacs a month on a trading budget of 10 lacs on Future & Options trade if you follow a few more operating SOPs: a) Never take trades in the first 30 min or last 30 min of the day when the market is most volatile. b) Never lose more than 10 k on a trade even if God were to tell you that the eleventh thousand the stock will turn in your favour. As a rule I don't trade on Pharma and IT stocks for these are news based (FDA of USA gives a rating and that stock will lose 10% in 10 min or even IT which is very susceptible to US-INR exchange rates which is beyond your control). It is hard earned money, unfortunately 95% of retailers come to market without knowledge and discipline and lose their life savings. 

                  Moving away from my pet obsession of trading, I was excited with Palavakkam property where the builder quoted 80 lacs and I was hell bent on owning it until Pandian saw the figures and said it was a white elephant. He said, “Sathya this property is not worth a penny more than 70 lacs for this man has charged you exorbitant construction costs. The value of the property changes as per location but construction costs are nearly always the same. It cannot exceed 3000 per sq feet and at that rate you should be asking for marble flooring and imported closets.” I told him, “You are a true friend and saved 10 lacs of a foolish man.” October saw me get introduced to Raghu, my ties with Gopalan has grown strong and my faith in Pandian reinforced – all god’s act of grace.

I will end this post with my cook Thangam’s precocious granddaughter tales. Ashmitha at 4 years old is one of the cutest kids I have seen in my life (forgive the hyperbole for I see very little of kids). She once accompanied Thangam and I had to humour her on the guitar. I gifted her some dolls to play. The next week she came all excited for more dolls but this time I was tight-fisted saying, “No, play with these dolls here and no taking it home.” The little girl said, “I don’t like your guitar or your dolls,” to show her displeasure. And when Thangam left she taught her child, “Say goodbye to uncle,” and Ashmitha said this to an unforgettable cuteness, “There is no need for goodbyes.” I find little girls much smarter than boys at that age, they dominate a conversation and take charge in their games but when a girl reaches puberty she loses all innocence and smartness and humour that a boy doesn’t. I tell Thangam, “Give this girl the best education. She has an amazing grasping mind and she is never at a loss of words. She has that actor Savitri's kind of anger at the nostrils that is more funny than toxic.” Really a blessed child, she looks set for an IIT or Harvard from these initial signs. 

The fragrance of Respect

#148

Trust me, nobody loves a friend or relative in our times; our digital minds in 2019 timelines have narrowed down to “ME, My Wife, and my Children.” And in my case: I, me, myself. But respect is a very important thing, I explore what it means to have earned respect or notoriety in this post.

            Dr. Kiruba is a dentist and I have been his patient for a decade now. Each time I am on the dental chair we have a nice banter; he is a FB friend and he does read these blog posts once in a while. He treats me with a lot of respect; showers free medicines and mouthwashes after consultations that the medical representatives leave him with as samples. As for me, I like this flow of bonhomie and any time I visit his clinic, it feels like re-connecting with a long lost friend which does my poor ego a lot of good. Like the good doctor, these days I earn the respect of my fellow beings from the vegetable grocer, waiters at Vishranti, regular beach-goers and generally wherever I frequent. I have long realized that words and even body language don’t endear one to the rest of the world as much as an ability to trigger good vibes – a simple smile and few words of assurance is more than good enough if you know how to add a listening component to it.

            There were two incidents last week that got me feeling great. I sent “Happy Saraswati puja” greetings to a dozen friends on Whatsapp. One fellow blogger from Rediffiland wrote: Thanks for the wishes, Goddess Saraswati has blessed you in abundance.  The next day I was chatting with my cook as the conversation veered towards how I employed Meera, as I reminisced, “First she never wanted to work for a bachelor. I had to cajole her saying that I will keep the pressure cooker with rice and dhal and all she had to do was 20 min of work. But once she understood me, she was the first to pay me a compliment that she felt totally secure and safe working for me.” Thangam is a woman of few words as she spontaneously said, “Anyone who doubts your character must be a sick person.”

