Take tiny steps

#185

The last ten days were the worst of 3 years. I over reached buying a house with my entire savings with a default thinking (now proving to be defunct thinking) that a loan of 15-20 lacs is as easy to get as the next breath for a property worth 5 times and more. Not getting a loan is worse than your worst nightmare – had I lost in the stock markets at least “I played to my ability or disability” but not getting a loan meant “non-playing”. One of the worst things of life is crashing of dreams from lack of a trial.

     Let me explain. I may have a mistaken view that I am a good singer and I practice for 3 hours a day. Say 2-3 years have gone; by then you will get a good indication of your ability. Your tuition teacher would assess you, your struggles or pleasures in learning will serve as a mirror. You can’t fool yourself by far to a delusion. Within 6 months you will know where you stand on your singing – genius levels or average or mediocre or an impossible case. But the worst is not trying it out. Soft skills training for me was untested: I felt a genius level instructor but no platform. I would love to fail a couple of times – and no more – to realize: my self-image on training was in the error for I now have an empirical evidence: my students yawned on my face, they kept arguing, and the feedback form is a lot of reds. Similarly if I had the loan against property and failed in the markets, it’s a failure well-earned. But I locked myself out and I so never know how good or bad I was for a “suicidal” streak misjudgment. Trust me, the worst failure is “not having an avenue to try it out” and those are the worst regrets. When nature denies a testing ground of your aspirations or competence, it’s many times worse than “the world giving you a direct and tangible thumbs down”.

     For two days I felt my heart flutter. I realized that maybe I should take anti-depressants when you wake up feeling licked and defeated. Then I came across a Facebook post on handling life’s mega sorrows. It read:

My grandmother once gave me a tip:

In difficult times, you move forward in small steps.

Do what you have to do, but little by little.

Don't think about the future, or what may happen tomorrow.

Wash the dishes.

Remove the dust.

Write a letter.

Make a soup.

You see?

You are advancing step by step.

Take a step and stop.

Rest a little.

Praise yourself.

Take another step.

Then another.

You won't notice, but your steps will grow more and more.

And the time will come when you can think about the future without crying.
- Elena Mikhalkova

Just what the doctor ordered as I ran my own list of activities.

My list reads:

   a) 20 minutes warming exercises on the terrace at 6:15 am (time measures discipline) followed by basic chanting on odd days while on even days 20 min of SPARRC inside would suffice.  
   b)  Bath before 9:00 am

   c) 20 min of guitaring in a day between 10:00 and 3:00
   d) 20 min of word and idiom study between 10:00 and 3:00
   e) One Hollywood movie a day 
   f) 10 min of pranayama between 6:00 and 8:00 pm 
   g) 20 min of affirmations in the day  
   h) Two 30 min Vipassana session in a day: one before lunch and another before dinner 
   i) Clean one room a day from rearranging, sweeping and mopping
   j) 30 min XLT session of past recordings  
   k) Check 5 stocks on trade tiger with Open interests and Options chain of NIFTY and BANK NIFTY and draw the multiple time charts

    If you take all these activities, they will not add up to more than 150 minutes (less than 3 hours in a day). Get this basic discipline for just 4-5 of the things listed here and at least you don’t fret and fume on the day. Don’t allow the mind to ruminate on the future in a depressed state. Determine not to think of the morrow.

     I plan to post SELL of my apartment in “no brokers” and “99 acres” dot com by tomorrow. I already have a prospect for a LEASING which is attractive but I must consult a friend on agreement and worst case scenarios. I still have a couple of loan options to run around. Mine is a liquidity problem and I will be fortunate to get a 20 lacs loan (then I have a chance to play out in the stock market) or I sell the house for a 10 lacs loss and then enter the stock market like a cyclist after a fracture in a fall. But life goes on irrespective of my action; they leave scars and learning. But a daily discipline at least keeps you from anti-depressants and gives you a chance to face the day. 

Post Script: I am taking a BLOGGING BREAK. I may be away for months. To my friends, I am doing fine. Don't assume the worst. :) :)There is still of lot of humour left in me; lots of fight too. 

Cliffhanger

#184

Saturday I was gutted (bitterly disappointed or upset was the meaning I ran up now).  The RBL loan process went up to Technical (where they measure the apartment) and legal and everything was a smooth sailing.  Finally, after dithering for a week RBL said “No”. A dagger to the heart would have been kinder. That Saturday evening, I felt a pain in the tummy. I rushed out for a couple of smokes. In the night sleep just wouldn’t come.

            Sunday (yesterday) I did not have a bath till 4:00 in the evening not withstanding my puritanical make-up. Today the drinking water – I get a Bisleri can of water and heat it warm enough for a drink – overheated for nearly 30 minutes and the vessel started to smell. Then I had a second night of sleeplessness which was more than when a woman dumped me more than a decade back.

            I spoke to a friend. He said, “This means you need to put the house on sale. Invest 50 lacs in bank savings. And whatever is left over, you can play the stock market.” It was most sensible advice when the ship-deck was burning.

            In the last three days, my smoking has gone up. There are still options for raising 10-12 lacs capital without selling the place but they come with a lot of risks (which frankly makes them not worthwhile). One thought obsessed me in bed as I had the whole of the night for misery; I am a BLOODY GOOD WRITER but the society never gave me a foot on the door. Then SOFT SKILLS training but by then my energies were flagged out for selling it to the harsh world. Then came STOCK MARKET trading like a manna from heaven and I had locked myself out on this apartment purchase. You can whip your sorrows many times feeling the trend has been against you: Done in by stupid parents, excerbated by siblings, and a diva who kicked my heart like football. Anything  I touched turned to stone; what’s the antonym for Midas touch…..Sathya’s touch!!!!

            I started to check on property dealers and today in the morning my cook Nalini called (I have stopped her services since July for I can’t afford). Said she, “Sir, how are you? I called in to check out.” The solace came from that unexpected source. She is super resourceful, “Sir, don’t worry. Don’t skip your meals. We will work something out.” My loan consultant is the best in the world. That I am still standing in the race is his perseverance. He consoled, “Sir, my business has been down for the last 5 months. I will certainly get you a loan and then you can help me with my investments.” Uday is a man of few words and this got in a lot of life energies.

            In the morning I watched “The greatest game ever played” and that filled the mind with new thoughts instead of wallowing in defeat and despair. I loved this movie so much that I recorded the last 10 minutes on my mobile phone for a motivation piece. Same thing I did with the movie “Togo”. Watching “Secretariat” last week filled me with boundless energy – it’s a movie on the greatest American racing horse. I loved it as much as a “Ford V Ferrari”. Movies are my best friends; they never let me down. When I am sunk in the deepest sorrows, my mind is so damn super negative that it loses its capacity for reading or even listening to music. Yesterday I chanted in my loudest volume for 30 minutes of “Rudram” (hymns to Shiva) and they got in the much needed vocal energy.

