Pangs of settling in

#158

I don’t know why I write these blogs. Maybe a flicker of a distant thought that someday someone will read these pages and confer me greatness – Tchaikovsky or even the greatest Mozart became famous posthumously. But this year, my resolve, is less personal, less self-centered.   

            I came from Dindigul on 6/1 and I had a huge laundry list of tasks in front of me. Within two days I had setup the modular computer table, re-assembled the sofa-set (I saved Rs. 3000 asking the deckup carpenter to help after he pieced the table together), got the MI person wall-mounting the smart TV, set up the kitchen, replaced a cylinder tube, got a Hathway broadband for a staggering efficiency. I looked at myself with wonder, even God would not have been so resourceful, a quality I never associate myself with. To my self-image – often erroneous for I estimate my worth a lot less than reality beckons- I am a theorists and a supreme thinker. I take as much as 3-4 days rumination even on a petty thing like a haircut simply because I don’t want an extra ounce of work for my poor knees.

            Within a short time, I became a regular Swiggy customer – I found myself fleeced Rs. 50-60 for every delivery though they saved my knees a whale of a trouble. In the new house I found myself consuming less calories for I was eating a lot less. Bemoan the guy who depends on Chennai restaurants for four squares a day!!! Slowly I start making coffees and teas, another day even upma but something is missing. Besant nagar is as much a professional whore of a metro but I got used to it. Each time I stepped out of my abode (you are supposed to chuckle here) I ran into familiar faces for half-raised greetings and eye-contact. Here no one knows me. This is paradise compared to buses zipping down Seventh Avenue in front of my house, here I spot couple of cows grazing in the fields for a complete contrast. The best of Besant nagar was everything was within my walking range, here it’s 500 metres to ECR and my knees curse me in the vilest words the dictionary can afford. Besant nagar is a whore but it felt nice on the system, Palvakkam is a heaven that needs getting used to.

            I am a poor reader; I have long stopped buying books. Then last month I ordered 4-5 books on Amazon for a solar eclipse rarity. The books came and promptly went to the shelves. Now I opened Philip Freeman’s “Alexander the Great” and it caught me by the scruff of the neck. I just love everything about ATG.  Nature does not produce a ATG than once in a 5000 or 10000 years; he is Bhima, Arjuna, Duryodhana, Sakuni and Karna combined except real in flesh and blood. I venerate Buddha through every cell of the body but my heart and soul belongs to Alexander the Great. In the one week in the new house I could not have found a greater inspiration than the battle exploits of this extraordinary man 2300 years ago.

            I met two people this week who deserve a special mention. Dinesh was the Hathway executive and at 23, he looks the best salesman I have come across. Yesterday Ashok came to configure my desktop for the Wifi. I have known him for a decade as he said, “Sathya Sir, anytime you have a heart-attack I will drop everything and attend to you.” Such nobleness, I am indebted more than words.

            I am 50 now, I have lived alone for 13 years without a minuscule of support. I never doubt my resilience or survival instinct, I see myself in the class of a Hercules, Achilles and ATG for my inward journey was no less breathtaking in scope as their war exploits. But if God were to appear and ask for a boon from me, I will say, “Bring it on old man. Take me away for a well-deserved respite.” 

            HDFC is the worst possible bank in India. My housing loan is now more than 4 weeks old by which I time I got my apartment registered with my own funds. After sleeping for 5 weeks those guys tell me, “Now that you have registered property, there is no point in a housing loan. But we will consider you for a mortgage loan.” I need 25 lacs with the urgency of a next breath; I need this money for trading and a part-payment for Kumbakonam property. I am annoyed, exasperated, intensely irritated and frustrated and throw in all the synonyms. 

            Yesterday I saw QUEEN and Kangana was outstanding. I felt she has earned the right to put a foot in her mouth each time she opens it. Which reminds of a drink I had with Ranga at Maris and he says, “Sathya, we have two orifices; anterior and another in the rear. People who speak without thinking is farting; there is no question of a volition here. Sadly most people in our age use the anterior for a propaganda and posterior for speaking.” Ranga comes with such priceless insights, I learn as much in his company than what life throws at me almost each moment. I will end the ramble with this tailpiece: Viji’s husband, my brother-in-law, invited me for a Pongal lunch that I gently declined saying, “An electrician has promised to come tomorrow. It’s a new house you see, so I very sorry to miss this feast," for a white lie. The invite is as much a wonder as the hanging gardens of Babylon or those pyramids in Egypt for my folks wake-up after 32 years. There is one thing about Alexander I envy; in those days men slit others throat at the slightest provocation while here I am in 2020 who can’t even slap a fellow human being.  
              Welcome to 2020, I am as cynical as ever and my writing as potent too. This year looks a make or break, I will make it even if I have to beg, borrow or steal or even kill. Finally I am learning. Thanks to Alexander the Great. 

Life’s trivialities – 3 insights

#154

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy days are here again

#151

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

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

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

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

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

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

Learning on “love” from movies

#140

At times you watch a movie; nothing about it stands out but a couple of dialogues. They make you reflect your own ideas in the head or you could be so carried away that you aver, “If I have an occasion to say this in reality, I certainly would," for a rich dose of impressionism. 

            There is this beautiful scene between Jai and Nayantara in the movie “Raja Rani”. The two lovers go to a church, kneel down to pray between the pews. Jai asks innocently, “Are we made-for-each-other?” She responds brilliantly, “Nobody is made-for-each-other from birth. We become made-for-each-other in the manner we live.”

            Then I watched “Ispade rajavum idhaya raniyum” (King of Spades, Queen of hearts) on Hotstar for even more learning. The hero is a maniac, he gets angry and violent easily for little or no provocation. The audience feels sad for the heroine for choosing such an irascible chap. Gautam is very possessive about Tara and her parents are looking elsewhere for a marriage alliance. This guy is so peeved and works himself to a frenzy; he drags her to a marriage registrar office out of the blue, “Let’s get married now. Just your signature and I can breathe easy.” Tara says, “We did not meet for four days, yet I felt your presence throughout. Now I am with you yet we are a million miles away. Marriage is no guarantee even after sex, the only guarantee for a happy marriage is trust.”

