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.