February in AUH

I would like to treat myself to a ramble at least once a month. I don’t see this a forum for “Sathya News” for I am not as yet pompous or senile. But I like this idea of once-a-month post to capture the mood the mind has traversed. Just that month. You come back and read that after a year or even 3-4 months later and these words stir the mind to those images. Without these words, they are lost in memory and one’s convenient recording. Human mind is more whimsical than a gush of breeze; a written word fastens the mental imprints on the ground like no other.

            December and January were months I’ll never forget in a long while – these two months got me by the scruff of the neck and it felt the hangman was within shouting distance.  But thanks to extraordinary friends in particular Manisha and my eldest sister in Chennai I found the resolve to overcome. And coming to Abu Dhabi completed the cure. A mild depression after eight years and frankly I never saw this mental slide coming till it ensnared me with its blight. To my credit, I worked hard to get the blues out of the system and allow the sun and outside world to flow freely again.

            This month FEBRUARY is special for it got me back on my feet; and so did my confidence returning to the fold. Abu Dhabi is a far saner society than the one I left behind. This is a writing job and so I am in my elements; it pays me well that two years here and I would have saved a golden nest for my retirement years.

            The article on Corniche, a post in thinksathya in ages, made Manisha write in a mail,” Sathya, you are back and I now know how much writing means to you.” The last six months I am privileged to access the wisdom of Ramakrishnan, his insights and replies (we almost write every alternate day) gives me the belief and strength on the road. My eldest sister takes care of the home in Besant Nagar by keeping an eye on its security with monthly visits; she also doubles up as my investment manager for the monthly remittances. I am so glad that money has never come in the way of my relations with both my sisters.

            I get up at 5:00 here and log in an hour of Vipassana. I also have time for 30 minutes of Pranayama that my yoga teacher in Besant Nagar taught me to combat that meddlesome depression. These two consume over 90 minutes and being ever an early riser, I always love this part of the day. Then I go to “Ever Green” a small restaurant for Idly/Vada for starters; then either “plain dosa” or “Aloo Paratha” and round it off with “tea” – this being a North Indian joint they make good tea and terrible coffee. I like to brandish a word to the waiters: Sachin is from Lucknow, a young sensible chap really. There is Sampath from Andhra on whom I practice my Telugu. Being regular as I am on the table anywhere between 7:30 and 7:45 am, I make friends with other patrons like these two IT boys from Chennai – Ashok and Balu- and have a go at my mother tongue. Btw, I take a lot of pride in my Tamil even if a native were to laugh at my fumbling ineptness.

            I go back to my apartment, which is a five-storey, and Al Naeem Restaurant on the basement that I keep away for it is non vegetarian fare. This building is for LLH Hospital staff (my group company) and we have a manned security; which means I leave my flat door open and not worry about security.

Going to “Ever green” for breakfast is a 7 minute walk one-day; I mentally chant my morning prayers as I cross the Zayed the First Signal. Here each road is a four lane and you can’t jump a signal without fear of a loss of limb and life. Abu Dhabi is a beautiful city, so beautiful I found out last Friday when I had some chore at ADNEC (Abu Dhabi National Exhibition Center). I found the weather and bus ride so refreshing that I did not get down at my destination. Instead went a further 25 kms to the airport and only on the return trip did I venture to my original destination. The roads are smooth as billiard table, each road is awash with flowers and roadside plants trimmed to many shapes – The mosaic of Zayed Grand Mosque on the way impacts your mind for its size and craftsmanship, I am curious to visit it at the earliest opportunity; the water sports of hi speed jets on a stream of a lake flowing by, and the Exhibition Center looked from a book on architecture; majestic and a design element to draw the mind in. Hard to imagine that everything was a desert some forty years back and now this city is as good as any Europe or America has on hand (Abu Dhabi has one of the highest per capita income in the world and it shows even with a fleeting glance from the window of a bus or a taxi). The Emirate shows if the rulers are straight and intentions honest, you can get the best infrastructure. When your taxi beeps a warning to the driver of exceeding 80 kmph speed, you realize that the mind does not fret as in Chennai roads waiting at the signals. Abu Dhabi is so beautiful that you can relax your mind by jumping on to any bus route and it will be a feast for the eyes at every corner.

There is another side to this city – I don’t see any stray dogs (in fact I have not seen a dog in these 50 odd days) and crows. I spot a lot of pigeons; it comes in two colours. This marigold is a novelty to me, sparrows also thrive here, and stray cats abound around buildings. But dogs and crows are extinct here. Unlike Chennai which has a lot of trees; here you will only find palms everywhere. But architectural delights are aplenty; some towers simply take your breath away for elegance and shape that I stop to take the snaps in my digital camera (I used to hate this gadget but got myself this only to capture the beauty of the place. I saw the Corniche and it got me to head straight to the nearest store and place an order for a Sony cybershot).

            The office is from 9:00 to 6:00 and we are a small team. We have our moods but we are civil and cordial to each other. There is a loquacious and throaty; another smart and suave, another saint like in composure and last character emotionally brittle. I get up each morning praying: Lord, give me two years here. The manager is a bit of a Amrish Puri, a la Mogambo! The work permit, health insurance card, and Emirate ID have come and so I am staying. At work, in the spare time I try to transcribe Swami Paramarthananda’s talks. I did two this month: 2014 New Year Talk on Astanga Yoga and 2013 Sivaratri on Upasana Yoga. on spiritualsathya. Only in the calm desert of Abu Dhabi, these spiritual talks feels a weak glow of poise on the mind. I found a PDF file of my Bhagavad Gita summaries from someone in Greece on a freak google search; those give me the resolve to complete that work at least in 2014. I called my sister in Chennai and request her to courier the mp3 formats of those Swamiji’s talks to me here. Spiritualsathya gives me satisfaction for it is my only site that regularly gets me fan mails! One person from Canada wrote: Daily I read your posts on Swamiji's talks before going to bed! And many write in to say: Sathya, you are blessed for doing this service.

            Abu Dhabi has got me outdoors like never before; I have signed on a desert safari this week, this has dune bashing and even a belly dance thrown in! I plan to visit Al Ain in April, Dubai and Sharjah in each succeeding month. As it is, every weekend I have gotten confident to explore the city. There is a beauty at every corner, as a writer if you do a wiki search and then visit then there is a greater appreciation.