            Let’s see how lack of respect works. My house-owner is a Sindhi woman who has 8 houses in the city for rental incomes. The house I am staying resembles more a candle palace that Duryodhana conjured for the Pandavas – the roof leaks to rains, the tiles are 4 decades old, the doors are fragile flimsy. Everyone from the street vendor to the laundry man to the milk maid told me when I shifted from M90 to M91: My god, it’s a pothole of a house and terrible miserly house-owners. All of them cannot resist this byline: they are Sindhis and what better can you expect?? Within three months I realized that I was sold a dummy. I made a spare-key for my cook which costed me Rs. 500. I vacate this premise next month and do you know what I will do with the spare key? I will just wash it down the flush or fling it from the terrace; even if I had a barely handshaking relation I would have volunteered this key to the owners. This is what disrespect is – they don’t get anything friendly from me.

            Again for the opposite: I sold M90 to Mr. Pandian who is one of my most reliable of friends. I called him today saying, “Sir, I am planning to buy an apartment in Palavakkam. But before signing the deal I want you to take a look and advise me since you are a lot smarter.” He said, “Sathya, I am in Guwahati now, back to Chennai on Sunday. Meet the builder and negotiate but don’t sign on till I give you an approval. We will go to the premise on Wednesday.”  

Life on a fast lane

#147

My life is that of a constant star or a planet on a cosmic timescale where nothing happens  except the regular course set for it. In my case it’s a mishmash of SPARRC, guitar, Vipassana, and stock market activity. But this fortnight changed all that.

            First I was laid down with a stubborn fever. I have so many doctor friends that I get free online consultation. Vivek gave a prescription for the fever & terrible coughing that seemed to abate before physical exertion stirred it up for the second time. This plays into my territory for it gives me a guilt-free cozying up in the bed; I am truly one of the most lethargic biped in creation. The weather is changing, we had the first spell of North East monsoons yesterday and so I can attribute my fragile immunity on the weather elements. But it does look a straight road to the doctors this time, some blood test and things like that.

            But illness thing has not got me down at all; in spirits this is my brightest moment of the year. For starters, I am taking to Future & Options trade as a fledgling duck to water. These four months of cash market experience and I am discovering a lot about myself in these F&O trades. It does help when your first FO trade in Hindustan Unilever fetched me a 12 k profit, ACC looks like a 40-50 k, Infy is always a stock where I have never lost money. Seriously it’s not the money that gets me excited as a peacock in rains, it’s the excitement of planning a trade. My mind is swimming on “Call” or “Put” options (should I buy CE or sell a put) even in sleep or what strike price to choose for ITM or OTM at target. Unlike cash market where you don’t watch your stocks for days and weeks except for a passing glance, the first week of FO trades saw me glued to my screen. My instructor advised, “Sathya, you seem to be having a ball of a time but please be careful for naked positions are dangerous.” I thank him profusely on the phone but keep asking myself, “Why begin a trade with a hedge option; I will have a hedge only when things don’t go as per my plan.” I seem to developed a gut feel for a dozen stocks. To my exaggerated self-belief my trade management skills is among the best in the universe. So far so good, this stock market activity is so consuming that it’s slowly replacing my time to write these silly blog posts. It’s then you realize how much of a gift writing is, it needs a mind to curate thoughts before it flows on paper like an easy flowing stream.

            Gopalan is a good friend and he wanted me to look at a “buy a small villa in Kumbakonam in a Brahmin agraharam.” I went to look at the place which is 320 kms from Chennai and loved it. The major attraction is availability of quality tambrahm food. So I am investing in this property, purchased land and the construction will be complete in June. This looks ideal for a week’s gateway from Chennai with the excitements of a monthly train trips, good food and wholesome company.

            The trigger for the post is Raghu who I met in Kumbakonam. Rarely have I warmed up to a person at first sight, he vibrates cheer and friendliness. He’s purchased a big villa at the premise, he advised me on the best site for my land (this is a gated community with individual houses replete with restaurant for three squares a day). In fact, I was to stay there for three days but since he was going to Chennai in his car, I joined him in a blink of an eye. The 6 hours car journey got us bonded as I gave him a synopsis of my life: lousy parents, heart surgery at 28 that reduced my career options and how stock market activity is consuming my days.  I said, “Sir, I go without opening my mouth for days and weeks, I am the definition of a recluse. I have a mother and siblings but not one cares a whit.”  The next day he called saying, “Sathya, I am going to disturb you as frequently as possible. I consider you as a little brother, it’s sad that there are so few to engage a brilliant conversationalist as you.” Those words of concern melted my heart, this is a start of a friendship and looks a good harvest already. He visited my place the next day, insisting on my inspection of a new apartment at Palavakkam which is 4 kms from my place. If everything goes well, I should be buying this place in a fortnight’s time. So immediately within a fortnight I am owner of one plot of land in Kumbakonam and likely owner of an apartment in Chennai. This is entirely the gains of mindfulness for nothing was planned, rather I was hesitant to own a property but when it comes my way, I am agile enough to change my mind and go for the fruit. One of the reasons I signed for Kumbakonam apart from good food is friends like Gopalan and Raghu in the same compound. Both these gentlemen have large hearts, they care and they treat me with affection which adds up very well to my credit side of life.