            I am at a stage in life where death would be a blessing. I am also at a maturity level for a bit of detachment, I still have a mind to experiment. Nowadays I put my knees in front of the tap of hot water; it feels soothing for a 5 minutes’ flow. You vary the temperature, use the mug and it takes your mind away from the burning fires of hell. Do it thrice a day and it’s a good break from the raging fires inside. Also before going to bed, I massage my knees and thighs with coconut oil. Massaging the soles of the feet and the crown of the head (scalp) with a pinch of oil and it does cool the system down. Today I tried an oil bath – smeared myself in ginger oil and dried for an hour before getting under the shower and a shampoo. Again mighty recuperating.

            If you love yourself, do something that expresses it. Dying is easy, I have pills in my cupboard for a guaranteed peaceful exit (I am brainy enough for a research and resourceful enough to stock) but one thought stops me: however bleak and dire my situation is, I still have a roof over my head and three squares. I also have a person like Nalini to call in, even RV Rajan called out of the blue (Sathya, I have not seen your FB posts for a while. Just called in to check). I realize all too deeply: Just be your friend in thought and action. Sure we all want to die in peace, escape this moronic society (I would rather be born as a dog in America than be a human being in India if God gives these options in a tick-box) but you allow nature to put you to sleep. For the moment hot water flow, massages and oil bath. And any stray friendly connections that just says, "Don't worry, things will change for the better." Better say it yourself to yourself. 

Bruised and battered

#184

Living in this country is a sin; worst karmic punishment to death by drops than a snap by a noose. This society is intrinsically that of robbers, dacoits, highway stickup artists.

            Take Indian politics and it's a gutter; the stench of a corporation garbage can. Our MLAs are herded to a resort each time there is an imminent threat. Sonia Gandhi, the Italian, can’t speak a sentence without a European accent. She has no leadership or administrative acumen; highly probable she has lesser intellect than your kindergarten teacher. That she has managed to survive 3 decades in the cesspool of politics indicates just this: she controls the treasury of 3 generations loot. Indians don’t suck up to a family unless there is a sugar mountain to nibble. Politics is such a untreated sewage of industrial waste. Imagine a company whose turnover is 10 crores and employs 100 people – do you think any employee would respect the CEO if the man is all over IT cases, ED raids or appears in the gossip columns. The corrupt media is bought over; every so called analyst on television discusses anything under the sun than reality. It does not require a Holmes to deduce, “Gehlot sucks up to the Gandhis with regular payouts; he has his own set of money managers who do the dirty work (so that gives a buffer of deniability if caught), distributes power to win loyalty, and carries on the burdens of administering a state in senility. Gehlot at least speaks a sentence of sense which is beyond a Joe Biden in America. From politics the Himalayan stench fills our lives --- nepotism at work (every industrialists is succeeded by this sons or daughters and we wait till they dissent and break-up), the movies are full of sex and violence with bird brained plots (Madhuri’s “Choli ke peeche” is the level). So we end up worshiping cricketers (you need some ability to reach that level) and film stars who are shameless to any degree (the word “actor” in any language means a “prostitute”) while the system keeps out a good and brainy chap like me bruised and battered. Just swamped and run over by mediocrity and I am “keeping my legs up in good cheer” not participating any commercial or social activity of Bhartvarsha, jumbudvepa!!!

            My idling brain continues to spurt out wisdom like a leaky tap as it dwelt on prayers. If you are living in India you need tons of faith. How you word your prayers is extremely important. If the Lord where to appear before you, “Ask a boon and it shall be done.” In my younger days when I was already cynical I would have said, “Give me a ATM where my balance never reduces below 1 lac no matter how many times I withdraw in a day AND a Bollywood heroine for the nocturnal pleasures.” I am not one of those guys wiping noses of kids or change nappies. I never had a cherished childhood and so let no kid go through me. Then you read a lot of spiritual gibberish where you are taught to say, "Lord, give me wisdom and detachment. Viveka and Vairagya by which I attain moksha.” Now pushing 50+ I realize how much of a con this is. If you have never had a taste of refined happiness of moksha and you want that delivered on a platter. If I was God I would have replied, “O bhakta, you are incredibly foolish. I am ashamed of you. I withdraw my boons and you can scratch your balls for all I care.” Before I zeroed on this prayer yesterday (reason enough for a blog): Let me make peace with my mind. Here I take onus on what is happening in my mind; it is within grasp and it needs my efforts. And peaceful thoughts leads to better feelings and an equanimous state.

            Yesterday I watched “Saving Mr. Banks” and it blew me away. The movie shows a desperate Walt Disney coaxing Mrs. Travers for the movie-rights of her book “Mary Poppins”.  Travers is a cantankerous woman; she is a cranky old dame quick to take offense, nasty retorts (literary genius you see). She is one those worst teachers who a Pink Floyd caricatured in “Just another brick in the wall” song. Emma Thompson as Mrs. Travers was a genius casting; you felt those barbs and sarcasm for a brilliant script writing. There was a beautiful line in the movie- Life is an illusion. You don’t know what’s going to happen but whatever will happen has already happened in the past.” This triggered this thought in “we are forever surprised by our lives which is useless vanity when the past just keeps repeating itself day after day with every little change.” We never get tired of our silly stories, we are addicted to our sorrows because we love to wallow on our past repeating endlessly. This is MAYA. You can go through life as a sick worm and worry about your grades, your jobs, your faithless wives, ungrateful kids with nothing new to masticate in the head. Tell me, how many of us climb the Everest or game enough for a ski or do bungee jumping or any stupid thing. We don’t even know the stars on the overhead skies; we learn no instruments and play deaf to music; we don't know how to shepherd a herd much less milk a cow, or worse still not take cudgels for a fight. We are programmed for mediocrity, to go with the flow. And we end up living from a useless book of role-plays. No species on the planet is as insular as an Indian!!! 

            Then this realization steals over: we live in our minds. We carry that mind to the next world when the body is dusted and immersed in the rivers. To such an immortal mind we pay no heed and busy in shopping malls out to impress our neighbours. Life slips away moment to moment; we pride in the noisily ignorance of our small, petty lives. So let me pray: let me make peace with the flowing thoughts of my mind.  Let me drive my own car in the journey I carve. And I will put this silly letter "I" before anyone and any event. I live to celebrate my life and I am the master of my ship. Bugger off. 

