Reunion - A trip to horror land

In a passing conversation my friend mentioned about meeting his classmates from school over the weekend and I felt weird and estranged. Another friend of mine fished for his classmates from college on popular networking sites such as Facebook and Orkut. And finally the last guy talked about running into his classmates from Medical school at Delhi Airport. Earlier in the week an email was followed by a phone call from my University in US. They wanted my help in getting together alumnus of URI for a for a reunion party in Mumbai in November 09. My facial expression was contorted upon hearing the planned and unplanned reunions both from friends and from my college. To me anything from the past is a landmine.

Why would many go to reunions? Why would some search for their classmates online? Why would someone even talk when they run into their classmates? I have no positive answers to the above questions and but I have my logic to stay away from high school horror stories.

My school days were traumatic – growing up with a weird feeling inside. I was a target of bully, and often an object of ridicule. Was it because I was smart and caught in their vortex of jealousy? Or was it because I was dumb caught in their trap of derision? You should ask those wicked souls.

I am still trying to understand my tormenting school days – it is really puzzling. The happiest period in a child’s life turned nightmare and I always wanted to grow up asap and get out of this prison called “school”. No fond memories…whatsoever!
I hoped for a fresh lease of life as I opened a new chapter in my book of life. I didn’t want to meet anyone from my school. But the emotional scars from childhood turned me into a bookworm and killed the spirit and joy of college life. I spent 4 years in the company of books, music and a friend. I remember my heat transfer and mass transfer equations more than spirited parties and college tamasha.

Are reunions supposed to be happy, nostalgic and cozy?

When I first joined Facebook earlier this year, the site ran algorithms from my personal data that I shared and pulled up the list of alumni from both my school and college. The novelty of Facebook made me connect with a few, but then I realized that we had nothing in common but the distant past which I am still working to come to terms with. Most of them were in cushy jobs, excelled in their profession and personal life was no short of success, they were married with kids, driving expensive cars, and I had nothing in common with them.

All the lost years didn’t take us anywhere. After a few conversations we were still strangers and we couldn’t relate then and now. I finally ditched the idea of befriending strangers from my school and college. I deleted them from my list without a second thought and sympathy. Even virtual reunions failed! May be we were better off being disconnected.

When I walked into my new job this year I remembered I had a classmate from school working for the same company. We were bench mates and we got yelled at by our Math and Chemistry teachers. I wanted to share my specs of nostalgia over a cup of coffee with him and feel proud how far we’ve travelled in life. I was in a double mind if I should get in touch with him and talk about our illustrious past, but finally I gave in. I expected him to be the same bench mate, but this time in my life. We had one great conversation, and then he invited me to his house for his second kid’s birthday. I knew I would feel out of place, I never had any baby anecdotes to share and I would be looked upon like an alien. After the first meeting, I never get a call back from him. I tried reaching him a few times, and I am waiting to hear from him.

I realized over the years we’ve all grown apart and there is nothing in common to discuss even after so many years separation. Our lifestyles were different, our hobbies were as far apart as desert and mountain, they were all caught up in changing diapers, chauffeuring in-laws, and scheduling immunization shots for their babies. I can understand the responsibilities and vagaries of married life, but neither can I complain, sympathize nor participate. I felt we were opposite vertices of a triangle.

The reunion thingy has never worked for me. “Friends reunited” is sadly an oxymoron. Some of them wanted to scratch me and assay below the surface. Some want to autopsy my life, rate my success and happiness, but I could not let anyone do that to me. I’m not the kind who would assess their happiness, success and compare to make myself feel better. More often I was sad after these reunion meetings.

There is no common denominator to crib and laugh, but more reasons to feel sad, old and incoherent. What is the use of such reunions when two people feel disconnected and discordant?

Are we looking to validate our unlived life at reunions? Do you want our friends to appreciate and recognize our lives, achievements and our lifestyle? Reunions seem to work for people who’ve done extremely well for themselves and for them it is flaunting their success, wealth, but for the ones who’ve not made it to top, reunions are sore spot and report cards that show their failed life.