            This fortnight also had a couple of surprises. First, my Pozhichalur uncle prised-out my postal address with a fib saying, “I may be passing that way, so please dish out the address,” which I smsed. Couple of months later, I see the wedding invitation of his grandson. The undercurrent of such a ruse was clear: He wanted to send me an invite and not want me there. I thought without an outrage, “The old man looks a moron but what devilish cunning,” as I tore out the wedding card for a trivial amusement. That it finds a space in my blog post is only to remember the devilish wit of the whole thing. The second surprise was Ashish Bansal visiting Chennai and I showed him the Theosophical Society lawns. We had a great time catching up and a good dinner at Ratna Café. Ashish is one of those blokes who has the temperament of a test match opener, forever patient and composed with as few demands to those around. I surprised myself limping 5 kms in one my rare trips to TS, just showed that a stroll with a good companion makes you forget your arthritic pains. These look like the best of times for me, let’s hope that bird flies from the cage this time.

The fleas of Sindh

#146

10^th October is one date I never forget – it’s just as much a landmark as my birthday on 27^th April or my heart surgery on 27^th June or very near suicidal attempt on 27^th November. Neither do I forget my dad’s death on 13^th November. But we are now in October, let me explain what 10/10 means to me.

            pUsHpA was a slippery character from day-1 as she led me to a garden path. No one has spoken such endearing words of love as this female. I lost my Worldwide Media job and almost from the next day she turned cold. It was on 10/10 in 2009 she announced on her Orkut site “I am engaged”. I smoked half a pack of cigarettes that day, spent a sleepless night later for the first time in my life. Here was a woman who had a pre-honeymoon vacation with me, swore undying declarations of love for thousands of kisses and hugs and when it came to parting “just did not say a word of contrition”. If ever there was an instance of sneaking thief exit, this was it.

            One of the many lessons I learnt from the Sindhi imbroglio was: Women in our age can change their partners at their whim and fancies. Another was: never trust a Sindhi and a Punjabi* ever. Even today when I find a Punjabi woman attractive in my circle, I give it a broad miss for “once bitten is twice shy”. Life is too short to repeat the same mistake again and I am no fool more than my share. That race gives a lot of premium to “chickna” skin and “wealth”. Both of which I am neither endowed or aspired.

            The second time I came across a Sindhi was Haider Sheikh in Abu Dhabi. He was my colleague in Adline advertising and as slimy as they get. He was as dumb as a doorknob but he knew how to survive in a foul acrid atmosphere of hate and spite of Mohan like no other. To any abuse and outrage, Haider batted with a straight smile, “Yes Boss.” He was boiled daily with words of abuse for the same mistake, but his smile never wavered or his “Yes Boss” or a Uriah Heap’s show of servility. What nature gave him a more than a jackal's share of cunningness, it failed him as he continued with his error prone ways in work. He got on my wrong side many a times, as for me this feeling strengthened: Haider was the second Sindhi I was unfortunate enough to meet and both did not bode well for me. Yes, he was "chikna" but dead from the neck up with an IQ below that of a tortoise. Both pUsHpA and Haider can make a living in the glamour industries as a model or an actor; nature has not given them minds for anything higher.  Come to think of it, both the Sindhis look to me as made-for-each-other kinds for a corollary: Sindhis should only love and marry among themselves lest they pollute superior races and genes. 

            I sold my M90/4 in December and took up residence in 91/6 in the next building. The house-owner is a Sindhi and she is just as worse as the worst of them. The roof leaks and she will not spend on repair. This is a 45 years old construction, even the kitchen slab has not been replaced or the bathroom tiles from 1973!!! This Sindhi female has 4 to 5 houses in the city and makes a pile of rental income. Every tenant of hers curse her for she is too tightfisted – she will simply not replace a worn out fan or do any kind of repairs. A Tamilian is a peaceful creature but the bad names the Sindhis earn on account of this house-owner is enough to tar the entire community as we soon aver: what better can we expect from Sindhis?

