CELEBRATING CHANGE.

I am one who is trendy. I am 63 years old. But I still am well kept, thanks to genetics. I eat sensibly, sleep well, have a stroll for 30 minutes a day, be happy and find humor in all situations.

So, when I watch the TV, I note the latest trends, and adapt anything that suits me. For quite sometime, I had wanted to grow a beard, like the guys of now-a-days.

The process of growing a bread is painful as it gives a sickly look. So I had to postpone the idea. I still work, as a trainer, so looking sick is not good, while training.

My mother passed away on July 7^th peacefully in her sleep. She was in good health at 90 years. So I did not mourn her death as much as I would miss her.

According to our tradition, men are not supposed to shave during the mourning period. No one, either  in the office or home  could make any negative comment about  the growing beard during this period.

So in mourning I had also got a chance to fulfill my long pending desire to sprout a beard. First in a few days I had a salt and pepper beard. I was not sure whether it really suited me.

This is how I looked without a beard

So I uploaded my picture on facebook, to check out the comment.

The results were encouraging.  283 likes. 54 positive comments.

It was time to take it to the next level.

I trimmed it, as was the recent trend, and dyed it deep brown, on 3^rd August morning. As I washed off the dye, half an hour later, and checked my image in the mirror, I was taken aback by the result.

It was the first time in my entire life, I was totally impressed. It was so amazing to see  a much younger reflection of myself in the mirror. It was like oh WOW.

So the next step was to upload the pic on FB. The feed back did a lot to boost my confidence.

435 like and 49 positive comments.

I dressed with extra care that day and made it to the office.

My colleagues said I HAD FINALLY ARRIVED.

It was a good day. My spirits were buoyant, and I never felt so good about myself in a long time.

I still feel good. Thanks to the beard that made the difference.

 

 

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MISFITS

My mother is 88 years today. It is her birthday. But she does not want to talk to me. Why? It is because of her adamancy and wrong value systems.

She has been an independent person. Too independent to be a mother. She has had her way, all the time, always. She has never questioned herself, whether her decision and actions were right or wrong. Whether it would do her family and children good or bad. Whether it would cause them pain or not. She was only bothered about having her way.

It was always I, Me, Myself.

Normally it is the children who misbehave, and parents who correct them. But in our family it was the other way around. They would misbehave, and we had to put up with the moods and forgive them each time.

Now I am 63 years old, and I have become tired of tolerating and forgiving.

So when she refused to take my call. I let go. Enough is enough.

I am not blaming her.

She was married at the young age of 13. She was not marriage material at all. She had no wife or parental instincts. But no one asked for her opinion, in those olden times.

She used to dance well and was good at acting. She had aspired to make it up in movies. She would have fitted the industry, glove in hand. With her wayward and I don’t give a damn attitude, together with her thirst for money, popularity and fame, she would have used and thrown everyone to become No.1.

But, it was not to be so. She was caught up, in a society where she could not be herself. Living a frustrated life, where reality was so drab and dull before her technique color dreams, she did give a damn, about her husband or children.

It hurts. When I, a person so caring and affectionate, is being treated like dirt. But I am this way. I believe in doing my duties as much as she allows me to. Going out of the way has become a practice for me.

With the escalating cost of a senior citizen home, diapers and personal attendant, she is high maintenance.

All this trauma for me, because of attitudinal problems of my mom.

Now why am I saying this?

First check the material you are made up of.

You may a lover material but not a husband or father stuff. Be a lover. Don’t punish some person by marriage. If you are not parent material, do not have children.

You need not do things which do not suit you. If you do, then not only do you punish yourself but also your family who do not deserve your wrong attitude.    

In this century, where people take pride in being LGBT, you too have to come out your closet, and admit to yourself first, that this is what I am. And I take full responsibility for that. And I will not punish some innocent soul with my wrong decisions.

I HAVE PROMISES TO KEEP........

My grand daughter Bani, was born in November 2015.

By then I had retired from work and was keeping myself busy as a consultant trainer in a pharmaceutical company.

I am one of those people who prefer working many number of years in just one Firm. For twenty years I had been with “CITADEL PHARMA.”

