SPARRC & STRIDES

#112 Post

This post should be interesting for I have some outside events to report and analyse; most of the time I keep psychoanalyzing. 

SPARRC INSTITUTE

Dr. Kannan Pugazhendi is regarded as a maverick doctor who gives excellent results for knee pains. I consulted him a fortnight back and it was some experience: he just pressed my knee muscles and the calves and the spine and kept rattling names like “this muscle is weak; that needs strengthening” as his assistant kept taking notes. Dr. Kannan sees over 100 patients in three hours and no patient gets to open his mouth for a ONE MINUTE examination. The consultation fee of Rs. 700 is worth its weight; soon his team take over and advise for “Therapy and Rehab” sessions.

            This man sees patients at Alwarpet centre while I do the therapy sessions at Besant nagar centre. Rs. 25 k for 24 sessions is value for money; I would have been happy to pay twice that sum.

            Venkatesh is my physiotherapist and he is hardworking. He spends an hour massaging my abdomen, knee and calf muscles where I am reduced to agonizing oohs and aahs. At times it gets so painful as I ask him to stop; the muscles are treated as Thangam my cook kneads wheat for making chappatis. He explains this mode of treatment, “Sir, there are muscle trigger points which we are trying to relax. This way the pain comes down in a couple of sessions before we teach you strengthening exercises for each particular muscle.” At the end of each session there is ICING the whole structure and I definitely feel an improvement in my knees.

            Venkatesh went on leave and the therapy sessions are done by females. This is a real back-breaking work. They press the fingers hard on the skin, at times using their elbows to add pressure at those conjoint points. I feel nothing but gratitude. Truth be told, Suganya is better masseur than Venkatesh; she has an intuitive sense of the pain points and goes attacking them with pressure and elbows that reduce me to biting my tongue to suppress a yell.  There was another very young therapist, Protima, who said, “Sathya, your muscles are now free but your mind is not registering the healing.” She added, “You are used to a limp walk, try lifting your knees for each stride.” I followed her advice as she taught me how to walk. I had really forgotten the gait and good news is my knees are on the mend.

            I walk to the beach and regulars at Eliots say, “You sure have a funny gait with a half limp and half bends, It sure is sexy for a visual.” As for me, I recommend SPARRC to anyone with any kind of pain. They sure are effective as hell. Besides very decent people. 

STRIDES CONSULTING

            I had a three days Soft skills training at St. Joseph Engineering College at OMR and it was a fantastic experience to watch other trainers in action. Over three days, I attended the sessions of 13 trainers and I learnt an ocean of a lot. I am glad that this company is kind enough to put me on as a SHADOW where my job is only to watch others in action.

            One learning I had was “Soft skills is a career and of course you will be impacting lives but  that should not be your primary focus at this first year engineering students level, this is a career for you. Your objective should be to get a good feedback at the end of three days.”  I can aim for glory at the corporate level or when the audience is matured where there is scope for daring experimentation.

            I must thank Priscilla Joseph for her kindness in taking me under her wing. I am so fortunate to attend the sessions of high quality trainers that I feel a sense of liberation and feeling right. Now I am mentally prepared for this role.  Strides Consulting has enriched me both on content and delivery for an very important insight: there is no such thing as a perfect content or a preferred delivery style. You walk your way through and the course content will take you to the destination.  It is such a pleasure to see tongue-tied students open up and speak so fluently on a public platform on day-3. Another insight is: You need a team of trainers, the lonely bird does not get the contract. This is an interesting space; you only get paid for "working on for the day" and you are free to work for anyone on idle days for a daily labour kind of feel but what the hell, there is never a dull moment on the WORK days. 

            On Monday when I came back from the day’s labour of 9 to 6, my head swooned in dizziness. I am used to fever, cough, knee pains but this head dizzy spells got me in a panic. I kept vomiting – threw up the entire dinner in the closet – and felt the Yama was riding his bulls in the vicinity. The next morning when I told Venkatesh of these faints, he said, “Sir, it might be due to high BP or even vertigo.” He took my blood pressure and said that at 150 it is a bit too high, “Sir, avoid salt and oily foods.” That morning assurance felt divine and timely, He really is gifted with a good mouth and a great heart. Thank you, man.

Miscellany

I am fortunate having Pandian as the buyer of my apartment. He said, “Sir, I don’t intend moving in. You can reside here as long as you wish by paying market rate rentals.” I told him,” Thanks man, I don’t intend staying for more than 6 months here.”