            There are two things I am grateful for – I have my lunch and dinner at Sangeetha Restaurant and I get affection here without doubt. I know every waiter by name; most have recounted tales of their families back in India. I converse, joke, banter, show concern and they give me affection. What more can I ask? I get the best service in the restaurant; before my water in the glass is finished, it gets refilled. Even as I am finishing a puri someone is near at hand to furnish me unasked. Or give me extra curd or whatever even if it is not in the menu! Some names to record here: Shanker, Pandian, Vishnu, Dinesh, Bhagyaraj, Krishnamurthy, and so many more. Each one is a story more interesting than mine. Another blessing is the night shift for security to my building where I meet Issias; he is wise, intelligent and the best security guard in the whole of UAE. Small talks everywhere and big smiles, suddenly I am finding Abu Dhabi to be a home than the one I left behind in Besant Nagar.

            Vivek Banerjee and Manisha favoured me when I asked both the doctors to write me an article on Health and Nutrition topics as part of my office assignment. It needed just a nudge and both responded wonderfully; those articles are so good that I realize that creative writers may have a way with words but only trained doctors can get that authoritative ring to the subject.

            Each day is almost similar to the previous but there is meaning to this routine. I have taken a liking to this place and people here. God has delivered at last. AUH is the airline code for Abu Dhabi and MAA is for Chennai – two different worlds and I am finding joy in one in a long, long while. Like the Thums Up adv slogan: Happy days are here again.God, let it stay that way for a while.

Daily Schedule here!

There is learning for me: In mid-forties adapting to a new place isn’t that straight-forward and easy as compared to when younger. In your twenties the body can digest even leather (not actually but I meant almost anything) before age wrings in arthritis, gastro enteritis, and of late even a depression as in my case. An individual need not compare himself to his neighbor and feel shortchanged, even the memories of your past seem distant as to belong to someone else. Even a narcissist like me can’t gloat over any past memories; the present is the only thing that matter.

            In these twenty days in Abu Dhabi I have not seen anything except the airport and the roads leading to Electra Street where my office and my accommodation in its proximity. I been planning a few sightseeing trips on Friday holidays but my diffidence and lethargy kept pushing it to the next. This week I promise to visit the Corniche – supposed to be a beautiful walk close to the Persian Gulf and greenery – and improve my self-image. There are malls everywhere but what shopping will I do when my base is Besant nagar?

            I stay in Al Naeem Building which houses LLH Hospital staff of which my advertising agency is a group company. It is a five storey building and in a rectangular part of the city where residential apartments abound. Here there are miles of 20 storied buildings and each almost kissing the other where even a human being cannot stretch his arms on either side at the shoulders, like that heroine’s pose in Titanic movie, without hitting on either side.  So the eye only sees acres of building in different paints and geometrical shapes. I particularly love a building that has a sphere at the top on the Abu Dhabi skyline and a chopped out sphere of the Etisalat towers. In the nights there is a bulb at the top that glitters from these sky rises and sparkles every other second. Each side of the road is three lanes and the cars zip and halt at the traffic signals almost every 500 metres away. Even as a pedestrian you wait for the signal for couple of minutes with a timer countdown of seconds that changes to green before you can cross. Jay walking would attract a fine and in this city of expats, the public does fall in line. Away from your home country, every individual is a law-abiding citizen I feel. There is no percentage in getting involved with the authorities!

            I get up at 5:30 in the morning and straight away sit for half an hour of pranayama breathing exercises after brushing teeth. At home I would prepare Nescafe coffee while here I found doing a few stretches, I found, induces the morning ablutions. I am a firm believer that suryanamaskaram is good for a mind recovering from blues, so at least four rounds gets endorphins to the mind. I have a single room to myself which is a luxury in Abu Dhabi where four executives staying in a room is very common. It is called “bed space” and, believe it or not,  the market rate is 800 dirhams (multiply by 17 for Indian rupee conversion). “Bed space” is for South Asians immigrants and you find advertisement stuck on notice boards in hotels or even on the electricity boxes at road crossings. The rental for a single room is as expensive as 40,000 rupees in Indian currency. So this accommodation from my company is huge saving. By now the time is 7:00 after a bath and washing the essentials it is time to deck up in the day’s formals. The clothes have to be hung on the terrace as I hit the elevator from the first floor to the fifth. There is a lot of sunshine and a chill breeze as I attach the colorful plastic clips on the underwear, socks, and kerchief of a cable clothesline. That reminds me of the weather; first two weeks I was wearing a jerkin as the scales climbed 12 and even 10 degree Celsius. This week the temperature is a good five degrees hotter and there’s no need for warm adornments. As soon as you open the elevator and step into the fifth floor my nostrils is drowned in a draught of mutton odour. I go back to my room saying my day’s prayers while putting my sneakers on.

            As the time on the watch shows 7:30 I step into the streets. There entire one kilometer square is sandwiched between two busy roads in Central region of Abu Dhabi or as an American would say, downtown. So you find a lot of parked cars amidst giant stores. Each building is 15-18 storied and you invariably find a restaurant on the ground floor. Being a vegetarian is expensive and quite a ten minute walk to Eldorado cinema which takes you past Emirates General Market, a convenience store, then a landmark five star Sand’s hotel, and at Greenhouse another convenience store where you wait for the pedestrian signal to turn green. There is small restaurant run by a Gujarati that serves Idly/Vada and tea – small to the extent of just 8 tables and swarming with 5-6 boys in white uniforms and a surgeon’s skull cap (to prevent hair follicles from falling into the serving plates). There is Sachin here and he’s smart as he takes the orders and entrusted with the cash box. He wears a Brazil national flag imprint on the T-shirt under the white uniform and must be in early 20s. There is a Tamil cook who greets me and I wish him “good morning, Elango” with a wave and a fading smile. Here in the restaurants they provide tissue papers at the wash basin; you crumple them to dry your hands and drop then in bin underneath.

            Back to the room and pop a tablet. I lie down for a while and wait for the watch to grow to 8:40. Office is just a 7 minute walk and a pedestrian subway to cross Electra Street which has been renamed as Zayed the First Street. My office is a rotund building – spherical for a 360 degree - with Al Ibrahim restaurant at the ground floor. My agency is on the mezzanine floor and the day brings me in contact with four colleagues: Safeek, Sabeesh, Haider and the boss. We have a lot of banter and fun in the course of over 9 hours in the day.