I have the power to see, sift and choose my friends. And today I feel it is much easier to make new friends than searching for ones lost in the past. It is easier to find someone who will fit your soul, life and the present you.

Is it just me or are there many out there who feel the same?

A tribute to Gopali

At 82 his spine was bent, bags below his eyes, edema in his legs, his activity levels reduced, but his sense of hearing and eye sight was just fine and voice was never short of cheerfulness and enthusiasm. The last time he was hospitalized for hernia surgery doctors were not happy with his heart condition – fist size pump in his chest had slowed down considerably. When I visited him a few hours after the surgery, he asked me to sit beside him and he held my hand. The same hand that gave me my first glass of milk for 20 years, the hand that gave me an oil bath Saturdays, and hand that rubbed Neem leaves over my body when I was down with chicken pox. I massaged his legs, but he pulled them back and I was shocked at his reaction. It was those legs that pedaled the in the sweltering heat and brought my lunch for 12 years, the very legs that drove me to the neighborhood park when I was young. His eyes were closed, the effect of anesthesia was weaning but his lips kept murmuring tales from my childhood and he punctuated every sentence with a blessing for me.

Gopali, as we call him is more a family member than a caretaker. Sixty years of service or should I say sixty years of nurturing our family tree and seeing 4 generations of our family grow and cherish. My dad was hardly a year old when he came home in 1949. Not sure if he was sent by God, but hardly 10 years after his arrival my grandfather passed away. My grandmother was the only daughter and Gopali stood besides the family like her brother for 60+ years. He moved with the kids to erstwhile Madras and took care of my dad and his siblings and that continued for 60 years. The only male member in the family after my grandfather. Wow!

A palatial house, few cars, half a dozen cows, 2 dogs and 6 children, the man was both mother and father. He has nurtured our family tree for 4 generations and still the love and care for the family has not reduced an ounce. He was a mother to the fatherless children, grandfather to us and great grandfather to the 3rd generation kids. Dropped them at school, brought them lunch, picked them in the evening and stayed late till they all went to bed. He never let an insect get near any of us and would always watch kids in the house like a Hawk. This continued for 3 generations, with love and care. This seems like something beyond gratitude.

He was not only a member in the family, he was a midwife to the cattle in the house, a friend to both the dogs in the house, and he was everything everyone wanted. With all these responsibilities he never had a minute to think about his life, marriage and kids. Atlast, he was forced to get married in his early 50’s, and to him marriage was more a companionship than have children and grow his family tree.

Whenever Gopali fell ill (fever, cold, Malaria) kids would visit him multiple times a day to enquire about his health and sit around him and hear anecdotes. It could be stories from the 40’s, days of annas, paisa, furlong, his admiration for my grandfather, narrate my father’s childhood pranks. It was definitely a trip down his memory lane. Ancestral stories are always pride and ego boosters. He is a repository of all our family details, important occasions, events, etc.

How can there any festival without Gopali. Be it Navrathri, he would be the first one to talk about it month in advance and get dolls from the attic and decorate the steps single handedly, be it Diwali he would buy fireworks and sun dry them every day and the day before he would never rest his eyelids. He would be up by 1 am in the morning and make hot water in the huge copper vessel on the traditional brick lined stove in the backyard and be it Pongal a week before he would start painting horns of cattle and getting ready for the festival. More than the festivals and festivities it was his hype and happiness that we remember and will recant.

A healthy, clean, and extremely active lifestyle (even at the age of 80 he went around the town in a bicycle) kept diabetes, blood pressure, dementia, Alzheimer’s and other age related illness at bay. They always say selfless soul don’t suffer and depart quickly. A fortnight ago during his regular morning ablutions he banged his head in the toilet. The fall and head concussion had given rise to thrombus, the embolization brought his weak heart and pulmonary system to a halt the same day by midnight.