            The hero Gautam keeps threatening her, “You ditch me, I will kill you with a knife.” Tara says, “Don’t speak like a fool. Gautam when you are in love, speak with caution for each of your action is now driving me further away. In love learn to trust and learn to wait.” It so happens that Tara agrees to an arranged marriage brought by her parents but as she is getting dressed in bridal wear her mind revolts. She tells her dad, “No I can’t do it. When it comes to the test, I am still in love with Gautam and my mind can’t accept anyone else.” The story climaxes thus: Gautam learns of Tara’s marriage and comes brandishing a butcher's knife even as she gets off an auto to meet him. She hugs him saying, “I couldn’t go through the wedding for I only love you.” Gautam is now contrite saying, “I don’t deserve you at all. One moment I was about to stab you to pieces,” as he takes off to the mountains in the North for a bit of soul searching: How could I be such a heartless bum ready to plunge a knife on a beloved?" His cellphone shows Whatsapp message from Tara: 4 days I have not seen you. I am sorry. Please connect. She repeatedly keeps messaging: 24 days without speaking or hearing from you. I will always come looking for you. I am now in Himachal Pradesh in search of you. The hero smiles and takes her call as the movie rolls the titles. It was a lousy movie but the plot gripped me and the dialogues.

            After seeing the movie my first reaction was “pUsHpA never loved me at all.” I suffer a lot of nightmares and the themes are invariably the same: failing in exams at the school or university level or I am being kicked out from the house by my parents. pUsHpA doesn’t figure in my slumber but yesterday my mind had this rich video running: I am working in a place where this female is my colleague. I avoid her though placed in her company; there is a hearty chap who keeps probing: Sathya, why do you avoid this female? I tell him, “We were snakes and mongoose in our previous life. And in that encounter the snake came up trumps.”

Jubilant June

I have been looking for a purpose in life and finally I do have one. June was kind and considerate on me. I fetched a lot of compliments on my writing which is not unusual but this time I sunk them in for a lingering cherish; Core strategy at Mumbai opened my eyes to trading as a career, mother’s hospitalization for thrombosis, SPARRC care and much more. So much of action and I will be guilty to miss out on. As ever, we start with the best ones:

a)     Compliments: When I started blogging on Rediffiland in 2006 the comments of fellow bloggers would give a thrill for a high. Then I shifted my blogging platform to blogger and those hardly fetch any comment but I would get responses from Facebook and Twitter for my blog links. The “Online trading @ Mumbai” post had my Mumbai classmates giving me thumbs up. I particularly cherished the comment from Kapil Mokashi my instructor, “This is brilliant writing and I am forwarding it to the OTA India head.” Then Suresh said, “I loved it so much that I forwarded it to my dad.” Yohannan of Oval crew at Vishranti said, “Man, you write beautifully. It’s as self-evident and obvious as a sunrise.”  RV Rajan said at the Eliot’s, “You really are a powerful writer. If you desist from writing about your siblings, you will go very far.” Even TH Iyer said, “Your writing has gone up a notch.” As for me, I do feel a certain mastery and perhaps in the best writing spell ever.

b)     Equity trading: One week in Mumbai and this is slowly getting to be addictive for a hobby. I genuinely love watching how the red and green candles form in lower time frames, I love to watch the trends as they stack up in the flow. It’s a Science here for a game of probabilities. I love the XTL sessions where the instructors teach all that they know without holding back (how will I possibly know?  I feel in my gut that these instructors improvise so much, put their own minds to the charts and come up with out of the world study material for students).  I am falling in love with this aspect so much that I spend a couple of hours a day on listening to these live or recorded webinars; this is my latest bug for a hobby. As I was telling Lakhina, “If and when my one crore becomes two crores then I can afford any holiday vacations in the world.” This is as good a motivation as any. We have a robust XLT Chennai group on Whatsapp and I am inviting a friend to listen to these teachings for he is a “stock” enthusiasts as well. Learning and sharing makes for better learning than just learning and hoarding. I like this new side of me for a new interest consuming the old me.
c) SPARRC care:  I came back from Mumbai with swollen and stiff knees and I lost faith in SPARRC, "If after 9 months this is the progress then I am doomed." I spoke my mind to them, "Please tell me whether I will ever progress to walking without pain and a limp." This was a moment of truth for them and they reacted beautifully. They said, "We'll put you in therapy." Sukanya is a master therapist and she worked on my muscles for a week kneading it like wheat for chappatis taking out all the pain trigger points. The doctor Arvind said, "Please try a new set of exercises. The quality of your posture is important than how long you exercise it imperfectly." Sukanya added, "Sir, it is all in the mind. Get your back straight, bend your knees and land on your feet.  Get a good gait and then you'll progress rapidly." I am so grateful to them for their professional care that I feel my knees are on the mend. This is a good team, they vibe so well. 

d)      Mother’s hospitalization: My brother-in-law called me out of the blue saying, “Your mother has a blood clot and she is hospitalized.” I lost no time reaching SP Hospital in the evening and that place vibrates well. Venous thrombosis is not a life threatening ailment except it causes a nuisance with swelling and itching. The doctor at the helm is the son of legendary Balamuralikrishna, Padma Vibushan and one of the best exponents of Carnatic music. I met my sisters but we were not gushing in affection, we very much stuck to our roles. It was like Theresa May shaking hands with Vladimir Putin at G-20 meeting after the Salisbury poison attack. I was the cashier for six days of hospitalization but I appreciated that my eldest sister spent all the time in a spacious room at the hospital – sleeping on the attender’s bed would not have been cozy rather that plank would make for tempting backaches. My mother is six months short of 80 and looking at a toothless face (though she radiates good health) one feels that “life is one long journey of regret and missed opportunities. Death is so final that even at a far distance it’s scary for it’s a final closure with no rewind button.”

Chennai had rains after nearly 200 days of sun which is a record in a decade, we get rains within six months bracket for a norm. The rains brought greenery and cheer to the mind almost on appearance, just to listen to the howling storm winds when the window panes bang against the wall or wooden frame for a clattering sound, smell of earth, the trees swaying in delight as the showers descend down is sure a mood-uplifter. I am sure every Chennaiite must have danced inwardly that day, 20^th June, when the rain gods smiled on us.  As for me, life is good as my writing shows. I seem to be in a phase of personal growth, definitely of growing maturity for I am more accepting and take my time in getting distraught over other people’s actions. There is a sense of forgiveness and gratitude, or having lived and slowing passing away into the ages. Yesterday I went to a PUMA showroom for tracks and a nice pair of sports shoes; these little things emphasize the living quotient in us.  Living just one day at a time, I frankly don't build castles of glory or doom six months down the line for my life afforded no such cruise, it flows in any direction and I am mentally ready to accept what course is served for the day. 