            I am largely secular; I am not a sectarian fellow. I have a broad outlook to life and believe that there are good and bad people in every language and religion and caste but when it comes to Sindhis my attitude changes: If you find a Sindhi and a snake, better kill the Sindhi for it is more dangerous is no mere saying but there is a lot of truth to it. I think we should pack these Sindhis to where they belong – Sindhustan in Pakistan. They defile the atmosphere wherever they go. After pUsHpA chastisement there is a lot of relief: whatever destiny has in store for me, it can't get more worse than her. Anyone coming in my social circle can't be so gross and animalistic as this female. Once you have seen the worst of a human being, naturally your days and months and years brighten like the summer sun. Phew!!!! 

Post Script: I have a lot of IMT friends who are Punjabis. They are as good as the best of them. Point is, after this Sindhi chastisement I am wary of getting into romantic situations with that tribe. If pUsHpA had been a Bengali, Malayali, Marathi, Gujarati, Sinhalese or from the Hindi belt or Kashmiri, my reaction would have been just the same. Being in Chennai, a Sindhi is as rare an animal as a white ant, I come across them like once a decade kinds. I am taking the trouble to write this disclaimer so that none of my friends feel grieved. 

Gopalan, my third student

#145

In the second half of 2017 Ramesh, a good friend, said, “Sathya, forget content writing for it is not getting you any money. Why not try Soft skills training?” I allowed myself to be persuaded for I had nothing to lose and within 2-3 months I worked out a 12 hours content on “effective communication” without Google search. There are certain aspects of life nature has blessed me in bountiful measure; “content sourcing” is one of them. My content for “effective communication” would stalk against the best in the world for it was based on my life experience – no cop out options like Edward De Bono’s “lateral thinking” or “different colours of hats” or the much abused “Johari window” instead my content dwelt on “communication strategies at thought, feeling and emotion” for a wholly self-designed course. I am not given to beating my trumpet but when I do, nail it on the wall as a self-evident truth.

            Further encouraged by friends, I advertised this course in “Adyar Times” after engaging a conference hall in a business centre.  I signed two students both from well-meaning friends as Prithvi said, “Sathya, I want my son to be your first student” and Ramprasad said, “I will sponsor one of my employees.” Then I had Mr. Gopalan who signed as the third participant and this blog post is all about him!

            It was strange for a 48 years old to mentor a 70 years old who said this on the phone for a self-introduction, “My wife keeps finding fault with me, I want to attend your communication course to learn if I can manage better.” I had grave misgivings about having a student like this; it felt the person had more a need of a clinical psychologist than a soft skills trainer. But I said, “Please come along and I will see what I can do.”

            The moment I met, I realize that Mr. Gopalan was no diffident man needing a couch at a shrink but a man of the world – spry mind, self-deprecating humour, and full of banter.  He served in high echelons in the corporate sector and USA or Europe bound almost every year. After the first class I said, “I don’t know whether I have anything to teach you. I feel I have much to learn for our interactions.” He paid the money and that felt a grave miscarriage of justice as he observed, “What is 5 k for 12 sessions? I am a rich man and can easily afford it.”

In the first class I was telling about the “mistakes of a poor communicator” with movie scenes to highlight my point, after a while he said,” Sathya, it’s getting heavy for the day. Shall we continue this lesson in the next class?” Of course I readily assented for he was the sole student!

            Each time he comes visiting my place, Gopalan never comes with an empty hand. He always gets “Adyar Ananda Bhavan mixture and a packet of sweets.” He is full of tales and humour, “Sathya, I feel sad that you have no occupation. Take my advice, select five companies and send your resume to the CEO and I am sure they will revert.” I had grown far too cynical for such an enterprise though he insisted, “Sathya, when I was young I was saddled with a poor job. Each day I would apply to five companies until I joined Seshasayee Paper & Boards Limited where I worked as a PA to the chairman for 3 decades. I retired in the “General Manager” rank, those were wonderful years. Many a time, I would put in over 12 hours for years on the job, working for Mr. Vishwanathan was one of the best things of my career and life.”