            I will turn 50 by April end and I wish to celebrate it in a new home. I don’t want to purchase any apartment and I feel it is better to live on rentals. I am investing over a crore in mutual funds and equity market and hopefully these can fetch a 15% return on year to year basis. As for as my next residence, I am planning a Abu Dhabi visit for December (hoping that I will be jogging fit by then) for a job search. Sabeesh, my ex-colleague at Adline, said, “Sathya, I will arrange you the best bed space in town and near your favourite Sangeetha restaurant.” I must make 50 k  in Chennai but I am doubtful. If Dubai shows an empty harvest, I plan to settle down in Bangalore for 2019. I don’t think I will miss anything leaving Besant nagar except the friendly expertise of my cook, Thangam Mami. She truly was as reliable as a clock in the last 8 years and I plan to give her a good purse as a parting gift.

            And as for me, I am happy with life. I am slowly winning caring friends like Neetu, Lalit and Ashish Bansal. There are quite a few who care for me from my IMT circles. TH Iyer mama supports me unconditionally and he says, “Sathya, mad fellow, don’t leave Besant nagar at any cost. This is paradise on earth and I like to see you daily at the Beach.” Then there is Dhamma Mani Sir, Deepak called from Dubai to advise on investment basics and so many really. Yesterday was my dad’s 29^th death ceremony and both my mother and Viji were here. I was telling my sister, “Of the three, I am the smartest and most intelligent. Even if I die today, I have a body of work that will be read and respected by the next generation.”  She nodded heartily as I said, “If I ever have a publishing contract for an autobiography, what a tale that would make. Very few know how to heal childhood traumas and bipolar and I have done that. It’s a story that could be of interest to millions of readers. I will pitch for a contract in Europe or USA and trust me I will die both rich and famous.” I also replaced all the guitar strings and it sounds divine as I spent at least an hour on it. The fingers leap across the frets with a new found expertise. Sathya is great, Sathya is genius much like my heroes Sherlock Holmes and a very real Alexander the Great.   

Post Script: I must work on a blog on "Alexander" which I have been putting off for over a year now. Another must be on Sherlock Holmes, Granada Series which had Jeremy Brett in the lead. Actually I grew up on Arthur Conon Doyle's works, Star Trek and so many beautiful things in my school days. Doordarshan was splendid those days with Lucy Show, Yes Minister that I go nostalgic even today. Someday I must also attempt a blog on Vadivelu, a Tamil comedian I admire a lot. 

Finally life comes to this

Life the ever cruel bitch.

This festival season and incipient winter weather screws my moods every year. These are dark months I write off knowing well over the years that this is a season with not a ray of sunlight for me. Even my writing takes a backseat; I try to fill them with Vipassana retreats.

            I sold my apartment to a gentleman for small mercies. At least the process has been smooth so far. I will be happy to receive the final cheque and clear out. It’s a strange feeling to a definition of mixed emotions. On one hand I feel that I am a consummate failure as to sell dad’s property for survival, on the other hand I feel a sigh of relief. Leaving Besant nagar should bring store good tidings for me; this place vibrates negativity and sickness. M90 suffers from bad neighbours and a stray dog problem; besides it never got me one ounce of growth or happiness even as a fleeting sensation for the mind for decades.

            I was speaking to Dr. Rajaram today saying, “I don’t see myself ageing to 60s or 70s for a desolate existence. I don’t particularly love myself to wait for a God given death. I must fall in love in the next 5 years; it can be a woman or a dog or even some new hobby. Otherwise I don’t see myself lasting further. No life is a bigger burden than having nothing to look forward to.”  I narrated him my cousin’s life. That man is stinking rich, a widower, he can’t stand his son and daughter-in-law but loves the grandson. You need some blooming thing to hold on to.

            He said to an instant understanding, “Sathya, I know being you is so difficult. Hopefully you will find something to immerse yourself in.”

            My blog posts always refer to good friends but I realize that at the core, or when it comes to the test where I am having heart seizures or even death, no one will involve themselves from registering at the hospital or to rush to the Corporation for a death certificate. I must arrange everything before-hand and that makes my life so meaningless.

