The answer is SURRENDER

The Whitefield job interview tanked. They wrote to say: we appreciate and have regard for your skills and accomplishments but you are not selected.  To be honest, starting a new life in Bangalore is difficult and I even feel that a UAE now would be a strain on both body and mind; I am used to Besant nagar and I must find 50 k monthly income soonest or dispose off this flat. There are no heartbreaks.  I did my best and if this is my destiny, why should I resist it or make a song and dance of misfortune? On a lighter side after the Whitefield abortion, at least I got "Soulful encounters @ Bangalore" blog post for my expenses of money and efforts. 

            There are two lessons that is CRYSTAL to me: Love and respect yourself without a shadow of doubt. Two, Surrender to the flow of events. As I age I feel I have no right to even plan, let me do what I ought to do and bring in my best beyond which there is nothing to add or subtract.

            2018 is the year of anniversaries:

a)     10 years of Vipassana

b)     20 years of heart surgery as on 27^th June. Seriously I never thought my engine would run so long given a million unresolved issues in life. Handling loneliness, joblessness after a heart surgery, I think I am SUPERMAN to endure.

c)      20 years of Swamiji’s classes and Theosophical Society. Now I visit TS once in 6 months and less than four classes in a year at Swamiji’s classes. But for a time they were my main source of electricity to life.

I also realize one thing CRYSTAL CLEAR: I am hero or villain of my life. Since I reside alone this is as recluse as it can get in nature. So any SUCCESS or FAILURE is 100% my own creation; my responsibility. Frankly I don’t like too many people and too much noise around me; but this silence is also getting to my nerves. But then remember lesson two: SURRENDER to what comes before you.

            I take my morning walks daily. I am grateful to TH Iyer mama who cares for me. I also value my interaction with Mani Sir, a recent friend from Vipassana. He is friendly and sympathetic to my flotsam status in life. Then there is FB for human warmth which I find in a Deepak Mehra (he says that I deserve so much more than just a newspaper column and middle class earnings), and so many others who have nice things to comment on my wry posts.

            I feel that there are many who read my blogs especially in THINKSATHYA and they do feel nice about it. I wish there was some money and some success somewhere but if this is going to be my script then let me not make it a 70 mm technicolour drama except take it on the chin. I am sick and tired of this wastrel existence of FB, television, siesta and even music and guitar start to grate.

            Things are lousy at the moment and I am more than willing to sell this place. I feel stranded like a castaway in an island on nobody's map and waiting for some angel or devil for deliverance to anywhere. This feels like a STUCK-UP WHEEL in the sands and I could do with some human or divine assistance.   

FOSWL Talk on 15/4

TH Iyer mama featured me as a guest speaker for this month’s talk. FOSWL stands for Friends of Same Wavelength and it is a neighbourhood gathering. We invite a speaker who rattles off for 40 minutes on a semi-spiritual or health topic and then questions for 20 minutes before we are served two Marie biscuits and a paper cup of Tropicana juice. TH Iyer is the President of this initiative and he really packs in good speakers despite the attendance never crossing 20.

            I had a PPT prepared where I segmented the talk in three areas: Definition of Mindfulness and its origins, Buddha’s teaching in a nutshell on Anitya and Dukka, and finally the concept of Metha Bhavana or loving kindness. I was at the venue at 5:00 pm for  a 5:30 start and one of those early birds and arrange plastic chairs. Yogalaya is a wonderful venue. The crowd trickled in and we started off exactly with Swiss efficiency; T H Iyer is a man who spent four decades in Germany and he observes punctuality to time scale of an European or Japanese metro trains to the precision of a 8:31 and 6:38 kinds.

            Ms. Uma Seshadri had gotten the slide projector for me to plug on to my laptop and project it on a white screen. She got everything including the white screen but forgot the linking chord to the source which meant no PPT. Since this is a subject I breathe in daily, it was no sweat as I planned my talk more on practical experience than a theoretical construct. TH Iyer introduced me to the audience and said,” Sathya is one of those genuine thinkers and he speaks so fast. I will now request him to speak slowly,” and got the show started.

            I spoke for 40 minutes and speaking before an audience is not my cup of tea. It is real time show and you have get a lot of things right including tone of voice, content should flow and you make eye-contact with the audience and throw in a smile now and then. I did all this amateurishly. I was adequate for the day but a long way to go before reaching professional standards of a MC or a TV anchor level.

            My sister was there and so was my brother-in-law and it felt nice as I could talk uninterruptedly. Speaking from a dais feels like a money lender with so many ears and faces staring at you and you are literally on a pedestal. There were a crowd of 25 which was the highest in recent months. I had personally invited over a dozen friends at the beach and but non stirred on a Sunday evening and an IPL match. Ravi and Jacob said: SORRY on meeting me next day. Satish the actor said,” I wanted to come but I had a heavy lunch and dozed off after putting the AC at full volume.” I realized that on the count of reliability we can write the names of our friends and contacts on the beach sand close to the waves.

After the talk, Viji got me Idlies and Bajji and a coffee for I was ravenously hungry at a self-service at Adyar Signal. I was sure excited as hell with all this talking and being the cynosure for the evening; being on the spotlight does not sit nicely on my shoulders. I would rather be a writer any day where you write to your strength and to your time convenience whereas public speaking is ON TIME activity but the rewards are immediate too. You get a round of applause and lots of people wanting to talk to you after the show.

The next day at the beach TH Iyer mama asked for the speech notes. He loved the PPT content and a couple of weblinks I had mailed. Mrs. TH Iyer and their son-in-law in Australia loved the piece and it came as a sigh of relief that this was not altogether a squandered effort.  On Monday the 16/4, I was feeling jumpy and stressed for a post speech hangover. Give me writing any day was the thought I was left after this experience. Teaching soft-skills in contrast is not such a fanfare and tension thing.

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Vivek and his wife visited me on 14/3.  This is my second meeting of the Saharanpur doctor in flesh, the first was in 2010. There is an air of affluence and positivity about the Banerjees. He said, “Both my kids are more or less settled and we as a couple are in a stage of life to afford monthly vacations. Last month it was Kaziranga and now Pondicherry.”  He looks so perfect as a doctor, a family man, a compatible partner, a proud parent that I envied him for a second. ARROGANCE and ENVY are two qualities entirely foreign to my genes but that day I felt a green monster thinking: even if I had 10% of his contentment and affluence, I will settle for them with unabashed glee and gratitude.

