My Biggest Fear

I used to be petrified of my future, in the past. When I was younger, all I feared was not having money when I grew older. In my 20’s, I dreaded financial dependence. I was scared of having to ask someone else for money. The money could be for anything, for meeting my daily needs, for buying clothes, for going out, for donating to a cause I believe in, for eating out, for travelling, for ordering in, a zillion things. 

I was so afraid of my unseen future that I would save. I was an obsessive, compulsive saver. I did not want to have to beg anyone for money. That meek look on my face, the extended arms, the seemingly endless wait, the anxiety of rejection – all these accompanied a request for money. I did not want to go through it. I have seen men making their women wait before they doled out the cash. Some perverse pleasure in watching the dependence. 

Today, at 48, I am in the future, that I always wondered about, in my past. I retired at 45. And yet, I am not financially dependent. No, I don’t ask anyone for money to fulfill any of my needs. In fact, even though, it has been three years since my last full-time job, I have been living off my savings and even help run the show at home. The thing I feared, that thing never came to pass. My worst nightmare never materialized and boy, am I glad!

I am joyful and content today. I feel all those years of slogging my ass off and saving and struggling and taking on all the responsibilities of a job, house, family, child, all of the sweat and tears paid off. Today, when I nap in the afternoon for an hour, when I read a book, when I do gardening, when I cook what I like to eat and feed my family and not only cook but cook well and happily too, when I stretch my body for a bit of online yoga, when I chant mantras and shlokas, I feel at peace. I feel my life did amount to something. That, finally, it all added up well. 

I read somewhere that the real luxuries of life are sleep, freedom to travel, peace of mind, a siesta, an evening walk, leisurely late Sundays, home food, good clothes, doing what you like when you like. All the things that we take for granted or never value when we are young. 

I like the person that I have become. The old me is a happy me, a content me. The young me was really terrified of how things would turn out eventually. I would constantly worry. As a youngster, I was mortified that my life may go from bad to worse. What if this happened? What if that happened? The what ifs never came to be. Thank God for that. It is a divine kripa (blessing) that your 40’s are fulfilling and peaceful and relaxed.

Does it happen often, that what we fear the most, never fructifies? Given the fact that I am a compulsive overthinker, it can be traumatizing visualizing a future so dark. But in the end, things turned out well. At least, so far.

I remember a school friend once remarked that I am someone who likes to be in control. Yeah, right! I do. The fact that at 48, I have not lost my marbles, yet, and that I still call the shots in most areas concerning my life and that I can still afford, money-wise, to do what I like, even if it is just a relaxing facial once a month, yeah, that is satisfying.  

Barkur

Barkur is a group of 3 villages (Hosala, Hanehalli, and Kachoor) in Udupi district of Karnataka (KA) on the banks of the Seeta River. It is the village I grew up in. I lived there from Class 4 to my Post-Graduation. That amounts to 15 years of my life. It is a village I ferociously hate now and never want to go back to – ever.

 Historical records say it was once the capital of the Tulu kingdom that ruled coastal KA. In the 15th and 16th centuries, it was also a thriving port! The Alupa rulers made Barkur their capital.  It was a province under the Vijayanagar Empire in 14th century A.D and an important administrative unit.  It was a sub capital of the Hoysala kings. The city had 365 temples. The King visited a temple every day, and on the last day of the year, he visited the most important Panchalingeshwara Temple. There are also Bhutastanas (spirit worshipping centres). Evidences of Megalithic and Mesolithic ages have been discovered. Nearly 100 stone and copper plate inscriptions have been found here.

As you enter Barkur the first thing you see is the Kallu chappara, or roof of stone. A nandi is seated in it. The Kalikamba Temple was built in the 14^th century. Barkur is the holy place for Mogaveera community. The Kula Maha Sthree Amma Temple is visited by Mogaveeras from all over the world. The temples here do not have gopurams, found in the Dravidian style South Indian temples. The Chowlikere Ganapathy Temple was built 900 years back, during the Chola Period.  

Barkur’s largest and oldest temple is the Panchalingeshwara Temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. Katthale Basadi consists Shiva, Vishnu and Jain deities proving the existence of changing kingdoms with different rulers controlling the city - politically and through religion. 