A slice of Madras

#129

“Chennai is the most negative city in the world” is my assertion in any social gathering even at random encounters with raw strangers while on a train or a flight or anywhere I get human company. But I can’t do without the city for my mind is used to TAMIL and restaurants around every corner serving idly/vada and filter coffee.

            Last August there was a possibility of a job in JUST DIAL at NOIDA that my mind revolted. Fortunately I did not get the offer but if I had then I would have had a hard time self-convincing to make the shift to a NCR region. Delhi hits the gut with the Punjabi aggression and Hindi everywhere (Acche Hi, buchha hai) that my mind at 50 is fatigued. I do need a bit of Tamil in the air, filter coffee at every corner. And with my lame legs I am happy and content at Besant nagar where my movements are optimized to the lowest possible denomination.

            Yesterday I had a day out and it merits a blog post.

            I booked for a gas cylinder refill at 6:00 in the morning through interactive voice response (IVR) where you use the numbers on the mobile for bookings.  Normally it takes 2-3 days but yesterday the door bell rang at 11:00 and presto, cylinder delivery. The bill was Rs. 722 that the delivery boy said was Rs. 750 for climbing two storied staircase. I had just over Rs. 300 in the wallet and I told him in a morose voice, “Please take Rs. 250 now, I will go down to the ATM for the remaining Rs. 500 which you can pick up later in the day.” The boy acquiesced and it is such instances that reinforce my love for Chennai despite it being the most negative city in the world. Here I can talk to bus drivers and conductors, milk vendors and grocers and have a running conversation; something I can’t in a Bangalore or Hyderabad and definitely not in a Mumbai or Delhi. Knowing the local language is vital when dealing the menial working classes, otherwise you are not one of them. You might as well count for a German or French or a American or a Martian for all they care.

            Then I got down to withdraw 12 k from the ATM and went to Nilgiris store for Aavin milk sachet and Oosi Thenkozhil (a traditional savory that is fried and comes packed). I saw Ramani a mid-70s walker at the beach who greeted me asking, “What are you doing in this hot sun?” I showed him the half litre milk sachet and the Thenkozhil as we both smiled on cue as it were. Again I can’t have such a dialogue in a Delhi or Bangalore if Tamil was missing on the roads.

            In the evening I had to pick up Ranga for a drink at Maris and he backed out at the last moment. I was determined as I engaged an auto from Sathya studios to Maris.  I signaled for a couple of autos for negotiating the price; one fellow said, “Rs. 120 for Maris” and I asked with devilish cunning, “Is it for to and fro or just the drop?” He got the dry humour. Again something I can only do in Chennai with my Tamil skills. Finally I found a fare for Rs. 90 and off we went. The driver was beefy, large frame and he had a manly contour to him as he started talking which went like this:

            I reside in RA Puram area and only drive in the evenings. Actually I make a living as a money lender. I give weekly loans say if I give a loan of 10 k, I only pay 9 k to the borrower. The borrower has to make weekly installments of 1 k weekly for 10 weeks. Earlier I used to give monthly loans but suffered over 15 lacs loss. You see this Navodaya restaurant (as we passed by on the RA puram road) and that man ran away without repaying my loan advances of 1.5 lacs. That fellow despite being a Brahmin cheated me and these days one to be careful. I added a comma for a filler in this one-sided conversation, “To make a living as a money lender is tough for you need brawn and you need to be thug on a recollection drive.” The auto driver continued: Yeah, I have been out in the market for 20 years and all the local goons are my friends.

            Then he shifted to family matters: I was 19 when I got married, I fell in love with a 16 year old, we eloped and got married. It was my being responsibility getting the elder sisters married, finding grooms and financing the weddings. The second girl's marriage did not work out, she came home after a year with a baby and we have been supporting her ever since. Seeing that failure, my brother-in-law refused to get married. Now he is 50 and we keep an eye on his health and safety.

            I told him, “I am also a bachelor at 50 but a happy one. There are pros and cons both sides and a wise man takes advantage of where he is placed while the fool cribs at what is lacking.” We introduced ourselves, “I am Sathya and I make my money trading in stocks; I am Raja and I also around your age.” Again such a conversation can’t be imagined in a Telugu or Hindi or English or whatever. These are occasions that connect me to this most negative city in the world and boy, I come alive in these moments.

            This was the first time I was drinking alone at Maris as I ordered two large of Signature whiskeys and a soda as the sides dishes of a sundal, puffed rice and peanuts were served. The bill came to Rs. 495 which I swiped with a credit card leaving Rs. 20 as tips. I asked the steward, “Is it crowded today or what? Usually your service is better.” He smiled taking me for a regular saying, “Today our man power is less.” I loved being alone on the table and resolved: no need to wait for Ranga or anyone; being alone is so much peaceful and less stressful on the nerves. Must make it a monthly habit. 

            That done I hobbled to the restaurant on the ground floor. I sat on a corner table away from the maddening 8:40 pm crowd. The bearer took my order for a full meals.  I rate Maris restaurant the best in Chennai for service; you will never find such alacrity of stewards filling water to your glass or be attentive for refill of a sambar or curry or pickles or whatever anywhere else. You don’t find this level of service in a Ratna Café or Sangeetha or Saravana Bhavan. You see the same old familiar faces and they go out of their way for very best in hospitality in the city. I ate my food on a banana leaf and left a Rs. 20 tip. I spoke very little to the bearer but we connected, as he kept refilling and replenishing my glass of cold water or the extra rasams.

            I went outside and waited for a 29 C. There are a few new red buses in town with bucket seats and there was a new red bus 29 C Deluxe that I boarded opposite Chola Sheraton. This is the most negative city in the world but I lived every moment of it thanks to the auto driver, the stewards and even the trees and birds retiring into the night. I looked at the asphalt roads and thought, “This is my city and my roads and I will not exchange it for a Abu Dhabi or a Manama or anywhere else” as I looked at the crescent moon on a cloudy night skies with lampposts throwing light on the rising polluting airs  over the treetops. This is my city and this is where I belong. And if a spell of hell is prescribed for you, first thing you get down to learning is a smattering of Tamil which will convert it to heaven. 