A selfless human and an angel that guarded the family for 60 years was gone. I still don’t have an answer for the question – what bonded us? When some lives end they end with a big question for the rest to answer. Was it just love and affection or was it unbreakable karma?

Old age - Is it a curse?

I shared a few links last week about palliative care, assisted living, hospice, terminal disease, etc. Here is another one on nursing homes
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/24/health/24nursing.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all

I don't know how many of them are single, married, divorced, widows, widowers, etc., but there are in nursing homes, some by choice and some by the choice of their family. Recently my colleague's father, diagnosed with brain tumor, malignant (final stages) moved into a hospice because her mother could not take care of him single-handedly and both girls were working in different cities. It can be both emotionally and physically draining to see a close family member every day suffering and sinking deeper in the jaws of death.

My dad's grandmother lived till 90, but her last year was in bed. We were in a joint family and we took turns and attended her. Awareness about simple old age disease like Alzheimers, Parkinson's, Dementia, etc. was not there. We failed to understand her illness and rather attributed to personality and behavioral traits from youth. In India we don't classify illness and understand the seriousness of it, rather we park it under the umbrella of "Old age", "senility", etc.

Today India is rapidly progressing towards the western lifestyle. In most cases both spouses are working, in some cases children are far away busy earning in various foreign currencies and in some cases people don't want to deal with the physical labor of nursing an ailing family member and take care of daily chores. In another 5-10 years we will soon have a great demand for such facilities. Since I have decided to stay single I may end up in one of these centers and who knows, I may be battling something as simple as arthritis or something scary like prostrate cancer , I don't even know where the hell prostrate in my body is. All I know is to prostrate. :-)

I am keeping myself abreast of what is happening in the West, and I don't want to wait for my turn to learn about it. Now you know why I read such articles and generously share it with you. Sometime it is better to be self taught rather than wait for life to teach you. Even if you don't get a chance to live, you can still reach out to people and help them.

BTW, I have a plan to start something for elders along the lines of palliative care, assisted living, hospice, etc. Irrespective of whether you have a family or not, spouse or not, people end up here because they need attention, care and emotional support that is not available at home. For
someone like me who will have no kids and wife, this is my destination baby. Growing up is not mandatory, but growing old is.

Apologize, if I am sounding pessimistic, self loathing and cruel, but journey of life is such. If you wish and think along the same lines, we can engage in a discussion and start volunteering our time at a hospice. We will get to meet older people with debilitating disease, their families
and importantly what it takes to run a hospice.

If this interest you then we can talk, if this email threatens then you can ignore, you never received it and the delete button is just a mouse click away. But remember what goes around, comes around!

Here are the other links that you may want to read:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/09/health/09sisters.html?ref=health
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/20/health/20doctors.html?_r=1&em=&pagewanted=all
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/17/health/policy/17untested.html?ref=health


I will stand by to hear from you.

August 14, 12:30 Noon, TTK Road, Chennai

I was on my way to work and it turned out to be yet another day in Chennai’s weather calendar - humid, sultry and hot. Predictable! The auto driver had just reached Music academy and the signal turned red. Murphy’s law? Why blame him now? You know a lot of interesting things happen at traffic signals in India. Do we even pay attention to red light and zebra crossing in India? Two wheelers were standing ahead of the zebra crossing and annoying auto drivers were maneuvering dangerously to get ahead of them. In India, chaos is also predictable.

I felt the sweat beads tickling and trickling down my ribs and flowing down to my hip. While I was patiently waiting for the lights to turn green I saw an elderly woman at a distance. May be in her late 60’s draped in a white polyester saree filled with red flowers, her grey hair neatly oiled, and wrinkled face decorated with bright red kumkum. The face of poverty was beautiful! She would not need more than 60 cms of blouse material to cover the ribs that hugged her heart and lungs tightly. She was doing her tricks to get the guy in the car roll down the window. Was she selling ears buds, cleaning cloth, knick knacks, jasmine flowers, magazines or holding her brass pot (piggy bank) draped with yellow cloth in the name of Ganesha?