            Gopalan would fill me with details of his family, “I allow my wife to dominate me. My daughter is in London and she brings a lot of happiness with a son-in-law a senior Director in Cognizant. On the other hand, my son is a recurring problem; twice divorced and now on the lookout for a third marriage.”  One could sense his smartness as he narrated this tale, “Once my son resigned his job in Texas and came home here in Besant Nagar say in 2010 times. He simply had no stomach for America. The entire family knew it was a grave mistake. We bribed an astrologer to counsel him that “India is no place for him and that his stars shine only in the West”. That stratagem worked as he returned to America within three weeks. Now he is happily settled and risen to a Director of a Fortune 500 MNC.”  

Those were the days - December, 2017 times - I was refurbishing M90/4 by laying floor tiles and when I told him I was looking for new furniture, he said, “I have a grand piece that I want to dispose. It’s taking too much space; it will be perfect for you. I got them at Modfurn for 30 k three years back. Have a look, if you like then I will more than happy to sell it to you.” I went to his house, saw the leather sofa and fell in love straightaway as we shook hands for a deal. The same afternoon it was delivered and it’s the best piece of my home now.  

And then we met yesterday as he landed at my house with a bottle of premium coffee (worth Rs. 475), a local brand of coffee decoction, and a I kg of sugar – it would have costed no less than Rs. 600. It felt too flattering and undeserving to accept the gifts, as I said, “I wish my sisters would have done something similar. Thanks a million,” as I rushed to give anything of a gift value in return. I found couple of apples and a bunch of bananas as return gift. He was excited about his new villa purchase in Kumbakonam as he explained: Each month I visit Kumbakonam for a break from Chennai. We have a small villa of 600 sq feet. He was so adamant that I take a look, “Sathya, please take a look at this property for it is ideal for you – there is a central mess for three squares, the property is a gated community facing the Cauvery river. There are historical temples alround and we allow only a Brahmin crowd.” Gopalan advertised this property in “Adyar Times” on behalf of the promoters and closed 2 sales deals, “Sathya, unwittingly I made 4 lacs in commissions after I sold two units. The promoter is so pleased with me that he has appointed me “Director of Marketing.” If this is not resourcefulness, then pray what is I wonder. He tells me, “Sathya, there are earning opportunities everywhere but somehow you don’t seem to find them. You are living in a world of Buddha and Mindfulness perhaps.” 

Yesterday I tell him, “I always have 13-15 lacs idling in my HDFC savings account. Only today I opened a Kotak Mahindra savings bank account for 6% interest rate.” Gopalan says, “I know the Bank Manager of Shastri Nagar Branch very well.” Without losing a moment, he speaks to the manager saying, “Sathya is my best friend and I am giving you a high network account. Please take care of him, assign him your best relationship manager.” It’s this kind of enterprise and friendliness that makes Gopalan such a welcoming person wherever he goes.

As for me, Gopalan Sir is the best return on human investment in years as I got a 60 k leather sofa for 10 k, I get Adyar Ananda Bhavan sweets and now coffee decoction. I was telling Ranga at the monthly whisky drink at Maris, “Gopalan taught me the importance of gifting and visiting friends. Rs. 500 is not much an expense for it brings a lot of happiness and bonding.” Ranga said, “Sure it is a good lesson for insular tambrahms.”  As for me each time I see Mr. Gopalan it is that beaming smile that comes to mind, he sure brings a truckload of positive energy along with the Adyar Ananda Bhavan savouries and sweets. 

The magic of “Sorry”

#144

“Sorry” is just a word but it defines you have character or not.  The test “whether a person is cultured or not” depends on whether he/she has these sentences in the vocabulary: I am sorry or I seek your pardon, I was wrong and please wipe the slate clean.

            An apology is an expression of regret. It satisfies four conditions: a) My actions or words have caused you material loss and/or mental sorrow b) I regret those words and actions of mine c) I spoke those words and did those actions with insufficient knowledge and d) I am ready to compensate materially or through a genuine intent of REGRET for the sorrow that I wrought.