When “outrage” turns to “humour”

I love the dictionary meaning of “outrage” that goes like “extreme strong reaction of anger, shock, or indignation.” The synonyms listed are: indignation, fury, anger, rage, disapproval, wrath, shock, resentment, horror, disgust, amazement. Exactly what I feel for my two elder sisters!

            I will briefly mention my angst – for 30 years they did not feel a need to involve me in festivities which meant that I have not celebrated a festival since my dad’s death in 1989. Both of them did not care when I was vulnerable and hanging on to life on a fragile thread during my depression years.  I am sure they will not give me a cremation after death or tend to me if I am destined for an ICU critical care. Such relations are a scar on the soul; we don’t worry about relations that don’t apply like “I am not going to moan the non-existence of a wife in my life or miss kids.” But I will feel cheated and feel nothing but scorn for my sisters for they are real in blood and sweat.

            Instead of being OUTRAGED my creative mind slips into HUMOUR and these are the many ways I conjure to get back at them. Since I am a gentleman these are just thoughts and not put into action however seductive they seem. These are some of my creative insults for my sisters that are not served:

a)     I thought of writing to the Principal of KEYS HIGH SCHOOL in Secunderabad where both the she-devils studied where-in I make a strong case for a REFUND. They obviously did not EDUCATE my sisters well enough and so I have a genuine case for a compensation. Parallelly if I could mark a copy to the editor of a Deccan Chronicle or Newstime or whatever paper sells in Hyderabad, this can be a news interest story generating a lot of mirth and embarrassment.

b)     My fingers were itching to leave a message at L’s samandhi saying that L has become pregnant at the age of 54. Again a social embarrassment for a hoax of a joke.

c)      Or just maybe write to them saying that L has converted to Christianity.

d)     Or I write a fictional story of two ghost sisters called V and L. How both of them turn to werewolves on new moon day and go up gobbling street dogs and sleeping crows for an after dinner munch. Also how I taught both of my brother-in-laws to plant a tamarind tree so that they can climb it when their wives go into such devilish sprees.  My nickname for V is “Shakini” and L is “Dakhini” – they are both not human beings but born of a jackal as in the movie Omen. They are Brahma Rakshasa, yama dootha as we chant in Mahanyasam

e)     Or I could write to the Oil and Petroleum Minister Dharmedra Pradhan and the BPCL board that they is a BPCL employee who is the world’s worst sister and mark a copy as to as many BPCL employees as possible.

These are just creative expressions of OUTRAGE but serve my mind well. No longer I feel a negative energy when I think of these shrews (termagant, fishwife, witch, gorgon, spitfire, she-devil are dictionary synonyms) but a creative zest for more of creative insults. This is my way of Metta Bhavana.  
             Revenge is part of human nature but I have found it to be always COUNTERPRODUCTIVE. It is truly is like hitting oneself with a stick on the head; such a self-defeating sport and a pastime. My entire family - father, mother, two sisters - never gave me a moment's respite from hatred and anger. These are lifelong scars but I must find the energy to channelize it better. This revenge thing sucks and drains my energy as both my sisters are no less sinister than king cobras. It is tough living on my own with these scars but I have to do better. 

               I also realize that I am not such a good fellow as I pretend to be; or serve sermons on Mindfulness on Facebook.  Negative states of mind like anger, hate and outrage are indeed addictive states of mind. I do observe my mind that these remain as LOW ENERGY thoughts as possible for it is POISON and fill the day with humour than out to shock and upset people who are better placed in society than me (they can hurt me in real ways for they do wield some influence that I don't). In the end I realize that life serves me a menu that I must have cooked for myself. Let me work these transient states as much as possible. 

Rewriting January Memories

I am learning a lot on MINDFULNESS lately.  Mindfulness has never been a theory for me to flaunt but something to practice; a THOUGHT tool to REWIRE the mind circuitry. This month I got to hear a lot of Rick Hanson’s 12 pillars of resilience and I have gained a few insights foremost of which is “our brain are wired to sense danger, we are genetically predisposed to mistrust and be suspicious of others motives. It takes a conscious learning to imbibe the values of love and faith in the mind circuitry.” You do that by landing the positive experiences long enough on your mind. 

            That really got me acting as I attempt writing my January memories in the light of this premise – let me record POSITIVE experiences in the month, let me stay in that feeling so that the psyche records it and learns to build mental reserves of patience and faith. These are big words and so let me simplify: when you have a positive experience, stay with that feeling longer so that it records in the mind.

            So much for introduction and now let me start working.

T H Iyer mama had advised that I should light a lamp before 10’o clock on 1^st January at the new house. So I hurried my cook at 9:45 to the new place. I placed a couple of God’s statues and frames and flowers and agarbathi and all that. I tried lighting a lamp but the wind was a bit strong and got nowhere despite two strikes on the matchbox. Thangam mami made one attempt and she got the flame long enough to light the lamp. I felt thankful that such a morally scrupulous person was there for the occasion and I closed my eyes for this prayer: let this new home bring happiness that M90/4 denied. Lord, I am a small fly and desperate for tailwinds. Let my life be blessed with your grace – better earnings and maybe romance for my life could do with some drama. Otherwise this is getting to feel like a monastery.

            Shifting took its toll. I rang Ranga in panic saying, “I desperately need a drink.” He said, “Come to Maris on 5^th January on a Saturday. I am free that day.” That drink at Maris not only quenched my thirst for whisky but also smoothened a lot of nerves after the shifting headaches.  We also had a drinking session at the new residence where Ranga dished out a startling definition of life: It is an opportunity of a journey to test out your beliefs with no promise of a reward.  I loved the words: OPPORTUNITY, JOURNEY, TESTING YOUR BELIEF, NO EXPECTATIONS OF REWARDS. No wonder I rate him so high for an original thinker. Then on the following weekend he narrated the story of AHALYA and RENUKA (mother of Parasurama who killed his mother on his father’s commands). He said: Ahalya was vain about her beauty that even Indra lusted for her. Despite her marriage to Gautama Muni, she was proud and arrogant (two qualities a woman must never imbibe for they drown them in the river of life to a mathematical certainty). When Indra violated her, she played along but she realized after the act was done: what have you done? You have completely destroyed me, nay I have destroyed myself totally. She did not offer any excuse, rather submitted herself to her husband’s curse. Gautama Muni was so forgiving as he said, " What you have committed is indeed a grave sin. I will show the way to penance and purify your past. You will turn to rock and be undisturbed in your meditations without having to hear to the viciousness of the world. Meditate in solitude and in time you will be purified and I will accept you.” What a husband for magnanimity!  With Ranga, one picks up so many things in a conversation.

