The Three Musketeers

 Are we really different from animals ? Or are they different from us ? 

So, there are three friends (stray dogs) who come home to get biscuits both morning and evening. It was Rota's favourite to get three Marie biscuits both morning and evening, bless the manufacturers. We continue the same for Puppy the matriarch, Achu the young guy and Waggy Boo, the cool guy and Puppy's heart throb. Waggy Boo is not shrewd nor street smart like the other two.  We are sure he has been either lost or let loose by the owners.  For sometime now, we have an ongoing tussle with them over their habit of hunting peacocks. No coaxing, scolding, threats nor absolute silence deters them.  You would not believe until you see the strategic hit Puppy and Achu can make in coordination. Achu and Puppy are born hunters, both in terms of agility and speed. They communicate just by a look before hitting top speeds. The only other dog around here who matches them is Roxy, a neighbours' pet, who we guess has a wolf's gene somewhere in his lineage. 

Anyways, the transformer in front of our home is easy hunting ground to catch a wounded bird. Peacocks are most hit being poor flyers and if my deduction is right, with not so good eye sight. Their wing touches the line, and they get knocked out. We have saved some, lost many. The next most hit are myna's followed by crows.  Our race is nowadays with these three to get to a wounded bird first.

So, today morning, Achu finds a peacock walking in the area among shrubs, and looks to catch Puppy's eyes. She is resting looking in the opposite direction. Waggy Boo is next to her sun bathing himself. On seeing this from bird's eye view from the terrace, I warned Achu, 'No'. A line or two more as a threat.  So he walks away from the area, and takes a far left turn somewhere and reaches back near the transformer.  God only knows how, Puppy has got the signal and reaches there.  Both stand still, looking into the shrubs for movement before they move in. Absolutely still, intense. Along comes Waggy Boo, goes in the middle, stretches himself wagging his ever wagging tail, and is digging mud backwards with his hind legs pumping himself up for the hunt. On this, Puppy and Achu look at him, at each other and then again at Waggy Boo, their shoulders move down and walk back towards our gate defeated.

Now, tell me. How many of us have a friend like Waggy Boo or are ourselves Waggy Boo on occasions  ? 

I couldn't believe this scene that played out today morning in front of me and every time I think of it, I can't stop laughing.  It was so good that I acted it out to Arun who knows Waggy Boo.  If only they could talk, Arun would have got a re-enactment of the whole thing from both Puppy and Achu, to Waggy Boo's constant wagging of tail.

For the Blacks and the Browns

 Of the many cultures and tribes

They say we are not civilized enough

They say we are not modern enough

They say we are sticking to rituals

They say we are not walking with the times

What of their horse drawn carriages

What of walking around in head gear from the ice ages

What of the marches and standing in four directions

What of the clothes that look like clowns

What of the stiff you are travelling around the country with

What of the unnecessary pomp over an occurrence that time specifies

If for you your own is precious

So it is for everybody else's theirs.

You are proud of your heritage you say

The heritage that went crossing oceans

To loot, kill, torture and plunder

The blacks and the browns.

The diamonds and rubies stuck on your crowns and tiaras

The emeralds that hang on your neck

The pearls that drop from your ears

The gold that keeps all this together

From the blood and sweat of billions

Belonging to the blacks and the browns.

You adorn yourself in worthless splendour

Matching hats and shoes with other

And show off pomp like no other

With the riches plundered of others

Sounding bugles hollow as your holler

To display and regale your plunder.

Time is a healer but also a witness

Time is a teacher like no other

For every tear there will be a tear

For every drop there will be a drop

For every paisa there will be a paisa

If for you time was on your sails yesterday

For us it is today and tomorrow

For us the blacks and the browns.

Good Luck

Going through old stuff, found this.  Something I had written for the 2015 batch MCA just before they started their internship.  Something that day triggered this writing and I do remember what it was.  Some batches are close to your heart as a teacher because you walked in the first day and said 'Hello'.  Others because something clicked.  Some others because you found a little of you in them.  Some because you started dreaming something for them.  Some because you saw the potential and they weren't willing to use it, ensuing a struggle to reach common ground.  It has always been a roller coaster - pride when they work hard, hope when after hard work they fall and rise up, happiness when you see their achievements shine in their smiles, anger too when they are lazy and don't try.  'Potential' is something present in every person.  It varies in form and shape, but it is very much there.  It is a struggle getting to make a person see their potential - something I wish my teachers in college did for me.  Wish they had battled a little harder with me, especially when I slacked.  Reading this letter reminded me of batches passing out.  It is a mixed feeling, happy and sad, confident and unsure, hopeful at the same time worried, praying and believing that the universe gifts them abundantly.  I remember how unprepared I was for my internship.  It hit me hard the first month.  Madras in 1997 was different from Trichy in many ways.

So, when I chanced upon this letter written in December, 2017, realized so much I missed out saying.  

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Dear Students, 

You were students in our department and college till yesterday. Today you are still a student (we are not ready to let go, not yet) but you have also taken a step outside to work in the industry. The past two and half years in college we hope has given you a foundation from which to launch your career. The step you are taking into the industry is a huge step and things will be new. However, remember, it is an exciting time to step into the IT industry right now. With the speed at which technology is changing lives of people, it is a time when you can explore, learn and acquire skills beyond what the college has provided you and contribute to society in ways you dream of.

The advantage of being an intern in an organization is that you get a feel of what the job of a software engineer will be. It helps you learn, as the company will aid in honing your skills, both technical and personal. It is also the time for you to assess gaps and fill the gaps before becoming an IT professional. That is the main purpose of the six month project.

While we faculty understand that the new environment and practices take time to get used to, you need to know that change is going to be a continuous constant in this industry and change happens fast. Change will come in the form of technology, products, projects and in turn the skills that you need to keep acquiring. Change will also be a constant in terms of the people and place you work in.

It is going to be a highly competitive environment and to be successful you need to embrace this change and learn to grow with it. You need to be open to learning, to challenges and difficulties. 

We hope that during the project, you will apply yourself and push yourself to learn. It doesn't matter to us whether you are doing your project in an MNC or a local startup. What we want to see is that you have worked hard and set high aims for yourself. We would love to see you show us work of very high quality even if the quantum is small. As you know, a functionality without error has higher value than a software riddled with errors. Please ask questions about the project, know it thoroughly as though you own it and build it with quality. Also use this time to build your interpersonal and communication skills. This skill is as important and sometimes far more important than technical skills. 

Above said, it will also be a time of realization. An eye-opener. Some of you will love what you are doing while some of you may realize it is not your calling.  This time as an intern will help you in deciding if this is the path you want to tread. However, do not take that decision in the first month. Please give yourself the six months internship time and at the end of it, decide. Better would be to work for a year in case you are still to decide. Use this time to learn, work hard, build contacts and see how a company works. This experience, this learning will not go waste.

During this time and also in your career, you will have a string of success as well as defeats. When success touches you, pat yourself  on your shoulder and set new goals. When defeat touches you, be bold, pat your shoulder, tell yourself that you will do better next time, rise up and start the run again. No defeat will be a defeat if you do not accept it. So be passionate about learning and any work you do. A life without passion, I believe, is a life half lived. That is what we wish you to aim.