            At 1:00 pm I walk to Sangeetha for lunch and only occasion in a day where I find rice and my sambars and rasams even if it is garlic and the curry, curd, appalam. In these twenty days I have befriended Shanker or Dinesh who take orders and they come dressed in a smart trouser and a dark green tie. I eat like a hog for I am ravenously hungry that a Idly breakfast does not entirely fill the stomach. Eating thrice a day is not something my Chennai stomach is used to, I would squeeze in tiffin somewhere. I like the ten minute walk from office to Sangeetha where I cross the traffic lights near LLH Hospital which must be 25 storied and golden tinted windows. The afternoon sun is just right with the sun in mid twenties scale and the winter chill a sneaking companion. Abu Dhabi for all practical purposes is full of people from Kerala. If you don’t see this opulence of three way lanes, foreign cars, skyscrapers you may as well mistake the place to be Kochi and Ernakulam. Arabs would be around 20% of the population and you spot Indians everywhere. In the mornings I see a lot of Filipino women at the bus stops in tight jeans with asses struggle to breathe and perfume so strong as to linger after they have trodden past especially as I breeze down the stair cases of the pedestrian subway. I have seen so many white skinned, glossy, smooth texture and lip stick painted women here and they don’t make any impression on the mind. I am growing old and wiser.

            There is a beauty that stems from fortitude in the people I meet in the day. There is Basit, the office boy who has a cherubic smile on his plumb face. These are people who sleep eight to a room and scrimp to send something back home. You will find Mercedes taxis but they are driven by impoverished men from South East Asia. They bemoan having to leave their wives behind in their country while earning here. They have to up and running the whole day and not park anywhere whether engaged or not. All these for an earning less than 100 dirhams a day (say Rs.1500). Abu Dhabi is a rich city with one of the highest per capita incomes in the world. All the newspapers add a dash of spice on bollywood gossip and splashed pictures of western models in their Caucasian complexion baring and daring more than the thighs and cleavage splitting gowns.

            I wait as late as Haider and Shafeek’s work to end as we close the shutters at the office. By 7:00 the day at work is over and another trek to Sangeetha for fried rice or vegetable noodles. Sometimes I vary it with a Punjabi Aloo mutter and naans. This week I was reading a Harry Potter tale, my first and it serves as an aimless time-filler. 9:00 or 9:30 in the night and I slip under the mattress. Actually each day resembles the other to a Xerox copy. I am planning to join a library and must learn some shopping. For starters I could be well served with a haircut and a hair dye. Maybe this Friday holiday.

            Am I happy? This office gives me more company than I had in the second half of 2013 at Besant nagar. It is still one day at a time kind of mind frame and praying for it to gather strength and swagger. Another insight: ten years back I was jumping out of my skin in Bahrain. Now older, tottering, and cautious as age boxes us all in.

Life takes a new turn

2013 really stretched me beyond my ability to handle. Especially December

I was happy in India Cements; humour and banter flowed thanks to excellent colleagues. But that system never gave me a chance. Placed at the bottom of the hierarchy, a bulldozer for a reporting manager, three persons to a job, and my impertinent tongue drove me to a situation where I felt walking out was honourable. Being the least ambitious person, I was content with India Cements chiefly for three reasons: proximity to residence, Saravana Bhavan lunch, and job security of a large group. But a cartoon of a manager ensured it was just the writing material for office humour pieces (Damien Bosses). 

Six months of lying idle and the spirit broke. Not even being signed by a prestigious client in Bangalore in November got the blood circulation flowing. My mind was clear on this aspect: money though important would not be the main diet or oxygen. I needed human company in the day. For how long would my existence linger on friends at the Eliots or Theosophical or interaction with the cook? Being in a house for a long period of time reduces your own self-esteem to a pauper and derelict. 

I knew this Abu Dhabi job was in the air, I took an assignment in Kaar Technologies as a content writer on a ONE month basis. The job came with inherent incompatibles – working on a software subject and being at the other end of town. But somehow I psyched myself for my need for human company was greater and besides I needed a rehearsal for the gulf job. For the first time in 8 years I slipped into a mild depression. Thanks to sister’s support and Manisha I am on the recovery path. 

I left Chennai for Abu Dhabi in the first week of January with my heart in the mouth and primal fear churning the stomach. A new place, new colleagues (I must thank Haider Sheikh in particular) and anti-depressants have got some of the colour back on the cheeks. It is winter here and the scale goes as low as 10 degrees in the mornings. I am gaining in mental strength and I hope this new place and new people add something that Chennai crossed out. Quietly optimistic

2013 images

This year certainly changed my DNA more than any other time period I stretch to recollect. Never before have I confronted such on the edge vulnerability; I was a whisker away from destitution this year. There was a real prospect of having to vacate the Besant nagar apartment; the choke of money supply would have killed a dog.

These lessons are drilled on the mind. Fear is a useful emotion to anchor those lessons on the mind. I can no longer afford to forget them for the reminder of my existence. Many lessons but this would sum it up: I now consider myself more a content writer than a creative writer. Now my mind suddenly feels commonplace. Earlier I would revel in the freedom of the moment; I set my own rules of conduct and choose my own crowd. Now I know better – I am just another mediocre guy who was pretender.

            I divide 2013 into three segments: the first four months saw me at my creative best. Being in India Cements is a creative writer’s dream. Having Damien, the world’s worst bully on one hand and Manikandan, a world-class communicator on the other, got my mind ticking. My mind wove so many tales; I wrote voraciously filling in a lot of scrap books. Every day living is monotonous but rarely does a place feel supercharged for stories. That’s why I rate my ten months stay at ICL as the most satisfactory stint in my two decades work experience.

            The next four months, May to August, saw me more in a contemplative mood. I went heavy on Vipassana, the writing too continued from the momentum of ICL. But waiting for a job broke my back. But when September dawned and I was still nowhere near a job; that’s when my mind went frantic to primal fear.

           In these months of fear and despair, I felt no more than dry leaf in a gale storm; I am essentially powerless and useless. That got in humility in huge doses. With just survival being the sole purpose of living, it got in much perspicuity. Everything became superfluous when your mind worries on the next month’s earning. Paradoxically the best time for learning for bitterest truths is when every pretence and cloak is dumped – nothing matters more than a job even if it is under a tyrant. I have never reached such depths of humility before. I now feel like a lamb on a line for slaughter.