            In January I spoke to Ashutosh for a rich harvest. His movie “Ganga’s first born” was truly an amazing piece of work. Vikas Bagga reverted to my call, got to speak with his wife Sabina (our batchmate) and Deepti (they are neighbours in Gurgaon) in decades. Neetu is caring and friendly on the phones and mails. I get a lot of warmth from IMT friends and I make a conscious record of them given that I circulate with so few here in Besant Nagar. Now that I have stopped going to the beach for the morning walks on the advice of SPARRC, I appreciate with gratitude any friendly vibes I can collect.

            Once Dr. Nandakumar (my only acquaintance to him is in the Beach) who saw me smoking, he urged me in a strong tone, “Sathya, smoking is no good. I would not interfere if you are addicted to alcohol or go weak in your dalliances with women. Of all the vices, this is just not on. Promise me not to touch this nicotine stick again.” I promised mentally saying,” Let me try out a TOBACCO FREE February before I can take long term resolves. So far, clean and I hope to be clean for the rest of the month. I see this advice coming from an unexpected quarter as a divine message, so let me pay heed here.

            This Sunday, 3^rd February, I met Dr. Rajaram who really has a key to my laughter bones. I was telling him about my learnings from Rick Hanson’s book that he heard in silence, actually I was shooting him with a machine gun on these insights. I am so excited in his company that I share all my learnings with a dog’s enthusiasm and he is quite patient and forgiving. He introduced me to this friend who said, “I am a professional gambler at the horse races. In my youth I used to own horses but now I restrict myself to betting. I do earn quite a sum considering that I have spent most of life on the turf.” I ejaculated with a gusto,” Gosh, please take me to the course. I want to have a feel.” He said, “Certainly but on one condition; you will not place a bet. This is one place I have seen many lose their mental bearings.” Rajaram said, “Sathya, he considers himself a mindfulness guru, will not descend to betting. He is there to absorb and write a blog otherwise I will cut his balls.” No wonder I love this man and his banter.

            I also made a list of all the happy events of 2019 so far and there are 7 listings and from now my blog posts on Dauntlesssathya would try to capture that positive feel. So there is some massive learning here. As a writer I try to balance between experience and learning and also watch out for "is there anything for a reader to pick up on."  So let me stay POSITIVE on my writing at least in 2019. 

November Nuggets

Again on the face of it another VACUOUS month but when I dig deeper, there are gains. I visit SPARRC (Sports Performance Assessment Rehabilitation and Research Centre) six days out of seven. I try my best to be there at 6:45 am and I usually make it and this has been the best experience of my messy life in a long, long while.

            I signed up with SPARRC for four months REHAB for my knees and the good news is the treatment is working. They have a big centre in Besant Nagar which is a three minutes’ walk from my den. I take an out of shape elevator at Spencers to the fourth floor and from there it is 50 minutes of stretching and strengthening my muscles. Sports Medicine as practiced by Sparrc really works – every exercise is aimed at strengthening the walking muscles. They are blessed with a friendly staff: Oviya is quiet and perceptive (she knows when I need the knee weights and she will wrap it around when those are in its schedule run). Venkatesh is smart and he keeps adding variations as I progress. One of the best things of a workout is your movements get better by the day; you add more complexity or the full version of it and this is motivating enough: what I did clumsily on Monday, I get the full measure of it by Wednesday and these little improvements feels that you are on the right path. Now I walk without a limb, next week I will try a brisk walk and pretty soon I should be jogging.  This daily workouts opened my eyes to this age old trite that FITNESS and CONFIDENCE go together.  Now I want to invest in daily gym workouts. Let my biceps bulge and chest feel as strong and sinewy as a barrel.  SPARRC shows that if you experience expertise, professionalism and a friendly air,  life isn't so bitchy and messy. This is a smooth running brook and at 50 k worth every pence of it. I will remember Nov, 2018 as SPARRC month of my life. I also loved my two days holiday at Guruvayur to escape the barren loneliness of Diwali.

            There were two weddings this month in the family that I skipped. My reasons were that “You don’t send a wedding invite after three decades saying: I have a son or daughter and please do come.” It’s a mental strain that lasts for over two days seeing relatives in decades. One of the gains of MINDFULNESS is avoid any action that brings discomfort to me. First let me take care of myself and then I shall follow the societal norms is a good working principle.

            Another gain of November is Mr. Pandian who is purchasing my apartment. It now feels like selling this place to a friend. We have long chats on life and how Indians corrupt it with their existence. He has a genuine respect for me saying, “Sir, you will definitely see good days in life. Your talents and thinking is formidable. I was reading your O my darling, India and this is great writing skills.” This is a compliment I cherish as I did Anurag’s “Powerful words of an excellent writer and few can match your skills.” I turned to Dhamma Mani Sir for advice for investing in a LASSI SHOP franchise. He said, “Sathya before you start looking for locations or signing the cheque, go meet them. See how the whole thing works and then take the plunge. Don’t forget that you are a MBA in marketing from what is that institute…..IMT Ghaziabad before all this writing madness took over.” Shyam advised on investment, “You don’t need to invest all the monies in equities or MFs or debt instruments at one go. The market is volatile now, allow it to settle and do it in stages, “as he recommended a few MFs that gave him good returns.

            I watched “Bohemian Rhapsody” and it is my best movie of this year. I felt sad for two days feeling how Freddie Mercury squandered his god given skills for wild excesses. I have been listening to Queen for over two decades and this man made me cry for the operatic “Bohemian Rhapsody” and the plight of loneliness in “Somebody to love.” And I quote the lyrics of “We are the Champions” so many times in social contexts and even my blog posts. I felt sad that he died so young; but then what a celebration and joy his life has been. I also patted myself on the back that I was listening to Western music as young as 7 or 8 without any promptings. I first heard Carpenters “Yesterday once more” and “Kungfu Fighting” that my dad brought as a cassette to our first tape recorder in the mid-70s. It takes an intelligent mind to cultivate its own musical taste and thank god I ploughed a lonely farrow for such phenomenal returns.