We know that we have pushed you everyday and will continue to push you. As teachers, we aim to help you see your own potential and realize it.  We have corrected you and scolded you for mistakes, sometimes little, sometimes big. Please remember what we disagree is not you, the person, but the action. We hope you learn from them and move ahead.

What makes a great human being is not just the technical skills (s)he possesses nor the status, nor money earned. It is being human, and you, our students have always had that in abundance. We have always been proud of how you have stood by each other, supportive of shortcomings. We, your teachers have always admired you when you have emptied your pockets to help a friend in need. Please don't think we haven't noticed. We have laughed with you and also wished your hurt away. Each of you is unique, and we have gained and our life has been enriched from knowing you. We respect you for your qualities and we learn from you something everyday. We hope you will hold on to these qualities life-long.

An adult life has a different pace from that of a student. Work takes over, and many a time, days, months and years go by fast without your noticing it. Through all this, remember to hold on to your family and school and college friends for they are your strength and anchor. They know you best and are least judgmental; they take you for what you are. However, also build good relationships and develop new friends where you go. Through all this, remember to have fun and to live life to the fullest.

Stepping out into the world, you are the dream and torchbearers of not just your family but also of your teachers, department, institutions(school and college) and this great country of ours. You hold the key to the future. In you, our youth, rests the hope of this nation. While diverse in terms of language, culture, religion and beliefs we are one.  Hope you will fight for the ideals on which this nation was built and contribute to her growth. Hope that through your chosen field, you will help in building better technology/process for our countrymen to lead a better life.

We hope and pray that good health and success is always yours and that God will be kind to you in times of difficulties. We, your teachers strongly believe that you will do well in any field you set your heart.  As someone said, 'Go kiss the world.' May it welcome you with open arms.

Good luck and God Bless.

Regards

Sapna

Wrestling with the Baingan

'Baingan Bartha' is a recipe I have heard long back.  Once, my sister who lived in the US at the time nearly enticed me to making it as she had made it sitting in the US.  I never fell for the bait.  First, it was baingan, a vegetable my husband kept at leg's length, and second I wasn't a big fan of baingan.  I did make the occasional 'Enna Kathrika' the Tamilian way.  Onion, garlic and brinjal spiced with chilli powder and salt.  

Last month's visit to the Arts College Pazhamudir got me buying the big brinjal.  Dark purple with green stalk - colours resplendant.  I had these brinjals often during my time in Italy, cooked the Tamilian way.  Yes, sitting in Italy and being Tamilian.  When I googled for recipes with Brinjal, the 'Baingan Bartha' came up.  I read, reread and rereread the recipe.  Different recipes made with one or more ingredient plus or minus.  I didn't have a charcoal stove.  Cooking on fire - now that is a little bit of risk.  Me, who burns myself every time I deep fry, grilling green vegetables on gas stove fire was a risk, small one.  I wondered if the seeds will splutter, whether it will mess up my stove burner, if I will burn it or will it melt down.  

There are two things my dad always dissuaded me from doing in the arena of cooking :  breaking/grating the coconut and deep frying.  Every time I break a coconut, till date, I will get my finger caught in the crack and scream.  If I ventured grating, it was slow and a little bit of my skin in one or multiple fingers was also grated.  So, he would do it for me every morning.  'Ulundu Vada' is a favourite of my dad as is 'Pazham Pori'.  These are two things, deep fried, I did venture to cook.  No puris, no cutlets, no samosas.  The moment I pour oil, he will issue a word of warning and let me know he didn't mind not having them compared to seeing burnt skin.  To date, I will end up having atleast one splash of hot oil every time I cook these two recipes, despite all the care I take.  The times my husband offers to try frying, seeing me try so hard, I just ban him from the kitchen.  I can atleast answer my dad for burning my fingers and hands.  No way I can answer for Arun's.  There would be only one question : 'what were you doing ? '.  The guilt of living with that line is too much to handle.  Funny, how our parents can make us do and not do things with just a one liner.

Anyways, so the last time, I went back to making Enna Kathrika despite all the reading.  Last week's visit to Pazhamudir, and there they were, the Brinjal's waiting for me to pick them up.  After walking by them more than twice, I said to myself, 'Come on, you can't run away from a challenge'.  I have never said no to a challenge, except the cooking kind.  Many a time, looking at my frail frame, I have been dared to lift heavy weights or eat a big full plate of food.  I wasn't as surprised as the challenger in the end.  It took me one hour out of two to change a Fiat Premier Padmini tyre - the nuts of which were secured super tight.   That was one where I thought for a second that I might loose, but I did come up with a way to do win it.  However, I have not tread anywhere close to a cooking challenge.  So, time to change history I told myself and I picked three of them, shining purple and contrasted with green, beautiful brinjals.  

Today after seeing the brinjals in the fridge for the umpteenth time and knowing well that a challenge had to be faced, I started by reading the recipe.  I reread the recipe. No, not enough.  I looked at the pictures.  I looked at youtube videos.  I read the literature, from the translation of the word 'Baingan' meaning Brinjal, the King of Vegetables, ~ Vangaya - Eggplant ~ Aubergines.  Geography also rolled in - the Punjabi Baingan Bartha, Maharastrian Vangyache Bharit, the Tamilian Kathrika Gothsu to the Middle Easter Baba Ganoush.  Here I was, being true to my profession of being a researcher.  Reading and rereading, running every step in my mind.  Time flew beyond lunch time.  Despite the sambhar, keerai poriyal and salad ready, I wasn't going to have lunch.  Not without the Baingan Bartha.

I finally picked the tongs and put the first brinjal to grill as in the recipe, all the time checking and re checking.  It felt like forever by the time I have cooked the brinjals.  No lighting of charcoal, and infusing the earthy aroma.  The only infusion was when I burnt the tip of my finger. Skinning the Brinjal and mashing it up, removing seeds - there was no explanation of an easy way to remove the seeds.   The rest of the recipe was followed to the tee.  It took double the time it stated in the recipe to touch the finish line.  At the end, when I tasted it, wondered if this was the way it should taste after all.  No one explains to you how it should taste at the end of the recipe, nor is there a taste transfer technique.  Imagine, after all the effort, there is no standard to compare against.  

My better half being the better man that he is, despite being starved during the time, had a good word for trying and even had some despite his strong dislike for Baingan. For, I had fulfilled the desire of having Baingan Bartha after all.  There is enough for tomorrow and the day after, and I will have to have it all by myself I am sure.  Still, it is my Baingan Bartha, no comparisons to make.  The next time, I will hit a Punjabi restaurant to check it out.  Till then, I should remember the taste.  

The Pain of Looking Young

The ‘Fountain of Youth’ is a search one will find in mythology and passed on to stories and films.  It is an eternal search among human kind.  However, one just has to ask the affected how it feels to be treated like someone younger than themselves.

The 'Pain of Looking Young' is a curse, felt by people who have no way of expressing it in words.  I have faced it in my twenties, and told myself that it will get better when I turn thirty, which was moved to forties, and now, I am irritated as ever.  I understand that there is no end to it and it is not a matter of looks.  The first strands of grey is something I have heard people fret about, feel bad about and trying to hide under dyes and henna.  I welcomed it, and have always looked forward to looking my age. 