            The world outside is a callous one. It is friendly and it will offer you the right words but anything more, you are will be disillusioned ten times out of ten. Same thing with falling in love. You never fall for a woman because she is virtuous or good looking or great in bed; you only fall if you feel a love in the air. Love means caring and caring in our times translates to “waiting for you at the clinic when sick; hovering around a hospital ward when incapacitated and giving you a funeral when your time is up.” These few months I have grown cynical of life. Living in India is a huge karmic sentence where you are condemned to inferior people and living in an ant’s colony. This is one place where mediocrity will drown you in inches; a death by drowning in the Pacific or even the dirty polluted Adyar River is swifter and kinder.

            I start my Soft Skills training with a firm tomorrow. I pray these activities fill my mind with fresh winds. I guess I have one more month of stay in Besant nagar and I am just as eager to get out. I am planning for a swimming course as a distraction and a respite from the monotony of idle living.  In this murderous mood, if I had a gun I would have blasted myself.  But for now, I have this clarity that I need a purpose to living. It is something I cannot plan for, either it descends down on my plate or there is always that stupid gun.

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. 

October Octopus

This is one of the blog posts I start on a blank mind. Usually I am driven to write for outlets of the mind to find a landing place but today I find the mind numb and dumb. But I plod to capture this state of mind too.

            Usually the winter months find me grumpy with life as they accentuate my loneliness. This is the best part of the year with the city taking a break from surfeit of the sun and these four months the scales are perfect; the migratory birds find the city a haven from the harsh winters in Europe.  The Nov-Dec music season washes the city with mellifluous music as the North East monsoons empties out a few storms and depression usually landing on Machilipatnam coast for some oddity.

            As I near my 50, I realize the whole weight of loneliness. Even if I had a loving brother or sister or even a nephew or a niece, this weight of my shoulders would have mitigated a lot. But then I am orphan and going into a fifties feels as though reaching a dead-end street. I am a recluse like no other; I don’t involve or even go near crowds as in family weddings or cremations. Those occasions and festivities psyche me out, I come home and mentally conked out for a couple of days before I get my breath back. It’s a poor life that has no one to care and embrace for. But god is great. If there is one person I am totally indebted to in the last three years it is TH Iyer mama. He is 86 and we either meet each day at the Beach or he calls me for the news of the day. He is extremely well placed in life; his children are all over the globe and on matters of money and people, he is extremely well-off in contrast to my penury. Today I asked him the reason for his affections and he says, “At times I am guided by Lord Krishna who goads me into keeping an eye on you.” He feels my plight (not many do, infact I can’t think of anyone who puts himself or herself under my skin) and affirms for a hearty encouragement, “Sathya, you are going through a passing phase. You have struggled for survival so hard that one day you will blaze the skies with your intellect. Fame and money are just round the corner. You have everything now, it’s just a matter of someone discovering your skills.”

            That someone discovering me or giving me a PLATFORM is what I have been hunting for decades. I am mighty glad of my stint on earth. Born of lousy parents whose only gift to me was scars and messed up psyche; I also realized even in my teens that I am not a regular 9 to 5 Joe. At times I get caught in the peak hour traffic and that affects me to the roots. I can’t for the life of me understand that is the daily diet of a common man regular on the streets. The traffic snarls are a mile away; trudging 3 kms can at times take an hour. Our generations don’t give credit to ourselves for we are saints on the wheels. Life is worse than a dog’s yet people keep at it for decades to feed a family and have a pretense of a lifestyle. Not for me. I am much too brainy for this rat existence; urban life is worse than a gutter rat race. When my father died, I resolved that I will die with head held high and no corporate slavery. I will discover my god given gifts and I have: over 30 short stories, over 1000 blog posts and these will certainly outlive me. Then there is my love for music which is more than my penchant for words. By God, I have lived and I am lived much on my own terms. I never kissed anyone’s ass and I have come this far for which I am mighty grateful and glad.

            I also found my mind FORGIVING my siblings. They did their best, they never wanted to associate even a shred with this family and who’s me to find fault. They see this family worse than a rotten apple and so give it a wide berth. I am now more philosophical. Let them go their own way, let me not ridicule and find fault. There is no homecoming here; our relations are buried in the sands of time. I have hardened my heart and attitude and there is no rewind button in my mind.

            I heard Radha sold her M91/4 for 1.25 crores and mine should fetch that price. In today’s mood I will take the money and shift out of Besant nagar for good. Three decades of living here and I have experienced it to the full. Time to put my tent in another locality and hopefully for a better menu; frankly I don’t see myself touching a 70 or 80.  At my today’s state of mind, I will do myself in before my 60^th birthday. A human needs some calories of affection and without it life is a marathon no one can run forever. God and providence and destiny be damned, I will write my own sentence and time my own death. I have earned that right; orphans always have that say.