Wisdom starts by right thinking

#183

The biggest mystery of wisdom is “how to fix thoughts that inspire and elevate”.  Noble and wholesome thoughts come, stay in the mind for a while, and diffuse out. They don’t replace the negative circuitry. At the intellect level, you could be wiser than a Moses but the wear and tear of living is such that we revert back to our familiar self-defeating neural circuitry.  This needs a briefest explanation – in the first 6 months of this year my emotional state flowed in these hues: Alexander the Great for physical courage and motivation then I slipped into outrage at HDFC for not furnishing the loan, then a bit of word studies for a “feel good” and “monthly maintenance of self-esteem”. I also got excited on my Gita recordings, explored Youtube for recordings, despair on the loan delay that usually leads to triggering feelings of hate on my siblings (I don't have a blood relative to be a co-applicant to a loan).  So the feelings and emotions for 2020 are: courage, outrage, revenge, contentment, excitement, forlorn, abandonment, friendship and more. My emotions dictionary is limited for I have only myself to handle, in a family set more emotions flow.

            I love myself this year for patience and waiting; these two attributes are teaching me a lot. I go to bed with a semblance, say wee bit, of a good feel but I wake up tired and exhausted. I get no respite from nightmares that are as perennial as a Godavari or Krishna. Then I started experimenting on my "first act" of the day – I tried chanting 10 Gayatris on waking for a fortnight, next month I tried SPARRC exercises even before brushing teeth, another month I resolved a bath before 7:00 am, later a week of pranayama (the exhalation being twice the inhalation for 5 min) but nothing seems to fix the weariness. I also tried affirmations in which I claim a high expertise, those wear thin too. Finally, I hit upon this – laugh your heart first thing in the morning. Watch a collection of funnies on Youtube (keep a folder that tickles you, keep updating). To laugh without a care for no rhyme or reason is not insanity. It keeps those facial muscles from a grumpy look and improve your immunity besides re-wiring your neural circuitry.

            I realized one insight about myself this year – I am a bit of chronic worrier and a proclivity for revenge. Both highly toxic to the level of dousing myself in gasoline and setting it aflame for a visual metaphor. What I love about myself is “try different things and keep working till you get a fix”. You need to vary your medicines on getting up bright as a bean. Laughing is the flavor of this week, maybe I will get bored next week and try another stream.

            2019 was a fabulous year. It had SPARRC workouts in the mornings, stock market trading for the mornings and afternoons, I also got in a bit of swimming. The best state of mind is a curiosity state (being inquisitive from learning) and staying excited with the results I was fetching in the stock markets. To stir my passions is not an easy thing, you need a spurt of mental energy that feels good inside. Why do you meditate? To remove habitual negative patterns of energies in the mind. To dilute fear, insecurity, hatred, animosity, and lust. But you also need an activity in the day that gives a “high”. It could be talking to a cheerful voice at the end of a line (these are getting fewer by the day) or unexpected good news (could be a comment to my blogs or someone writing in) or better still manufacture your own laughs.
          Movies too produce their share of endorphins. I loved "Togo", "Mary Poppins", "Miracle of 34 street", Whoopi Goldberg in "Sister Act", Steve Martin "Father of the Bride".  I was lost in admiration on "Ford v Ferrari" (it gets my vote for the "Best picture" of Oscars 2020) and "Jojo Rabbit". I also find stray wisdom. Today I found myself hooked to BK Shivani thoughts. She says: "Don't allow another's gross behaviour to affect your thinking. How you react to negativity determines your karma. Don't lose your equanimity." It's so obvious you need these random reminders. Shivani also talked about an "invisible halo" that tells more about your state of mind to others than words and gestures. There is wisdom everywhere, our job is to keep collecting them in the bags of the mind hoping that someday they cement themselves. The best of living is keep trying, bettering yourself, maybe you will hit gold at the end of a rainbow. 

At my thinking peak!

#182

I hate my rapids on Dauntless but then writing is a stress-buster. Two, I find myself discovering new wells of insights. You just need one thought that improves on your past storehouse of thoughts; that’s the trigger for new thinking, possibly a better feeling, and prayerfully a change in action. A “new thought” is the mother of change – that important it is. So please don’t cringe on my almost 3-4 blog posts a week. If I had enough of living moments, I would prefer just one blog post a month. But then I am a hopelessly idle body and so the mind goes into overdrive. Fancy that!

            I was listening to Swami Paramarthananda’s gurupurnima talk and it inspired this in my mind: We are eternal beings not limited by time. We always exist in some form or the other. It is up to us whether we stagnate for thousands of years or cultivate peace of mind to whatever degree. This thought is so elevating that if you start ruminating on this half a dozen times a day, it’s unlikely you will act in haste, or be inordinately selfish for short term gains, or try to steal a gold bar when no one is looking (life is a game of golf on integrity – no one is checking on you but no golf player steal meters for any advantage). It been decades when I feel so upbeat over an insight.

            I loved the movie “Ford v Ferrari” and motor racing is a manly sport. When you are introduced to this world of motor racing – the builders, drivers, engineers, design fabricators and works – you marvel at their obsession. They push the machine to its limits. There is a pursuit of perfection (which is more than excellence) for a Ken Miles or Nikki Lauda or Ayrton Senna or Michael Schumacher on driving a perfect lap. The gear changes, braking at corners, full blast on the straights – perfection in any pursuit is “god performing” work. I loved the revving sounds of the engine, the pit stops and it took my mind to reading Hemingway’s “Death in the afternoon” on bull fighting. These two worlds are so far removed; but the artistry of Hemingway had me hooked. So was this movie. Now I add two items to my bucket list – watch a bull fight in Spain and watch a F-1 race in person.

            I also like my music to be masculine. I loved Bon Jovi’s acoustic version of “It’s my life” and take any Dire Straits song or rock music as a genre, it’s not for sissies. The percussion is at your face, volume is blaring, the lyrics are never straight forward but the intent is to beat the hell out of you. Bring that attitude of “rebellious” and “my own thinking” to life.

            These days I find myself ruminating a lot. Death of the body is no cause for sadness. Look on it as a change of clothes, you get a newer and younger body. You also get a new set of parents and a new of set of lovers and wives – not a bad deal at all. Any time I go to a temple, which is rare, my constant prayer is this: Lord, give me a mother in my next birth who bonds. I don’t mind being born a dog or cat or any of your everyday humbler creation but let there be this primary bonding. If you get this wrong, the entire life is a burden. Ask me!

