Some Updates

With great difficulty, found a place for the three kittens. Am hoping that they are safe. Their mother Billu still chooses to visit the open landing area and roam about. Mews to demand attention and treats. The plants are recovering now thanks to the absence of the kittens. Need to get new plants and pot them to replace the old plants that were destroyed. Some more rains and I hope to put up some more plants.

Professionally, life is going through a roller-coaster ride at this moment. Really hoping that things improve, taking some steps to define a process, and improve at what I am doing, day-in and day-out to earn a living. Need to see how things shape up from here.

Amma’s tithi rituals were completed peacefully under the guidance of a priest. Thankful. One ‘drishti’ talisman broke as I was completing the rituals and fell down. Took it as a sign and removed it. Lot of changes happening all around. Need to be aware, keep my eyes open, and ignite zest and focus into my life.

Read some books, saw some movies on OTT, movies were so-so. Books were quite good. The Autobiography of God by Lenaa Kumar is a thought-provoking read. Highly recommended.

I believe that whatever happens, happens for the good. This moment, I am grateful for all the abundance around me, and the blessings received. The next step or chapter in this journey will again be for the better. See you soon. Take care.

Mithunam Pole Oru Teerthadanam

Setting the context:

Shivan Kutty and Priya finally decided that enough was enough and they would visit Shivan Kutty’s Kaavu and seek Bhagavathi’s blessings. There had been multiple attempts to visit her but every plan went for a toss and they were at their wit’s end and also scared that the delays in seeking Devi’s blessings may end up angering her.

First there was a confusion at the lodge, the clever caretaker showed different photographs on WhatsApp and showed them completely different rooms in reality and the bath had no running hot water. At 9:30 PM, an increasingly angry Priya and a thoroughly tired Shivan Kutty walked across the road looking for accommodation for the elders who had accompanied them. Basically Priya’s mother, uncle, aunt, and their daughter.

Finally they found one hotel with neater rooms and the attendant promised to bring hot water in buckets early in the morning. Now it was almost 10 PM. Restaurants nearby were shut, Shivan Kutty and Priya’s uncle took an auto and went to the town-center where an Arabian restaurant was packed and doing steady business. After collecting their order, they returned, dined, and finally retired for the night.

The elders had been given a suite room to themselves. Shivan and Priya settled into their compact room, set an early morning alarm, and tried to sleep peacefully.

The next morning was peaceful, the hot water came as promised, tea and coffee was thankfully available at the hotel premises and came promptly. Shivan had carried Digestive biscuits, which came in handy early in the morning.

As others prepared to bathe and get ready, Shivan went out and got breakfast from a small eatery for everyone. The elders cannot be expected to travel without food, he did not want to risk anyone fainting due to hunger, low BP, or fluctuating sugar counts.

No large taxis were available. So the next solution was to get two large autos. Priya, Shivan, and aunt in one auto, Maha, her elder brother, uncle’s daughter in another, and then the pilgrimage to the temples finally started.

To cut a long story short, Shivan and Priya finally stood at the Devi’s sanctum and prayed. Shivan fought back tears as he remembered his mother who had departed, his uncle who had gone, and chanted prayers in their memory. Basic offerings were done, prasadam collected and another significant Ramar kshetram in the native village was visited. Thankfully the weather held, the teerthadanam was completed, and everyone returned home!

Shivan breathed a sigh of relief!!!

Bidding Farewell to Madras that is Chennai

When I landed at Madras Central Station on May 1, 1998 with my mother after a long train journey in a normal sleeper class compartment, little did I know that the subsequent years would be a roller-coaster of emotions and that my father would leave the two of us to script our own story against all odds. I also did not know that eventually, this city would consume my mother, and I would end up immersing her ashes in the ocean in one secluded corner of a beach.

This city has given me everything, an education, jobs, limited but good friends, and a lifetime’s worth of memories. In 10 days from now, I will be saying goodbye to this beautiful city. It is difficult for me to process all the emotions that are playing through in my mind. I still have my house here and my collection of books all neatly packed and stored in crates and cupboards. The house will stay locked and secure. Hopefully, rats don’t cause damage, and I will perhaps get to visit the house once in a few months.

Before I leave, want to visit my dear friend Kapali at Mylapore once, if possible, spend some time at Besant Nagar Beach, and visit the Chennai Book Fair. Perhaps catch one of the Pongal releases and hoot and howl like the other fans.

Life goes on… Here’s waiting for the next adventure to begin. God bless, stay happy, keep smiling. Om Namah Shivaya. Om Sai Ram.

Sakhalam Sarvam Shivarpanam

I have not wanted to hurt anyone intentionally.