            A soft skills company has signed me on and so finally I might see a 40 or 50 k earnings in a month. I am looking forward to this; maybe this will be one adhesive force for me to cling on to. I will strive to be a good trainer and I should find myself in this domain.

            It’s cold outside, raining throughout the days and the sun hiding beneath the clouds for a muggy light. That more or less describes my life. I am talented and almost genius on any calibration but life has not given me its dues but then it never owes anyone any favour. My life has not even reached a level shore and I guess it never will but mine is a tale of raw courage and honesty. I have soldiered for decades and warriors know when to write the climax for their stories. But if there is a tailwind, I will be grateful. And if I ever were to find love, I will be saved. But there is no faith or hope for Gods forsook me even at birth. I am much like Gandhari cursing Krishna, “ I spent my whole life worshiping you yet you did not spare even one of my hundred sons. For that cruelty, I curse you to infamy and a cruel death.” Sathya in 2018 is not much dissimilar to this steely lady. We march on; one more year without festivals and this is the 29^th year. Even bulls would have croaked down but not me. I am still sturdy.

Festival season blues

It's been a very tough 2018.

            For once I did not eat and sleep and Facebook for a life. I tried SOFT SKILLS and found no takers, I even got bold into sinking my last rupee being a FOOD CATERER, also met a venture capitalist for PUBLISHING a neighbourhood weekly. None of them took off the ground; the plane ran out of fuel on the runaway. Then came the DUBAI fiasco immediately followed by DELHI comedy (I am glad that I spent a week in Delhi to realize that my health is so gone down the drain that I cannot work anywhere but Chennai and the GULF).

            TH Iyer mama is in Bangalore for a month and I stopped walking. Earlier I used to be a regular at Eliot’s Beach for a bit of his company. There are many “nodding friends or even good morning” ones but I don’t want to aggravate my tendons already crying for attention. Yesterday was Ganesh Chaturthi and I spent the whole day cursing my siblings.

            Miraculously I fell into a slumber in the afternoon (there is no miracle sleeping in the afternoon but the movie that ran in the head was certainly one hell of a miracle) and the mind played this movie so graphic and vivid that I finally get it. I ask myself so often, “Why is my life is so often grounded for years? “ I use the word “flotsam” to describe it which is a piece of junk that is tossed about from the shore and sea repeatedly; the fuckin thing never settles either on water or land.

            In my nightmare my sister promises me to take me to some vacation. Then she sneaks away leaving me to my mother. We are having a huge war of words that has descended to blows. I see a wet vestti that was being washed; the second sibling turning in unexpectedly. Then after an hour I still see the cloth at the taps; I get infuriated beyond reason and turn into a devil. Suddenly I turn on my mother like a hound and we are tearing each other apart. I wake up and then I am shocked at the vehemence of the hate. Then I finally get it: Why is my life stranded and going nowhere? I had a mother who single-handedly drove me to the sand. If she had her way, I would have either gone to an asylum or a grave. She certainly wished my death repeatedly; my mother is more than capable of murdering me for she thinks I am the villain of her life. In truth, she did everything to SINGE the mind of a two year old ME.

            I reflect on my school years. I am a Science graduate and never understood even the IIT JEE question paper. Only now I can crack those pulley problems finally getting the vector concept. Meaning, even my studies were severely affected. If I had a normal parent, I am sure I could have been a physicist or something like that at IIT. It was HATE that drove me into shaping as a wordsmith; it was as though nature was determined to make an ass of me. No child on earth deserves such a mother; it would have been kindness had she wriggled my neck and cremated me as a child than put me through the gas chambers of hate and regular supplies of “ayyos”.

            It was this blueprint nature gave me in life. From there the rest of tale makes sense. Both my siblings were also affected by poor parents. Viji had a normal childhood for she was raised more by a normal grandmother; Latha suffered a lot but she found her saviour in marriage while I never found anchor. The Sindhi came and went; she was one person who gave me peace and love for a while and to my horror it was short-lived and phoney.

            I am a man who has walked on oceans to reach where I am today. Anyone in my shoes would have probably become a criminal or drowned in the sea in a long time. Even I don’t give myself better odds. I will blast myself probably or most certainly in the next five years. It’s an innings I am intensely proud off. Frankly I have not seen any hero outside of myself in real life or in novels. My mother was so sick that it’s a wonder and a miracle that I am so sane today.