Every time someone in a bus, office or public space has called me ‘paapa’, I have cringed inside.  When men cut into a queue in front of me (not the lady in front of me) and start behaving funny when I object and tell them to stand in line, I have felt fury inside.  The times I have been treated like someone who needs to be protected from the world, I have felt like revolting and picking up a sword.    It was something that affected both my personal and professional life.  Both areas, there are people who told me that I didn’t look my age, that I didn’t look the part.  That I didn’t look old enough to be in the position I was in, that I didn’t look mature enough, aged enough.  That many thought I was way younger than who I am and hence treated me so.  The reason didn’t help as it made me angry for being judged by my looks.

I always have had to work double hard to get to where I got.  Forget the big ones, I go to a bank and they tell me to wait and serve a customer who has come after me, many a time a man, or someone my age or thereabouts.  Yes, I have watched if it happens to others who have been ahead of me in the queue and no it did not.  I count to 100 before I start giving them a piece of mind.  Places where they have made me walk up and down counters, unlike others for similar transactions, my going to the bank repeatedly to get a simple TDS certificate, someone who has come after me being served before and then it doesn’t happen to another, family that treats me as though they are elder to me and more wise and capable, groups – personal and official, where my suggestion would be turned outright as impossible, naïve and not workable to be later proposed by people as their own, facts told unbelievable and later becomes conveniently believable when shown by another.  Name the place – supermarket, bank, shops, it is the same.  I have walked away from places that treat me badly.  I know the difference because if my husband is around, then things work differently.  The word ‘madam’ absent till then appears and the tone changes. Me thought of as my husband’s daughter, everything except his wife. More importantly, I have seen women my age or younger who look their age getting treated better.  The time I was alone, searching for something in the supermarket happily, only to be approached by a pair, a boy and girl, around 21-24, who asked about UNICEF assuming that I might not know or have heard about UNICEF.  No, the question can be passed, but not the tone and body language.  As though they were speaking to a twenty something instead of someone nearly hitting fifty, I gave them a strong piece of advise, asking them to start with assuming I had heard about it as I was easily twice their age.   Sometimes, people have come back, telling they assumed I was younger as I didn't look my age, as though it was some kind of compliment.  You can't imagine what it felt inside.

I have asked myself and my husband many a time if it is me.  Something with the way I behave ? My husband says, when it happens don't put up with it, walk-talk-behave authoritatively, put your foot down which both of us agree is not right or the way to do it, but if there is no go, do it anyways than feel bad.  It has turned my husband over protective of me especially as he sees it in close quarters nowadays.  I argue with my husband and ask him to stay away, let me handle things, just let me be and not try to protect me.  He stands far away, and when he sees something amiss, he steps in and the scenario changes.  Which infuriates me even more.  I have stopped wearing T-shirts, kurtis and jeans to many places, no kurta, and I wear salwars(with that stupid dupatta) and do everything to look normal, that is, my age. Today, after being treated twice as though someone not my age, the second one was an innocent lady(I told her my age and smiled, trying to keep my cool), I felt rage.  No, it is not me generalizing and assuming it is because of my looks.  When people call me 'paapa', olunga vandi otta padi(when I drive normally), get asked what degree I am studying, ....  I just know.  It throws patience, tolerance, everything similar steam out of my burning ears.  I can see that cartoon of myself afterwards.  And feel all the more horrible afterwards.

Don’t judge a book by its cover they say.  But, that is what we all do, everywhere.  So, to those that look their age, please consider it as a blessing, for you know not what it is to be treated and made to feel like an idiot/moron/stupid for that is what I feel at the end of such an experience always.  Only to wake up to battle another day.

If that one wish came true

Many a times, one hears a question :  What is that one wish you would want to come true ?  

My one wish.... I want Rota back.  

It's for me, my happiness, my joy, for getting me back my life.  It's four months and two days since he left, and I have been counting days, weeks and it has turned into months.  He left a gaping hole in my heart and I feel it every morning I wake up, every night when it's time to go to sleep and every moment in between.  A year of living 18+ hours of my life, happily with him cannot be filled by anything else.  

First thing in the morning, I would walk to the door to see him.  Same at night, just before going to sleep. Most nights, when we wake up, we would go check on him.  He barks and we would go to back him up; not that he need any from us.  He was bold and gutsy, protective enough to kill. 

During the day, not more than half an hour could go by without looking at him, talking to him, cuddling up with him or playing with him.  Sometimes, fighting with him too.  His soft snore was both a comfort and lullaby.  If I did not notice him, then he would get me to... a nudge, a poke, a pat with his hands, my books would be pulled down, some paper on a table taken, a coconut missing, a pen in his mouth, something.  Or he would bring his bedsheet to me and rip it.  Indicative of him telling me, comeon, lets have some fun.  At my worst, he was with me every minute, refusing to leave even at night.  There are days I have woken up, turned and looked to have him looking back at me with concern.  He was never far away from me in every way.

So, today, as I live bereft of him, his touch, his smile, his naughtiness, his thoughtfulness, his care, I am just a shell of myself.  Without that person who made me smile, laugh and made me beautiful, I feel a deep hole, never ending.  I feel an anger with myself for all those moments I couldn't spend with him, of the times I disciplined him, of telling him 'No' when he asked for something, of not been able to take him on rides as much as he wanted, for not having done more for him and with him.  I am angry with God for not giving him a life as long as a human beings.  I am angry with God for taking away my son, my soul mate, my best friend.  

So, if God were to grant me a wish, my wish, my one and only wish, it would be, 'Give me my Rota back forever'.  I know, it is something not possible.  Not because God can't.  Because, what the heart wants has no rhyme or reason.  For the heart wants Rota.  Anyone who knew Rota would say, if God has Rota with him, there is no chance of Him parting with Rota.  That was how much Rota can love you.  Even if you don't return any of it.  

The few pictures and videos of him is a blessing.  Watching them over and over again makes me relive those moments, magical moments.  After wishing every day, every week and every month for Rota to come back, now I have started wishing that I meet him just once.  Yes, I have told him a thousand times that I love him and he is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.  Still, I would love to hold him once, kiss him, cuddle up with him and tell him that nothing, nothing on this earth can stop me from loving him, wanting him in my life and that I look forward to the day I can join him.  What would I not do to see that happy trot, that glint of naughtiness in his eyes, that look of understanding.  What would I not do to be hugged, to be licked.  

If he knew this, he would be cross with me.  Of course he knew I didn't need lessons in getting work done, in managing and taking care of myself.  He knew I was a force to reckon with if situation required.  In the time he was with us, he tried teaching me a few things I was not so good at - just live life, be adventurous, be happy, live in the moment, don't fret, don't be upset, just laugh, have fun and enjoy life.  I am such a poor student.  With him around, it was easy to learn and follow his principles.  Now, every time I falter, I remember the teaching but find it difficult without him to lead and show the way to do it.  He could make me let go, of many things that upset me.  He is the only reason I could challenge the challenges life threw at me.  For I knew, at the end of the day, all said and done, there was this one person waiting for me with open arms to love and accept me as I am.  No judgment, no questions, no complaints, no hard feelings and tell me that everything is okay.  He helped me be kind, see reason where there was none.  Many a human being will ask me how a dog could convey all this.  For that, you should have met Rota and lived with him.  You would then know.  Rather, meet any person who has really lived with a dog, and they will tell you.

So, I live with that one wish.  To meet him, once more.  

Would we sterilize our kids ?