            Now let’s go back to that insight that “I am an eternal being where time has no relevance for I always exists in some form or the other.” As Gandhi articulated so well: Live as if you were to die tomorrow; learn as if you were to live forever. He deserves all the honours for generating this thought despite bungling on the political fronts. To live with courage, act with freedom, speak your thoughts unabashedly each time, to be the master of your time and energy is to live. You finally realize that the outward gains of money or fame is this world’s accounting and nothing to do in the cosmic accounting book. And if you are obsessed about perfection in any field of activity you are indeed god. You have no one to impress but the face in the shaving mirror. 

We get it all wrong!

#181

This is my “Eureka” moment. Remember Archimedes who got so excited that he ran naked on the street to meet the king having found a way to determine the purity of gold.  The word “eureka” is rich in meaning: a common experience that suddenly makes sense of an earlier incomprehensible problem for a “Aha” moment.

            Today my quicksilver mind hit this shore for a thought: we are fools in search of a paradise where peace abounds, there is understanding, there is love and everything positive about the place. It’s sheer lunatic fantasy. There's no kingdom of heaven, we are inhabitants of hell. The concept of happiness is a philosopher's quest and a poet's aspiration but in reality there is no such thing. Everyone I know goes through rivers of sorrow - some more intense than others. But the background music of sadness is an Einstein constant!!!! So if you drop your silly quest for happiness, be comfortable in your moroseness it makes living so much easier. However ecstatic a honeymoon was, you always hit the ground to a sad state as a pendulum swing.  Any search or spiritual practice for HARMONY, PEACE, HAPPINESS is a mirage; an illusion and a mad dog’s lunacy contracted by rabies. As human beings we are born out of sorrow (product of two miserable parents who got horny) and everything from birth is a journey in pain. Of course there is pleasure once in a blue moon in a third world country like India.  But as a thumb rule expect sorrow and misery as a natural state of mind. We are condemned to row in islands of anger, betrayal, hostility, jealousy, arrogance, lust. 

Each time you despair, get a self-serving perspective: It could have been worse. Look around there are millions suffering on an unimaginable scale.... 5 years girl carrying a baby half her size at traffic signals, lost limbs and stumped beggars at a temple entrance, grieving widows as the body of a husband starts towards a funeral. There are a million situations of sadness, we are all in line. So after each meal thank yourself, upon waking up “experience a genuine surprise and wonderment”, after every salary deposited in your bank account “dance with joy”. You have all it takes to survive in a dacoit society. Don’t do one act of kindness to others; heap love, understanding, gratitude and forgiveness on yourself alone. Since we live in a society it pays to be civil in your “good mornings” and “false smiles”. Treasure just one soul in the universe; the perpendicular pronoun “I”.

Is there happiness after death? I suppose not. Expect sadness, betrayal, apathy at every corner; then a stray act of kindness would be a balm. My simple argument in this blog post is "Don't covet peace or harmony or happiness" for it's an addictive drug for a misplaced understanding of life. We expect happiness and peace as a birthright and when denied it's disconcerting. Every one of us wants love and respect; we don't get them as we deny these gifts to others. The Indian system defeats us so often that we longer feel special to ourselves. 

My cynicism is complete. It should take a brave man or a woman to marry. I think it's a good idea that prior to a wedding the priest has a private chat: Step into the world of sadness; be prepared for running noses, bawling babies, everyday fights, insipid sex, unpaid bills, bully bosses, constant job losses and also add a pandemic. Now tell me, do you Mr. X take Y to be your legally wedded wife. No my honour. Numerically there are more thorns than roses, more worms than birds, more gross men than wholesome ones ..... ...hence more misery than moments of happiness.  
   When this thought hit me in the morning, I was stumped. The truth was staring at my face for 51 years yet I was slow on the uptake. So this is my “Eureka” moment. Each experience of living tells me just this: You and you alone matter. Don’t expect a residency visa on an island of pure joy, pure peace, pure happiness, pure tranquility. These are con words; revel in your imperfections, celebrate your negativity, and when positivity surfaces on rare occasions treat them as an imposter. That’s the truth of this world and the next. 

Dignity in despair

#180

6 months have gone in this year; it’s been incredibly hard on the loan front. Despite running marathons, I am still on the starting block. Now I must think of other options; painful in thought and “knock in the gut”. Maybe try leasing or try a soft skills training assignment. I have a distaste for working; I hate any person sitting in judgement.

            The world is incredibly selfish. I have found selfless acceptance (selfless love is too strong a word) from a Sarada Mami and TH Iyer mama in life; Ranga would be nature’s munificence for a free mentor. But by and large I am a victim of this self-serving world. Today I am in a dark mood to jog my memories of an apathetic world.     
a)     A classmate invited me to Delhi couple of years ago saying, “Sathya, use my spare apartment. Stay for months, my cook will also work for you. I need some writing done from you and I will compensate you enough to manage your daily expenses.” It sounded too good to be true, my little brain would not arrive on such a fantasy fix. It took me a week to realize that there are no free lunches in the world. I learnt this lesson: never accept any gratuitous hospitality. It’s always a Ponzi scheme, too good to be true.   
b)     pUsHpA is a metaphor for self-interest - the woman saw me as a Greek God dumped me the instant I lost the TOI job. Her attitude changed from a “soulmate” to “best buddies” in a matter of seconds. I was too naïve and went along, she bided her time (dictionary meaning is "wait for a favorable opportunity') for a bigger catch before the knife was plunged with indecent haste. 
c)      Then there was a CEO of a software giant who asked his top management to interview me for a job. This reference came from his uncle who is my biggest well-wisher. The team concluded upon meeting me, “He is very talented but over-aged for a “soft skills training coordinator” profile!! The irony is the brand ambassador of this young company is a 78 years old Amitabh Bachchan while a 49 years old is over the hill.  
d)     The worst was Raghu who I befriended in Kumbakonam. He said, “Sathya, we will look after you. Invest in this property, there is a food canteen for your brahmanical palette and we will take care of you on a medical emergency.” These days he does not even take my calls. This from a person who repeatedly said, “You are a younger brother to me.”  
e)     Finally, the builder of this Palavakkam apartment promising, “Sathya, you are one of the few customers who is paying the full amount from his savings. It is my duty to get you a bank loan. I have these HDFC guys in my pocket.” Couple of months later when I asked him to be a guarantor, he wriggled out, “I will lose my credit rating for future loans at the bank.”

I can go on and on, pile more incidences to arrive at this conclusion: There is no care in this third world country. At least I am a bachelor spared of this monstrous disillusion: that a wife or kids care for you. Yes, care as long as a bird keeps piling gold bricks in the savings account!!!! A 2020 living is “everyone watches only his back. Others drowning or hanging makes no difference.” In this digital age we rubberneck on a drowning or an accident scene with a mobile phone!!! 