            I am a saint in temperament. I don’t mind being mocked or taunted. I am so used to failures that I am genuinely surprised when anything nice happens to me which is rare by the way.  There were moments when I jumped with joy – like getting my first creative writing job and that too in Times of India in 2007, to being invited to Delhi last month for a job hunting by a IMT alumnus.

            My days are done. I hold my head high but I am past the expiry date much like a drug on the store. There is no tailwind anywhere near the horizon. There is no last minute twist in the tale. There is no woman waiting to fall in embrace and kisses. There is no hidden treasure in terms of a career straightening itself. I was gone long back, now I realize.

            We don’t reach a premise on rational basis; I got this perspicuity on that slumber. You don’t see your life situation as in a Xray through deduction; you feel in your bones and the last atom of your tissues that's were we live and die each moment intuitively as I saw in those images . One raging, mad woman fell me, hacked me, and uprooted me. On the other hand, she was verily the cause for my growth and maturity but on balance I am finally done. Each year I die a thousand deaths between SEPTEMBER and NOVEMBER when the Hindu calendar ticks off a Ganesh Chaturthi, Dusherra and Diwali and it is a very very poor life on earth not to have celebrated one festive moment in 3 decades; now tell me was a Rambo or Rocky that strong???  I feel nothing but a stream of love and compassion for this child that was forsaken; now verily the last act remains to be played out. 
Post Script: Blasting your head is always there but I must have some strategy to add people and events in my very EMPTY life. There is a "negativity bias" of the mind (with a specific definition in Mindfulness literature) and so I must go on daily walks, attend Swamiji's  weekend lectures even if I have passed that stage of development, exercise before going to bed (these nightmares are real). I am sick and tired of M-90 and more than ever wish to DISPOSE it and go to a new place. I am too COMFORTABLE with my loneliness here; change of scene can only be to the better. Get some gardening it; add new strings to the guitar; or even good old Rudram or Gita chanting there are so many ways for the mind to uplift itself. Try and try, death is always there but for the moment let me still hang on. 

August Augury

This was some action month. 

I spent a week in Delhi which is a major miracle and a lot of IMT camaraderie. It’s been an interesting month but for starters let me get the negative thing off my back.

Defamation: On 10^th August I get a crank call from a mad man in Ahmedabad saying, “You are a pervert and you have gone back to your defamation ways. I will put you in jail for this.” I shouted him down, “Yes, I am a pervert in words while your client was a pervert in behaviour.”

            Now this is old story, I have not an ounce of emotion in that garbage quagmire. My life essentially has been a victim of four women and in my blogs of over 1000 posts this strand appears now and then. On pUsHpa I genuinely thought she had changed her surname and in my posts it was only the maiden name. I did post a google talk which I am not entirely certain whether it is libelous in character or not. But someone’s photographs or mails are not exactly one’s private property; of course I am sure these can be put up on a blog medium. I have no time or energy to check that out with an expert lawyer’s view; but once I do then I will do everything under the law to write my posts as I deem fit. If anyone has a case for defamation, please bring it on.

            Since my focus these days is jobs and earnings, I removed couple of blog posts on the advice of one of my UNICEF friends. Mr. X (let the name be anonymous) is one of the UNICEF heads in the South and a very good friend and he advised, “Remove this lot for it does no one any good. But if there is a case filed against you, I will help you with lawyers or talk to her bosses in Gujarat.” One good thing that came of this unsavoury was I looked at her profile and she looks my aunty for a great insight: women age rapidly while nature goes easier on men. That’s why in the older days WIVES were a good 10 years younger. pw is a piece of shit and no amount of French perfumes can douse the foul odour.

This did leave a bad taste in the mouth for a couple of days before the strains of living got my attention elsewhere. But rest assured this female has it coming once I set my house in order and once I get a lawyer clearance.

Ex-PW club: I posted this story in writersathya and the very next day an assistant director of Bahubali wrote to me saying, “I would like to meet you in Pondicherry.” This time I took his mobile number, spoke to him before taking a trip on 12/8. Some lesson I learnt from the Dubai fraud. As fortune would have it, again let me call him Mr. Y, smsed saying, “My financier’s father just passed away and we are rushing for condolence. So kindly postpone your trip. But let me assure that I am still interested in the story.”  I got this message midway through my bus journey; I continued for a day out at Pondi for a break from solitude and meditated in the Mother’s Ashram.  And I came back home refreshed and exhausted.