Every word, every action from my side,

Is being scrutinized.

I am being questioned and cross-questioned.

Allegations being made.

It hurts me to no end that I am being misunderstood.

I hold God as my witness.

My Divine Shivan knows that I have not done any wrong.

Time will provide answers.

Om Namah Shivaya.

Sakhalam Sarvam Shivarpanam

Yaar Brahmanan? Yenge Brahmanan? – Who is a Brahmin? Where is the Brahmin?

My “Upanayanam” ceremony was performed when I was around 17 years of age. It was a matter of great pride for my mother and she took a lot of efforts to get it done in a simple manner with the money should could afford. She worked in a sweets and savouries shop in Thiruvallur in the early years of our stay there to help the family with the much-needed money as Appa would keep moving from one low-paying job to another or simply sit at home staring into the abyss.

For any male-member born into a family / lineage of Brahmins, the Upanayanam ceremony is a significant milestone. In ancient times, the ceremony was performed when the male child would be five or six years old and promptly be sent to a gurukulam / Veda-paathashalai to learn the scriptures. The Brahmo-Upadesham and the recital of the Gayathri-Mantram as told by the priest and the father of the child marks a significant turning point in the life of the child and till his marriage, he is ordained a Brahmachari with strict rules of celibacy, and performing the rituals associated with wearing the sacred thread. The “Sandhya-vandhanam” being the most important ritual.

The scriptures mention the performing of the “tri-kaala sandhya-vandhanam” – the ritual to be done thrice every-day, morning, noon, and evening. The rigors of a modern lifestyle make only the morning sandhya-vandhanam feasible. On holidays, it is advisable to perform the rituals thrice a day or at least twice – morning and evening. Mahaperiyavaa of Kanchi, repeatedly advised Brahmins to not give up this important ritual and stated that if one were not to follow this ritual, the very essence of being born a Brahmin is nullified and the family will undergo lot of pain and suffering.

Growing up, neither did I see my father doing the ritual nor my elder maternal uncle performing the ritual. But I do recollect, the vadhyar visiting us on Avani-Avittam and the sacred thread being changed with several mantras being chanted followed by a fabulous feast. As a young child, the feast was more the focus of the day rather than the ceremonies and mantras being chanted by the elders.

Once my Upanayanam ceremony was over, I visited a middle-aged priest near our house and he taught me how to perform the ceremony. Ganesha vadhyar was the typical poor priest, living in a small house that he had managed to build on a plot of land that had been his inheritance. His wife was working in a clerical post and he had to support his two brothers-in-law (twins) as well, who had some psychological disorders and would be at home or in the local ground near their house playing games with children.

For the first few years, I tried my best to perform the rituals along with studies. My college was far away in the city and I had to board a 6:45 A.M. train to reach college in time by 9 A.M. Despite being deeply spiritual, I somehow lost the will to perform the rituals and at a point in time turned severely cynical seeing the problems that we had to undergo despite being deeply spiritual and supporting temple poojas in whichever way we could. Once I graduated and started working, there was literally no time. Despite all this, I would ensure that I chanted the Gayathri Mantra during my commute and felt it was a way I was compensating for nor performing the daily rituals.

After Amma’s demise, the deep pain that has engulfed my heart refuses to subside. I seek to find solace in visiting temples that she wanted to travel to but could not. I chant prayers, I write Sri Rama Jayam and Om Sai Ram in notebooks, but somehow, the will to perform the sandhya-vandhanam has just completely disappeared. It is just restricted to Avani Avittam and Vishu now.

The “poonal” / “janeu” (sacred thread) broke yesterday. I wondered what is this thread that binds me to a specific identity? Did I ask to be born as a human? Did I ask to be born into this family to this set of parents? What is my “karma” to have endured what I have been through and for the blessings that I received? Why is there so much importance placed on this thread that binds me to one community, caste, or religion and forces me to adhere to a set of rituals and ceremonies. Why can’t my faith be a matter of my personal choice? Why should I be forced to follow a set of rules and regulations in the name of “Sampradayam” [Traditions and Culture]. These are some questions that have troubled me for a long time and I am putting them out in the open now to check if anyone else has experienced similar thoughts.

No, I am not converting to any other religion. I have a deeply personal connect with Shivan and till my last breath he is my Master with my Ishta-Devata Hanuman Swamy.

The point of this post is – who is a Brahmin?

By performing all the rites and rituals, if I am still someone with a deeply evil bent of mind am I a Brahmin?

If I follow rules and regulations and still torture my family-members like a sadist am I a Brahmin?

If I remove the sacred thread but continue to follow the rituals am I a Brahmin?