            Today my situation is as dire as a caged rat. Remember those mouse traps in my younger days; those wooden rectangular boxes with a coconut shell as a bait at one end and a sliding spring trapdoor at the other. There seems no escape route from here. But you plod on. Courage is waiting, courage is not giving up. Faith is to say, “I am a trapped rat by destiny but I will persevere. I accept my situation; it could have been much worse.” The only escape from here is to sprint as soon as the trapdoor is opened before the sod drowns me in a bucket of water or sets me up as a meal for the cats. Dignity is hanging in there. We don’t have the luxury of throwing in the towel like Sushant Singh. The greatest heroism is being knocked out yet stand on the feet before a referee's count. The body and mind have blackened out; yet you flail the arms hoping it will sting your opponent. No defeat is final until you stop trying; and when you are gone there is honour in a defeat.

My father is a prime example of an ACCEPTING mind. He fought till the end; never lost hope. He was seized with thoughts of going to work even as he lay dying inch by inch. His bottom gave out from a bedsore so deep that an entire gauze roll would fit in. You could see the backbone yet he hung on to hopes of recovery. And when he died, he had the most tranquil look on his face. When the ashes were immersed in the Besant Nagar beach, a tidal wave rose as tall as me on the shore and dragging me. It was as though nature was eager to have one of its best soldiers in its fold in the ever flowing timeless waves of the sea. God gives the sternest test to his toughest soldiers. The greatest bravery is to be in a losing battle, knowing there is no way out in the open. I have been on it ever since my birth. Like my father, keep fighting to the end. Dignity. Waiting. Humility, Patience - the game of life is never over until the bell tolls.  

Lock-down 2020

#179

This year has put everyone to sleep; it has left us in cuts and bruises in the mind. The daily routine being trampled over to a lock-down living. Actually we never heard the word “lock-down” or “pandemic” and now we hear nothing else; imprisoned in our homes. 2020 is a cusp year - hopefully we change from a greedy consumerist society to a responsible eco-friendly living. Prayerfully!!

            3 full months – April, May, and June – have gone down the river of time; add 10 days of March and the count is over a hundred days of lockdown (25% of the year gone down the drain). How did this impact me? My loan process keeps getting delayed as a medieval curse which meant no earning or activity for 6 months of 2020. This year had this whimsical run on me. These are the residual memories:
 a)     Jan and Feb were two months when I felt the full force of apathy. I kept railing: The world is a maha selfish place, it cares no two hoots for me. Then these high-voltage energy thoughts stabilized to a rationale: It is the cost of living in a mass based society. We are besieged by numbers; we are rats in an army. Either fall in line or be swamped. And I am the rat that got run over!!!!   
b)     My notes on “Alexander the Great” in January; “Bhagavad Gita” recording in May, or resuming the “word study” in ages felt a tailwind for keeping the mind in good humour. But as the lock-down days kept piling, I found myself slipping into self-doubt and waiting (for the loan).  
c)      For a month – between May and June – I enjoyed the sea breeze on the terrace. I gave myself a 45 min schedule for a bit of chanting, knee exercises and listening to songs. But these days I am far too lazy. Now I content with 90 min of Vipassana and consume a lot of self-defeating television hours. I am ashamed to have consumed 9 episodes of "Aarya" and two full seasons of “24” (48 episodes in my hall of shame). When I am on a TV spell, I know I have hit my psychological bottom. The only redeeming factor is “Colt Clark and the quarantine kids”. There’s a 6 years old girl there who invokes a surrogate parent in me. Bellamy is too cute; this family band fills me with endorphins for a YouTube watch.  
        For me, living is mostly in the mind and so I should not crib too much on lock-down. More than fear of contracting Covid 19 or chained to a home, my main crib is “not trading”. More than money, stock market trading affords me thrills and spills. It’s an arena to test your hypothesis. When Glenmark reached a high of Rs.550, I planned a paper trade of shorting a lot. In less than three hours the stock went down to Rs. 475 and I would have made over 90 k for a “mental high” over a premise: a stock cannot have a 35% upside in two days and hope to stay there. The “options chains” said so in the morning and I danced with joy for a gut feel validation. Then it feels a flat tyre; easy earnings no longer possible as the loan is inordinately delayed.

            Slowly I stumbled on this insight on the "22 years of heart surgery" self-celebrations: Life is about waiting, patience and humility. It helps if you have curiosity and during these lock-down months my curiosity quotient is dry. Still I managed to hit on this insight: Most people particularly women lead an insular and minuscule life upon marriage and kids. To these brahmahastis; their world begins and ends with their kids. My siblings would have died of despair if a marriage or kids were denied. It would have driven them to an lunatic home while I frolic on my freedom. My immediate frustrations are the constraints of a  “minimum balance” living. I want my knees examined by a seventh generation Ayurveda specialist in the neighbourhood that T H Iyer mama speaks highly off, resume the SPARRC exercises for which I need a two wheeler, and a bit of swimming and guitar. That these activities have to wait a loan sanction is what is eating my soul. But I guess the answers should be out by middle of July – one way or the other. 
              What is boredom? No new thoughts in reading; books feel a weight on the mind and as insipid as masticating a chapathi in my IMT days. No new songs to dance; no new thoughts for the mind to revel. Then I console myself: wait for the monsoons that are near at hand. The South West would bring the smell of earth and the murmurs of a drizzle to a furnace city. Wait for the tailwinds of a loan sanction. Wait. 

Sushant Singh Rajput lessons!

#178

In over 14 years of blogging I have rarely commented on macro affairs. My blogs are almost always about me, my life experiences, how they impact me in feelings. I don’t have a “personal” side that needs hiding or masking; I am a very average person grappling through life issues. I think it’s foolish to live under a curtain; as long as you don’t share your account balance in your savings account or the passwords to your mails frankly nothing should be PRIVATE unless you are sleeping with different women or persuading another man’s wife to elope. If you pause to think, the world is callous. Nobody is interested in you, much less your stories. You might as well paint an apathetic world with your colours. I blog my stories for a reading value; it gives me clarity is my payoff. 

            Sorry we got distracted in this needless self-praise though entirely not out of place. It got us that “we can be open about our stories to our friends or anyone in the neighborhood” as long as it does not recoil on us. Now to SSR!