            I don’t think a SORRY will compensate a robbery or a wife cheating on her husband or someone who pulled a dagger on your brother and now contrite they seek your forgiveness. Fortunately, our worlds of interactions do not bring us in contact with these rough thugs unless you are a resident of Tihar jail like P Chidambaram. We are more often placed in a group of selfish and self-centered people at home and in our offices or neighbourhood who can spoil your day through gossip and bad-mouthing, betraying your confidences (the worst is “you tell your sob stories to a friend” who leaks it by broadcasting to the entire world for a social embarrassment) or just not sensitive enough to your troubles (imagine an asinine neighbor taking cudgels on “keeping the staircase lights on” when your wife is in the hospital on critical care. Even if they are right on the score, it’s terrible timing).

            I never knew “the power of sorry” till this incident that occurred on the last day of my options class on 11/9.  But before I dwell on it, let me fill in with what happens when you deal with morons (those not wired to apologize).

            I hate to take this example but nothing illustrates an INSENSITIVE person walking over someone’s feelings more than this: pUsHpA was well within her rights to change a “love/romance” quotient to a “friend” status like an airline changing the status from “scheduled” to “cancelled”. Though there is a lot of inconvenience, that in itself does not outrage or make the blood boil as much as a callous attitude and utter disregard to other’s feelings. I am a normal chap of placid temperament with a large heart to forgive. pUsHpA could have met me in person to explain “Sathya, I am flying off the nest and let’s say our goodbyes now”. That would have been a saving grace rather than a sneaking thief exit. Or at least a mail expressing genuine contrition: “Sathya, I am really sorry. I was your first date and romance, but I have now found my exact green blouse matching elsewhere. I need to compensate you and tell me what I can do.” If pw had said something like this; she would have been spared from “blog posts that singe” or the name spelt in alternate caps & small letters. A genuine expression of regret and I would have more likely grown large-hearted enough to say, “Accepted and now get out of my sight. At least your name or cheap actions will not find mention in my blogs or story tales.”

            Same story with my siblings to my grouse, “For 30 years you have not bothered to include me in festivals or even an insincere show of concern when I was down with a heart surgery. Now there is nothing left.” With the Sindhi, her mistake was a character problem for no woman would trivialize romance and pick and choose a man as though she was in a blouse-matching shop for a new saree (I believe they have 50 to 100 shades of green or any colour for the blouse piece to exactly match the saree or come very close to it).  With my siblings it was a grave cultural wiring that after marriage they are DUTY-BOUND to look the other way to the plights of their brothers and sisters of the former homes they left behind. Again a simple sorry would have sufficed had any of my sisters had mouthed this: Sathi, I am sorry. The truth is we have grown so far apart that there is nothing in common for us to invite you. You don’t fit into the festival mode or given us any reason to attend when you are sick. I understand that caring for you falls within my perview but this is one responsibility I don’t have stomach for, so kindly let it pass.” Such a simple assertion would have closed the loop and spared all of us the ignominy of seeing their personality analyzed savagely on a public platform of a blog post.  Trust me, I hate to smear anyone and any character assassination post that I pen brings no glory to me at all.  These three women bring a bad name to the entire gender like a Kaikeye or Surpanaka; their apathy used to burn my heart into a cauldron (melting pot) of hate once upon a time before I learnt my FORGIVENESS lessons in Mindfulness and Vipassana.

            Now that we have seen how morons act, let’s see its contrast. I was fuming with spite and anger as the OPTIONS class drew to a close on 11/9. My purpose of this 5 days trip was to get initiated in this asset class of trading. But what really happened was “they overbooked the class” (the increased number has a direct impact on the learning effectiveness), there was a riotous fawning XLT crowd of Rahim bhakts, and finally he made things worse by “habitually late-coming” trampling our self-respects as it were. I was fuming but when Rahim said, “Sathya, I am sorry” that very moment “I wiped the slate clean.” Rahim is a lovable person with lot of anecdotes, he is a sweet talker, he is the most gifted Options trading man in the whole of South East Asia, he has a lot of virtues besides he is fabulously rich and famous (which makes forgiving very easy, I am as much smitten by externals as anyone else. So don’t take my pretensions to virtues seriously beyond a threshold 😃). I realized that an attitude to apologize is as much a social currency in the flow of life when one is living in a society. Just to say “I am sorry” or “I forgive you” is a sign of personal growth as any. As for me, it distinguishes donkeys from human beings.
Post Script: It never pays to enrage a world-class writer. All your sins could be washed on the shores of time but a written word stays forever.