            There were here in Besant Nagar for 90 minutes as I took them to Vishranti in the hot midday sun. Vivek showed the Eliots beach to his wife and he also spotted a few rare birds which only a naturalists like him can spot.  On camera he said, “This is low end camera while my camera equipment is over 6 lacs and even the lens is imported,” as I told his wife,” Vivek and I are two unlikely characters.  He sees hundred patients a day and I get to see hundred TV serials a day.”  As they departed in the Ola cab I was left thinking: In my next birth I will be more than happy being a Vivek Banerjee. He packs in so much reliability and trust and competence in one frame. 

Sathya is a genius

Dr. Rajaram makes me feel special. I flower in his company. After chucking the plan to start PONGAL+VADA breakfast and impose on my Besant Nagar friends, I had another of those squeaky brainwaves of publishing a weekly neighbourhood tabloid with help from friends, of course, on the investing side. Everyone from the Prime Minister onwards talks of STARTUPS and so why shouldn’t I join the bandwagon and be its best ambassador?

           On 23/3 I whatsapped to the doctor, “How about meeting this Sunday weekend?”    The busy ENT replied, “Hopefully yes.”

            I responded with a lot of cheek,” I wanted to discuss a business idea and if we don’t meet this week then we will be hopefully friends?” I take zilch liberties with the general public but I am never short of over-smart quip with friends who have a stomach for humour.

            “Full of devilish humour, aren’t you? I will find an appropriate time on Sunday and meet you. Comprehendo!”

            I smiled and whatsapped: I am a pious devotee who has been praying for the Lord and when the Lord finally relents to give darshan, the devotee has had too much, he is way too exhausted and pissed off.” I added a couple of smileys and kept the banter going.

            On 25/3 I was proceeding to the beach when the Doctor called, “Sathya, I am starting from my house now and will be in Besant Nagar in 20 minutes. You had some crazy business idea to discuss.”

            My heart warmed up immediately for the ENT doctor is incredibly busy and for him to drive down for my sake felt that LORD indeed was karuna sagar, ocean of kindness.

            This is fast becoming a habit with us as he said;” Sathya, hop in and we can talk during a drive.” I kept regaling him as he drove through OMR then joined ECR at Neelankarai before we had breakfast at Hotspot at Thiruvanmiyur.” He loves my quotes as I said,” A smart man knows when and where to talk while a wise man knows when to shut up.” I also quoted him the Buddha’s “sorrow will follow a man with mental defilements like his shadow” or “his metha bhavana will follow him as the wheels of a chariot.” In doctor’s presence, I talk with the excitement of a 5 year old and nonstop at the 80 kmph. Dr. Rajaram in fact fuels my ego saying, “wow, that’s brilliant. Sathya, where did you pick that one from?” and it would be even more an incentive for me to keep my vocal chords rattling not that I need any in his company.

            I tell the doctor: there are very few people I love to listen and I love to talk and thankfully you trigger both my ears and mouth.  On the MY BESSIE project he said,” It is in your area of competence and even if you fail, it will teach you a lot of lessons. I will speak to my friends for a likely sponsor.”

            At the Hotspot table where we spread a plate of Idly and Plain dosa, he said,” Last week I met a mutual friend. He was asking as to why I stick with you?”

            I sat up with interest as to who this devilish mutual friend was as the Doctor continued, “I told him that in every interaction I learn more out of Sathya than he does out of me. The other man gasped in disbelief and I laid it to him: Sathya is a genius and he just does not know how to make money. None of us are perfect but at least we are nearer the money tree than Sathya who frankly is in the opposite direction.”

            I laughed and others around turned around at the eruption. I asked, “Who is this nosy friend who talks to you about me?”

            Rajaram answered beautifully: Knowing the name will not help you, it will not help me and it will not help him.  I smile saying, “Okay, have it your way.”

            As he dropped me at my residence he said, “I am glad to sit and listen to you all day for you are a genius. You are like an inventor of an airplane while I am a rustic passenger enthralled with the excitement of flying while you will be worried about those machinery and feverish calculations.”

            Without doubt I get so much joy interacting with this amiable doctor. We should record a conversation and put it on youtube for a definition of banter and leg-pulling and false humility. Dr. Rajaram is indeed the person who gives me the most joys for a companionship since the days of Balakanth.

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Again it was Friday when I learnt that my father’s paternal cousin T S Arunachalam passed away ten days back. I was speaking to my Bangalore Uncle when he dropped the news. I took his daughter’s telephone number and spoke to her on Monday.  I said, “I am Sathi. Only two days back I heard of your father’s death. I wish to meet you in person. How about Tuesday?” She acquiesced and that took me to the other end of the city in Virugambakkam. 

            I took a 5E to Pondicherry House on 27/3  leaving home at 3:30 pm. The summer is blazing hot now and body losing fluids all the time. The climate change and global warming is real if you live on a seashore and the afternoons feels a furnace.  Anyway reached Ms. Jayashree’s house at 4:30 and I was surprised to see that part of town. It is a beehive of activity and a throbbing college on that stretch of road.

            I am seeing Jayashree after 25 years. She welcomed me and narrated the last few days of her parents: Sathi, my mother had a block in the main artery and five doctors recommended a surgery. We did the surgery at Vijaya and she collapsed there, it was so sudden. She died in June, 2017 and after that my father simply lost the will to live. He was undergoing cancer treatments at Adyar Institute and he was really progressing and remissions and all that; but after mom’ s death he just did not care.

            Prakash got married to a handicapped woman and Balaji is alone. He has been working for 25 years with HCL and now he simply cannot stand (both her brothers are afflicted with muscular dystrophy).  Jayashree told me how she and her son Ashish would clean the aged parents including sponge baths and toilets. My son never shied away from cleaning urine and excreta. Even in the last few days I was pleading with dad to find some mental strength to live.