            IMT friends continue to give satisfaction. I spoke to Lakhina last week and he said, “Sathya, you can call me anytime you want.” Lalit engaged a session with a life coach in Velachery as he said, “Sathya, please don’t thank me. There are so many people in our batch who care for you.” Neetu has been threatening to call for a while; she again vibrates friendship and care. Deepak writes with a lot of concern and compassion. Seriously, I thank every person who harbours a kind thought of me.

            As the house sale process will conclude in a week’s time, I thought of a visit to Madurai, Coutrallam and Rameswaram for a weekend sojourn in December. I found a flight ticket to Madurai for Rs. 1500 and did not waste a second booking it. So something to look forward besides joining a Guitar course. On my own steam, I tutored myself to Mel Bay’s level two and now I do need guidance. At two days a week, this should bring in positive vibes. I changed my guitar strings last month and I spend an hour on the instrument as my fingers leapfrog over the frets. Again simple pleasures but you work hard to earn them.

            November has been kind and hopefully I build on it. Now I no longer have the drive to hunt for soft skills assignments or an exploratory trip to UAE, I will check out this LASSI SHOP franchise. It looks a good thing but let me take my time and explore.  Even on investing the sale proceeds, I am becoming smarter as I plan my portfolio. It’s lonely out there but let me bat for myself with more conviction as the winter months do take their toll.  One thought the movie stuck me with: one may be exceptionally talented or even a genius, you don't demand anything of life. Life in its wisdom confers its blessings and grace even as I wait for my turn with patience and faith. It's hard nonetheless is there anything better? I ask in false modesty and theatrics, some Freddy influence.

Cold November Rain

After last week’s soft skills experience at St. Josephs it is back to the familiar NOTHING. I dare say there is no human being with such an empty plate as me; the flow of life just doesn’t drag me even an inch. I may as well be living in Rama’s era in treta yuga or Krishna’s dwapara or now in Modi’s kali yuga.

            The sole cheer and activity of the day is SPAARC’s rehabilitation exercises. I love this hour of the day. I go there by 10:30 am and work my muscles now that the therapy part is over. I can perceive almost a daily improvement and it won’t be long before I will be jogging. This is a miracle of a great kind.

            I had almost forgotten how to walk before Suganya taught me: bend your knee, land on the heels for a stride and then bend the other knee for the next one. I watched others at the temple looking at the heels and it was basically what she was saying. Such a simple thing like WALKING and my brain has to re-learn at 49 after almost two years of near limping.  Going to  these rehab exercises also got me motivated for BUILDING my body. I am going to invest in building muscles and do those push-ups for a chest that protrudes out. Certainly, it does your confidence a world of good if you’re physically as strong as an ox. It is no wonder they don’t get into street fights and when a bull is provoked it is a bull in a china stop and no one in their senses would show a red rag to it. So it’s a nice goal: Get stronger, develop muscles on biceps and triceps and have a barrel for a chest. But once jogging is resumed then I would feel so much alive.

            The North-East hit the city this week for rains at all times of the day. The NE is fast and furious, there are little of the drizzle kinds and the skies get overcast and gloomy. It is one season I personally hate for it accentuates my loneliness.  I spend the afternoon days on a Kumbakarna sleep and a lot of guitar. My fingers blithely jump over the frets and this is something I am beginning to feel proud of.  I also spent my time reading DAMIEN BOSSES blogs and God, I realized that I am a genius writer. Or was a genius writer in once upon a time kinds. 

            The process of house sale goes on with the UDS certificate coming from the housing board. Now it is should take less than a week to ten days for the final transfer. On my monies, I am going to have a rock star attitude. I will not be a cautious investor and I will play the game more detached and almost to a gambler’s appetite. I know for certain that my monies will outlive me and I will not drown in financial poverty, but emotional poverty very much YES.
            I had a lunch at New Woodlands with Dhamma Mani Sir on my request on Monday. I fancy this restaurant for I believe that Kannadigas are the best cooks for South Indian and a full course meal is divine here. Dhamma Mani Sir is a raconteur; I have not seen very many narrate a tale with such flair. The way he talks of his grandson in Coonoor ordering meals, to his wife's contracting a painter, and his latest temple tour in Tirunelveli is a feast for the ears. I am a decent storyteller myself but Mani Sir is the gifted one.   

            On Sunday walks in the TS, Geetha said, “Sathya, you are a big talker and kindly give others a chance at the restaurant.” I was so incensed that I came home and whatsapped after a long thought, “I am sorry for disrupting your Sundays and you are a wrong number for a connection.” I still cannot hold my fire and I don’t want to. It is not in my genes to take things lying down. I would rather rot in hell than be scorned in heaven for a personality kink I don’t wish to iron out.

            I store not a decimal of faith for Gods and rituals now. FAMILY and FAITH go together. My life in contrast has been a definition of loneliness. I live such an aimless existence that nothing ever happens in life. Even the crows outside my window and the ants crawling on the computer desk have more interesting lives. It is DIWALI time and it scares the hell out of me. Last year I went to Pondicherry and Chidambaram to escape the cracker noise; this time I may go to a Guruvayoor. Being alone on Diwali feels worse than a criminal on death row and being dragged to the noose.

            As the clock turns November the mind goes more introspective for 2018 is on its last legs. My goals in life are still: a stint in the GULF or maybe I would prefer some SOFT SKILLS here. My life will still go nowhere if I don’t find a woman or a hobby to drown in. On Swimming Dr. Rajaram said, “Don’t hit the pool now for there is a definite viral in the air. Maybe any time after February should do for a new initiate.” He has a thinking mind and so I will pay heed. These are still lonely days and if I had a gun, I would shoot God first and then me. Desperately looking for some fuckin thing to happen in my life even if it is a fracture of my hands (the arms string look sexy enough) or maybe commit a murder and spend some time in the jails. That way, I may even have company. But as a Guns song goes: It is cold November rain now. Show me a more patient man than me in creation and I will show you a liar.   

Failed Relations & Forgiveness

Besant nagar chapter of my life comes to an end. The parent family took possession of the apartment in 1989 under trying circumstances with my father on his last legs. His cancer had ravaged the body beyond redemption and he wanted to die in Besant nagar than in Hyderabad and so it was.

            I loved Besant nagar from day one despite the jolt of losing a father not even reaching 60. Then two miserable years at IMT and these were desperate “moodswing” years. Thankfully I had a heart surgery for a divine intervention and a miracle and life stabilized a wee bit from daily THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY walks and weekend Swami Paramarthananda’s lectures in Vidyamandir in Gandhinagar.