            But destiny works in mysterious ways. I found a lot of friends from whom I borrowed faith and perseverance. There were so many who said,” Sathya, you are bloody good and good things take time. It seems God does not wish to give you smaller pleasures but waiting to dish out happiness in such quantities that you’ll be swamped.” This is what T H Iyer would say during daily walks at the Eliot’s, Ramakrishnan would write that on a mail four times a week, Prabhakar always takes my best situation perspective even when my house is on fire!! But one person who never gave up on me was Viji, my sister, despite adding a daughter-in-law to the calling list. Even Thangam, my cook, believes,” Your good days will be back. God tests those HE likes, so don’t despair.  Have faith and hold fort!"

            I believe it was daily practice of Vipassana that saved me from complete ruin. Guitar fills the greater part of the day. It is a blessing to call Manisha and speak to her mother. She has a sweet tongue I have not seen since my grandmother from the Black and White era. Vivek from Saharanpur had a good word to spare. I would feel distressed when Vivek succeeded as a writer (the good doctor runs a hospital otherwise) while my slate was empty. I would constantly tell him not to interact and yet he would keep in touch – such good-naturedness is hard to explain in our cynical times. And finally Ranga with a sage's calmness as my Titanic had begun to sink. Even my mother pitched in by staying for a week each month for four months in a row.  

            Now I work for a SAP implementation company on a decent pay packet; I also freelance for a memorabilia company and they offer a fantastic return. Both these add to better even the WWM+Neted earnings; I have not been in these regions since 2008. There is also an offer from a Abu Dhabi advertising agency and work permit being processed. So you could say a miracle is cooking in November and December. I also added “Laughter yoga” the last month and it is already reaping a good harvest. The mind is vulnerable and it needs a spark plug to keep it buzzing.

            I realized another thing. Being Sathya gets a kind of respect I am beginning to fear; so many people I admire and wish well for me. They believe in me as a person than I can ever confer it on myself. It is this faith I borrowed in these months when my bottom fell out. It is a slow recovery, but thank goodness for the lessons in modesty and humility.

            I even think this depression is worth it weight in gold considering the gains. But the stench of death was never too far from the nostrils, it was close sadly. Now that there is sunshine I should do well to remember a bank clerk's attitude of servility at work.

Laughter yoga

I’d like to get in at least one blog post a month, writing is as much a habit and it can get cranky too. There are moments when the hands itch to write and there are moments when the mind goes dumb to blankness. Most times I find myself coaxing or compelling the mind to pore sweat over a sentence. Only then you realize: writing is a gift, it does not normally flow like the river but you keep digging the well. This post is hard labour.

            I realized so many things this year. I have skills in a vocation that nobody really wants. But somehow I have been able to earn my keep – the Bangalore assignment gives me almost as much as the day job in India Cements but I need to find people around to liven up a day. But today let me elaborate on “laughter yoga”.

            Eliot’s beach is a favourite walk path; it is close to my house and the beach is always a welcome sight especially on high tide and foamy waves. I used to spot a “laughing group” at 6’0 in the morning about four or five years back. I was too shy and self-conscious, I knew it would do me some good but I felt those devilish laughter shrieks would do my image no good. So I restricted myself to walks on the rose coloured pavements, watch sunrise to a crimson ball as it quickly climbs to the horizon, and gossiped on the day’s news with friends and other co-walkers that one gets to know if regular.

            Last week, a friend said,” Sathya, do me a favour. Can you step into the beach and alert my son?” The drizzle was getting stronger and clouds dark and heavy, it felt a downpour any moment. In a beach there are no shelters to run when caught in rain frenzy. I saw the son enjoying the “laughter yoga” practice with couple of others and it got me interested. I got to speak to them and I said,” I wish to try. Would you accommodate me in the group?”

            Today I joined them at 6:15 near the Kaj Schmidt memorial (you will find this white monolith structure in almost every song sequence of a film in the seventies and eighties before Indians got richer and started going to Switzerland and other places). We were just the four of us – two males and two females and I relished every minute of the 30 minutes regimen.

            We start with the “Om” chants, I found it a good feel to the nippy November misty winds against a full ball of crimson son. Then we start from the heels and toes and work every part of the body. You squat, turn your shoulders clockwise and counter clockwise, eye balls flit to the sides, the face muscles, cheeks, chin, neck, abdomen, ankles - no joint is ignored. After each area is worked, the instructor says “here we go” and we clap hands in front. The lady explained,” These energize the acupuncture points of the palms”. This is a harmless clap and swinging in harmonic motion of a pendulum clock.

            You stretch your knees, your eyes get a lot of exercise and even the facial muscles. For thirty minutes I forgot my miserable existence and copied others in the act. They were considerate to explain when my moments were getting a bit gawky.

            We ended the session with “Asathoma Sadgamaya…” and three rounds of “Shanti”. There is a section where we say,” I forgive anyone who has hurt me.” Then a couple of more exercise before we face the sun and declare,” I am the happiest person in the world” and "I am the healthiest person in the world" break into a large laugh.Before that you gather all the worries in the mind and cast it into the sea symbolically saying," No more worries." While exercising the forehead, we say," No more headaches." There's a lot of positive reinforcement at every stage.

            I am too much of an introvert and laughing got my face a lot of glow. The eyes shone like stars and I found myself light on my feet (with all those walking on the heels or toes on clumpy rain soaked sands of the beach) and my mind felt a smooth stroke of caress. I thanked the group and said,” This is too good to miss out. I will be regular.”

            Notice another thing: the best things in life are always free.  Look at another lesson that flows through almost unobtrusively: forgiveness and peace of mind are related. A daily dose of practicing laughter relaxes the muscles to laugh more spontaneously. Laugh without reason, it gets easier to find anything to cheer the grumpy mind. Better to go with the flow than resist, has been my learning these days. 

Lessons 2013 brought

2013 has been a mixed year in terms of earnings but I don’t think I have learnt more in the years gone by than this year. I am grateful I had the humility to spot them and make the mental changes. Living is an adventure no set formulae apply; you learn as you go by. From that viewpoint this has been a good year.