A roughly six to eight month old pup was found two weeks back, next to our neighbour's gate, shivering in the rain. He was infested with ticks, a torn ear and just bones. When calling animal rescue and trying to secure the pup for five days did not work, we decided to feed the pup and save it from starving. Over the last week, the tick infestation has reduced and the ear is healing. However, the pup's fear of humans continue and he doesn't come anywhere near us which is alien to us dog lovers. Today morning, the pup came close and it was then that I saw that he had been neutered, sterilized. A six month old child, baby neutered. What are the effects of this on his childhood ? What are the repercussions of this on his life ? Doesn't he have a right to an equal life ? Doesn't he have the right to enjoy the joy of fatherhood ? Wouldn't euthanizing him have been better ?

The sterilization programme of adults in India carried out in the 70s as a method of population control left a deep scar on more than one generation and is still a scar on the national psyche. However, we are ready to do sterilization of not just dogs but their children. In a fair world, where humans are on the same scale as any other being, I believe nature, mother earth will say this is worse than genocide.

I have had this argument before with people and they thought otherwise. I still have this question : Would you sterilize yourself before marriage, atleast after having one kid ? Would you sterilize your grown up children, leave alone kids ? In a nation of one billion plus human beings, what is the ratio of dogs/cats we have ? Who is responsible ? I know, hard questions - no answers. Dogs are a problem, cats are a problem, birds are pests, elephants are a problem, tigers are a danger, leopards are invading our space, insects are pests, everything except human beings are a problem, according to the most invasive and dangerous species called 'homo sapiens'. Yes, these questions are a problem, but if we have a moral compass, these questions would arise.

I was standing there left stunned. I couldn't move when I realized that the pup had been sterilized. I understood perfectly the deep distrust that little pup has for all humans. We have scarred him for life.

Ring in the Old

 When doing construction work in the house, one important factor is reuse of existing items.  Be it plumbing, electrical or material.  A practice I am sure, I learnt from my dad.  If there is work to be done, my dad would take out existing plumbing/electrical items and check before giving the go ahead to buy new material.  In the recent years, he said most of them, new age workers looked down upon reuse of items.  His refrain, 'why would I waste my money rebuying existing stuff, and then where will this buying new get us except just generating more waste'.  

We as a culture in India were brought up to reuse and thereby minimize waste and inturn be environment friendly.   It started from when children were born.  New born children were dressed in already worn clothes, generally of the mother's or of a close family member.  Books and clothes were handed down from one's elder siblings or cousins or friends. School uniforms, belt, shoes among other things were usually hand me downs. Stationery like crayons and colour pencils too.  The geometry box is a classic example as were rafters in engineering.  As one grew older, elder siblings or mom's sarees and brother's or dad's watches and shirts.  Wearing granny's and mom's old silk sarees was a matter of pride.  During marriage, family heirloom was important.  Jewellery handed down was a treasure.  Same with head gears and other adornments like watches and bracelets that boys wore.  The dowry (not a supporter) would have antiques handed down.  Jewellery as well as silver, brass and copper vessels as were customs of the family.  Reuse of items was ingrained in our culture.  

That has changed today.  Parents buy everything new for their kids, every year.  From books, uniforms, bags to stationery, tiffin boxes and water bottles.  It is either not to make their kids feel bad, or for fear of themselves or their kids being mocked.  In today's age, reusing items or using old ones are taken as a sign of penury or being miserly.  

I've had my share of run ins.  The furniture at home is a point.  Our cupboards, book shelves, chests, tables and chairs are all old pieces.  Made of teak and rosewood, they of course have seen better days.  A little work, some polish and they shine.  For me, the point that they are made from trees that lived before my time and hand crafted makes a personal connection.  While there are some who admire the antique pieces I have sourced over the years, there are those who walk in and say, 'Oh, you don't have a built-in wardrobe.  Why don't you give away the old cupboard and make built in bookshelves.  All of us at home, parents and siblings love old wood and stone work.  My parents appreciated and inculcated in us the beauty and skill of craftsmen gone by and it has rubbed in.  Same is the case when interacting with plumbers/electricians and other workers.  One of the common comments I hear is, 'Oh, you are trying to save on cost.  You don't want to spend money.' They want to us to buy new material fresh out of a shop instead of using new material bought and left over from last time or removed and in good shape.  Of course I know reuse means maybe shorter life span but am ok with the tradeoff if material is good.  It is on very rare occasions that one finds workers selling you the old stuff instead of buying new, like the guy who came to rectify the fridge.  He told us that newer fridges were flimsy and to hold on to the old one.  When it broke down twice in three months in peak summer and laid waste to all the stored food we bought a new one but realized that the fridge repairman was right about what he said.

It is sad that many people throwaway old woodwork in exchange for plywood and laminated things.  They throw away old handmade silver, brass and copper to buy new machine made ones.  Old heirloom jewellery is melted to make new designs. We complain of the west being very materialistic and showy.  The truth is we are on the way there, whereas they are doing the opposite.

During my days in Italy and US, I have found so many weekend and yard sales where all kind of things at home are put for sale.  Many people buy them and either clean, polish and use or refurbish them to suit their taste.  I found that besides furniture, electrical, electronics, toys and other home items, old crockery and jewellery was something that people bought and treasured.  All this when Home Depot and Amazon were just a click away.  At New York, we went into Christie's, the famous auction house to have a look.  We saw beautiful old pieces, furniture, crockery and jewellery which had the craftsmen's identify in the form of person's name or company name as well as year of making.  And many of these items were auctioned at high prices.  In India, somehow, the craftsmens identity and year of make was never recorded as items were mostly commissioned.  So, the antiquity of items was never recorded which is sad.  

When newer cultures and lands are holding on to their treasures, and making it a habit, why are we throwing it all away.  Why are we reluctant to reuse old beautiful pieces and ready to buy the newage machine cut ones.  Same with preserving old houses.  Trichy had old houses and huge bungalows.  Cycling was a joy partly because I got to see the beautiful houses.  Same was the case when I came to Coimbatore in 2000.  Today, the number of old houses and bungalows has dwindled down to make way to dead pan flats.  While flats are good in terms of conserving land usage and affordable housing, it is time we thought of preserving the architecture and thereby the personality of our towns and cities through its heritage homes and buildings.  Otherwise, we will all start looking the same and loose our heritage and culture. 

I hit the refresh button on life.

It is nearly a year since Corona started ruling our lives.  However, mine was totally re-evaluated since Jan, 2020.  A lot has happened in this short time.  My 'rock', the man I have always tried to live up to, the one person on earth whose principles I have followed, the man who has faced so many battles in life and come out stronger, the man who taught me by example how to stand up after a fall, the man I love and looked upto, fell ill.  He had a stroke and suffered paralysis of the right side of his body.  It impaired his movement and speech.  After having recovered totally from a stroke twenty years ago, we hoped that this time too he would beat it.  However, age is not on his side.  A month in hospital, his improvement was still slow.  During his time at the ICU, in his condition, he saw patients die right next to him. Despite the high risk of aspiration, he came home wanting not to stay in the hospital.   

He battled hard and got back to walking and eating by himself when the universe decided to battle out again with him.  This time harder.  May end, he had another stroke which left him at square one, actually even worse.  All the hard work of five months went wrought.  