Despite being taunted and ridiculed by all and sundry for being born as a Brahmin, continuing to believe in the inherent goodness of others and living my life normally, am I a Brahmin?

By not following any rules, regulations, rituals, or ceremonies associated with being a Brahmin but being a decent, yet flawed human being, who seeks to help those in distress, in whichever way I can with my limited means, am I a Brahmin?

Who am I? What is my identity? What is the purpose of my birth? Am I ordained for nothing other than the endless cycle of home-loan EMIs and salary-credits? What is the purpose of this existence?

No answers… only questions..

April – A Memory

I wanted to visit mama and mami for Vishu this year. Our last phone call was to that effect. In a cruel twist of fate, I reached Kalpathy a week before Vishu to participate in mama’s last rites. It was a peaceful and painless demise. May his soul attain moksham.

Over the course of the week spent in Kalpathy a lot of thoughts plagued me. It is been over a decade, close to 12 or 13 years now since Appa walked out of the house. Barring one meeting, late one night at Avadi Railway Station, where he begged me for money saying his wallet had been stolen, we have not met each other. In this interim, so many changes have taken place, I lost Amma, I think both my father’s parents, (my paternal grandparents) are no more. I don’t know where he resides or what he does with his hefty naval pension either. I am dreading the day or night when I receive a phone call from an unknown number stating that my father is no more and I need to rush post-haste to wherever he breathed his last and to perform the requisite rites.

Yesterday was Amma’s third “thithi”, at the mutt, there was a small boy, perhaps four years old. He was performing shraddham for his father. The child was innocent and was guided by his grandparents as the priest conducted the rituals slowly and the little child managed to recite the requisite slokas under his grandfather’s guidance. It was the little child’s “kartavyam”, which the boy performed dutifully.

As a son what are my duties towards my father? There has never been any kind of affection towards him, barring the earliest years of my childhood in Pune, where we were a happy family. I have had absolutely no contact with him. I don’t even know if he is alive. Though my intuition tells me that if something were to have happened to him, the network of far-flung relatives from my father’s side would have striven to convey the news to me by some means or the other.

I am in a deep moral dilemma. For someone who abandoned his family multiple times and took advantage of the goodwill of his brothers-in-law and the innocence of his wife, where do I stand in the larger scheme of things?? Would it be a sin on my part to refuse to participate in anything associated with him??? No answers. Only more troubling questions.

Life Begins At 40

Last month I turned 40. A significant milestone for a baby that many thought would not survive and the doctor just took a chance to slap the baby’s buttock gently to see if there was life in it. Over the course of this eventful life, would have cheated death four times. Each time more complex than the other and somehow by the grace of God and consulting physicians, I made it so far.

Have always been the person who would be prompt in wishing an online acquaintance on their birthday or anniversary. Friends and relatives in real life too would always marvel at me remembering dates and wishing them.

Last year, I decided to delete my Facebook and Instagram accounts, as I was spending way too much time on them and it was turning into an addiction of sorts. Restricting myself to Twitter for any major updates, it has served me well. What I realized that being absent on the two major social media networks resulted in the sum total of exactly seven people wishing me on my birthday. Of these three were my sister, my younger maternal aunt, and my elder maternal uncle.

So, I was wondering if social media is a diary of sorts that helps people remember dates and helps them wish acquaintances / friends on their significant days? Don’t know. Perhaps yes! Who knows, people may just wonder, what’s the point in wishing this guy, it will just lead to more conversations, why to waste valuable time! No complaints at all. Just observations on how Facebook has become such a big element of the lives of people.

So what did I do? I took a train to Bengaluru, attended a book launch, met my friend T.G. Shenoy, the good folks at the Bookworm store, and then stayed at my childhood friend from Calcutta’s house. He has now settled in Bengaluru. He surprised me with a birthday cake. It was completely unexpected and it made me emotional, as I thought of our shared childhood. Of playing gully cricket, our obsession with the LBW rules, intense dislike for Maths, love for puchka, rolls, and cutlets, and watching cricket matches on the old Keltron TV at our Behala house. Somehow those memories will always stay in our minds.

Bought a lot of books at Bookworm, also visited Blossom and got some books, returned home the next day, again by train. I was wondering if a post titled “40 Lessons on Turning 40” would be worth it, but then I decided against it. Every journey is unique, lessons that I learnt may not apply to you and vice-versa.

Grateful for everything. A job that helps pay the bills, food to eat, books to read, movies to watch, life goes on.

They say “Life begins at 40.” Let us see what changes this year brings in its course. Excited, curious, hopeful, and grateful for everything that is meant to happen.