            Two things helped – the two Vipassana retreats in April and then in July; quitting India Cements got in a lot of learning. Here’s my self-discovery:

a)      Act happy even if you are not: One can’t afford to wear a long face; it makes life difficult for others and their burden heavier. So a gentle smile to strangers; a beaming one to friends is what the day requires of you. Even if you are depressed and weighed by a flood of negative emotions, just pretend all is well. Soon I found myself getting real better. Discourage negative feelings (denying would be inappropriate) by turning them to a positive feel – not that difficult if you reason it out or look harder for silver linings.

b)      Save your job: I keep cribbing India and Indian employers to a sickening degree. But only this year I learnt the practical side of this insight: This society is overcrowded and it is deeply feudalistic. Three rules: Your job is evaluated by the system and so allow them to set the benchmark; rest easy to play to their rule-book. Two, be friendly with every colleague. You are paid a salary and part of it is to be tolerant to their idiosyncrasies. Third and most important is to humour your boss. 

c)      Keep people around you in good cheer: I am guilty of choosing my friends with so much care that my mind switches off gross ones almost intuitively. But this year I found it imperative to reserve a good cheer to everyone I meet; don’t attach a label and close down any good vibe coming from any quarter. Be agreeable. Test yourself against the most negative characters around; you will end up feeling sorry for them than being rattled. I must learn this from Viji, Dr. Rajaram, and T H Iyer.

d)     Forgive everyday: A mind is sick if it carries a hurt the next day. I consciously try removing any negativity in my daily Vipassana settings. I connected to both sisters in a long time. Now each occasion I receive any good vibe in the present I remind myself not to spoil the moment with past omissions or expectations. My second sister visited me on Diwali and when she left she said,” Vipassana is working in your case.”

e)      Being human is to know it's okay to be vulnerable: Staying alone it is very easy to fall prey to self-pity. With daily Vipassana practice, I realize self-pity is the mind’s worst nemesis. Sorrow is allowed; even a brief spell of depression but no self-pity. Wait for the clouds to pass and they certainly do. It is here I thank my eldest sister and intimate friends who are patient when I assail them with my sob stories. Then I realize: I must also be a willing listener when other’s bemoan their fate. To realize you are vulnerable and trying your best is living; you are not supposed to have all the answers or life cater to all your silly aspirations.

f)       Enjoy the unpredictable: One of the worst mistakes I was prone to was “anticipating future”. That is self-fulfilling prophesy and terribly self-defeating. Do what is required of the present and allow the result to come. Don’t ward them off or tailor it to suit your ego. Acceptance is so vital for my peace I realized. And give yourself this power: you can change any situation at any stage; don't crib on the present. Always act to your best advantage!  You won’t be able to enjoy the present flow of life if you insist it to conform to your self-image. So make yourself flexible, open, receptive.

g)      Develop your hobbies: 2013 has been a good year for my writing; my progress on the guitar is still at snail pace. Vipassana has gotten more in the system; maybe it is one reason why I am learning all these lessons. I consciously try engaging strangers I chance in the day to see if I can get a smile both sides – a new territory for me and work-in-progress. I must include a lot more outdoor pursuits in 2014.

h)     You are never alone: For a bachelor it is important to have friends and relations calling on you. So you try to be at your best behaviour. I took a while to recover the emotional bruises of a failed relation; now each time you feel lonely, cultivate a new hobby. Swimming?? Guitar?? Couple dancing??? and further away from my comfort zone, the better.  

        I have not learnt all these lessons in sufficient measure. But certainly the mind sees their validity. Any effort is worth if it can get the mind even a speck of peace especially in this ruthless world. Be kind to yourself is the crux; patience is next. Acceptance and go with the flow.

Tirupathi as metaphor for India

I am not a temple going idiot at all. Nor do I scorn the pious and devoted; it does not concern me at all. I have long realized the futility to express any view on macro issues: Is America a boon or curse to the world? Tamils are aggressive to Telugus? Chennai is worse than Hyderabad? Or M S Subbalakshmi a better singer than any North flaunts? Or is Chiddu a good finance minister? These questions can be argued on both sides and none wiser even after hours of straining vocal chords and reducing life-span. Even for a time-filler “Which monkey is a bigger draw – Big B or SRK?” is not my scene. I refuse to be drawn on any macro issue. I am more interested at which grocery store in the neighbourhood gives more value or who to invite to a dinner or which job offer to take.   

And if you observe closely any view on a macro issue – which is only an opinion and nothing else- is directly related to your experience. If you have a bitter experience you will project it on the issue. I loved Bahrain from the people I met and interacted and so I transferred that affection to the country. I have never gotten a good deal in India and so I don’t have any respect for it either. So when a sod says: Delhi is the best place on earth, nothing registers on my mind. It is a stimulus not worth reacting even if I am alone in a desert and desperate for human company. That’s one of the reason why I love stories or anyone sharing their experience on any god damn thing – that’s invaluable but what they think of a macro issue is idle talk better suited to a 24x7 Indian news channel. This leads to a nice classification: listening to any experience is something I have unlimited patience; but opinions are something I run away a mile even if Einstein were to talk about his opinion on Science or spirituality. 

A long drawn introduction to my Tirupathi visit yesterday!

Kesavan called and in the exchange he dropped,” I am going to Tirupathi on Thursday. Interested?” This was last week when I was recounting my Bangalore tales.

I instinctively said,” Yes”

“Shall I book your ticket by Sapthagiri Express?”

Another “Yes” escaped me.

Within 10 minutes of the call I get a sms confirmation of the rail ticket. My “yeses” were weak and even before I could recover my wit and reason the trip was ON. It is after all a one day affair and I cheered up.

            This train is at 6:25 in the morning that meant I left house by 5:15. Last week Brindavan Express offered more engaging company, K7 (he signs his name with this “super smart” abbreviation) slept the whole 3 hours of the journey. I was immersed in a Wodehouse and looking out at the window. The day was alright for travel; cloudy misty skies and the Indian countryside has more green than brown.

            We hired a car as it climbed the hill. Every vehicle is given a printed slip from the pin pad (I mean those things that scans and out pops a slip of paper with the details of the car number and time). There is a minimum time of travel to the top where another check-post verifies – if you report early the penalty is Rs.100 for every minute ahead of the pre-fixed time. That ensures no one is in a terrible hurry.

            K7 had booked his darshan time on the internet months back; so he went to a Rs.50 line. I went looking for Rs.300 line. This is a huge temple and even to find the start of the line is a lot of effort and a knot to untangle. There is a free darshan, a 50 rupee Q, then a 300 rupee Q and another for those who climb the hill on foot. Since the queues can get very long , we are talking of lakhs and lakhs of pilgrims and 24 hours on queues is not uncommon. On any day and at any hour of the day there are thousands and thousands jostling and shoving in lines for a darshan.