            This tale brought home to me the value of family bonding and my heart warmed up to bless the family. There are few real heroes in our times and the real ones are always swept under the carpet in this apathetic society. How much I wished that both my sisters had a fraction of this love and service.

            I came home feeling refreshed and even Jayashree said, “My father in fact everyone from my aunts Girija and Mangalam refer to SATHI as a brainy person.” I felt flattered and also the kind of impact I created even when young. Jayashree got married to a Hyderabad boy and so we were well acquainted in the eighties.

            I wrote to Vaithy Chitappa about the visit and he responded like a dream: Sathi, you are a genuine person to match your words and actions. I am so happy that you met TS’s daughter and they must have found strength from your visit.

            Now let me end this twin tales with a heavy dose of FALSE HUMILITY: I don’t believe I am a genius or great but if long standing friends like Dr. Rajaram and distant relations Jayashree and Vaithy uncle feel, then there must be some truth in there!

My blood boils

Normally I don’t write a blog until I zero-in on the title in the mind. That more or less sets the tone and pace of narration. I had “Ides of March” for this tale but that was before I spoke to latha yesterday. 

            When 2018 began I made a promise to myself that these blogs would steer clear of these four characters: mother, siblings, sindhi for enough has been written and said on them to the point of saturation.  pushpa is dead on these pages for it is a story that is nipped a long while back, amma also is not a live bank account for she is terribly sick but both my siblings are devils-in-motion and there is no avoiding the pain and hate in these pages.

            I get a call from viji, my eldest sister for those new here, saying,” Amma is very depressed and I am taking her to Hyderabad for a week.  Can you please give Dr. Manisha’s number?”

            Dr. M came on the line next day saying, “Your sister called and I advised that if your mother is so suicidal the trip is better postponed.  Sathya, hearing the symptoms I think your mother needs constant supervision.”

            The mother and daughter went to Hyderabad on 10^th March, Charminar Express and I get a call from the she-devil on 13^th March with an excited shriek like a person who is  fast drowning. Said viji: Amma, is so embarrassing. I am going to put her in an old age home. Even the neighbours here are raising questions.”

            I said,” Look viji, I don’t know whether you are the patient or amma. I offered to take care of mother in Besant Nagar. I also helped you on the psychiatrist whose advice you conveniently ignored.  Come to Madras and we will take a call when your nerves are not so taut and jumpy.”

            This conversation got me rattled. This family is so poor that it cannot even give an aged person very close to the grave some breathing space. Of late "v "keeps threatening the old woman, “Behave properly or you go to an old age home.”  That has gone deep in amma’s psyche and that really terrifies her more adding to the already sick dormant depression in the mind.

            I was livid and I wrote on viji’s whatsapp page: "Better go to a church and become a Christian. You have not learnt the lessons of love and care and compassion. And if you treat mother so callously and dismissively, the odds are not so high that you will have a pleasant and peaceful death when your time is at the end.”

            I went to Vipassana on 14^th morning and came back on 18^th afternoon. I really felt sad that I couldn’t do a thing to add some grace in my mother’s last few months on earth. My earnings are nil over years, I am alone and yet I told "v": You and latha are worth over 5 crores and I am minus 5 lacs yet I have a much larger heart. You sick women!”

            I spoke to maternal cousin Mr. Srinivasan who said, “Both your sisters have no heart at all. Even the sight of a dying woman does not soften them.” Then Shyam who is my well-wisher commented over a whatsapp call, “Looks like both your sisters have not seen much suffering in life and hence act from a high pedestal. Life has a way of teaching these dolts.”

            There was no message from viji after 13^th and yesterday I called latha to test the waters. She was fuming,” viji was very upset with your mail. Amma is very depressed. Please delete my email id and don’t send any mails” I hung up and felt so disturbed that I walked down for the second Gold Flake of 2018, I told myself that both these women are lining up for a public humiliation that I will dish out. At a time and place of my choosing! Both these bitches see AMMA has a burden and it is for this reason I would live to see a day when these worms suffer the slings, boulders and Bofors gun of destiny. 

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I had a wonderful time travelling with Mr. Narayanan Subramanian from Alandur Metro Station to Dhamma Arunachala in Thiruvannamalai on 14^th morning. He is my newest friend that I met during my last month’s 3 day sitting at Dhamma Setu in Chennai. He is 72 years, full of zeal of a new convert to Vipassana, a successful businessman who is affluent both on the money and people front.

            Seated on the front seat with him on the wheels of  a Honda City, he said, “Sathya, I have some guiding principles in life. NO ARGUMENTS with anyone, each one is entitled to their views in my presence. NO ADVICE, I hate to give unsolicited advice and that is the best way to drive people away from you. Any time I worry about my business in a downslide, I make it a point to NEVER INTERACT WITH NEGATIVE PEOPLE. They will justify my failure and advise me to visit an astrologer.”

            I mention this for I find this simple rule a wonderful discipline to follow in life. He joked saying,” I meet a 87 year old and another 80 year old every evening near my residence. Each one talks in turns and no one interferes with their opinions. Once it gets dark and mosquitoes start to harass, we disband and go to our homes. This is one human interaction we all cherish. It is such a privilege for people to talk and listen in our times.” He even bantered, “I call this deaf and dumb friendship.”

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It was this 72 year old friend who said on my Pongal+vada business,” You will burn a hole in your pocket. My daughter-in-law is in the catering business and what you need to succeed is a passion for food and ability to cook. You have neither the mental side nor the cooking side; so better do any activity closer to your skillset and that is what nature intends of you.”

            This wisdom nixed two weeks of my planning on launching myself as a food caterer.  In the 4 days of meditation this idea started to take root and grow deeper: how about starting a neighbourhood weekly on the lines of Adyar Times? Those fuckers have 20:80% content to advertising. I can generate a more even spread at 60:40 and what more I will make for engaging reading.”

            Since then I spoke to couple of friends. This is money guzzling business but it can meet a premature death three months later and set me back by 15 lacs in which case I would have to SELL the Besant Nagar apartment or it can make my debut as a editor of India’s richest colony like Besant nagar and I may even be invited to dumb debates on Republic or Times Now or CNN News 18 when those Delhi fuckers need a Chennai angle. Meaning, I can be a city celebrity with this NEIGHBOURHOOD weekly if it comes off. On such a razor’s edge life goes on. Forget the humour but I am sinking and given the current murderous rage in my heart, I am most tempted to blow my brains off if I can get hold of a gun. Now I realize why America is a great country.