I should be proud of the village. But I am not. I have erased its memory from my mind. After my mother passed away in Oct 2003, I never went back to that village. For 12 long years I refused to set foot on its soil. The house without my mother was not my home anymore!  12 years of not turning back to the place that has a lot of childhood memories is something many cannot comprehend. 

 

It is a village of conservative, narrow-minded people, resentful of other’s success, actively gloating and sneering when someone fails in their educational or employment pursuits, not helping others even when one has the power to do so. It is still a highly caste conscious town where the first look is to ascertain which caste you belong to from the way you dress, speak or the jewellery you wear. Or on good days, brace yourself for direct questions like what is your father’s (full) name which will give away your caste. This then decides how much importance they give you, what type of utensils they use to serve you tea or even think it worthy of serving you at all. It is a place where I have witnessed all kinds of discrimination – rich against poor, high caste against low caste, educated against illiterate, the haves against the have-nots. 

I briefly went there last year, exactly around this time (Oct 2015). I was astonished to see that the village hasn’t progressed or modernised at all. Except for few shops here and there that have renovated themselves, the whole village is caught in a time warp. Many have settled in Middle Eastern countries or in big cities like Bombay and Bangalore earning handsomely, yet the money has not been pumped back into the village. 12 years later I go there and the questions I get asked are how much gold I’ve made in all these years, is the house I live in, in Bangalore our own or rented! 

How do I explain to them that, materially I’ve not accumulated much but life experiences and exposure-wise, I am a treasure house? Do I even make the effort? I don’t. I’ve no energy left. None of them matter to me.
I don’t really care for what they think. I have bid adieu to the place. And in my choice, I have found peace.

The Calling by Priya Kumar

Priya Kumar is the author of several books including “I Am Another You” which won the Eric Hoffer International Book Award, USA in 2014 and “Dream Dare Deliver” which was the Most Popular Book of 2015 on Amazon.  She is India’s first certified Woman Firewalk Instructor.

This is my first book review. 

The story revolves around Arjun, a corporate executive, who is in the midst of a painful divorce and has lost all sense of direction in life. Everything that he worked for, for so long, is falling apart. This is when he undertakes a sudden, unplanned, spur of the moment, spiritual voyage up to Hemkund Sahib in the Himalayas on the persistence of a Sadhu. The porter Chandu, who helps Arjun with the donkeys and the arduous expedition up the mountains, becomes an integral part of Arjun’s story.

The mountain is a central character in the book. And when Chandu says, “These mountains look still, but they are not. They are alive, they speak, they share your soul. They break all your connections with the material world and challenge you to make a higher spiritual one,” you know there is a lot of truth in it.

But, at certain points in the book, the same imagery turns out to be a minus for a reader like me, completely unfamiliar as I am with the Himalayan landscape. I found it difficult to recreate the scenes from the book in my mind. So for the most part, I was struggling very hard to visualize the entire journey undertaken by the protagonist – the snow covered mountains, the sliding land chunks, the earthquake, the caves, the streams and the valley.  

If you get past this hurdle, the book speaks to you just like the mountain spoke to Arjun. It calls out to you and touches your heart but only if your heart has ever bled before. If you are someone who has had the deepest black hole, the toughest times in your life and lived to tell the tale, The Calling will resonate with you. Otherwise, you will just question why you picked up the book in the first place and might need a real push to complete the reading.

There are many places where profound philosophical ideas are brought in. But at all times the insertion seems natural and simple. The wisdom and understanding of life is presented in simple words. Take, for instance, when you read the line, “When one nears spiritual compassion, people see divinity.” You get the underlying message immediately because the setting and the characters who speak these words are real, you can relate to them.

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 A man lost in his labyrinth of mistakes and on a journey through the Himalayas in search of his purpose in life is a concept we are all too familiar with. The way this lone man, faced with three near-death experiences during the journey, is used to bring out insightful thoughts on the meaning of life is the positive aspect of the narrative. The book could have been a drag but it is not for the weary soul. The words comfort and console and push you to get up, get going, be aware of your own inner self and your surroundings, to feel every emotion without trying to over-rule one with the other and respond to them with utmost sincerity.