We drive down to Chennai at the peak of Covid, June beginning, fearing the worst. For two weeks, seeing him in that state,  just asleep, crying in pain through the night, not knowing if he recognized us, made me question my existence, my life, the purpose of it all.  Me, never one to hold his hands, held his, not ready to let go.  Hoping all my energy would flow to him.  All the money in the world couldn't help us, his family, get him the medical aid he needed, he deserved.  What use of all the education, of all the wealth, when none of it can help your most loved one.  That feeling of desperation is unexplainable.

When news of another lockdown in Chennai came in, I knew I would have to get back to Coimbatore, and maybe not see him ever again.  I have never felt fear like that ever before in my 47 years of existence.  The worst I had gone through before in my life didn't even come close.   It is unexplainable.  Knowing my dad was there no matter what happens made me bold, strong, confident, basically the person I am.  Close to loosing that was loosing myself, my existence and my being.  I realized the root of my existence that day morning, the day before I left Chennai.  The fact that the universe was tugging at those roots was scary.  I don't remember the rest of June at all today.  All I have kept asking from Jan to date is 'Why ?' Why him ?

My dad and I have had a unique relationship, looking back.  While he expected the world of me, I expected the heavens of him.  He didn't bring me up less because I was a girl.  As the eldest, he expected me to be bold and go get things done by myself.  I could never go back crying to him.  He would say, handle it and learn from it.  I had a thousand whys for him, which sometimes got on his nerves.  I wondered how he could spring malayalam poetry learnt during school with such ease.  He remembered recipes from his early childhood that he had seen women cook.  The dishes he made did taste unique, especially his panchamritham.  He could belt out lyrics of tamil and malayalam songs, some so old.  He taught me business, accounts, took me to the Sales Tax office, banks and showed me every thing needed to run it.  He taught me whatever knowledge I have of carpentry, electrical, plumbing, civil, looking after dogs and cows and every other thing in this world.  He brought back to life, two cows who were bone and skin and couldn't lift their heads after a bout of foot and mouth disease, who doctors said wouldn't survive, to up and running in six months.  Love, confidence, commitment and perseverance and above all the belief in the goodness of animals, the universe and Krishna.

'You should learn and know everything.  Nothing is impossible if you try hard enough', is his mantra.  He follows that mantra.  He loves life and lives every moment and expected me to do the same.  I have fought tough with him and loved him as much, though I never said so.  Same with him, I guess. Always, subtle, it is on very very rare occasions that I have seen it straight.  Those were moments of high.  

The 'Why ? Why him ?' question continues.  It has made me wonder the purpose of life, why we are here, to what end this run after work, making money, acquiring possessions when at the end, it is time to enjoy the fruits of one's work, the body already ravished by the passage of time, by wear and tear, by the pressure of the earlier years, starts giving away, denying one the right to a decent life and peaceful death.  By coincidence, around the same time, I heard the exact same thing told by the Dalai Lama.

With help from the better half and my dog, and with the life lesson of my dad to get back on my feet, I picked the pieces of myself, still disjoint and continued working.  As any good teacher knows, from the time you enter class to the time it ends, time stands still.  It is a bubble where you put in everything to delivering the knowledge you have acquired over the years, where you pass on the knowledge gifted to you by the universe to others for the goodness of mankind.    

However, something had changed, both at the official level and teaching level.  I have never taken leave except when I was sick.  The longest leave I had taken was early in my career when my dad had a bypass surgery.  So, the response I got for my first leave request in January took me by surprise.  We as a family took shifts to be in hospital.  The time in front of the ICU was a lesson on the fragility of life.  In the run for many things in life, I realized, I had missed out on many moments with my dad.  All I wanted to do was to be with my dad through the recovery.  I came to Coimbatore to set things at home for Arun and Rota, apply for leave and go back.  I went to work to find that Arun was taking my class, stretching himself to limits and all other work pending.  It took late hours to finish paper work.  What two faculty should be doing, I did all alone.  I nearly said enough.  I went back for few days in March to be with dad.  With Corona cases starting, we knew it was just a matter of time before lockdown would be announced. The second time around, in June, at the peak of Corona pandemic, when I sat next to my dad, lying still in bed, and answering queries on Whatsapp despite informing of emergency, my perception changed.  When my health took a beating in the months after, and there was no way I could handover classes and office work to take leave and recuperate, I realized that this was not worth it.  When a parent called up and asked why students were left free after semester had completed when other courses were given project, I didn't say I was sick and there was no other faculty to take classes and stop.  I started projects the next day because I was taught by the best to stand up.  I wasn't a bonded labourer but the feeling was somewhat close. 

There I was, unable to walk about or sit for more than half an hour, trying my best to take class and do it well. I started taking medications but not much effect.  Going to a hospital was not a safe option.  Dragged through for months.    

Online classes were different and enlightening as well.  I saw things which maybe happened before but I had not noticed.  When there was no response after class, silence from the other side for questions, seeing unwarranted smirks and comments, receiving weird messages on Whatsapp made me re-evaluate the job I was doing.  Doubting if I was not upto taking class, I recorded my classes to playback, but I made good sense with the topics.  I had my better half listen to my class too.  The content was fine.  So, what was different ?

In 2018, my dad had asked me if the job I did was worth it ?  It was during the time I had taken medical leave for a few days and he had had come home to be with me hoping I would be at home taking rest.  The numerous work calls and seeing me exhausted after trying to convince people to finish work despite being sick got him upset.  I was a workaholic.  I loved my job.   I always have aimed for perfection.  A crime today, yes.  Thus, I never finished my job when the last bell rang.  I used to read every word of every assignment and lab submission, read every line in answer sheets and write comments including spelling and grammar.  Which meant it took forever for me to finish work.  Still I loved doing it because I strongly believed that is the right way.  I just overlooked when most students in class would just look at front sheet for marks and not turn their own pages to see corrections.  All those late hours and late nights going waste, I overlooked gaining satisfaction from the minority that did go through every correction and came back asking doubts and clarifications.  I believed in doing work to the very best of my capacity. I would be thorough in checking my own work and chide myself for mistakes. 

It was worth it I felt.  I had certain ideals, role models, values and beliefs.  I had as an example of a teacher - student relationship, my father's relationship with his fifth standard teacher.  Every time he went to his native, the first morning would be a visit to the 'Thali' Shiva Temple followed by a visit to his teacher.  He has kept in touch with her and family all these years.  He took me to her for her blessings before my marriage.  Shantha teacher told me, unheard by him, of how proud she was of what my dad had achieved.  From having nothing to earning everything by himself through sheer hard work.  That relationship of a teacher and student at an advanced age for both teacher and student is unthinkable and inconceivable today.  He spoke to me at length on how the ideals I had started my job with will not hold in this changing world.  That I will be challenged at every step if I stuck hard to those ideals and will get knocked down if I do not compromise.  

My dad's calls during working hours meant he worried about me.  Every time he read news of students, he would call me because he knew that I was pretty strict with my students.  He also knew I supported and wished the best the world had to offer for them.  After listening to me, he counselled me many a time how I was not their parent.  Teach and leave class.  Whether they copy, don't study, finish work - advise them once, then let it be.  I countered, how was I not to get personal with my students, not care about their well being and still teach them.  I just didn't know how to do that.  I pointed to the relationship that he had with his teacher, because the teacher had invested time and interest in him.  He countered back, 'times have changed'.  