Life is tough

Imagine me having a kidney trouble and it needs transplant? Any obliging friend or relative and a kidney to spare; you must be joking. Living alone means that you have no father-in-law to worry about his daughter’s impending widowhood. In my case no one will pick the tab. Why go so far as a kidney, no one will even give me a lift if the career lies completely broken down and needs a desperate helping hand.

            I feel beggarly to ask favours and I am overwrought with shame each time I approach others. It is downright gross to ask, “I am looking for an opening in soft skills training. I am willing to do a free trial, do you know any company will play host?” But seriously the other side is just heartlessly dismissive. I asked my IMT friends on FACEBOOK who read my blogs to come to aid; everyone says,“ Sathya, you are a sun hidden by dark clouds. It is a matter of time before they clear away,” as though such a warm sentiment will obviate any need for practical assistance. We truly live in a self-centered world. Latha invited me for her son’s wedding, next invite would be Gautam’s baby’s first birthday or Aravind’s wedding whichever is earlier and nothing in between. People have seen me on the BEACH a million times, they have seen my tears and epic Greek struggles but there is none who will stand up and volunteer help even if it means to identify a tenant for a master bedroom that I advertise in the papers. This is some tale reflective of the chaotic times we all live in.

            I had 6-7 calls for the advertisement on 25/2 in Adyar Times. There was one 78 year retired Major of the Army who wanted a bigger place for storing things, he said, “my children are in AMERICA and I need a place to keep things.” He found my place a bit too small for his needs though I did not wish to transact with a septuagenarian which could be a race to death between me and him!!!! I had another 61 year old advocate who wanted to start a “speed post kind of postal” service. This fellow quoted law every sentence and I was so scared that he would be charge me with a summon for refusing to rent the place. Then a builder who said, “I am looking for just a place like this on the main road. I want a skeletal office space where my Accounts man can work. But your place does not have a separate entrance.”   

Then I had a 50 year company executive and recently divorced looking for quarters. This man’s mind worked slower than a tortoise for I had to repeat the terms half a dozen times till I got a throat ache (seriously this is no literary gag to generate a laugh but a medical condition of abusing the throat). I did not like the idea of sharing this flat with this man; he had that Rahul Gandhi level of intellect where 2 plus 2 would be the escape velocity of Jupiter to solve India’s health problems. Or connecting all the MRI scans!!!!

The only person whom I felt favourably inclined to rent out was a 18 year old drummer and this guy was super cool and super smart as he said,” I am doing my 12^th standard. I am a drummer for this group and we play in night clubs and malls. I am looking to rent out for a recording studio.” If I have this fellow as a tenant the first thing he would do is “soundproofing” the room and that would mean a major renovation work on the walls. Not worth the trouble for a 7 k rental income and so that fizzled out.

My break-even earning for a month is 35 k and I realized that at 7 k rental income I am only one-fifth down the least earning slab. Below 30 k I have to sell the house and retire in Chingelpet; Besant Nagar becomes out of bounds for me. So I am a cat on a hot tin roof to fix my earning source or I simply crumble under.

            My days are long. My arthritis is so severe that save for a morning walk I have no energy for a second expedition in the day. I spend my time on South Africa-Australia series or listening to music or guitar. But the best part is I sleep like a log in the afternoon which makes my night sleep a lot light and fluffy. I feel a Kumbakarna on some fortunate days when I hit those deep sleep keys, I take a while to reconcile with the waking world. Truly such depths of sleep is a blessing of nature. I also try to get in an hour of Vipassana but otherwise my world is ALONE and ABANDONED save for Iyer mama who I meet in the morning walks.

            T H Iyer mama is 85+ and he cares for me. Yesterday he got me a GERMAN HAIR OIL when he learnt that my scalp suffers from dandritus or some such medical condition where after 25 years of dyeing my hairs, the chemicals have done so much damage that any point I can make little balls of dead tissue much like digging the nose for a time-filler and fling this small balls of filth in the room which means I have to sweep them every day!! Iyer mama calls me at least every alternate day. He says: Chant Om Iim hreem shreem aiswarya Lakshmi namaha every possible second in the day. Not only that he gifts me a picture of Aiswarya Lakshmi. Another person who cares is Vivek and this week he is in Assam making tigers and hippopotamus pose for him in Kaziranga National Park. Seriously, my mind no longer wavers on the question of “who I would like to be in my next birth”.

            I saw “To Kill a mocking bird” at American Centre and loved it. I felt that Amitabh and SRK must be shoe shine boys for Gregory Peck; this man had a kind of screen presence and dignity that I have not seen before on celluloid. This week I went to Escape on Express Avenue to watch “Three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri” and I loved the abrupt climax which I felt was outrageous. Frances McDormand deserves an Oscar for this. This is my third OSCAR best picture nominated movie; I plan to watch at least three more in the coming month.

            Maybe chanting Aiswarya Lakshmi slokas got me this brainwave. I am sick and tried being a CONTENT WRITER for 11 years not even earning subsistence incomes. My earnings are so abysmal that even bus drivers and conductors and auto drivers make more money than me. Which got me thinking: no more WHITE COLLAR job. Let me sell PONGAL, VADA and IDLY and see if I can net 20 or 30k. I am deadly serious as I explore on delivery boys and maybe outsource the cooking part. This is an idea growing stronger in the mind and truly Narendra Modi is a genius when he says that you can earn a decent livelihood selling Pakodas. Maybe this is the only profession which comes with no corporate slavery and no slights to the ego.

            Pause to consider: Had Chidambaram sold Pokadas his son Karthi would not be such a jackass as to indulge in so many scams and get caught or for that matter Nirav Modi and Choksi fellow. The answer to all questions is SELL PAKODAS. I hope and pray I have a better fortune selling PONGAL and IDLY than I had in the content writing space and soft skills training. Welcome to the new me; I will go down fighting or maybe soar. Wait and watch this space.