In  this organization I had met 2 wonderful colleagues. One was Sunil, who was innately kind courteous genuine and very civil.

The other was Charusree, who was all these, in addition to being intellectual, sharp but kind: committed by nature, and also an amalgam of culture and modernity. A rare mixture of logic and emotional IQ.

While Sunil reassured me that there was still goodness in humanity, Charusree was a guide, philosopher and a good friend.

Charusree joined Citadel in 1990. She was just out of college. Very young, pretty. But there was this honesty about her which was so obvious.  I was  36 years old then, married  and had a  7 year old son named Devi Charan.

Charusree was very talented crafts person. She could knit, and also Crochet.

One of our colleagues had delivered a child. So Charusree had made a crochet blanket for the child.

While seeing the blanket, I asked  Charusree , very casually, whether she would make a similar blanket for my grand child. She promised that she would.

The funniest thing about the request was that, then it was 1990, and my son was just 7 years old.

Since I had not meant my request to be taken seriously, I forgot about it the same moment.

CITADEL  closed in 2005, due to losses. Colleagues who had been  together for 15 years, searched for jobs in other companies.

Even while  working for different companies  Charusree and I kept in touch. Me and my wife went to her house for lunch, and Charusree also graced our home on many auspicious occasions.

My son married in 2008. All my dear colleagues of CITADEL attended the marriage, including                      Sunil and Charusree.

Then in 2015 November, My grand daughter Bani, was born.

Charusree had not forgotten that promise, which I had not even bothered to remember. She knit a large crochet blanket in 22 days, for Bani.

I was surprised when she told me about the incident in 1990, the promise she had made, and that she had meant to keep it.

Sometimes, I feel that I do not know even my friends well enough.

How could be someone be so committed to fulfilling a casual request 25 years later?

Sometimes words fail to express the awe, you feel for such awesome personalities.

I do not even remember what I told someone, an hour earlier. And in my profession of sales, I have come across 99% of people who do not mean anything they say, and have no intentions of being true to promises.

I feel in a lifetime if you have the association of a six good human beings, you should consider yourself lucky.

I am lucky that way. I have been associated with this kind angel Charusree.

Thank you.  

MAKE LOVE NOT WAR

We humans seem to be ever ready to argue, fight and be unpleasant. The other day, I was applying a pain balm on  my mother's  ankle . She could not bend down, so I had to help her. But I applied the medicine at a spot slightly away from the actual spot of pain. She shouted at me, in a very irritated manner, at the inefficiency. I was surprised at the spontaneous uncalled for, anger in her. The situation could have been dealt with more civility.

The same day, as I boarded the public transport, I stood near the conductor, to get my ticket and change. Just behind me was an irate passenger who wanted to go to the front of the bus. He was in such a hurry, that he kept on pestering me to allow him to go forward. I could not do it immediately, as there was little space to move. In 2 seconds I could have got my change from the conductor, and could have stepped aside. But this passenger could not wait for 2 seconds.  So he immediately started cursing me. I also reacted and we had a mindless argument as to who was right.  I cooled within seconds, But the other person, kept on rambling for the next fifteen minutes. He was telling another co-passenger, about people,  like me, who are conceited, needed to dealt with severely.  The punishments suggested were, being hit, or killed, or to be pushed out of the moving bus. I was amazed at the intense cruelty in him. If he could have his way, he could certainly do it.

As I got down from the bus and walked towards my office, I had to pass through a narrow lane, having houses on either side. It was a low income group area, and on  that day, two houses opposite each other, were having a fight. About 5 members of each household were standing outside their house, and hurling abuses and stones at each other. It was a full blown fight, and the choicest, bad vulgar words were used, with mutual threats of killing each other.

There was "war" in the air. Someone nearby told me that the fight had been going on for 24 hours non stop.

Three incidents within 4 hours. All of them pointing towards the lack of civility, and tolerance. More importantly, sheer mindlessness. What are the reasons, and  why  are men constantly on the war path? The same mindlessness leads to battle, and war between communities, villages, cities, States, Countries and Nations. This is because nobody had taught us to live in peace and love. Such valuable things we lose, to satisfy our egos. If we could keep our Egos aside, our lives could become so much richer, and bountiful.