Sounds like Madhur Bhandarkar movie, huh?

Over the next few seconds the old lady was surrounded by vehicles on all sides, but she boldly stood there trying to get the attention of the man in the car. Was she trying to attract his attention or was she trying to rouse the patriotism in him? My eyes toggled between the old lady and the traffic light. If she didn’t cross over to the other side or get back on the pavement the impatient and unruly Chennai traffic would have definitely abused her and merciless metro water lorries would have run over her.

I could faintly hear her voice over the deafening noise of horns and revving automobile engines. Still the guy in the car refused to roll down the windows. What does it take for people to roll down the windows? Does it need compassion, kindness, empathy, sympathy or patriotism? Can freckles, wrinkles and frailty do it?

She was not like others who target your pocket change at traffic lights, her focus was sharp and clear. I was increasingly feeling anxious and I tried to put my hand out and get her attention. Even at the age of 60+ she was ready to sweat it out, take it all in and make ends meet.

She was holding two dozen tricolor plastic flags between her right arm and chest, while her left arm was busy knocking the window and I must tell I have never seen such intense and raw emotions before. Is she Kodikatha Kumaran’s sister or is she Barath Maatha? Barath Maatha at traffic lights? Sound blasphemous?

Does anyone even remember her on days other than Aug 15 and Jan 26? Well who can even recognize her? But before the amber turned green the windows of the wealthy man’s Toyota Corolla rolled down and a few tricolors went in the car and tucked the currency in her wrinkled hip. I searched for a smile on her face, but in the meantime green appeared on the tricolor stand in the corner of the street, and chaos returned. Did her patriotism pay off or her perseverance? Did poverty sell patriotism or patriotism sold poverty? God alone knows.

63 years of Independence…and many more to come…but and yet...? You think about it…

Polestars of Carnatic Music

We all know that Carnatic music has always been closely held like a treasure chest by the Brahmin community, and in those days it was difficult for women in their own community to come on the stage and make public appearances with their music. Not that they were not capable, but the male domination prevented women from ascending the performance platform. Let us put aside giving records, female artist could not find male accompanist and even if they did the accompanist played only thukkadas and not for pieces such as RTPs that brought out the mastery of the vocalist. Society then had set roles and standards for women and it was not easy to transgress those boundaries. It was the time when child marriage was still practiced and women didn’t have an opportunity and even if they did they were not allowed to go through the gurukula style of music training. Unlike these days, that was the only formal way one could learn music.

Women are torch bearers of tradition and keepers of values, hence if they fail an entire generation losses. Even at the time when women were merely restricted to their homes and kitchen, these women came out in the public and in a very subtle way sang and fought discrimation. It was a fight through Music. Gandhian way – it was ahimsa to the core. Simply a revolution through music.

From Hindu mythology we know whenever the balance of justice sways to the side of adharma, almighty incarnates to bring back the balance of justice to equilibrium. May be the “Trinity Goddess” Durga, Lakshmi and Saraswati decided to manifest as DK Pattammal, MS Subbalakshmi, ML Vasanthakumari.

How do you know if someone has come with an avathara nokkam? When they leave the earth they leave more than a fan following, they don’t just leave a trail, but pave road to divinity for the rest to walk. A life without an objective, vision and mission is vyartham and the life these 3 lived shows that they are “Avathara purushis”.

An era of divinity, an era of creativity and innovation within the boundaries of tradition was born. Their arrival ended the male dominance in Carnatic music and marked the birth of new era and paved way for other musicians of the same gender to take up music. This didn’t mean they were disrespectful of their men.

Though they did not belong to wealthy family and it is natural for them to gravitate towards money, fame and media, but nothing moved them from their objective, vision and tradition. Greed was kept in check. It won’t be an overstatement if I said they the trinity demonstrated Gnana, Karma and Bakthi marga all in once century and almost during the same time.