            Yesterday I spoke to a Bollywood producer who happened to be my 1992 batch mate. She said, “Not my scene but I will see if I can put you on to those in this genre.”

IMT cares: After a dozen of my alumni read these posts and one 1992 classmate who wishes anonymity called on 31/7 saying, “Sathya, I have a spare apartment in Delhi and you can use it for as long as six months. Chennai is a graveyard market, come to Delhi and explore this market.” Such an appeal was hard to ignore considering this friend has done spectacularly well on the career front since our passing out in 1992.

            I booked a ticket in Air Vistara on 15/8 and it is the first time I am flying after the Abu Dhabi fiasco in 2014.  My friend was extremely hospitable who trusted me with the keys to a swanky apartment that comes with a swimming pool. This is affluence on a scale where a Aamir Khan or Salman Khan would reside.

            I was there for a week and realized one thing: there is no fun staying on another’s hospitality however large-hearted and sincere well-wishers. I also stumped on this insight: There are no jobs @ 49. No company in the face of earth would hire for my resume. I can only get a job based on my talent which must be experienced in freelance assignments.  Once this thing penetrated the skull, I booked my return journey much to my host’s surprise.

            I met the Kalyani family at Lajpatnagar and made friends with Manisha and both her brothers. Prashant’s daughter who was 6 months old during my last visit in 2008 is now old enough and smart enough to read my blog posts.  I found that girl super smart. They gave me a wonderful dinner and Santosh dropped me at the railway station for the third time in as many visits – in 2006, he dropped me at the station, 2008 at the airport when we were stuck in a traffic jam and I just made it when the counter was closing and now in 2018. I value my relation with this family. I loved my travel on Delhi metro and was zapped by the yellow line, magneta line and blue line and all that. Truly an international city in terms of infrastructure; I also found them friendly. Maybe it was my pronounced limp or grey hairs, Delhities offered me a seat even in crowded trains much to my discomfiture. But I loved the respect at least my age was fetching me.

            On the last day, 22^nd Aug, Lalit of IMT 1992 batch called me from Indonesia, “Sathya, one week is too short a stay. Try for couple of more weeks before you return to base.” Then Neetu, another alumnus called, “Hey, Sathya so nice catching up after 25 years. How about staying for Kochie’s 50^th birthday celebrations when the whole batch will congregate and it will be nice to catch up.” I spoke to Anurag at Mumbai and he promised to help me in his firm. I always find an intrinsic decency and nobility interacting with Anurag and Darbari. Shabd wrote from Los Angeles, “Sathya, don’t lose heart for God does not forsake anyone. Having faith and trust makes the journey easier,” for a message I am not going to forget in a while.

            Lakhina hosted a lunch at the Galleria and he was friendly and concerned and what I can say about Smita who heard all my life tales with sympathy: abusive parents, apathetic siblings, whore for a date and how my life has been laid low from factors beyond my control. I said, “All I heard from this pussy was her daily menopause and hormonal changes for a year.” She said, “That woman got it wrong for no woman can hope to find a more romantic and committed man like you. I clearly see her mistake of committing in early and then backtracking. But Sathya, don’t worry. Your best days are just round the corner.”

            Seeing such warmth from friends who have I not seen or interacted since 1992 felt overwhelming. Certainly North India cares and I loved Delhi for such generosity and friendliness. I gifted DARLING INDIA to Lakhina and Smita; I also read that on the train in decades and I loved it. I normally don’t read what I write but once in a blue moon they really fill the heart with abundance.

            I am more or less firm on selling the apartment unless JustDial or NIIT were to click. I am a bit sceptical here. Mani Sir advised me from Doha, “Sathya, you have a big terrace at Besant Nagar and why not do roof top gardening. It will fill up time most admirably and you also stand to generate a good income. I know of a person in Coimbatore and I will put you on him when I am back to Chennai.”

            August was that kind of a month. I got a lot of affection from Iyer mama and Shyam in Bangalore and so many people. I live a life of a recluse hermit but I love these human connections. I also learnt that I am blessed with a lot of caring friends who will haul me up even as I drown in the abyss of an ocean floor. They are lots of good people in the world was the realization for a hard-boiled cynic in me. This was verily a good month for some life-long memories and worth cherishing.

