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 31st 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.
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