            Or maybe this is better. In the last 8 months I have known people croak suddenly and no warning. Prakash, Vasanthi, Thangam’s landlord who had darshan at Tirumala in the morning and died upon reaching the plains in the afternoon, and Vivek’s friend in USA. At times like this, I would love to join the brigade. Life is tough and I would rather die abruptly than suffer in degrees; die than rot kinds.

Heartless Tambrahms

If you run a search for “heartless” synonyms on” the freeonline dictionary” the results are unfeeling, unsympathetic, unkind, uncaring, unloving, unconcerned, insensitive, cold-hearted and more; words that defines tambrahms to a T.  Add self-centredness to heartlessness for a perfect definition.

            Make no mistake, it pains me to write this blog for I am a tambrahm myself. I can reduce the “tambrahm” slur on my head by claiming “though born a tambrahm I grew up in a liberal Hyderabad air” besides “I can’t read and write Tamil.” So please don’t label me as a tambrahm though I was born in that diseased gene pool.

             This Brahmin-nonbrahmin issue first cropped up when I was working in India Cements Limited. My colleague and good friend Manikandan would constantly harp and bemoan, “The management favours Brahmins for promotions and salary hikes over others.” Then in AIM for Seva, there were whispers that “Iyengars were preferred over Iyers.” My head reeled and I said, “It does not make any sense for I am not a Brahmin at all.”

            I look at my family. My father was the son of a vaidika Brahmin and so he is your archetypical tambrahm who married another trambrahm who was first rate certified idiot which even the dolt community could not stomach. My father was a coward (typical of those genome) for being tied to an idiot woman for his life on earth and worse still producing three offsprings who frankly were gene garbage material. My mother was so sick that she literally drove her man to an early grave with a nag unmatched even in Shakespeare's “shrew and termagant.” My two elder sisters found life much easier; they went to graduate, got married, have children and became Mylapore Mamis themselves. It is sad that Hyderabad education did not make them any liberal; they are as ritualistic, self-centred, and heartless as any in the community watching Airtel Super Singer on television. I became a vagabond and a castaway; grew up more a non-believer and one cannot be ritualistic being on one’s own. So no Sandhya Vandanam or any pestering mamis in the house for me to be house trained to the traits of this plighted community.

            I went through two decades of life blaming my poor stars at birth and my awful sisters. They are so heartless that rocks and stones and pebbles could cry as they saw me struggle through life without lifting their little finger. Both my siblings enjoy middle-class comforts of apartments in the metro, cars, children in Europe and USA but they were so poor as not to invite a penurious brother for a festival in 3 decades. My sisters’ pattern of thinking was a stereo type tambrahm mindset: after marriage: we get into a new family and a new gotra. The parent family may as well go to dogs except host us when we get pregnant and give tips for each Pongal on Kannu day.

            The next time I found this Tambrahm thing impinging on my mind was in the daily walks at Eliot’s Beach. My arthritis ensures that I barely reach the beach and sit down. For the last 3 months I sit with a vociferous group of a dozen men; all tambrahms. They are quick of wit and ready of laugh, loquacious and boisterous at even half-baked humour. I found not one person with “normal” levels of compassion excepting perhaps RV Rajan and Raghunathan mama. No one can accuse this community of a dumb processor for a mind; it is extra sharp in its grasp of events around. But there is constant struthi like a tambura box of heartlessness and self-centredness. None of them in the dozen who see me daily in the morning group saw any merit in me, never connected at a personal level, and my jokes and humour were emptied out on dry sand. They offered sweets and chocolates almost on the weekly basis to passerby; their laughs are large but the hearts were puny or non-existent. I stopped parking myself with this morning group the moment I got to know I was not invited for a get together which to a seasoned observer of tambrahms spells EXCLUSION.  Buddha specifically advises those on the path to DISSOCIATE with fools and petty minds and so I cut loose of any bonds with this group. 
               Contrast this to Vipassana where I am embraced for a decade, I have dhamma brothers like Arvind, Jaswal who went out of their way to bring solace to me. Even for 2017 Diwali, Arun gifted me a T-shirt and Manikandan gifted me the festival sweets (both expectedly non-Brahmins). My best friends in life are Balakanth, Dr. Rajaram, Mani, SDP and if there is one common denominator it is they are all non-brahmins. Caring for others and compassion does not come to this community for it is forever engaged either in Vishnu Sahashranam or Rudram chanting. The suffering of brothers or neighbours WILL NOT hit the eye; only praying to invisible gods and doing ahuti to devas and sandhya vandanams counts. No other community relates to their sisters and brothers to this sham levels of apathy than this community; there is no practice of inviting even your siblings for a festival celebration. Contrast this to Eid or Christmas where the celebration is always a group activity.

            Dalai Lama keeps saying that one can live without religion and gods but one cannot live without love and compassion which means he is not well acquainted with Tambrahms from my family or the morning walking group at Eliot’s.

            Yesterday something happened that gives me the jitters and panic attacks even now. I greeted Krishnamurthy who has quite a saint temperament. I saw him seated on the boundary wall and went to greet him.  I was all excited and foolishly prattled, “I went for a 3 day Vipassana and had such a lovely time.” Another tambrahm sitting next to him said, “Sir, why are you talking and disturbing our peace so early in the morning? Please go elsewhere.”  I said with a lot of deliberateness, “I am not offended by your grossness but let me tell you that you are an old fool.” That needless road rage cost me half a day of mental peace before I sat on the meditation mat and work to dilute these hate energies. I am now so terrified of this community that I don’t want to dare cross their path again. I have a wedding in the family to attend this weekend; it already portends a sunstroke disaster given a congregation of tambrahms in one place.

            I asked a non-brahmin friend for advice: Should I attend this function or give it a miss given that both my sisters have not shown even the slightest concern in my struggles even as I was hanging from a rope in Theni? This sister who is getting her 27 year old son married on Sunday has not called me ONCE over phone in 28 years save for a short spell of 6 months, repeat she has NOT wished me one “Happy New Year” in 29 years or her husband or her both sons ever bother to come on a telephone line.  He said, “Sathya, you may have a million reasons to hate but this is one occasion for you to build a bridge of peace. Don’t squander this opportunity. See it as a penalty corner in a game of hockey and you do stand a chance to score a goal and reconnect with your family members.” Spoken like a true non-brahmin!!!