Never forget this

(I had a lot of scruples posting these very personal things here but they serve a lesson: NOT TO TRUST A WOMAN AT FIRST SIGHT. This woman played me like a football because I was a fool. I am posting this as a reminder so that I don't repeat that mistake again with another woman)

15th November, 2007

me: when i write, angels come out of heaven to read them

2:16 PM But the effort I put is tremendous

Jackal Mami: :))

 me: I have cry, laugh,, and feel the whole thing

 Jackal Mami: one angel will sit on your lap and will read it

 me: first read what I gave u

Jackal Mami: with you

  :(

 me: and u will see my talent

 Jackal mami: i have seen your talent

2:17 PM i dont question it

 me: after that u speak to me in hushed tones!!

 Jackal Mami: why should I

 me: respect will increase

Jackal Mami: you will still be a freind, heart and soul even if you acheive hieghts

  and the same applies to me

2:18 PM me: correct

 Jackal Mami: that respect will always be there, you achevie it or not

Jackal Mami: meet real ppl, do a research on issue and then write

2:05 PM me: okay memsahib

  I will do as per ur wishes

 Jackal Mami: i will help you on the issues concerning to social change

 me: ur my soul, isn't it

 Jackal Mami: there are many

  i want you to be famous writer one day

 me: I just want to be your best frined

2:06 PM that's all

 Jackal Mami: but with a sensitive heart

  which you laready have but needs an expression in your writing

 me: okay then I want to remain ur best friend

 Jackal Mami: that you are

  its given

 me: at all times

Jackal Mami: i dont seee you as competitor but just an extension

 me: god

  I see u as my soul

 Jackal Mami: we both are extension to each other

 me: and u see me as an extension

2:11 PM Jackal Mami: thats how love brings us together

 me: I am already in tears

  how could u

 Jackal Mami: forget the MCP and think it from love

  arrey

  dont you see me as your extension???

2:12 PM me: I see u as my soul

  as my prana

 Jackal Mami: ok

 me: as my destination

 Jackal Mami: so you are for me

 me: as my heart

  as my identity

 Jackal Mami: piece of heart :)

 me: while u only see me as extension

 Jackal Mami: isnt it you heart is part of you

  hey ram

  give me a break
 Jackal Mami: aur koi aadesh mere sarkar :)))

  me: only so much for the day.
       more when the occasion arises :) 

This is the woman who said even before we met in Aug, 2007, "Sathya, if you smoke I will drive my car to the tree." or "Hug me, kiss me, feel me even before we met." Some other classics: I will wear stockings on our first night and I will suck your big toe.  Or I have to lose 3 kgs more and then you will have a sexy wife. Even after sharing a cot at Ahmedabad, Bangalore and Kodaikanal, she really kept her options open. Truly liberated woman this; total sexual freedom this. 

20^th February, 2010

Sathya,

SORRY

We met in 2007 to explore the possibilty if we can marry and live life together. It was good meeting you then. i was impressed with your wrtings and was moved by the problems that you were facing. I too was going through my own problems: Old parents,their illness,  change of rental houses every year and switch over of the job. 

We tried to build something together. I introduced you to my parents as well since it was intended to. But over a period of time we both realized that this relation was not working. Frequent fights on phone, your frequent , aggressive mails were evident and created doubts in my mind.I could not cope with it.  I was also not in a postion till the middle of 2008 to come over due to all the problems that I was facing. Only thing I begged at that time  was some patience and support from your side. But things went too far off.   The kind of troubled life that I led so far, and the kind of responsibilities I have, I could not afford to take any such intiative that later on will prevent me from fulfilling my resposibilities. After that I also did not feel like coming there.

I made a mistake not to close it then. I should have closed all the talks and mails, although they were just friendly in nature. I did not realize it would hurt you so much. Your mails and phone calls kept giving me signals that it is over and lets just be friends. Our frequent calls and mails stopped. I would not accept all the blames, and I have my own reasons for the same, but I never  intended to hurt you. People get out of the relationships when they realize it is not working.

Having said all the above, I am really sorry for hurting you so much. I should have closed it in 2008 itself. I apologize. I did not intend to hurt you. Although in recent past, you have been so abusive with all your mails and blogs, I still feel bad that you are hurt becuase of me. Yet, I think i reserve my right to decide  about my life.

Lasly, I am really sorry for not closing this relationship properly as you say that I should have come to Chennai, apologize, and give a decent closure. I am sorry I could not do that.  Please accept my apologies. Thanks.

This is my last mail to you. Hope peace and deceny will prevail.