THE FIRST LIE

I was 8 years old then. My parents were discussing that all theplanets would be aligned, in a straight line, at a particular date,and there would be a disaster. The day came and passed. Nothing happened. It was one more ordinary day. That was the first prediction I had heard.

Then through my cousin sister, I met an astrologer. He was an old man. He read the future with the help of palm leaves and also through the horoscope. He made a lot of correct predictions. So I used to consult him on many issues.

When my Sister in law, became pregnant, I consulted him. He said all would be well. But when she delivered a still born, I went to him and questioned his prediction. He said that a man could not be right all the time, and they were bound to be wrong sometimes. My faith in him was shaken.

So I had to change my astrologer. I met one friend who was having astrology as a hobby. He never used to charge for consulting. So his clientele increased. Sometimes he was right, sometimes not. But no one minded, because they did not have to pay. He then made astrology his full time profession. His clients compensated by giving him a yearly contribution.

I too wanted to cross check some issues. So I tried some other astrologer once in a way. Astrologers have standard references and most predictions are based on a fixed format.

Predictions are made depending on” N” number of factors. So there as many claims to success as there are loopholes for escape.

I also met some clairvoyants, who also told of things to come. They too were equally on and off the mark. I also tried some palm leaf readers, who were not even close to the bulls eye.

After  trying 5 astrologers, 3 palm leaf readers, 4 clairvoyants, over a period of 40 years, one fine  day, all the collective exposure and experience revealed to me, what a fool I have been.

How a simple referral, of yesterday today and tomorrow had been manipulated by a set of astrologers into giving them a source of income.

Suppose one is able to resist gravity, and suspend himself above the earth’s surface, he can watch earth rotate. Since he will be in a constant with the Sun, there will be yesterday today and tomorrow for him; no sunrise and no sun set; so no change in tenses.

The yesterday today and tomorrow had been made by man in a language context, so that he could communicate to his fellow beings.

But how a group of yesterdays came to be termed as the PAST, and a group of tomorrows that were yet to come, became the FUTURE, is astonishing.

The term TOMORROW is a point of reference only. Nothing more. As it is with NOW and YESTERDAY.

In hind sight why did I consult so many people about my future? Because I believed and bought the first lie, “ That is it is possible to predict the future. It is my belief that lead me from one person to another. To make the lie believable, the astrologers based their predictions on complex time- consuming formulae and data. I did not want to face realities, that life meant ups and downs, success and failures, profit and loss, birth and death, love and hate, health and sickness. I wanted it be a road of roses.    

This optimistic belief is what keeps the astrologers going. It is impossible to predict the future, for the simple reason, that it is yet to happen.

Sometimes, we fall sick and all the battery of tests and scans do not reveal anything at all. But the doctor still treats, while the body is also fighting hard to recover. We might have recovered even without the treatment. But we are too afraid to take the risk.

Similarly the astrologer has no clue about what is happening. All his formulas and calculations serve no purpose. Things become OK by themselves, or at one point of time we learn to accept life as it is. So all the corrective activities suggested by the astrologer, simply keeps us busy.

Life is all about now. Whatever is happening is happening. There is no guarantee for the next breath.

We simply have to learn to takes things in our stride. Analyze your life. How many lies you believe in to be true? The more the number of unquestioned beliefs, the farther you are from reality. 

AN HOUR OF MYSELF

It is 9.27 A.M. Wednesday morning. The thought which is running in my mind is a song. “Otrai devadai yaarda,” by singer Karthik. The catchy tune “ Aval paarvai minsaram”…….. of the same song continues.

I open my Excel file to check whose birthday it is today. Then I remember that it is Dharini’s birthday today. I should remember to wish her.

I see my colleague, bent over his laptop. I think,” Why is this young fellow always so serious.” He looks over the wall of his cubicle, to flash a tired smile at me,” His way of saying good morning.

Another colleague walks in, buttoning his cuff. He is always stimulated my materials. This guy is always enthusiastically searching to buy things online.