            There are four people in my life I call BIG BAD FOUR. My MOTHER was hopelessly sick and she is the prime cause of my suffering. If I am bachelor and in perennial hunt for jobs, then all credit goes to her. Strangely I have never felt an atom of angst and hatred. She is simply a naughty kid who refused to grow up despite my pleadings a million times. LESSON from her life is that you don’t marry and procreate if you are mentally so tangent.

            Then the Gujarat Sindhi for sheer OPPORTUNISM. Even my heart is extremely vast and willing to forgive will hesitate. I thank my MINDFULNESS lessons for sizing this female and finally slot her as a JACKAL in my memory. We were never ON as a couple; her values were from nether regions of hell. LESSON that her life teaches is it never pays to be so self-centred beyond a point. I am convinced she will suffer but I am far too gracious not to make a song and dance of it.

            Then my two SIBLINGS who failed big time. A little affection and this property could have been saved. They never invited me for festivals and so I have not celebrated one in three decades. My knees need treatment and it would not cost more than a 20 k which I cannot spare in today’s earnings. A little support here and there, maybe I could have come through the fires of life better. They never got it in their heads that I need some LOOKING AFTER, that the family owed me some care in a terminal illness and run my cremation show.

            I used to HATE my sisters intensely since my MINDFULNESS initiation which at least showed me how deep these lapses are. But as I let go of Besant nagar, I realize that I have become a saint. I really have hated them so much that there is no more energy in the tank. The heart and minds have hardened, there is no wish for a rewind button and our relations ever correcting itself. I certainly don’t owe anything to this family except impending cremation duties to my MOTHER when she croaks. Otherwise the well-being or deaths in my sisters’ families is of no concern to me just as much as my illness, hospitalization and death are news that will not reach their doorsteps.

            One of the best things I am learning these days is to burn the book of negative stored up scars. I have no one to love me nor do I love anyone; so hating someone corrodes my mind from that base zero. MINDFULNESS taught me this lesson: ACCEPT REALITY however dark it is and then work around it for some solace. There is a deep clarity nay a DISCERNMENT of these BIG BAD FOUR. I feel sad that as human beings they were ignorant of BASIC HUMAN VALUES and in their failure these LESSONS impinge on my mind deeply which is JUST CARING for another being. CARING such a beautiful yet most don't get it. At a cosmic level there is no male body or female body except that all BODIES are matter; similarly there is no MIND of a BIG BAD FOUR or saints. It is just MIND which is an arena for THOUGHTS that is a deliberate action and its resultant FEELINGS and EMOTIONS. My forgiveness is complete as I learn these lessons when others violate them with impunity and a devilish glee.

            Of course I am sad that Besant Nagar goes under the hammer. I can still salvage it but there is a weight of this sentimentality attached that this apartment gave me no happy memories. This is verily a paradise on earth but my life got stuck like those car wheels on desert sand and no traction on the ground. Besides money in SAVINGS grow faster than a PROPERTY VALUE and I should survive from here as I always have. Besant nagar brings a curtain to the BIG BAD FOUR as I find many things in my mind to love and live for: meditations, guitar, and quality friends.  Maybe it is time God wrote a better script for me, better still let me get my knees treated and go on a America trip that I have always lusted. Let me live and let me learn and let me forgive and let positive people come into my life is a prayer as this phase comes to a grinding halt in agonizing slowness. 

Get up and pick up the pieces

#105 post: On 30^th July I simply knew without a shadow of doubt that I was defrauded. 

Uma Gayathri spun a huge monster of a tale and I lost over a lac. I felt no shame losing this money to a con-genius. At every stage she was ahead of the game. I met the Deputy Commissioner on 1^st August for a formal complaint. He was so young and so energetic that it felt reassuring though Ramesh said, “Consider this as Perumal koil hundi” and Srinivasan said, “Treat it as a learning curve, you had to pay for your stupidity.” As for me, I never moaned the loss even for a second.

            As the days advanced, I did feel the loss of Dubai images- clean roads, everything structured, tall skyscrapers, shopper’s paradise, decent interactions but it is a closed society and one is ever vigilant and fearful that you could commit a crime or trespass some law. UAE is a law abiding country; you can throw your wallet on the roads and it will find its way back to you. Zero per cent crime, good honest hardworking class, money and riches at every corner of the eyes but it still is not your country. Whatever views you have on religion, nationality, politics; you shove it in your mouth and not air it out.  Losing UAE dream is nothing compared to losing the romantic dreams in 2009; that took me couple of years to recover.

            My next career move is most likely Gurgaon. Let’s see how the rest of the year shapes up. I feel the NCR region would have better things for me than the dead man’s city, Chennai. Hope and prayers; lots of humility for I have a debt to service and it is a mountain to climb kind of a situation.

            There was a good lesson I learnt first-hand last week. I wrote to Deepak saying, “50 is not the age to start in a new city. Even at Chennai, I would prefer half day’s work. I don’t know how I am going to manage a Gurgaon or Mumbai with arthritis knees and loneliness that comes to an abandoned man.”

            He was brilliant to allay my fears saying, “Gurgaon is international, cosmopolitan and you will get everything including a lot of Tamil community thrown in. Don’t worry and I am sure you will fit in.”  Very few people on earth have this divine quality of quelling someone’s real fears; the worst of us are more familiar in triggering panic attacks.

            I was telling TH Iyer mama, “If I get that Mumbai job offer then I am afraid it will be back to the grind of cheap quarters and long travel in crowded suburbans. I don’t know whether my health can stand up to daily living. At least I know the odds in Besant nagar and I live within my means.”  He was reassuring, “That company is huge and influential in Mumbai and they will help you in finding your quarters.”

            This is a lesson worth cultivation. When someone is scared, a simple reassuring and kind word is just what the doctor ordered. This is sign of culture and good upbringing. Truly to encourage doubting thomases, it is a singular gift I got to observe and learn from Deepak and TH Iyer mama.