As suggested by you, I will send your book back to you and will destroy all the mails, letters etc. Apologies again.

May god bless you to do well in your wrting career and betow upon you every thing that you desire. 

All the best!

Jackal Mami

My reply:

Accepted; at last!!!! I took more than 6 months for it.

Justifying a crime is even more getting entrenched.

Each mind works differently; but there are some basics. One does not fall in love and then fall out for no reason. That's a point and that's where the word "whore" has its origin.

Again I don't want to examine the past; but your behaviour by even western standards were appalling. If a woman shifting houses gets so paranoid, what about a man who has lost his job then? If this relation failed it was ur disinclination to learn another language and another cuisine. Sure, this attitude will still be persistent with another man!!!!! Please learn and make your husband happy. 

My blogs and my mails are always factual; please understand that you are no Sita or Savitri. You are a proud arrogant woman earning 1 lac a month who demands her pound of flesh. Relations in 2010 will conk; but there must be a reason.

I am glad that I would not have had to suffer you; you will keep fighting and my writing would have suffered. But then the Pushpa of 2007 was simply out of the world. Then you wanted to build, you listened to me with respect. I loved that woman greatly and even of the memory of it today. So when you want to listen and be respectful, you will. I must learn that art for I too idealistic and uniform.

Mrs. PW, you must check the workings of your mind. Suddenly, non-issues can spoil a relation so easily means that you are still vulnerable. We build a mountain of love -just 7 days we met and what camaraderie - and you SUNK it because of a few mails n calls. How silly? A simple common sense would have been to address those. The fights happened because you kept pushing off the wedding, UNILATERALLY. (That begs the question: you don't seem to believe in consultations)

I believe a normal woman is not so sensitive, a normal woman will not give up those memories so easily. I am absolutely sure of it. 

It is all over; I hope this mail makes you reflect. And you will behave better after this chastisement with your husband. No more primma donna stuff; be humble; and add love and affection in every transaction.

All the best!!!! (you will hear never again from me!!!!) 

Sathyanarayanan

PS: I will never forget the Pushpa of 2007 till I die; she was truly an angel. I thank you sincerely for those memories. You are a great woman generally; but you failed here badly. The kingdom of heaven was within us and then we said; we will go to hell on separate horses. I am sure when you die, you will think about me. And of course, I will think about you!!!

My only advice as an ex-friend is do some expiation; serve in a gurudwara or wherever. Your blunder is no less than hijacking a plane or robbing a bank; to split a relation is great sin. Hopefully I will also learn to be happy with or without a wife; with or without writing fame. I wish you, bless you, and take care. Mistakes are human and maybe, it was meant to end like this. If this was a story I was working on; it still is a stinking end. 

Vivek’ s take (23^rd November, 2010)

Dear Sathya,

Whjle I empathize with your predicament and your sense of betrayal, at the back of my mind I am glad that this did not progress further as there is a vast chasm between your and PWs mental and moral philosophy. If things had progresses further I wonder if it would have lasted. You are over sensitive, spiritual and a one woman kind of person while she appears to be highly strung, aggressive and over ambitious. All individuals are different ( God makes us that way to prevent monotony in life) Some are compatible, some are not. I am also sure that when you guys were together it must have been magical. Anyway, the past is dead and gone and you have to move on. Now that she has apologised and also has chosen a new life of herself let it be. Cherish the good memories and dump the bitter ones. I know it sounds clichéd but it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Tell me honestly, if I give you a time machine and send you back to 2007 with the knowledge that it is going to end like that would you go in for PW again? I think you would. I wish that you and PW had lived happily ever after but then it is not a perfect world and the only thing to do is say now what instead of why me!

My take (2018 especially after the MINDFULNESS lessons)

Had I known that the woman I was dating in Aug, 2007 is a flirt and it would end like this, I would not have flown to Ahmedabad to meet her in the first place. Had I known about this in Kodaikanal in October, 2007 I would have most certainly pushed the hot pussy down the rocks. And in October, 2009 had she been in the same city, I would choked her to death with my bare hands regardless of a stint in a jail. I have known Balakanth and a blood of such a cunt on my hands is no crime at all.  She killed me by inches and so I would have forced the issue by breaking her neck. She escaped from being in a different city. So would I have dated and partied and shared a bed with a woman knowing that she would do the same with another man after me, I dare say NO. 
            LOVE is a one-time emotion in one's life and pity is, I wasted it on a two pence piece of meat.