Till we meet again – cheers!

A Year After

It is a year since my surgery. The doctor said that healing time varies from person to person and presence of blood in saliva and mucous may remain for anywhere up to two years from the date of surgery. As stated in the original blog post, the biopsy report had turned out negative. But at the back of the mind there is this vague suspicion that there is something dark and gloomy that will rear its head and I will go into a long-drawn hospital routine, all over again. I can’t help it. People like me have are deeply pessimistic with a deep rooting in reality, knowing that nothing is permanent, and all it takes is a second or a moment for life to come crashing down.

I have been thinking a lot about death in the last couple of months. Several people whom I have known have departed to the “next dimension” – some due to old age and some due to Corona. The most painful news was of a former colleague. A young man in his thirties who had been married only in early 2019. He had been blessed with a child as well recently; but he passed away due to Corona. He leaves behind a wife and child, a younger sister and nephew (separated from her husband and living with her brother for four years), and an elderly mother. How strange are the cards dealt by Destiny?

Till a few years ago, the sound of a distinct bell implied only a few things – cotton candy or the kulfi-seller was in the vicinity. In the last two years, with unfailing regularity the strange bell rings along with the blowing of the conch to indicate yet another person making their final journey to the crematorium. Despite being vaccinated with two doses, I am petrified of contracting the virus, one of my deepest fears is meeting with an accident and lying down in a pool of blood with no one to help. It is a dream that often repeats itself, I watch myself bleed to death; and the sound of an approaching ambulance and its horn wake me up from disturbing dream.

If I were to pass away tonight in my sleep; how long would my neighbours wait till they break open the door? Perhaps two days. Because the milkman will notice the unused milk packets and the newspapers piling up outside the door may raise queries. These are deeply disturbing thoughts. What will happen to all my books once I depart? What about the house in the village? The loan is still in place with monthly installments being debited. What if I die before the loan ends? What will the bank do?

About five months to go before I hit 40. Career-wise, a lot of wrong choices that are no use regretting now. The bills get paid and in these testing times it is a privilege to get salary on time, however meagre it might be. Once in a while the red speck of blood scares me. I have to meet the doctor again. Perhaps there will be another scan and biopsy. The clock keeps ticking. Hopefully, I get to read all the books that I have before I depart.

Where the Sparrows Sing

About a month now, 24th day to be precise. The accommodation is a small unit. A portion of a larger house. There is one room, a large kitchen, an Indian-style toilet, a bath. There is a small passage that serves also as the verandah and the de-facto place to let the washed clothes dry.

There is a metal staircase that leads up to the apartment. One has to be careful. The supporting structure can be quite cold in the winter that seems to extend. The door opens out into a plot that has some thorny shrubs that have grown majestically. There are lots of different birds that seem to find shelter in them. There are some sparrows that sing and chatter; holding discussions in the mornings and evenings. There is a mynah bird that lives somewhere nearby and that sings sometimes. Over the course of the day as the sunlight filters in through the verandah; one can spot several birds holding court. Surprisingly no crows. Where have all the crows gone?

Today there was a Greater coucal making a deep call. Amma used to say that the coucal used to signify spirits of the ancestors and their calls were associated with different beliefs. Perhaps the coucal was calling out to its mate?

The thorny shrubs that have grown tall seem to attract kites. No not the birds the paper kites that children fly. I was reminded of Calvin’s the tree that ate kites when I saw the kites entangled in the shrubs.

The mind seeks some sort of calmness. The doctor prescribed a tablet to generate serotonin. He feels it will help regularise sleep. Sleep quality varies. But eventually at some point in the night, I go deep into slumber. It takes time to wake up in the morning and there is a bit of grogginess.

Work goes on at a steady pace. No complaints yet. Grateful for everything. Family, friends, superiors at work. Life goes on. But there is a deep-rooted thought at the back of the mind and at the bottom of the heart. Is this the life that I want? Why should I let my grief affect others? Is my grief mine alone? The thoughts that cloud the mind they are not going to go away right?

Wherever I go. I will remain what I am right? This quest to find happiness and a solution to worries will never end. There is an owl that is hooting now. Will wait to hear the sparrows sing again tomorrow morning.

In the Name of My Father

It is apparently a day that the world celebrates fathers, along with music, and yoga. Friends and acquaintances on social media are putting up posters and photographs celebrating the lovable bond that they share with their fathers. Men and women smiling and posing with their respective dads. There is a deep void that I have when I see these photographs and messages. I have spent very little time with my father. Growing up, there is a big gap in my life, where I did not even know where he was, as a small boy, I was under the impression that he was working abroad. He made an appearance for my sister’s wedding and after a few days again he was gone. When fathers used to accompany their children for events at school and in the locality, there was a bit of pain, which always remained. As I grew up and I understood the complex dynamics of an extended broken family trying to pick up its pieces, I realized that this is how things are meant to be.