The eldest of the trinty Shrimathi DK Pattammal shed her sthula sariram a few days ago. But her music and life never wavered from the path of tradition. May be her mission was over.

Her rendition of Muthuswamy Dikshithar’s “Subramanyaya Namasthe”, a kriti that even maestros falter, moved Ambi Dikshithar (Grandson of Muthuswamy Dikshithar) and he volunteered to tutor 13 year old DK Pattammal. Even today she is considered an authority in Dikshithar and her rendition of Kamalamba Navavarnam is considered most chaste and accurate. She even learnt from Papanasam Sivan (Thamizh Thyagaraja). When given an opportunity to sing in the movie, she restricted herself to patriotic songs and those with a divine flavor. Sometimes I ask myself – is life plotted by destiny or divine? My words can never live upto her music and no words will be suffice to talk about it.

When success, fame, money comes early in life it gets to the head, but for the trinity this was never an issue of the head or heart. Life was equally unforgiving and challenging and these women had donned roles as mother, wife, sister, guru, grandmother, etc. but there was commitment, excellence, patience, steadfast, divinity, dedication, humbleness in every role they assumed. But how did they manage to live without tear, fuss, and complain? May be they were looking at the destination and not caught up in the journey.

They never sang for money, were not on a race to give albums, hog media limelight, not on a coast to coast tour schedules, titles came in search of them. They went in search of divinity and rest came to this and even when ti came to them they never spent much time on it. One took Venkatesa Suprabatham, the other took Shyamala Dhandakam and ML Vasantha Kumari took Tirupaavai – that was their route to divinity.

It is not easy to toggle between family and fans, personal life and professional life and the trinity didn’t have difficulty in managing identities because they had only one identity. Women and men today and future generations are going to be faced with similar challenges, same issues, same roles and these are women they can look upto to for reasons and answers beyond music. Their lives are not best practices, but are bible to read, respect and follow.

People will remember her fiery, patriotic songs – Aaduvomey pallu paaduvomey, Paarukulley nalla naadu, her inimitable Shanti Nilava vendum, but they forgot to honor this freedom fighter, musician, a true Barath Ratna. They should have draped our National flag on her and given her a funeral marked by gun shot and national respect.

Women like her are born once in a century or even dearer and seldom we get to know, understand and live at the same time. May be it is not late for us to reminiscent and respect a great soul.

DK Pattammal’s songs on You Tube

Partriotism:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQGaVdZsMy4

Barathiyar:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjYzZwzK3qc

Muthuswamy Dikshithar

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ia3rgnpEnCo

Papanasam Sivan

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3T5YKSkh1I

Shyamala Dandakam

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVk4UUbQffQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dun2SV1g208&feature=related

King of Pop gone...

I was not at Staples center, I was not dressed in black, didn’t wear black sun glasses to hide the sorrow and tears in my eyes, I didn’t have to stand up every time they applauded and gave him an standing ovation, but nevertheless I felt all that they felt – an irreparable loss. Both my corneas were naked and inundated in brine, tremors and whimpers in my four chambers made it difficult to breathe, and finally an irreconcilable and irreplaceable loss and a feeling of hollow in my chest. It felt like a personal tragedy though I have never seen him face to face, not a fan of pop music, but there was something about him that strummed the note of melancholy in my heart.

I experience a sense of great loss when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated, but not to this extent. I was just 15 years and I felt the hope of India was extinguished, the star in the northern sky vanished. Then it was Princess Diana in the fall on 1997. When I think of the word Princess, I cannot place anyone else name next to that prefix. Princess and Diana are just made for each other. A charisma beyond cameras can capture, softness beyond touch and description, eyes that reflect the effusing beauty of the soul and I can never stop describing her. Again I have never seen her, but still felt so connected and long acquainted. The next one came in December of 2004 when The Nightingale of India took her last breath. She was called the “Queen of Song”, and Hindus even referred to her as “Meera bhai reincarnate”. Again I never saw her nor heard her music live, but fell in love with her just listening to her albums and seeing her pictures. And in the summer of 2009 it is Michael Jackson.