            Crowds depress me. First I am oversized and tall at over 6 feet; Indians are a short race and so most halt near my shoulder. In a cramped place, god there is too much of flesh squeeze. My elbows would come near a person’s neck or nose and it gets uncomfortable for all of us. I was in the line for 3 hours and my mind was growing in resolve: never again. Tirupathi crowd is not an intelligent and cultured crowd, it’s more the unruly and you understand why stampedes occur. Why do people come to this temple and in such hordes? I think it is more hope than faith. Hope is for a derelict while faith is for those on a roll. We were waiting in one of the compartments that comes with benches and so one can squat; this is a large room bolted with bars as it leads to a line and resemble a cage. I asked a person sitting next to me on his reason for coming to the temple, he explained,” Last month I read someone donating 10 crores. What we donate here returns back to us tenfold.” That’s as gross as it can get. I saw a Marathi family; a man looked not a year younger than fifty and he gave his reason,” My eldest daughter is 18, and another 16. Lord gave us twins, both sons after 14 years.” The twins were less than two years and they made a very pretty sight. I saw the family and loved the sight of two elder teenage sisters engaging their toddler brothers while the mother was beaming from ear to ear. It is this miracle that attracts millions. Tirupathi is more a hope visit and thanksgiving but the theme is the same: a belief that Venkatachalapathy confers worldly goodies if you are supplicant enough. However I never saw the causal link in my case, sadly and maybe in the hundreds of cases that I know.

            We waited for an hour in the cage and another hour in the line as it went in a snail pace. The queue is anything but orderly, those behind and in the front crush you like sandwich. I am not exaggerating but you feel the pressure of flesh at most points in the queue. Then the metaphor stuck: India reduces us to an ant colony. We are forever busy and squirreling away forever frantic and going nowhere. The system is so apathetic that it does not care whether you are a Newton or a Shakespeare. It is this crowd, horde, multitude that reduces life to a survival struggle. We are all rats in the sewage or chickens hanging on a cycle bar. That makes us worshipful of success and feudal; bow and scrape to everyone ahead of the line. Like they have this "break darshan" for VVIPS. Three hours in the queue and my mind was growing stronger with the thought: I am not going to succeed in this society.

            K7 took 2 hours in his Rs.50 Q and he graciously waited for me for an hour. We went down and gulped food at 4:00 in the evening. That felt a lot of life flowing again. I told him,” If I get a gulf job or maybe a newspaper or magazine job in the three months of 2013, I’ll come again to Tirupathi and tonsure my head.” That’s the level of cynicism I suffer. K7 said,” Why so gross a prayer; just come for thanksgiving.” 

On the brink N saved at the bell

September is almost gone –a period where my mind plunged into depths of despair and now slow on the bend. So many lessons thick and fast; let’s say I was caught in a rain of lessons. 

My job scene is the last four years reads a Greek tragedy. Chennai is no place for a creative writer; if you are not employed in “Hindu” there is simply no other avenue where you can expect corporate level salaries. That demotes one into seeking “content writing” space where dolts offer: Rs.40 for editing a page, or Rs.100 for a 500 word article.   

September was the fifth month of unemployment and I was near panic. I have no saving cushion for sustenance expenses for rest of 2013. I felt a trapped mouse. I hate to rent out the Besant nagar flat; my fears stem from ineptitude. When a man of my talent does not know how to get his due from the system then I am sure tenants would find it irresistible to get “stay” orders. No wonder discerning and circumspect house owners would rather lock their apartments than place any trust in rental income. 

            That fear of not able to afford this apartment, a distinct possibility, got my heart thudding like a factory mill, a lingering fear that made me jump on telephone rings or doorbells. I exhausted possibly every job opportunity on Naukri – I realized that none in a Delhi or Mumbai or even nearby Bangalore or Hyderabad would call me for an interview.

            Pushed to the wall I went frantic in my job efforts, calling up old friends or colleagues. I sanitized my resume to remove any slights. My heart kept clanging and to prevent a slide into depression I sat on Vipassana for 2-3 hours a day. I knew that was only the thing that would prevent a mind from fusing out. I told a long standing friend Mani: that I have not found a suitable job in the last 5 years shows my ineptness, that the society not found shows its callousness, and that you have watched over this agony in the last 5 years shows your heartlessness. More than smart word play at work, I was livid with anyone who was in a position to help but chose to only dish out verbal sympathy. I said,” No time for words; can you help in real terms? Jobs lead to gulf? Or buy TOI n Hindu and sack the whole lot of them after converting it to a poultry farm.”

Vipassana helps: 2-3 hours a day of daily sitting prevented a complete collapse. I found a quote of Martin Luther King and stuck on my computer table: The ultimate test of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and moments of convenience but where he stands in moments of challenge and moments of controversy. It is not something that poured fresh energy but serves a good reminder.

Importance of Linkedin: I discovered the power of Linkedin. I cleaned up my profile and joined media groups in Dubai and Muscat or whatever I could find. I even got a call from Dubai, I messed the telephonic interview. “Do you have any social media experience?” I immediately said,” Not exactly” when I should have talked of Vivek’s direct marketing efforts. But I now know better. There’s utility if you participate in any discussion on Linkedin than Facebook or Twitter if you are looking for a top gun to spot you. Join as many groups pertaining to your profession and someone would amble in like a fish and knock on your door. This thing beats me square: everyone is looking for a hot talent and I don’t even come on the radar. What’s wrong? Their locked minds or my exaggerated claims?

Bangalore trip: Godot called me for an interview and it felt god-sent. I was sitting on my hunches and nothing like a short trip for a stimulant to the lazy bones. I cadged one more job interview, Trivone obliged me. So I had a train which took me to Bangalore at 1:30; one meeting at 2:30 and another at 4:30 before I had to wait for the night bus at 10:00.

I enjoyed the 6 hours in Brindavan Express on 27^th. I befriended everyone around me. There was a wedding party of a SI in the police (those guys intuitively know human-nature being caught in the worst end), then a Congress trade union leader traveling with his wife (he again was full of sense. The couple were headed to Bangalore to support their daughter’s infant upbringing). I was interacting with an export consultant; he turned out to be a bachelor at 60+. He made a crackling observation,” being on one’s own means you have to be self-sufficient. It’s not bad a ride if you know how to occupy yourself.” I forgot to take the addresses of these firms, Kesavan smsed me on request. He is turning out to be a solid friend. For an interview strategy, I took the day’s newspapers and using a highlighter marked out sentences that needs straightening. Damn it, every sentence violates Strunk’s “Elements of style” – TOI and Hindu has not a single writer who can write a sentence without a crink and a fracture.