            On Saturday I paid a condolence visit to Venkitakrishnan mama’s place and I felt very glad that I did so. I met all the five sons and the fourth son said, “I loved your blogs on my father.” The third son said, “I read line by line of your blogs to my mother and your words gave us a lot of solace.” They gave me a picture postcard of mama with a gold coin and a fantastic filter coffee. This is an incredible family where the sons earned money and gave it to the mother for a common pool. That family is so united and stay together that I thought: in my next birth I wish to be born to such a close-knit and a large family where one is never short of uncles or aunts or cousins and nephews and nieces.” In a cruel world it makes all the more sense for at least the families of siblings to know and relate to each other.

            Yesterday I visited Viji’s place as she turns 56 today. That she has managed mother for over a decade is strength and endurance of a marathon runner. As for me, Dubai collapsed and Gurgaon opens the door. It is time I made it count. I did the enneagram test and I am a type 5 personality. Reading the notes of this type got my pulse racing as it said: observant, curious, inertia for action, loner which is a self-description. So I must read these notes and improve myself by being heedless (I think too much that I wait for problems to solve in the head more often) and get in a bit of an adventurous streak. Let me go to unknown territories and expand my horizon than chewing the cud all the time. This is the first week of losing a dream and starting another and I am glad the mind made all those adjustments on its own. I am great, you know!!!!! I was so happy that Gopalan my third student of the communication classes called from London to enquire of my welfare. I surprise myself all the time. 

Movie climax suspense

#102

My unemployment shows no sign of abating.  Mindlogics at Bangalore in May felt tantalizing close. SRMC on 28/6 felt like death as they made me wait for 5 hours for the interview and upon seeing my resume said, “We are looking for someone from Elsevier for medical writing.”

            The entire June was spent in DUBAI MOONLIGHTING. Uma of Horizon arranged interviews at Al Futtaim and Bab Al Shams in the first week. I was supposed to fly in, meet these folks and hoping one of these two clicks. Then came the EID holidays before Al Futtaim made an offer: 10,000 AED and office accommodation for a three months’ work permit.

            Given the penurious circumstances of the last 12 months – my last drawn pay was 20 k at Abhiyan and that came to an end in July kinds – I felt reasonably satisfied. This is the exactly ADLINE terms and my heart wished and prayed for a 15 K AED and accommodation. Both Shyam and Mani Sir advised me not to negotiate, instead agree straightaway.

            I paid the 500 AED fees for the work permit and then came the news of a UAE ban which can be revoked by Adline or Al Futtaim or by myself by going through a court process. So another Rs. 60,000 goes into this and I have reached the very bottom end of my savings. If Dubai does not fructify then I HAVE TO SELL this place by July end and that is the extent of my bankruptcy. The five lac loan in December was perfect but I hardly earned a thing after except for Smita’s 52 k.

            I heard the news of this ban on 27/6 the twentieth anniversary of my heart surgery. I immediately unwrapped the Subha Drishti Ganapathy that Ramji had presented and offered prayers.  Then on 28/6 when I was at SRMC this news of court procedures was told to me and I paid up 60 k after prematurely closing the 1 lac FD.  This now looks a movie climax and could go either way. Uma Gayathri has been a real blessing as she goes out of the way to bail me out. I am reduced to chanting Om Shrim Hrim Klim Glaum Gao….

            I read Deepak Mehra’s Ready, Steady, Go and it is a gold mine. I realized that pUsHpA said the same thing in a succinct form.  I have been guilty of violating so many office norms at Adline that should avoid anywhere:

a)     First no personal work during office hours

b)     No to music and social media during the 9 to 5

c)      The boss is always right. Never give a negative feedback even when asked

d)     No arguments, no debates in the office space

e)     Don’t gossip about others; nor rush to fill your personal stories to others (I don’t need to explain why I am a bachelor to others even when coerced to answer. Definitely don’t go to town on the BIG BAD FOUR)

f)       Always dress to work; a big NO to sneakers

g)     Close Damienbosses and Dauntlesssathya immediately

h)     An office is no place for emotions

i)       Don’t judge instead serve unconditionally

j)       Always SMILE and show COURTESIS with greetings.

k)     Never speak excitedly on any topic at work

l)       Respect colleagues even if they are barbaric from the Stone ages.

m)   Be careful of what you put on Facebook and blogs

I start the day with LAUGHTER YOGA at the beach; thanks to Chitra and company. There is a   VP Singh who brings a lot of boisterous laughter and Chitra observes, “You laughter is artificial.”

      I am still prone to a lot of nightmares. That sense of insecurity and extreme vulnerability shows itself at slumber time. Then there is this DOG NUISANCE and now this fool of a Kalpagam must have fed something on the first floor. Now the dog feels emboldened to sleep just outside my door; a promotion from the staircase.  This dog is very determined and keeps coming back despite throwing mug fulls of water many times a day. For tenacity this dog offers a perfect lesson; like that Bangladeshi peon serving coffee at Adline on pleasing.

      Satish the actor served another lesson couple of days back, “You fool, you don’t have to go about town telling your sob stories. If your mother killed your father; then my mother eloped with a cousin ten years younger upon my dad’s death in an accident. The entire society would call us BASTARDS. Even the captain’s girlfriend ditched him during the college days and he has had three bypass surgeries after that.”  Another friendly face is Bharat who graciously gave a fake employee letter for VISA purposes; Gopalan is another friendly face.

      When I heard the UAE ban I mentally wrote this thing off. I burnt a couple of smokes and booked for Dhamma Seva at Kolhapur centre and even booked the tickets. Only the next day, Uma came with this procedure of revoking it myself.

      I do speak to Viji and predictably does not give any peace or comfort even through words. When I told her that I must buy Uma a gift if this ban is revoked and I get to catch the flight, Viji said, “Show it through your hard work.” I instantly retorted, “First you don’t seem to understand from reality even if the events are played right before your eyes. You live your life from an obsolete book that neither serves you or others.” She also has this irritating habit of SHUTTING OUT OTHER”S MOUTH when she spots the thinnest criticism in the air. Even Latha has this affliction and it gets impossible to converse with such hyper-sensitive and closed minds. Though Viji speaks like Vashishta, a trait inherited from Paati and Athai, she is just as much a fool as Amma and Latha.  This is a tribal and non-serving and negative conditioning of the mind where she sees everything as We versus THEM and that she is the sole protector of her interests kinds. Silly.

      As for me, my fate will be known today and tomorrow kinds.  I give it a 95% odds on favourite but then I got MINDLOGICS wrong too.  Mani Sir has been the most reliable of friends in these times; I also get a lot of solace talking to Shyam and Ramesh.