I finally understand the meaning.  Times have changed.  I have not changed.  I want to stick to my beliefs and ideals.  When the most important part of the job was not satisfying, I realized it was time to let go and quit.  However, with Corona still persisting, decided to finish the semester.  When boiling point reached, me being my dad's daughter, had no intention to compromise on dignity, integrity and principles.   So, I decided to let go and took a medical leave. I couldn't quit immediately because I owed it to one scholar of mine to help her complete an important journey.   

Liberating it is. Life is different. Options present itself.  However, for now, I need to get my health back on track.  The health issue that started in 2015 and I thought was solved in late 2019 has come back full force.  For now, I just sit still, praying and wishing to the goodness of the universe and Krishna for good health of my dad besides living life every moment rather than pass it as a blur, in the run to work.  I today pursue my interests in software,  learning new technology (Machine Learning - Computer Vision, NLP), writing stories, reading literature, painting, art, gardening and just being, with Rota and my better half, watching birds, sunrises and sunsets, insects and caterpillars.  I replay my life, looking at experiences and relationships, wondering at the meaning and purpose of it all.  I am convinced that my strength is my dad, his being, his being around, his strength, his principles and values.  Without him as root, I am lost. A nobody.  I admire the mettle my sisters are made of, for they have taken care of my dad throughout.  I wonder if I have that strength.  I wonder at the universe and my place in it, if there is any at all.  I wonder about my life, its purpose.  I have a guide book in the Mahabharatha and Bhagavad Gita.  It is a new journey, for a more meaningful and purposeful one. One worth calling a life. One worthy of my creator.  One worthy of my dad. 

Diwali

This is a piece I wrote two weeks before Diwali and saved it. Posting it today as I feel it is still relevant and correct. 

A forward by someone on not bursting crackers and lighting lamps made me revisit an issue I had debated within myself for years before I came to a conclusion.  I am putting down the debate that raged inside me for years.

My childhood was one were festivals were central, be it Diwali, Pooja, Pongal, Vishu, Onam, Christmas or Ramzan.  My parents celebrated all, in the true spirit of being Indian.  Born a Malayali, but more of a Tamilian due to the state where I have grown up and lived, festivals were celebrated irrespective of the concern of borders.

While Vishu and Onam are festivals celebrated in Kerala, Diwali and Pongal have more of the Tamil culture.  Diwali and Pongal were more grand.  We celebrated Diwali bursting crackers for two days.  Pongal was celebrated for three days, with Maatu Pongal being the best, since we had more cows than children and dogs put together at home.  As a kid, I joined my dad in bathing and decking up the cows on all the days.  It was also my favourite festival.  Only once did I abstain from the celebration, because my favourite cow had passed away.

So, back to the topic.  When this issue of crackers polluting the environment was first brought up, me a convent going girl also nodded my head.  Science spoke to me, telling me that saving the environment is essential.  When I presented this viewpoint once to my dad, he replied thus :  "Yes, environment is important.  However, there is an entire district in Tamil Nadu where families are involved in this trade, from old people to children.  This is the only occupation they know.  As a child, they enter, thereby loosing education and the benefit of changing trade.  What should they do ?

That set me thinking.  If I knew only one way of earning my living and have done that only, what will I do if they shut down factories ?  Also, given that no other industry that provides jobs in large scale exists in the district, should a family leave their home and land and become labourers else where ?

July 4th, is celebrated with fireworks across America.  Sydney has its own day with grand fireworks.  While fireworks cannot be lit by individuals in both these countries, people congregate for an hour or so for fireworks display.  Don't they pollute ?  Especially with these countries having such stringent environment control mechanisms. I also learnt that some of the fireworks goes from Sivakasi - I do not know if it does, today.

Then, this sudden conscience of people using environment as a reason.  People litter on the roads, use plastic incriminatingly, the government directs sewage lines onto canals and rivers that carry life giving water.  Vehicles pollute, politicians show their might as a convoy of 100s.  There is coal being used to provide electricity which actually is harmful in two ways, degradation of environment and pollution due to burning of coal.  We build nuclear reactors to fuel our ever increasing need for electricity, unmindful of the harm to the environment on a daily basis.

So, why this flip during Diwali alone ?  Why this act during Diwali ?  Why this farce ?

Not courting controversy, not being radical.  Why does no one speaks of saving electricity by not lighting up trees and roads for days during Christmas.  It will save electricity thereby ensuring uninterrupted supply to interior areas of the country.  Or why isn't the mass killing of animals for Ramzan and Bakrid not decried as inhumane especially on the day of a festival ?  I remember tring to lift myself into air sitting in a bus, because the bus was driving down the red road on Mehdipattnam, Hyderabad the day after the festival.  My friend  and I wondered why there was red water flowing till we realized it was blood - of the goats killed.  We came back by train from Nampally.

Every festival, irrespective of religion has customs, traditions and ways of celebration.  Moderation may be requested always.  However, advertising something like doing away with crackers that is the only industry in an entire district upon which survival for millions of people depend is wrong according to me without presenting the other side.  Further, what has the government done to provide an alternative ?  What action has been taken when there is a fire in a cracker production unit ?  How many public servants who have issued licenses without checking requirements have been fired ?  What safety mechanisms have you enforced ?  What research have you directed to make it possible that people may enjoy crackers at the same time reducing pollution ?  And why haven't you banned sale of firecrackers of Chinese origin ?

I read in the papers that the Supreme Court has banned use of fireworks in the capital in the name of pollution ?  This order comes in a few days before Diwali.  Why not earlier ?  How many support this ?  Does it's order not infringe on the right of an individual to celebrate a festival, the way it has been celebrated for ages.  I do understand pollution and health concerns.  However, to reduce pollution, what else has been enforced forcefully ?  If fire crackers are not to be burst, why were licenses for sale given to business people after charging them ?  Who is going to bear their loss and who is responsible ?  Further, personally what have the judiciary/political class given up when compared to the travails of the common man in Delhi ?  Will the honourable judges of the supreme court be willing to avoid gas guzzling vehicles, car pool, travel by the metro or atleast give up the two/three vehicle protection they happily carry around ?  No politician is ready to, anyways.  They keep using vehicles that look like battle tanks on our old galis and roads intimidating everyone around.  Or is just a case of enforcing a law unmindful of its ramifications in the name of doing good for society ? Or is it because the elite of elite in India live in Delhi and their lives are more precious than others ? Or is this westernization of India that the elite are happy to take up being enforced on the whole population silently ?

Before clamping down on bursting of crackers, I humbly request the Supreme Court to clamp down on all public transport vehicles that do not pass pollution tests, ask public servants to travel by public transport, not use convoys, ban diversion of sewage into lakes, ponds, tanks, rivers and the sea, ban the use of plastic across the country, stipulate how hazardous things(batteries, chemicals, other waste) have to be disposed and strictly enforce the same with the same enthusiasm that they are enforcing this.  Otherwise, it is a farce because you know the common man will not raise their voice together as there is no union to bind them, but factories, especially big ones dirty the Yamuna few miles away from you and you haven't been able to put a full stop after all these years, because they fight using the law of the land to get away.