Post Script: I make an exception here. T H Iyer mama is a tambrahm and he has gone out of his way to be nice to me. But as the saying goes: one swallow does not make a summer.  Varadan, fortunately a Chettiar, saw me struggle to find takers for my communication course. Voluntarily he gave me a cheque of 6 k saying, “I can’t find anyone to enrol for your course. Find someone worthy and let me have the pleasure of being a sponsor.” Another friend Shyam said, “Sathya, here is 12 k and use it for the venue cost.” You will not find this CONNECTION in a tambrahm though one-in-a-million T H Iyer and Shyam Krishnamurthy.  

Even as I paint this community so viciously, let me balance it a bit by not forgetting its innate virtues. This clan is very intelligent, academic learning come easy to them, they make for excellent IT backroom boys, bank managers and clerks in public sector companies, they don’t get their hands dirty in local politics etc.

One incident defines this community as someone narrated this horror to me. At M-101 on Seventh Avenue, a house was being waylaid and robbed and the ground level neighbour saw the thugs run off with the goods. She told the victim, “I saw them get away.” The victim lady asked, “Why did you not raise an alarm?” The Tambrahm lady said, “My husband was sleeping and any shouting would have disturbed him,” for a typical response you can expect from those genes. 

Kaushik Enigma

I simply adored this nephew of mine till 2012 and then we drifted apart. There is a some tale in here and let me do a fast catch up for any readers to plough.

            Kaushik was born a year after my father’s death in 1990. Right from his childhood days this lad was extra cool. He made no demands on toys, he allowed his parents to choose shirts and shoes for him saying, “Both the options are good, I will take what you like.” In short he was much adored kid growing in Bangalore AWHO colony in Kammanahalli in the early nineties.

            This boy always had this star quality. For me it was lesson to see someone best loved in any company and without effort or attempt at humour or wisecracks. He was silent, a few comments here and there, not especially witty or brainy but you could sense the innate peace of his mind. Kaushik has a mind that can stop a rampaging bull on its tracks.

            Then 2012 happened that left a crack in the relation. I had painted the house and invited Kaushik for an appreciation. He came, saw and left. I mentioned this to Viji, his mother and this fellow was outraged. Some silly thing like: why tell my mother about this visit? This fellow, 21 years my junior, sent a sms that read: U Idiot. My response was instantaneous: Bastard, go hang yourself and I will buy you a rope for free.  Since then I have not entirely wiped the slate clean, he never bothered to apologize for the sin. If he can get so aggressive over a trivial non-issue then there is no trusting a repeat of the same and I kept a arm’s length distance.  In 2015 he went to Colorado. I made no attempt to speak to him over Skype nor bothered with any emails.

            He visited Besant nagar on 10^th January and I ensured there was no bad blood of the past to sully the occasion. My sister Viji and mother accompanied him and they loved the renovation – new flooring, new fridge, plants.

            Kaushik has been in USA for over 30 months and he is still the same: I find him a bit over idealistic. But the good thing is he has that feel for people. They came from a seaside temple and brought a lot of beach sand to the house. Kaushik goes to the kitchen to mop the sand! I advised him: either get married or experience life. Get into outdoor sports and do something you enjoy in life. America gives you freedom to be what you are, don’t squander it. Thanks to K’s visit at least I am on talking terms with my sister.

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Thanks to MINDFULNESS that my last eight months has flowed with ease. I used this time to make a mental inventory and remove most of the junk, useless thoughts in the head. My mother said, “ Viji was saying that you have written a blog on all of us and not so kind. This is a public humiliation we can do without.” I came home and removed the portraits blogs of Viji, Latha and Amma the same day.

            Pilar Jennnings who spoke on “effect of primary caretakers on a child’s psyche” in the Psychotherapy Summit and she responded to my Facebook message of thanks. I heard Vidyamala Burch’s talk on managing chronic pain and she indeed is a warrior of courage. She talks about secondary suffering and how we create our own suffering through DENIAL, BARGAINING before ACCEPTING and then FLOURISH. Now I can claim myself as a cognitive neuro scientist given that I have heard hundreds of talks on the workings of the mind. 

            I told Kaushik, “Junk all this Bhagavad Gita classes. You reside in Colorado and so get in touch with Sounds True people in Boulder. Only Buddha has the answers to a mind in 2018s.”

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January was also the month of movies. I saw “Aruvi” at Thyagaraja and it was okay, say just pass. Story of a woman diagnosed HIV and scorned by her family who attribute it to her fast lifestyle, she takes revenge on the society with a long lecture on “modern day folly of emphasizes on monies and lifestyle.”  Then I saw “My Fair Lady” at the American Center and loved this 1964 production. Both Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn can get a passage to heaven based solely on this performance. When I told Ranga, he said, “Actually this is a Broadway show in the last 1950s with Julie Andrews playing Eliza. Julie went on to make Mary Poppins and Sound of music and I still feel she had a natural right to star in this movie.” I told him, “I love these musicals high. I enjoyed Sound of Music, now this “My Fair lady” and I also rate “La la land” very high.”  There are so many movies you just love for OST like “Out of Africa” and “The Last Emperor” and even “Beverly Hills.” Finally I saw “The Post” at Satyam and it was the best of the three. This movie yet again showed why Steven Speilberg, Tom Hanks, and Meryl Streep are Hollywood Mughals – sheer talent and they are very good in their crafts.

            On TV I loved “Big Fat Liar”, “Windtalkers” and “Night at Rondanthe”. I asked Ranga, “Why is it that only Hollywood has exclusive preserve to creativity? You can't imagine an Indian making a movie like “Home Alone” or “Big Fat Liars” in a million years.” The great man said, “Their movies reflect their society, there is more courage and openness in those societies. Here our movies reflect gossip, manipulation, intrigue which is part of our DNA. So this is comparing apples and oranges.”