I met a senior executive at Trivone and he seemed a dream. We were arguing more on India; anyway he gave me the best possible news: we will engage you as a retainer. Work out 20 blogs for XX a month. We’ll try this for 3 months and see where it takes us.” I got my breath back, the heart in the mouth went back to its original place. Within an hour of Bangalore, I was singing. It’s a city I have many memories; my grandparents gave us a rich haul of them.

The best part of Bangalore was meeting Shyam. We agreed to meet at a coffee-shop and he drove to reach there. Shyam is the son of my chanting friend, Mr. Krishnamurthy. We learnt our Rudram and Mahanyasam under Venkatakrishnan mama and I join the chanting group at the temple especially on pradosams or Fridays chantings. Shyam read my web-links on my resume and said,” You are a fine talent in these days of plagiarism. Let me see what I can do. When you are in Bangalore, let’s meet.”

Shyam has worked in some of the biggest computer and internet companies in India and US as their “Chief Technology Officer”. He spoke to his contacts in Bangalore to explore an opportunity for me.  We met at a café and I felt an immediate connect. He spoke of 20-80 rule in his industry, how he got an odometer fixed where such things are taken seriously in America. He explained,” Everything you need is on google. You must only know how to tap into.” He smsed a media owner to inquire a feature writing slot for me. He explained his philosophy,” I try not to be nuisance to anyone. Who knows how long our lives are; even 10 days from now could be our last. So if you are any use of anyone, so much the better.” Shyam reminded me of Vimala’s son Shanker; very few people are born with such grace and maturity.

I was at Majestic at 6:00 pm and that meant I had four more hours to squander. I had a Mark Twain and two hours of “Mysterious stranger” kept me occupied as I sat in the office of National Travels. I had a peek into their world; it’s tough living filling up seats. That’s a super smart race, haggling prices till the last moment and just get the nerds to board the bus.

We were herded into another bus at 10:00 and we waited for an hour at Kalasipalayam; it reached Madivala (another boarding point in the city) before the bus picked speed. It was at Egmore at 6:00 in the morning I disembarked with every bone and flesh in the body wanting to lay in a cot. A man of 190 cms in any bus finds sleep impossible. I felt in a Procrustean bed - a mad fellow who made any guest fit into his bed either by stretching their legs or chopping them!

I learnt a lesson this September. We are bigger than our problems. Problems come and go but we are at the centre. Every experience in this world must lead to trusting oneself more. It is not that we are expected to solve our issues or manage them or endure them; we are not here to learn from experiences for those only clog up the mind space (What learning is possible in India other than realizing how callous the system is). We are here to trust ourselves more. When I set out for Bangalore I prayed at the Hanuman shrine at Ratnagiriswarar temple: Lord, see me through. Any assignment and I will offer vadamalai and butter; save me! The prayer was answered. 

August, 2013 notes

Writing is the greatest gift and most transparent. There is nothing simpler on the globe than “evaluating a writing style”. I’ll even say how: grasp on words and control over a sentence. Read any paragraph of any writer and either he wins respect such that you would go slow on your reading speed or you fast read if it tastes like burnt coffee without sugar (in that case you would more likely fling it out of the window and find better use for your time). A good writer is one who has the ability to translate a mental imagery into words such that you laugh when he wants you to, or weep. A good writer is in control like a child torquing the screw of a doll; the doll has no choice but to play along when fully coiled and released. But Indians don’t get it and I remain undiscovered and rusting up on a seashore beach. 

Now my diluted resume goes around – I found couple of interviews in ages. I praying to join the work force with such fervor that if a crackpot says,” Go to the terrace at midnight and shout like a owl or hang upside down like flying jackals” and I would comply in all sincerity even if that were to improve my odds by less than 5%. 

The best part of August was reading Ravi’s dad’s manuscript. Here is a very accomplished marketing man (he has worked in Fortune 100 companies heading their marketing function over the last 3 decades). He read “O my darling India” and that gave him a mind to record his experiences for an autobiographical account. This is a mighty rich life and holds lessons at every corner. Mr. R Ramakrishnan is one of those gentlemen who you don’t forget in life – throaty, infectious vivacity, full of good sense and his humour is spontaneous. More than an interesting company, he has a sharp mind that cuts the maze for astounding clarity (Sarada Mami is my idol on "mind as sharp as rapier" - the pointed end for an incisive quality). Reading 34 chapters of his mss was the best thing I have done in years. It traced through his growing up years in Calcutta and meeting life’s challenges square-on. What makes any writing readable is honesty, this one had that ring throughout and that made it edifying.

August saw me interacting with the great man on gmail and it felt an invisible hand of destiny. Every mail of his is worth preserving and I add a “star” to retain it and come back to it for reading it again. He writes at a juncture: Dear Sathya, No one can , I am sure, tell a self-story so poignantly as you have, in less than a page . What a writing skill you have! Even a working tap connected to the tank full of water or any other source with a prime mover for support would clog up or spew out air only but not your language flow. It is amazing to see such a word power at work. I am also saddened that such a thinking and keenly perceptive person should be perpetually finding himself looking for job and therefore, some earning for sustenance. Trust me; I am not capable of laying it so thick and such class. Mr. Ramakrishnan is a marketing person; I find his writing more insightful and a verve I would be hard pressed to match. I have had my share of compliments but this one is special. 

I saw “Zero dark thirty” at USIS. I went into the auditorium in a sour mood but two and half hours later found a lot of uplift. This is certainly my best Oscar movie of 2013. The Americans are patriots; they will not allow anyone to kill 3,000 of their citizens and allow that depraved to go scot-free even if that blighter is a needle in a haystack and placed on the ocean floor. Jessica Chastain as an obsessed investigator and Jason Clarke as a ruthless interrogator were brilliant. The torture scenes including water boarding was spine-chilling and very graphic and damn real. The movie flowed without a kink, a tale told with a lot of honesty and painstaking research. It certainly towered over Argo, this movie deserved the “best picture” to me. What is hallmark of a good movie?  You watch a movie or read a book and you suddenly find a lot of inspiration to handle your worries – your problems look small as though you are put in an airplane taking off and the land mass shrink rapidly. Watching this movie got my mind a lot of oxygen and a new resilience to face up to my troubles in life: piece of cake as the American idiom goes.  