I remember as a teenager sitting in a train, watching a couple work on red mud near the railway line.  Their children were also playing in the red mud.  For a long time I watched the parents and their kids, little realizing my dad was watching all this too.  I asked my Dad, 'Will these kids be going to school ? '.  My dad replied, " They are 'Mannunde Makkal', children of the soil.  Their parents are too, like all of their forefathers.  Their parents livelihood is dependent on the only occupation they know - the soil and they travel wherever it carries them.  So, with parents as nomads, how will the children get an education because their parents will never stay in a place long enough ?  The children will start this occupation the day they leave their childhood and then it will be the only occupation they know.  So, it will be for their children unless something comes along good enough to break this cycle and ensures their right to a childhood, right to education and right to livelihood.  Till then, they will remain 'Mannunde Makkal'.

So is the case of the workers of the firecrackers unit of Sivakasi.

Placement War Vs Kurukshetra War

It is the time of year when companies come to campus to recruit students.  Every day, there is a company in campus categorized as Indian, MNC, Dream, Product driven, Service driven, BPO, Marketing, etc. 

There is a whole lot of students ready to face the process of tests, Group discussions, Interviews – both technical and HR.   The preparation for this day started when they step into the portals of the institution.  They see and hear about placement from multiple sources.

So, when they step into the final year, they know time has come.  It is here that they know battle is imminent.  They have been preparing, honing their skills – technical and communication, all to face this battle.  Just like how in the days of the Mahabharata, warriors prepared themselves.

Each warrior, whether a foot soldier, on horseback, chariot or the mighty elephant hones their skills and picks their weapons.  They also know their strength and weak spots, just like the mighty kings and warriors.

In every batch of such students there is an Arjuna, a Karna, a Bhima, a Yudhishtra, a Nakul, a Sahadev, a Duryodhana, an Ashwathama as well as any other warriors famed in the Mahabharata.  These are the students the rest of them look upto.  They know that these warriors are the best fit to win the battle.  Each of them builds their battle plan.

On the opposing side is the company that comes to recruit.  They need to win this battle too.  Given the talent pool, they need to win the cream and they know that their offer has to be better than any other.  They also have to evaluate and check each student and pick the right fit for the job.  If they don’t, they might win the battle of numbers in the placement season, but loose in profits in the near future.

So, with two sides, trying to match each other and create a WIN WIN, each comes up with a battle plan and a battle formation.  Here is where the formations in the Kurukshetra War come into the picture.  The formations mentioned in the Kurukshetra war are:  Krauncha Vyuha (Heron formation), Garuda Vyuha (Eagle formation), Mandala Vyuha (Galaxy formation ), Vajra Vyuha ( Diamond or Thunderbolt Formation), Makara Vyuha (Crocodile formation), Ardha Chandra Vyuha (Half crescent formation ), Shakata Vyuha (Box or Cart formation),  Sarvatomukhi Dand Vyuha, Suchimukha Vyuha (Needle formation), Chakra Vyuha (Wheel or Discuss Formation), Padma Vyuha (Blooming Lotus Formation), Sarvatobhadra Vyuha (Safe from all sides), Nakshatramandal Vyuha (constellation formation), Kurma Vyuha (Turtle formation), Trishula Vyuha (Trident formation), Oormi Vyuha (Ocean formation) and Sringataka Vyuha (Horned formation).  For each of these formations, one has to use a counter formation.

On the company side, the battle formation is in the mode of tests – type of questions, complexity, differentiator, the GDs and interviews.  The formation varies either by college, by course of by batch.  On the student side, they try to find the formation the company is planning to come up with and build a counter formation to win over.  The students check their strengths and weakness, trying to maximize strength, minimize weakness and outmaneuver compatriots to get to the list.

Every day, a new company walks in with their own formation.  Every day the students prepare and change their attack plan accordingly.  A Vajrastra from one side must be tackled with an equivalent or more powerful astra.  Choice of a weaker one can leave one wounded, humiliated or totally defeated.

Some days it clicks, some days it is just misses, some others total disaster.  Like the initial days is a string of misses, till a point when the student thinks that this is it, they are finished, defeated and then as if on last breath, they plunge the knife that much stronger thinking there is no tomorrow.  That day it clicks and from depths of defeat they fly up and up, on the wings of glory and there is a horde of friends to carry them and give them a victory lap.

Once in a way, you come across warriors who handle the attack so well, pull down every wall and obstacle as though made of cardboard, companies left astounded that a warrior such as this one exists.  It makes all around such a warrior take pride in being part of the group, happy that there is a warrior whose name they know will keep the flag flying high, the flag called ‘Pursuit of Excellence’.

Placement time is thus like the Kurukshetra War.  Just that it is not exactly eighteen days, sometimes shorter, sometimes longer. No winners, no loosers either.  Each side trying to maximize their gain.

Check this link for formations used in the Mahabharata: http://mahabharata-research.com/military%20academy/vyuhas%20-%20the%20strategic%20formations.html

Mahima Dharma - Joranda, Dhenkanal

The trip to Odisha was eventful again this time. We took time to have darshan at the Mahima Alekha temple at Dhenkanal on the advise of my mentor.  It was an experience so unique that it is difficult to explain.

We were asked to be there for the evening Aarthi.  On asking the local people what time it would be, we were told that there is no fixed time and the  Aarthi is done depending on the setting of the sun and can be as early as 4ish to 6ish.  As we reached, the bells of the temple started to beat.

We rushed in not to miss the Aarthi.  The temple by itself is simple in architecture.  As we stood at the gate, we saw inside the temple, fire.  After a few minutes, the temple was closed.  The sadhus were prostrating themselves and some of them were finishing the ritual.  

A bit of history as heard from Prof. Hrushikesha Mohanty and from one of the priests in the temple.  The monopoly of Brahmans at temples during the 19th century was the reason for the rise of the dharma.  Brahmins ruled and people from the lower strata of castes among the Hindus started this movement.  

The founder of Mahima Dharma was Mahima Swami.  He meditated for many years in the Himalayas and moved across the Gangetic plain before reaching Puri, Odisha.  From Puri he went to Bhubaneswar and lived for twelve years on water alone.  Then he moved to Kapilash, Dhenkanal where he did penance.  There he lived on fruits for twelve years.  The next twelve years the Swami lived on cow's milk provided by the ruler of Dhenkanal.  He lived in Kapilash hill spreading the Mahima Dharma and attained Samadhi at Joranda in Dhenkanal.

The teachings are interesting.  They teach that there is a single God (parambrahma) who is formless and call him Alekha.  Hence, no idol worship.  Life is full of suffering and the only way to break out of this suffering is to break out of the cycle of life and death and reach the Paramathma.  

Hence, the followers of the dharma do not worship any idol.  They abstain from eating meat, alcohol and any form of violence.  Food and water is consumed before sunset.  The day starts early in the morning and finishes at sunset.

The priests live within the temple premises in the monastery.  They wear a single cloth around their waist and do not trim their hair or beard.  We saw an elderly priest wear only a bark around his waist.  He also had a piece of bark on his chest.  They lead a simple life and do not stay in a place for more than one day.  

So, the temple where Mahima Swami attained samadhi had fire burning in the sanctum sanctorum and the temple is off limits to everyone.  One enters the main gate and then there are four gates in every direction leading to the sanctum sanctorum.  No one except the priest is allowed entry into this area.  Inside the sanctum sanctorum, there was no idol, just a blazing fire.  The temple closed for the evening.  The priests repeatedly prostrated and withdrew.