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I attended a FOSWL meeting in which Uma Seshadri was the guest speaker. She spoke on “Hasta mudras” and how these can be used for healing. I loved the talk so much that I ordered the book of Suman Chiplunkar on which this talk was based. Uma ma’am as a speaker spoke so slow that I thought: This is how I must conduct myself in my soft skills workshops.   Speaking of which, I delivered a two hours training programme at Ethiraj College for Women on 11^th January. I had 40 MBA first year students and it was quite an experience for me on public speaking. I fared well as a trainer for a self-appraisal, there were a lot of smiling faces at the end of the show. I pray I have more of these and make money once in a while. 

           On earning front January provided little comfort though I finalized a monthly retainer with Spot Media. Ramesh made a website for me! It is www.englang.in and I am so grateful to such friends. He also printed my visiting cards.  Everything on a volunteer basis and no cost to me. Thanks to Mindfulness, I have so many reliable friends and I value Vivek’s sagacity a lot and he is having the time of his life "wildlife-ing" in Corbett. January was good though it felt I need to earn more just to survive. 

Good start to the year

My maternal cousin Usha was a world-class Bharatanatyam dancer. I never got to know her from brother-sister estrangement of the parent generation. She died in 2006 and I spoke to her husband introducing myself upon seeing the obituary notice in the pages of “Hindu”. Mr. Srinivasan is a friendly person and we connected in our first meet way back in 2007. Since then I call him every three months or so just to say “Hello” and chat what comes to the mind and the issues of the day.

            He is quite a big fish in town; he runs a SME and something like past President of Ambattur Industrial Estate kinds. His house in Karpagam Gardens defines luxury that film actors would dream of.

            Usha’s brother Dr. Kumar - which makes him my maternal cousin - died in the first week of December and Srinivasan called to inform me of the demise. As 2017 was drawing to a close, he invited me to New Woodlands for a meal and fill me on the cremation news at Mangalore. Dr. Kumar was a genius in the true sense of the word, unlikely there are ten such brains in the entire country.

            We met at Woodlands on 27^th December and the lunch was out of this world for a mouth- watering and finger licking experience. Srinivasan, who is springly at 75, observed, “This is the first time I am coming to Woodlands after Usha’s death and it was over 15 years ago.” I said, “Food never tasted better, this is verily the best place for FULL MEALS in Chennai. This only confirms what I always suspected; Kannadigas make for the best cooks in South India.”

            Srinivasan said, “Sathya, I am going to Malaysia for an annual alumni meet tomorrow. This is the 53^rd meeting of IIM Calcutta of my batch. I have a DONOR PASS for Music Academy Dance festival which you can use in my absence.”

            I went to his house the next day for the DONOR PASS and he also gave a breakfast coupon saying, “This is the meal coupon on 1^st January for a customary meeting of members with the President. If you go there, you will get a good breakfast at the Academy.”

            So I went on the New Year day, taking bus number 29 C to Music Academy. It was the best breakfast I had in my life: idly, vadai, set dosa, puri, pongal alongwith payasam and a sweet. We had three chutneys which has become the norm, parupudi and this is a royal feast which would have graced Ivanka Trump’s table had she come visiting Chennai and in the market for South Indian. I kept hogging, your taste buds knew that the meal was extra special and savour the occasion. The filter coffee at the end rounded an epicurean delight. I wouldn’t be forgetting my first meal of 2018 in a while. I saw the Music Academy President N Murali greeting members; I kept a safe distance. It would be daft to introduce myself for a hand shake; it would have meant nothing to him and to me. It is such moments you know you are a NOBODY in town. 

            I attended the first concert on 3^rd January where Lakshmi Viswanathan was honoured with this year’s title. Mark Morris made an informal speech at a very formal gathering which made for spontaneous laughs in the audience. He is one of the best known contemporary dancers in the world; there was Mikhail Baryshinkov one of the greatest ballet dancers of our times. Said Morris, “I keep coming to Madras around this time of the year.  It was my good fortune in life to hear MS Subbulakshmi twenty years back and something clicked in my head. Tamil Classical music is one of the best things to happen in my life.”

            The first dance performance with Shijith Nambiar and his wife Parvathy Menon and they rocked. I found it a bit tiresome as they went through what looked like classical dance routines. Parvathy looked sensuous, so did the male artist. One could sense the sexual tension in the air.

            Music Academy is for the unbelievably rich crowd. I saw so many pretty faces. Classical Dance is very much like Golf and Snooker; you need to be super rich to pursue those interests. I was seated next to a dancer from New York and my heart instantly melted. We conversed a bit and she sounded mighty intelligent. If I had a bit more money in the bank and if I was a bit younger and if I was a bit more enterprising, I would have asked that woman out for coffee. Instead I came home and relived the “what could have been’s” feverish infatuations. She had long tresses that felt hands friendly for a male (J) and beautiful hands.

            The second show of the day was Leela Samson’s troupe and God, this was Hollywood kind production. The theme was “rivers” and Leela and her young team were again sensuous. These dancers show a lot of emotions on the face; sparkling eyes and flashing smiles as the hands goes into different postures. Abhinaya is the technical term for facial expressions and Bharatanatyam is so full of it. The stage was awash with colour – one moment it turned all blue and another crimson and then yellow halogen colours. Music Academy is the best place in town for lights and sounds in Chennai. I had seen two more dance shows earlier at Ratnagirsiwarar temple this season and this thought kept impinging as I walked out to the auditorium as the clock was nearing 9:30 pm: Water and fire happen within space which is infinite and expanding. One light year is the distance light travels in a year and we have galaxies that are thousands of light years away. Water at its benevolent side is life giving for every human civilization happened near river banks and in floods, water drowns everything. The destructive power of FIRE is even more complete and scary; water at least snuffs your life in drowning but fire breaks everything into ashes and leaves not a trace of your existence. This is what Leela Samson's troop performed on the stage. 

            I had the donor pass for the next four days but destiny played foul. A transport strike ensured that buses were OFF the roads and that meant Music Academy was out of bounds. A simple bus ticket costs Rs. 9 while an auto ride one way would be over Rs. 200 and my position in life is not such as to spend it. But just one day of Music Academy left me with the image of a dancer seated next to me; she was a Tambrahm from New York and I thought: someone with a similar profile is just the doctor's prescription for getting my life back on track. Some harmless vivid imaginations before the pressures of COMMUNICATION WORKSHOPS take over. But yes, the first week of 2018 sat easy and light on the eyes and the shoulders. 