Finally in 1998, I had a chance to start life afresh with my father and mother. Moving from a bustling metropolis to a small town in Tamil Nadu brought several challenges. Realizing that here too I will be an outsider after being an ‘outsider’ in Calcutta, I continued to grapple with life. Within a few months I understood why my father had remained away from us. His addiction to alcohol ruined my mother’s life as well as mine. Quite early in life, I realized that I had to support my mother in any way possible to make this chance at a ‘family’ work. When others of my age used to enjoy the evenings after school and holidays, I would sell murukku and thattai (rice-flour based snacks). We got some orders to supply regular meals to a family and this helped us a lot. They were an elderly couple near our rented house and I would supply food in a tiffin carrier to them. There used to be ugly arguments at home and I tried my best to zone out all the ‘noise’ and focus on my studies. I have never been an exceptional student, just above-average. Engineering and medicine were ruled out for two reasons, lack of money and my lacklustre scores in Maths and Science.

Somehow got into college, got a taste of the big city, participated in competitions of oratory, writing, quizzing, and drama won lots of prizes and handed over the cash rewards to Amma. Biggest joy was when I got placed on campus, that one day, when I received the offer-letter was my happiest. As I entered corporate life and salary started coming in regularly, helped realize small dreams of my Amma. Starting with a refrigerator, a washing machine, a microwave oven, small things that made her life easier. As father’s dependence on alcohol increased, I tried admitting him to rehab to help him overcome his addiction, but of no avail, he ran away from there. One fine day, after a long argument, he just walked out of our rented house. It has been more than ten years now. My mother is also dead now. I don’t have any bit of affection or love for my father. Just bitterness and anger. I am alone. Sitting in the comfort of another rented house. As the world celebrates fathers and fatherhood, I wonder where did I go wrong, what was my crime to have not experienced the paternal affection that every child deserves. I do not have answers. There are times when I have nightmares where I see funeral pyres burning and I wonder who is it that is on the final journey? Wherever you are – I hope you have found the happiness that you wanted. Happy Father’s Day to you.

Meshu’s Quest for a Bride

The last few years took a severe toll on Meshu’s body and mind. All attempts to find a bride ended in failure. Then Meshu lost his mother and his life changed overnight. Forced into solitude he descended into a state of perpetual fatigue. Now a year after his mother’s demise and after completing the rituals every month culminating the annual rites, he decided to start afresh.

Step -1 – His brother added him to a dating group on Facebook. Half the time he is lost at looking at the posts put up by a few members with unfailing regularity and a legion of their followers commenting on the posts. He has grown old and he is definitely from a different generation, not understanding how likes and comments and heart icons turn into meaningful relationships. But his friend says, “I found my soulmate here, you are not trying hard enough.” Meshu wonders if he will ever garner the courage to even send a friend request to an unknown lady based on what they put up on social media groups. He is too old for this dating game.

Step-2 – This year on his birthday when he visited Marundeeshwarar Temple in memory of his mother, he spotted an event happening in a kalyana mandapam. On enquiry, he found out that it is a meet-up of grooms and brides families organized by a matrimony portal. Promptly, he registers and then starts the waiting game. He receives some profiles and to his bitter dismay finds that all the profiles of the brides are at least 12 to 15 years younger than him. Swallowing a bitter pill and drinking one strong filter coffee from the nearby shop he walks out wondering, what lies next.

Step-3 – The Corona crisis is at its peak and during the midst of this lockdown he receives a fresh set of profiles registered in April. He shortlists relevant profiles by age, gothram, and star and starts making phone-calls.

Conversation – 1

“Hello sir, naan Chennai laerndhu Mahesh pesaraen.”

“Yes, tell me how can I help you?”

“Sir, your daughter Nandhini registerd with ID 5423.”

“What is your age?” “Sir 38.”

“There’s some confusion the admin staff misprinted my daughter’s date of birth – she is just 24 years old. Better luck in your search. Bye”

Conversation – 2

“Hello sir, good evening, Mahesh calling from Chennai”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Sir, you are Miss Charanya’s father registered on matrimony portal with ID -5761”

“Oh, no, not again, there’s some confusion, it is a wrong number. I don’t have any daughter named Charanya. I am sure the real Charanya would be married by now.”

This is how my story goes. Dear readers if you are aware of any relevant bride for me please get in touch with me and share the details. Thank you.