I have seen none of them, just seen them on television, heard their albums and fell in love with them. You may call it infatuation, but I felt something that is missing in me in them and also felt something common in us. Was it the search of love and happiness?

Of the 4 deaths that moved me to tears, it was Diana and MJ demise that took me beyond boundaries of consolation. It made me question our brittle life, social set up, unsatisfying relationship. Both of them tried to find their happiness in their relationships, in their families, and fell in love, I mean literally fell (fall) in love. Fans placed flowers, held a candle vigil, wrote eulogies and songs, but they couldn’t pull him out of the jaws of death.

He sang for the world “We are the world”, he sang to forget his sorrows and transported fans to another world through his music. But the disloyal world judged him for his color when he was black, judged him for his color when he turned white, and then pushed pedophilia charges on him and never let him live in peace. May be that is why both MJ and Diana didn’t want the world to show their face to the world after their death. Hopefully MJ will now rest in peace.

Today we are all searching for the same happiness and love that MJ and Diana were looking for. He was lying in a gold casket surrounded by handful of family, bunch of friends and millions of fans, but not even one could help MJ find his love and happiness. A bad childhood, an unsupportive family, a miserable marriage, and finally an untimely death – that is their storyline. They could never pull the trigger and open their parachutes. May be God wanted to hear his music and give his son eternal love and happiness?

Friends and family came to the podium and shared their grief and closeness with MJ, but did they ever reach out to him, did they ever help him out get out of his debt trap? Now no one will know the truth.

The Queen of song, MS Subbalakshmi was both beauty and talent, she too faced financial crises, and health set backs, but her relationship with Sadasivam helped her to stay focused and calm in the journey of life. May be I am just assuming that she lived a full life, a life of happiness and content.

Many of us are journeying in the same boat of insecurity. We are looking for the islands of happiness and love in people with a hope they would make our incomplete selves complete in many ways. But sadly to most this is a never ending journey and a journey to “Never Never land” and a quagmire. Hopefully these deaths will teach us how to live and how not to judge people.

Maharashtra during monsoon

I did a 5 day lighting tour of Maharashtra with my colleague Shatru. With Pune as my base, I traveled 1500 kms in 3 days. I was able to cover places of spiritual significance (Ashtavinayak, Jyotirlings’ - Bhimashankar, Grushneshwar and also made it to Shiridi and Shani Shinganapur) and also got a change to visit Ajanta and Ellora. The monsoon rains had arrived, though not in plenty, but still Maharashtra is beautiful. Farmers had tilled the land and sown the seeds and looking at the sky with hope and faith. In general people are soft spoken and I hear women dominate their men. I also got to taste a few Maharashtrian dishes like Poha, Sheera, and Batata vada.

Pune is a beautiful city with mix of both rural and urban. Like any other city in India, Pune too has power cuts, water scarcity, traffic issues, but I got sold on the greenery in the city. Khadakwasla Dam, Singgad fort, Osho commune at Koregoan Park are other added attractions in the city.

Enjoy the pictures and if you plan to travel that side and need help, give me a shout.

http://picasaweb.google.com/kdbulls/AshtavinayakMaharashtra#

http://picasaweb.google.com/kdbulls/BhimashankarGrushneshwar?authkey=Gv1sRgCNiki6nbg7GKhAE#

http://picasaweb.google.com/kdbulls/Ellora?authkey=Gv1sRgCO-Zg8rOpbmc1AE#

http://picasaweb.google.com/kdbulls/Ajanta?authkey=Gv1sRgCIKCqt_Cy7DVLg#

http://picasaweb.google.com/kdbulls/DirectorsCut?authkey=Gv1sRgCID0-tmdv5rRRA#