As for me I find my heart racing to a panic attack and I determine myself each day for two hours of Vipassana medicine. I manage my troubles with a lot more grace. I realize one thing: India is no place for me. For the first time since I started my innings as a writer in early 2007 I feel lost. This Indian CALLOUSNESS and MEDIOCRITY will certainly drown my puny talent. The rains have started and mind feels vulnerable in high doses. I serve my God, waiting, waiting, waiting....

Nagarjuna Sagar tales – Eight

Meditation and lessons

The first two days of meditation was a torture. Even 10 minutes felt like sitting on a cactus heavy on thorns. At home I manage an hour with just one change; a strong right knee gives me 45 minutes to an hour and the weak one gives the rest. I felt inept; memories of my first ten dayer in March 2008 were not so embarrassing. The knees felt unusually stiff, like a rock tied around.

            I could only infer the changed climate for my plight. The air here was nippy, gale winds throughout the day, the atmosphere felt a lot light on the nostrils.   

This place vibrates splendidly. There were 14 meditators on the male side and everyone seemed to have better control. Ashutosh at 60 sat like a sage lost in his meditation as did the 26 year banker from Himachal Pradesh. Even the ebullient lawyer next to me sat still, I felt completely out of place and guilty too. I spoke about my issues to the teacher and she wasted no time in giving me a corner place. At least my discomfiture would not disturb others.

I loved the Dhamma Hall. It is the first time I found myself in a circular shaped hall and dome shaped roof and red brick walls. The circumference of the hall makes for two concentric circles – the outer to store pillows and cushions, or chairs while the inner one accommodates 30 meditators. As a meditator you get a semi-circle view of the sylvan settings where birds, rains, gale winds run their acts.

The walk to the pagoda from the Dhamma Hall is a climb up an uneven slope on wild grass and patches of hard red soil that feels a lot of gravel on the feet. There is a twin path running almost parallel to one another. Men and women are strictly segregated. The Buddhists were smart, they knew a mere glance can at times torpedo the peace built over a lifetime. The pagoda faces the Krishna River as it flow in to the Nagarjuna Sagar dam. The Dhamma Centre is on top of a hill that looks down as you see the waters flow gently into the reservoir.

I used the meditation cell well (number 12); experimenting on postures and even theory. We are trying to improve “prajnya” – so avoid sanya and sankara in meditations. Feeling the body sensations (vedana) is to dissolve the sankara. Which means the focus of meditation is to “improve observation faculty”; reduce the “evaluating part” and the “reaction point”.

I loved walking with that plastic cover (Dhamma Nagarjuna cared for meditators at every level) on a drizzle. The food was exceptional; they even served payasam for one day, chapattis rolled in ghee, I went heavy on ragi jawa at breakfast. One can safely remove coffee and tea from the breakfast with healthier substitutes. They also had hot ginger water; that painstaking care was visible. They respected meditators and got me feeling a lot warm on the place.

My mind felt keen on bird calls; there is a world of small birds here. The walk from the quarters to the dining hall is over 400 metres is on a small mud path across a thicket of shrubs, boulders, and trees. Just walking to the dining hall four times a day got the body more than its share of exercise: breakfast at 6:30; lunch at 11:00, lemon juice for dinner at 5:00 and for those who opted for English as a language for evening discourse. There is a mini dhamma hall with a giant television screen for the purpose.

On the eighth day the noble silence ended, there is a real bonhomie. These faces you run into at the clay drinking pots or at the dining hall or the dhamma hall or the common toilets and you feel a vague connection. But once the silence vow is lifted, we feel like comrade-in-arms. There is a congratulatory air on completion. Each meditator goes through a gamut of emotions; from depths of despair to flights of happiness. You persevere and that makes us appreciative of ourselves and others. Neelakanthum a retired banker said,” Fear is ingrained deep in the mind.”

Damodara Rao came of the metha with rapture in his eyes. He made a good companion till Guntur. Said he,” I worked so hard to provide for my daughters. Now married both of them use my wife as a servant maid to look after their tiny tots. You can earn millions of dollars and yet be inconsiderate. They don't realize I need a wife to manage the house here.” He spends most of the time on spiritual activities. I told him about my issues. I relished his compliment,” Sathya, you are a very decent man.”  

Mr. Rao speaks Telugu with a fluency of a native that he is. The humour and sarcasm is barely on the surface. I loved the way he spoke to the lady conductor who looked stern as a school teacher before a stationary bus: will you go now to have tea and coffee or are going to start right away? She relaxed with a smile, each time she caught my eyes there was this suppressed twitch of a smile. We were in the bus for four hours and I realized: everyone suffers from a crippling problem. The courageous ones are those we don’t lose their charm or zest. They reserve enough peace and kindness to others INSPITE of their daily pinpricks or storms. Living is never a perfect dream, it is a serpentine road with more snakes than ladders. Like 11 hours of meditation in a day, we persevere.

Every Vipassana retreat reveals a dimension about oneself. Our level of understanding the world more or less equals our understanding of oneself. The more you have a grip on yourself the more adept you are in facing to the issues of the world. If UNDERSTANDING was my take from Chengannur in 2011; SELF-PITY is my lesson of Nagarjuna Sagar.

I am diffident in nature and self-pity runs so deep and pervasive that I did not realize its mischief till this week’s meditation showed me up. I am apologetic about a lot: heart surgery, poor health and erratic job nature; none more severe than the loneliness that consumes me. When a woman walked out on me, all these failings flared up. I realized in Nagarjuna Sagar: One is permitted to be sad or depressed or grieved but self-pity and shame drowns every positive attribute. Self-pity is such poison; a trace and it turns the milk container to curds.  

I felt born afresh; I have taken my entire lifetime to learn this simple lesson. That’s the beauty of Vipassana: you realize on your own. Nature essentially is an ally and it is therapeutic. We are all trying to be better than yesterday, or at least aspire to. Each one of us is given a separate exam paper; each must build his own subways and arteries on the road. There is no template or precedence to take any solace from. Living is about trying.  

The Volvo ride from Guntur to Chennai was fantastic, the next door chap a real nuisance as I kept shoo-ing him away. At last found some sleep and reached Central at 7:15. For all the travel I did not feel the exhaustion, that itself made me feel exuberant to face the issues of the day. The date showed 29th July on the watch and so it was.