            I am not a movie goer, though I did watch “Chhichhor” on Hotstar. It was an average fare, I liked it though not bowled over. For an Indian movie, it was a refreshing but if your usual habitat is Hollywood this is a watchable time-pass ones. Then I heard the news of the suicide on Sunday. It did not affect me. But as I kept following the news on Twitter, I was caught in the heated nepotism debate. Seriously on Sunday the actor’s suicide was news but by the end of Tuesday the dripping poison of this debate had its venom. I felt outraged at the injustice. I saw all those Karan Johar’s slights, or that dumb Sonam Kapoor clips (Sushant Singh Rajput! Who??) and Alia Bhatt sniggering at him (I will marry Ranbir, kill Sushant and hook up with Ranveer) or the maha insult of SSR by shortie SRK and lanky Shahid Kapoor (On a dais of a film awards function, which was sickeningly patronizing) on Twitter. This is not my world, so please stomach my distaste and disrespect to a SRK or Alia or Johars. I never respected their creativity or their work, ever! 

            SSR’s death shows a mirror of our society – it does not respect talent at all. This is something I have been crying hoarse for decades in these blogs. We are self-centered and apathetic society. Maimed beggars at traffic signals does not make us kinder; we callously drive away when confronted with eunuchs and little five years’ girls who carries a baby half her size. I have repeatedly made this point ad infinitum: We are a rat’s society not only in terms of numbers but we also have a rat’s urgency to horde (it hides its food from the prying eyes of others, later itself forgets the place. Such a depraved self-defeating creative). So this nepotism makes sense: an actor would promote his son or daughter as much as a musician promoting his wards or a ex-cricketer making a phone call to the state selection board “Can you please include my son in the team?” This is no different from bribing a TTE for a sleeper berth in a train or paying donation fees to get your 3-year-old into the best convent school in town. I dare say that every Indian is a crook. What about me? Am I snow white in integrity? Fat chance, if Jayalalitha had sanctioned a petrol pump dealership, I would have no qualms erecting cut-outs or prostrating at her feet. 

            Now to SSR. What he did was wrong. You don’t commit suicide if you are out of big productions. Suicide over a love failure is laughable. There are plenty of fishes in the sea. When I was dumped in romance, I was angry but never suicidal. I rubbished her name to mud in my blogs. With time, I realized without an atom of doubt it was a lucky escape. Actually when you ponder there is no reason why anyone must self-deliver unless a terminal disease and you can’t digest your food or you need someone to clean your ass.

            A mind slips into depression when the thoughts get into a cyclic pattern almost helplessly to “I am worthless and I am good for nothing”. But depression sets in those weak people whose inner wiring feeds a strong self-critic. Or those who live on others crumbs or evaluations. These days each of my blogs invariably ends with this leading premise: there is no medicine better than “learning to respect and loving yourself”.  The mind needs to anchor - I am respect worthy, I will not put myself down or allow anyone to put me down including gods or devils or a fuckin Bollywood asshole.

            Imagine I have a story session with a Salman Khan or Karan Johar over my screenplay. I will be nice and courteous. If they were to say, “Sathya, we will get back to you.” I will say my goodbyes in the calmest tone, “You don’t know what you are missing out. It’s your loss entirely.” Even if nobody finds it “movie-worthy”, I can live with it. But on no account I will drool saliva or fawn over them. This is a scene I did not conjure up now for a blog post. I actually lived it. After “O my darling India” was published in 2009 I thought “story writing” would be a natural career option. I dreamed of book signing fame and being interviewed by BBC. But I met a couple of literary agents and publishers that left me so tepid that I threw in the towel. I stopped marketing my manuscripts. I realized that the Indian publishing is pulp while I am semi-literary. My attitude was: "You don’t deserve me or the Indian reading public’s wavelength is too low for me to dig my nose in.” I realized soon that we are a English speaking nation but not a English reading one. I made my contempt for Indian publishing houses so public in my blogs that TOI did an article on my views!!!! I did not stop with this. I took writing samples of a Bachi Karkaria, Chetan Bhagat, Shobaa De, Santosh Desai and many others and edited it for a better read. I had the audacity to send that link to them and inflict a personal humiliation. 
               Even in Abu Dhabi when Mohan was ramming the rod to a colleague’s ass every day I had the gumption to stand up and say, “Sir, I can’t take this verbal lashing every day even if it is directed against somebody. I am quitting.” I walked away from a 2 lacs a month job without even a second thought.  When HDFC bank rejected my loan application after two months, I wrote to the CEO and even the Finance Minister. They sent a team of four managers to my house to placate me!!! Love yourself to such intensity that not even Gods can insult you. Of course they will be many people born to run you down, or find fault and cavil. Don’t believe them and if you are as much a cunning fox as me, they will end up eating out of your hands.

Post Script: Self-respect is something you are born with.  When I was working in Contract Advertising, Blore in 1994 my manager John would twist a knife for a bully, "If the report is not in my table by 9:00 am, you will kiss the job goodbye." I replied, "Teach me advertising for a month and then I will teach you." In 1988 my father was invited to T Subbarami Reddy's daughter's wedding. That man was a film producer and a politician and those in attendance were stars like Sridevi, Jayaprada, Jeetendra and so many of them. I accompanied my dad for the wedding. They had two entrances; one in which he and his wife greeted the stars while the second one was manned by his manager to usher in lesser mortals like my father. I cringed at the slight, refused the dinner while my father went for a bite.  But for me the most vivid memory is Vinod in school. He walked up to Sam Pitroda (during the Rajiv Gandhi government) and said, "Your reservation policy stinks."  Sam replied, "Man, you seem a little frustrated."  When he narrated his incident to me, I asked, "What if he had thrown you out?" My friend replied: I would have taken a front page advertisement in Deccan Chronicle with Sam and my picture next to each other and then say "this man asked me to GET OUT." The message is clear: You don't go out of your way to get into tangles with authority. But if you are slighted, give it back. 

Living in Palavakkam

#177

Be it Besant Nagar or Palavakkam the core of my life has not changed; the contour and the template is the same for decades. I have never been an outdoor person given the acute arthritis; this suits me actually. I am a lazy sod for physical labour; even invalids do more walking and outdoors which is fine by me. I am not remotely envious. Rather I am content lying down, or watching a movie or listening to songs or just squander away time when nothing seems right. Nature made me a thinking machine; I don’t want to distract the flow of thoughts to fitful expenditure of physical energy when the mental harvest is so much better.

            Slowly Palavakkam is registering on the mind. My golden 30 min is in the terrace where I chant a few slokas and do a wee-bit of pranayama. I like the night skies, the breeze hits the body hard and I stare at the skies. It is a Aamir Khan staring at empty spaces for a “visionary scholar” pose except I am more original than that fucker. I watched “Jojo Rabbit” this week and felt that we Indians can’t make such a high quality movie for the next hundred years. I loved “Togo” and then “Mary Poppins returns” in this lockdown.