One more young colleague walks in, to show a funny video, he had recorded on his mobile. His sense of humor is amazing. He always cracks jokes even in unexpected situations.

Another walks in to wish me a, good morning. This guy is formal in all stages of existence. Waking, sleeping and the dream states. I have never seen him drop his mask.

I remember that I should speak to another person in my previous office, to remind him about my Diwali bonus.

Now I am practicing even breathing. I feel the cool air of the AC blow on my face. I ring my wife at 9.52 A.M, to see whether she has reached the temple safely. Her mobile rings. But, she does not pick it up. A fleeting worry crosses my mind…” I hope she is safe.”

My boss comes in. He wishes each one of us a personal ,”Good morning.” He is tall and has a deep voice. He is impressive. I hope he has not read this material. I tell myself, “ No, it not possible.” Meanwhile my breath is out of rhythm. Yes now it has once again normal.

I press ALT TAB, when I see someone coming near. Once again the excel sheet opens. I notice that 3^rd October is someone’s birthday. I wonder, ”Is he a representative or a manager? The doubt clears as I remember correctly. He is a manager.

A thought  of my Brother in Law, who is in the USA comes. In my thoughts he wears a white T shirt and a dark brown shorts, and is sitting on the floor, on the carpet in his son’s room. My sister and sister in law who are also in USA pop in my mind. Yes, my sister in law son and another sister in laws son also come in.

I feel like going to the wash room. I am also thirst. I ponder, “ Should I drink some water or not?” in the meantime someone in the next room has used a room spray. The perfume wafts in. but before it, the alcohol base seeps in first. As I inhale the smell of alcohol, I remember the last time my son had come home for dinner. He vaguely smelt of alcohol. After we had our dinner, I sat close to him. He burped. Then there was no mistaking. He said, it was beer.

I look at the time. It is 10.14 A.M. I open the bottle of water, and drink three gulps. The water is cool, and my mouth feels warm in comparison. As I screw back the lid, I hear the sound the cap makes. I set the bottle back in its place. I hear the soft thud as the bottom hits the top of the table.

As I key in the words, I am hearing the sound each key makes as I press it.  I get up from the chair, as it squeaks. I stiffen my legs and manage to crack the back of my knees, and hear two popping sounds, one from each knee. As I walk to the washroom, my new shoe soles squeak with each step. The washroom is not air- conditioned. It is warm by contrasts. I did not switch on the light, so it is dark. I hear the snap of the lock as I shut myself in. I hear a swishing sound as I unzip my pants. The steady pour of my urine make a peculiar sound as it hits the water in the western commode.  The sound changes as the steam ends in a dribble. I flush the tank, to hear the sound of the water gushing in. I come out closing the door behind me. I walk back  listening to the squeaks of my shoe and settle in the chair, to resume typing.  As I drag the chair forward, the wheels  drag on the cement floor, making a grating noise. I feel the  word commode is not quite correct. I search the net for the proper word, landing with the word closet; a more appropriate word. Meanwhile my mobile blares with my ringtone, the BGM of the song, “ Ennai innum enna seiyya pogirai,” from the film Singaravelan. It is an amazing composition in the raga Tilang. Hats off to the Mastero Illayaraja for  such a perfect exposition of the raga, in a fast paced, lilting manner. I answer the call. It is 10.36A.M. My wife has returned my call, after 44 minutes, to tell me that she is OK.

In the meantime, the office woman has come to serve us fresh coffee. Normally the aroma reaches my nose long before the coffee does. But today it has not happened. I wonder why, but am not able to come up with an answer. I love coffee so much, that the aroma can pull me out a coma. So I stop typing, adjust my backrest, lean back to relish the hot coffee. I swish it in my mouth, feel the heat, relish the flavor before I gulp each mouthful of sheer delight.

Now that the holy ritual of morning coffee is over, I get back to typing, this blog. Now, the reader may wonder, why I am recording all these meaningless random thoughts and actions. I have simply been observing my mind and body, and all those internal and external stimuli for an hour, from  9.27 A.M.  to 10.37 A.M. That is, an hour of myself.