The complex has other temples.  One temple had a place where all contributions from followers is stored.  The priest said that all contributions is kept as is and is displayed on Poornima day when there is a festival.  The next temple we had dharshan had an ornate gate.  The inside was the same though the tower of this one had a serpent at the top.  The priests were singing when we reached here.  They blessed the devotees and answered queries.  It was here that a priest asked us queries.  It turned night and we left.  The serpent in Hindu mythology is usually considered a reference to Balarama, the brother of Krishna.  What did it mean here in the context of Mahima Dharma.  Through our journey back, we were discussing and debating what we had seen and the beliefs the simple ascetics followed.  The driver must have wondered about us, husband and wife debating for over an hour.    

The visit has left a deep impact on us - that is for sure.  Both of us have been going back and forth for the past four days questioning, reasoning and trying to answer our own questions in the quest to understand.  The picture of the temple and the blazing fire inside as well as the writings on the wall of the temple and the tower with the serpent are deeply embedded in our mind.  

My takeaways from the dharshan :  

1.  God is formless and if I can accept and follow, completely and truthfully, then the differences I find in this world will vanish.  Man sees differences first through the form.

2.  The time in the early morning(3:00 a.m. - 5:00 a.m.) is called Brahma Muhurtham.  Auspicious events like pooja are conducted during the Brahma Muhurtham and no regard is made to check if it is an auspicious time.  Being awake in this time connects you to the world.  From darkness and quiet, the world comes to life.  Birds chirp and the sun starts rising leaving a glow on earth.  The energy at this time must have something that reenergizes the earth.  It is also a time to connect with the Maker. 

3.  Is this life one of suffering ?  Yes.  No man can say (s)he has not suffered or seen suffering.  If the soul is to be reborn again and again, then the soul knows suffering in many many forms.  If the soul wishes to break out of this suffering, then it has to merge with the creator, for that is the only way.  So, there must be a path leading to the creator.  The priest in the temple said, 'just like the life of a sanyasi is not for everyone, the life of a grihastha is not for everyone.  Both exist in this world, and one help the other reach the supreme being'.  So, a soul lives an ordinary life and gathers wisdom.  During this time, the life led is that of an ordinary human being and this may be multiple times where the soul is reborn.  The life of a sanyasi is the final leg and here again the soul maybe reborn before it attains the feet of the Paramathma.  So, we are all on a path of learning and every step we take forward is a step closer to the Paramathma.

4.  The sadhus have a world that is modern, high on material things and a fast way of life.  Somehow, through all this, they are able to live the simple life.  Doesn't the outside world lure them ?  How do they stay away and keep to their beliefs ?  The lesson for me was that, no matter what the world tells about me, if I believe that what I am doing is right and is not harmful for any being on earth, then I can stick to it.  It can come in different forms : wearing the same clothes repeatedly, driving the same vehicle for years or better still the public transport, wearing very little or no jewellery, moving away from pompous living, sharing things with all beings on earth, not listening to gossip, calling a spade a spade when someone hurts another being.

5.  Ask questions.  One of the sadhus in the evening asked us a few questions. 'Who is God ? ', 'Where is God ?' and 'What is God's work ?'  The third one stumped us.  Work for us is waking up in the morning, cooking, cleaning and hitting office and doing this till evening.  Otherwise, if at home, it starts with cleaning, cooking, washing and keeping things in order.  So, what work does God do ?  If He controls the universe, the galaxy, the earth, its happenings and the life of every being, then that is a lot.  Again, to what level does He do it ?  Would he be really controlling ?  Thought process kept going .... to no end.

6.  Walking around the temple, there was peace.  Also, the pulse was different.  Life slowed down.  I realized that I was walking fast and automatically, fell into the rhythm.  How was it possible that two worlds co-exist : one, which is on a wild chase for something or the other and another, which is slower, makes you feel relaxed, makes you feel at peace, ponder about life and energizes you.  It is the energy of the place of course.  From where does this energy come - from the earth, or the founder Mahima Swami, the priests or is it from the followers.  Hinduism believes that every living and non-living thing has energy.  During consecration of an idol, mantras give what was till then stone having energy, powers.  This power is reinforced, added, multiplied by the believers and devotees.  

In a temple with no idol, what is this energy that brings devotees ? How is this belief system founded on the abstract thriving in today's world ? 

7.  Am reminded of the young boy finishing his 12th standard and becoming a monk. Varshil Shah decided to change his path and took diksha. 'What made him do it ? What was that question that made him change course ? ' is a question I have been asking since I read that news.  Unless there is a power from within, how did this boy who till then lived a normal life wish to renounce and become a Jain monk, one of the most toughest.  In the language of today's fast world, 'What makes a monk tick , not be swayed, remain simple and stay on the chosen path ?'  For me, keeping focussed on one activity is most of the time difficult.    

The visit was worth it for I know it has enriched me, my soul and got me to question the life I live.  To that, thanks to the Paramathma for showing the path. 

Ananta Shayanam - Maha Vishnu in all beauty and splendour

The Ananthashayanam form of Maha Vishnu is one form I have been fascinated with.  Having grown up in a city of temples, Trichy, Srirangam was a temple my parents took us to every sunday. Lord Renganathar resides here.  In the temple's grounds, we have spent numerous days playing after praying to Him. In his Home we grew up.  In his lap we spent all our sundays.  Maybe that is why the strong connection.  Maybe that is why I turn to him in joy and sorrow.  Even today when I go to the temple, I walk there with so much confidence for I know it is Home.  That I belong there.  That He is mine.

Maha Vishnu is one person who defies definition.  Maha Vishnu in different forms, each unique in some way, big or small, but significant, can be found across India.  Each avatar of Lord Maha Vishnu is fascinating for He teaches us something.

The second Ananthashayanam I prayed to was at the Padmanabhaswamy Temple at Tiruvananthapuram.  It was a meeting I can never forget.  Following the habit of going to a temple empty stomach, it was 11 by the time we finished darshan.  In the throes of hunger, we checked the prasadam counter for payasam, a favourite of the Lord.  As we have not pre-booked, we could not get payasam.  So, hunger burning the belly and patience, we decided to have food in the temple and stood in the queue.  All I could think of standing at the queue was having the Lord's payasam.  We had the simple annadaanam comprising of rice, sambar and avial.  I did go back for the avial much to my own surprise and the surprise of the people serving food.  At the end of the lunch, the kind lady sitting next to us, poured out two glasses of payasam from the container she had, and offered us.  I was dumb founded and tears stung my eyes.  I looked at Arun and he was equally dumbfounded for standing in the line, I had kept repeating that all I wished was for a glass of the Lords payasam.  I had asked the Lord only one thing that day - a little payasam and he gave me that.  Many may call it random, others coincidence.   Believe me, in all my years, have I never wished for something so strongly more so in a temple, nor has anyone offered me anything.  The family of mother and daughter are friends today who I keep in touch.  They will always remain close to heart.





The third Ananthashayanam I had the blessing of experiencing was at Orissa in January.  Equally large, a work of art which had weathered the elements so well.  The best part of this Ananta Shayanam was that it had a calmness unlike the other two.  He made me think of living in this world, untouched by the nastiness around, living to my own beat and finding joy and contentment in my little world.

I pray for more experiences.  For more insights.  For more knowledge.  A chance to connect with Him.