            Slowly I am getting pally with the neighbours. I invited a person home; he happened to be a rare Brahmin in the locality. I shot an exploratory arrow: I am yet to perform a homam in the new house. Could you recommend a priest? kinds. These are half-volleys to a fellow Brahmin – ritualistic by nature and also bonding - where he gets a chance for a lovely cover drive.

            I am steadily recognizing the virtues of my cook, Nalini, which is not apparent at the surface. She vibrates hyper energy; ready to rebut or snap. Meera was friendly and you could even crack a joke and have a laugh. Thangam was the school principal who vibrated a lot of patience and gravitas. Nalini on the other hand is emotionally uptight; it’s difficult to have a conversation. But she is mighty resourceful. She got my ration card registered in a PDS here. This month I was getting sick and tired of sambar; she coaxed me to buy the Idly batter (they come in sachets). Her cooking drives me to despair; there is a certain decisiveness about a brahmin cuisine and try as hard she could never muster. Yesterday she requested a Brahmin lady in the neighborhood to teach her for a week. That lady is a wife of a retired Income Tax officer (so definitely high placed is society) and Nalini brought her to my house for a few free tuition sessions. Palavakkam has that village spirit, even in the grocery store the lady is game for a chat or free advice. I smile heartily and say a few inanities: Modi might lift the lockdown this week or something equally banal. I get a lot of banter from Vijay Agencies where I buy chips and grape juice bottles. Definitely a lot friendlier than Besant Nagar!!!

            The last 4 days I have been listening to OPTIONS online classes – each day there’s almost 6 hours of content and that goes for 5 days.  Just to hear Kapil Mokashi on Options is a privilege. He says, “Teaching Options online is a challenge for both the students and me. I end up having sore throat, but as long as my students benefit it’s no big deal.” Kapil is a kind of man I would like to be in my next birth; he is quiet but put him in front of a classroom and he comes alive. On discipline he said, “You may have the best course material and the best teachers but it’s your own efforts that will tilt the balance. You can’t expect others to do pushups for you!!!” After Mariam Janahi in Bahrain in 2003 I have not come across a person so perfect in demeanor. He is not a friendly person but once he returned my missed call and we spoke for 30 minutes and it felt a privilege. I felt as honored as when Mariam poured tea for me in her house; an Arab inviting you and serving tea is higher in standing than the Nobel peace prize. 

            TH Iyer mama calls me twice a day. He is as regular as a parent. I was telling him, “The first thing I will do after getting the loan is spend a week in Bangalore for knee treatment.” Dhamma Mani Sir knows a place where they take care of body aches and arthritis; he promised to tag me along next month. TH Iyer mama suggested a Ayurveda option in Chennai itself. I will try both; I need a respite from this acute lingering pain. Even if the pain comes down by 25% I will sign half of wealth away for a hyperbole.

            I slowly realize that there are heroes all around. Nalini is a woman of resilience and character. There is a story here but I shall respect her privacy. Kapil is a role-model; these recordings (I applied for this classroom session but I was waitlisted. But they were gracious enough to give access to the recordings) is getting me confident. I feel the twitch of my fingers to resume trading. He is 37 and as classy as the great Mariam Janahi. Both talk as smooth as a Rolls Royce, both use silence more effective than speech something I am yet to learn.  

I am 51 and I am scared; I have lived on my own for more than a decade. Each year is getting difficult. If I can earn in the 2-3 lacs range a month, if my knees get a little better then I can dream of swimming and hiring a guitar instructor. Frankly I don’t wish to give god a natural death, I feel tempted to blast my brains just for kicks. I am a veteran whose time is long up, nothing excites me. Not even the turbulence of the stock market (I am very passionate on my trade plans) or even if Queen of Sheba or Helen of Troy seduces me under a umbrella in those lounge seaters on a Pacific ocean beach. I am too self-immersed to take a female. But that's where living begins, drama starts. And room for disputes and arguments that my nerves can't stand. As of now, let me wait for the loan which is expected this week and bear the knee pains with the patience of a sage. Patience thy name is Sathya.....

Being “alive”

#176

I realized this of recent making: my life is essentially a desert-ish but there are moments where I come alive to every atom. I pray for 4-5 such occasions in a year where my mind is absorbed to the point of losing my identity; I am not self-conscious so dipped in an activity. This is the magic of being in a zone, at times when I write there is no “I” or even the “keypad” or the “screen” – all merge into a state of timeliness where a beginning of a thought takes flight on its own. These are few moments in life – very rare – that you feel the presence of the divine. Nature does not intrude on your life, but it’s the one that determines your destiny. There are thousands of unsung geniuses for every Bill Gates and a Steve Jobs. Most of them bloom unseen and unappreciated but what the hell they do become instruments on which nature plays its tune.

            A bit self-serving argument but let me explain further to make this obscure point. In the last three years there were certain events that got this timelessness in me:

a)     Going to SPARRC in 2019 got in a lot of endorphins in the system. Exercising for an hour under the watchful eye of a trainer, there is nothing remotely exciting about it. Bring some banter, supply your own humour, put some positive characters and you feel a bit of magic about living. Being in India, there are few occasions where the “environment is conducive”. It’s like being in SDP’s or Rajaram’s company, each time I talk to them my mind conjures up a startling insight or my humour is on the plane of a Beans or Jim Carrey! They give me the “space” to take liberties and the mind feeds on that little won freedom and rewards itself.

b)     I loved the one week in North India last year – be it the 50^th birthday part on day-1, day-2 at Saharanpur and a jungle safari at Rajaji National Park, then Haridwar and Rishikesh on day -3 and 4, before ending with a four hours scooty ride in Mussoorie that was a “standout” amidst standouts.

c)      I loved writing “Bangalore Vipassana” reminiscences of March, 2019 and also July round of “meditation at Igatpuri” (it was a three-part series). For me, doing the “Portraits” series in 2017 was the road to recovery. That finally convinced me that I was alive and it felt that a writer in me can never be extinguished. I may get rusty and pedestrian but there’s a vein of creativity embedded here, I treat my words with a lot of affection and at times their magic shows on page.

d)     Oh, how much I loved each of my Mumbai visits – Core strategy in June, 2019 then August for Future and Options in September.  I was mad with anger during the Options classes but a simple taxi ride with the instructor got in some much of healing and embracement. Today Rahul is one of my best friends, so is Kapil. Both instructors are possibly the best trading professionals of this zombie Bharatmata. OTA and SPARCC have a commonality – both hire professionals who vibe well, they squeeze out a measure of positivity from the interactions.

e)     I loved Madurai for those four days in December 2018 – flying into a tiny airport in a small plane, those temple visits especially Madurai Meenakshi was a memorable visit. But it was travelling in the 3 hour passenger trains from Madurai to Tenkasi for Courtrallam Falls or Madurai Rameshwaram that fetched the mind those special moments.