Sathya, Happy 2018

If GOD were to appear before ME and say: My dear son, what are your wishes for 2018? I will grant them if you are reasonable. Don’t be wild in your imagination, within reason I will grant them Godspeed.

            I will say: LORD, here it goes:

a)     Let me earn 10 lacs this 2018 which is fivefold increase from 2017.

b)     Give me a girlfriend my heart goes crazy for. It will be nice if the woman is an artist like a musician or classical dancer. If not art, at least a practicing doctor like a cardiologist or a heart surgeon, someone dealing with life and death.

c)      Let me visit Srisailam in Andhra Pradesh, Guruvayoor in Kerala and Sringeri in Karnataka in 2018.

Lord, if you fail to deliver on my earnings and thirtha sthals I will not take it amiss, but don't fail to grant me a woman who loves me madly and I am insane about. I have been alone my entire life and this is one equation I wish to set right. But no compromises, my heart should beat wildly at her sight. It should erupt in a well of joy. I pray I smile in my sleep, make imaginary talk in my dreams, and feel her to be a part of me. I like this definition: I love her so much that I don’t know where I end and where she begins. In short, I want my heart and mind to reach those regions as it beat for a Kirti and Jessica when I was mad and doused with love. Love that made Tulsidas climb a wall using a snake for a rope and Romeo wishing that he was a glove on which Juliet rested her chin. Grant me this and I will be your devotee for life. What do you say to that, my Lord??

Observesathya gets momentum

I have six active blogs. Spiritualsathya is transcription of Swamiji’s speeches, thinksathya is my showpiece where I get my best writing done, dauntlesssathya is freewheeling and current issues, I am so proud of Damienbosses which has tales of office terrorism, writersathya is basically defunct but if there are any published pieces then I might as well post here.

            Observesathya started as a second blog in 2008 and I love the Yercaud tales that I posted here. Sadly it was the blog that went super heavy on the Sindhi imbroglio as it unfolded in 2009 but now for the last 3 years I keep it pure: only posts on VIPASSANA and now MINDFULNESS. Most of these are transcriptions and I do them with an attitude of GRATITUDE and also a service. As a writer, the only way I can contribute to society is by words and maybe someone will benefit from these is a motivation. Besides I also like to keep my reading material on the internet medium and use it as my personal library.

            There are 30 talks of Psychotherapy Summit and these really shook my mind at a base level. So it is such a pleasure to make notes of them and post it here. December is one month I have to get all those in; which means the next 10-12 posts are on the way. I am certain that many would amble in here and find ambrosia as it were. For me MINDFULNESS is not a THEORY class but PRACTICE, it has turned my life upside down for the better. Maybe it caused the turnaround maybe I even owe it my existence. So I would like to see these posts here.

            2017 is perhaps the best year of my life. it started tamely. I had Abhiyan Digital for a home based assignment. My writing was so poor that I barely had strength to do these assignments. The first 3 months of this year was the Theni phase of “I am going to die next month” mindset. My road to recovery started in Feb when I took to Louise Hay’s AFFIRMATIONS in a big way.  Those led me to MINDFULNESS by April and May and from then, there was no looking back.

            I started blogging in the middle of June and since then have added 0ver 80 posts in one of the best writing spells ever. Even if you take away the transcriptions, there are over 50 posts which average to 2 posts a week. This is breakneck speed for me. I personally loved the PORTRAIT series in thinksathya and PERSPECTIVES in Dauntless. I don’t think my writing has ever been this smooth and free-flowing. Ever!!!

            Since July I had to scout for a source for earnings, except for a couple of freelance assignments this was a dry search. Meaning even I had lost zeal hunting for them and that’s when Ramesh advised: Sathya, have an alternate income source and how about communication workshops? First I rebelled against the idea feeling that I was not up to it but this rationale prevailed: waiting for writing assignments in Chennai is the height of stupidity. It is like waiting for a train in a desert.

            So I started working on CONTENTS in September and by October I was in a position to conduct them. My content is 100% original. I advertised in the local papers, hired a corporate venue and my first class as a mentor began on 5^th November. I was nervous as hell but I kept at it. Two friends pitched in: Prithvi enrolled his son for what can be described as an act of kindness and Ramprasadh – the man who sent me to Abu Dhabi and I did not have the courage of face him since that failure – enrolled his employee. So many friends came out of nowhere for an encouraging word or even a selfless act. Krish Seshadri’s affections is something I cannot forget, he has the heart for the underdog and he goes out of his way to encourage them. Arun for his Diwali gifting of a T-shirt; it feels so special that I have not even worn it once. Manikandan came with Diwali sweets and both these were acts of grace I will never forget in a while. Then of course my regular friends like Vivek, Manisha, Ranga etc.

            And T H Iyer mama is one person who at 85 is one consistent face of friendship in 2017. He came back from Australia in April 2017 and he has seen me turn it around since then. He says: I have never seen you so confident and so serene. He has known me since 1998 when I first started to walk in the Theosophical Society Gardens.

            I love the training part. I have just 2 students and both of them love me after 7 classes and so I am doing good for starters. I am starting batch-2 on Sunday, 3^rd December. Actually I had 6 vacant slots of the venue for which I had already paid and so I am trying to fill with this batch. My goals are modest: if I get 4 students which will be 100% improvement from batch-1, my day is made.

            2017 was the year I re-wired 48 years of faulty circuit. I see clearly how my mother trampled on my infant mind and how sick it had reduced me to. I fought this battle of moodswings for more than 25 years and finally finding a healing. I feel like a warrior who lost every battle of life but finally winning the war. As Einstein says that when God made the ass, HE gave him a thick skin. These communication workshops are also in a way a brand new start for a career. Maybe I will go back to UAE as a corporate/soft-skills trainer is a small dream I aspire. And falling in love is out of the question really but certainly I am in love with myself as a spiritual practice. Maybe life will dish out some wealth and health in the years of come.

            The blessings many: reliable friends for starters, Eliot’s Beach, music, guitar, and of course my writing. I don’t know what 2018 will bring but what the hell, I lived 2017 and it has been a privilege so far.