There are some Vipassana centres which vibrate this specialness: I always loved the Bangalore centre; Igatpuri, Kolhapur and Nagpur (there is something to Maharashtra; I visited these places during monsoons and it was a sheer delight) felt soothing to the mind; Hyderabad centre vibrates authority to me, Chennai is like common salt and so prosaic that I usually give it a miss. There is no rationale to how your mind is wired for its perception but treat it with respect. Don’t stray too far from its inferences, life is mostly about “how you feel” rather than any charm of its own.

            2020 had its share of “special moments” that felt a privilege to live. My mind was dancing with excitement when I wrote the four-part Alexander series, I loved myself doing the audio files of the Bhagavad Gita summaries on Anchor. I also relished my drinking sessions with Ranga at Maris, sad those days are denied to me from this extended lockdown. Ranga has a mind that soars from the drab of life. The best part of such timeless moments is “you don’t plan for them” for it just imposes itself on you. That’s where you get spontaneity and creativity, they seem to flow inside you. Otherwise for most part, it is dal, chawal and roti. Life is dreary as a hot summer breeze in a Sahara, there is a revulsion to waking up each day. But the compensate is phenomenal when nature decides to use you as its instrument. When you love others as much as you love yourself then magic flows. Reality is "most times we fall into self-pity and self-hatred and look at the world with apathy" but for these special moments. When you love life, it sometimes loves you back. 

Digging in the dark

#175

Digging in the dark and alone; that’s me in a drama of life.  Just pause, allow the flow of thoughts to settle a bit, take a ride above them and what you do know about yourself? Very little, I would wager. The biggest riddle in the universe is to understand the nature of your own mind; when it spikes up to “agitating” thoughts or how frequent and what are the areas the thoughts – lustful thoughts or revenge or forlorn or grieving ones – that clasp you with.

            Vipassana and Mindfulness has got in a lot of self-awareness for me. I learnt to observe myself. I was shocked at myself; the last year's river rafting run in Rishikesh got no adrenalin. I was imperturbable despite the chilly glacier water swamping me in that small inflatable rubber boat. I should have been squealing like the rest of the crew; but sadly not even a whimper. Throw back to 1998 in Manipal Heart Foundation where there was a procedure for draining fluid from the peri-cardium in the Cath Lab.  It was hot summer May morning at 10’0 clock, I had just turned 29 in that week's stay at the hospital, when a patient next to me suffered a cardiac arrest. He was shrieking in despair: Darling I love you. It is hurting, I am scared. This is the end. His rant was so infectious that my heart rate which was a steady 90 beats to a minute now climbed to 135. You see, we are all connected to those computer terminals that shows your pressure points and heart rates, it was then I realized how toxic negative spikes in energy is for the poor heart. This incident had a huge impact on my psyche; after this I intuitively avoided noisy people and any place that got crowds in. I learnt to appreciate quietude. And now in May, 2019 my heart just wouldn’t race to the river run in the Ganges at Rishikesh!!!!

            On 12^th May, 2020 I went to RTO Office at Thiruvanmiyur. I was excited to be on the ECR again after two months of cooping in my apartment at Palavakkam. My driving license was renewed and I felt a surge of excitement for a while. I came home and was sick for two days. Any time my mind views more than a dozen people, it just shuts off or feels fused out – such has been my cooping, a claustrophobic cloistered living.  Then on Saturday, 30^th May, I spent two hours in familiar Besant nagar for bank errands and bit of food shopping. And ever since my mind feels like the churning of a giant wheel. Being so alone, my mind is fused out, jaded, drained out when I see crowds!!!

            And of the best things I realized about life and me was “I don’t know whether I am a force for good or evil in this innings here.” There is no doubting the courage and perseverance; I have lived 51 years without basic affection. If a mother rejects a child, it usually doesn’t make it. The first relation of a baby is with the mother, if that equation is messed up then life is an uphill task – swimming against the current – for a life. I had a terrible mother, physically abusive father, apathetic sisters for the first twenty years of life. All those scars manifested as cyclical depression in IMT days. I entered adulthood without a ray of hope like a hapless lamb waiting to be slaughtered, the road ahead was a suicide or a mental asylum. Then came heart surgery, a woman burst out of nowhere and when that relation flunked I knew: I am back to “on my own” territory. I have a lot of friends but pause to reflect: I never had anyone in the house who owned me up. I was a rotten potato, abused and reviled in my first twenty years. Then next 30 years were in repairing this rotten apple. There is tremendous heroism for an attempt at becoming normal, this journey was my own. That’s a reason why I don’t reserve faith in Gods above – nature has not furnished me one reason to be grateful for.

            I ask myself: what will make me happy now?  The answer is immediately intuitive: I would love a bonding with a human being. I want to be trusting and bonding (sharing banter, feeling worthy of myself, feeling wanted in the eyes of another person). Such a bonding happens only in a man-woman relationship and I am past that station. Now if I chance across a woman of my dreams and fantasies, it would be hard labour in the bed. As a friend jocularly said: my testosterone levels have dipped, there is no more joy in the bed. Actually the coitus looks a horrible joke. So where does it leave me? Can I come across a place or a person in whom I can reserve faith without necking and tonguing? Conceptually it's an oxymoron, and it is. Most probably I will have to manage my old years on my own just as I have these 51 years.

            Earning 3-4 lacs a month on the bourses will not get me out of my skins exulting, it’s more a par for the course. My knees is unlikely to improve. If I save a wish, I would love to play guitar like a rock band front man. Singing and playing the guitar is the best I can hope from this point in life, maybe get in swimming too. I might take on to the Kumbakonam air, at least that place guarantees me “Brahmin Iyer food” that Palavakkam does not. To my mind, I can’t think of anyone who has brought more courage and patience to life than me. Yet the question remains: Am I a force of good or evil? I cross my heart and affirm: I don’t know. I don’t know what attributes are rewarded in life or after death? But one thing is sure, I may reach an abode meant for the greatest warriors or I might be condemned to the worst dregs, a place where the waste rots away. I am usually the worst or the best in a situation, there is no middle comfort zone of safety. Simply put, I am not sure whether I am a force of good or evil. Trying to figure out would be the course of my reminding years. Even now there is no destination in sight or the roads mapped, I trudge along none wiser. I am a lost kid in a cosmic traffic fare in downtown. I used to holler as a kid, now I am that derelict beggar in the corner of the street. Apathetic as the world around is.