The book has a happy ending, with the protagonist acknowledging the mistakes he committed in the past and resolving to undo the damages done. Once he becomes self-aware, the people in his life move closer. If you have ever been weighed down by life’s struggles and felt completely lost and worthless, read the book to find some succor.

Cruelty to Animals

The recent incident of a housewife in Bangalore who flung some stray puppies to their death shook me. A few days later, there were reports of a management graduate in Chennai who threw a dog from the terrace. Then, watched a Facebook video of the plight of Jersey calves in dairy farms across the U.K. where around 90,000 male dairy calves are shot every year within days of their birth because they have no value in the dairy industry! This kind of inconsiderate treatment of life makes me wonder if we are human at all. How cruel are we!  

If I try hard enough, I might still understand cruelty for survival. But cruelty for an insane sense of pleasure or out of lack of sensitivity to another living being or plain greed - that is something I can't grasp. When animals are overworked, brutally experimented on where they sometimes lose their eyesight or life itself, beaten black and blue because you are incapable of venting out your frustration on anyone else and you find a mute animal and you go mad on him, I have found these behaviours extremely hard to come to terms with.

Apparently, there is a term for the pleasure derived from cruelty to animals. It is Zoosadism. Ernest Borneman coined the term. It is a sign of sociopathic tendencies. Various studies have proven that if people like or are ready to cause harm to animals, they are equally likely to do so to humans as well. People diagnosed with certain psychopathologies, including antisocial behavior, have had a history of torturing pets and small animals. A study of psychiatric patients found that all of them had notably high levels of aggression toward people. And they had a history of repeatedly torturing dogs and cats.  Cruelty to animals commonly appears in the records of rapists and murderers. One extremely disgusting Zoosadist was Richard Chase, an American serial killer who killed 6 people in a single month. He would remove the guts from animals. He would them consume it raw or mix the organs with Coca-Cola in a blender and drink the brew. He believed that by eating the creatures he could stop his heart from shrinking. 

Insects are not spared either. Have we all not seen the child who pulls off a fly's wings? As a child, I remember neighborhood boys trapping butterflies in glass bottles and watching them die out of suffocation. Just because they have no human language we kill or maim innocent animals. They depend on us for food, for survival. They do have a speech pattern and language of their own. It’s a pity we humans don’t comprehend what they speak. Surely, we can’t let the poor souls suffer! Starvation, death, maiming of limbs – the things we humans do to animals without the slightest guilt whatsoever just because the animals cannot speak human language! Will we ever grow up to show compassion to another soul? It is sad, really. 

These things will not end unless we raise kids who are actively and consistently discouraged from harming another life, no matter how small the animal. There should be no hiding behind the excuse that “oh it was just for some childish fun.” Raising kids who have had at least one animal as a pet, whom they fed or took care of, will also help in stirring their empathy. Greater social awareness against animal abuse and stricter implementation of laws and punishments are needed too. But most important of all, we need to value all life forms, to be grateful to the diversity that God has created, to appreciate and know that every life is worthy; no one is above another, no one deserves pain. Can we all, as parents, make a difference and raise kids who learn to be thankful for God’s creations? Everything else is just noise. Ultimately, what a parent teaches a child is what stands the test of time. Empathy is a treasured emotion and the lack of it shows in every sphere of our lives. Look at the mess we have made of Mother Earth! Reckless humans! 

Turning 40

Exactly four years since my last post. And what is on my mind today? The New F word:

F for Forty, F for Fabulous

I know women getting maudlin at the threshold of 40. It’s like being in the last stage of cancer. It’s too much to handle, the calendar running away with our youth. I remember how jittery I was at 29 at the thought of turning 30. I felt weepy & depressed. Was there no stopping the clock? I kept wondering. Today, I’m eight months due for forty & actually, strangely, looking forward to it, planning to throw a big bash & announce to the world I’m 40!

I’ve never felt this good. Physically, body image insecurities have taken a beating. Slowly vanishing curves, protruding belly, tanned body from numerous road trips, falling hair, sagging skin - despite all this, I am unfazed. Are all 40 year olds this secure? My body confidence is definitely a boon of my advancing years. Or is it the certainty of death that has invigorated me?  Has it freed me from the bondage of other people’s opinion of me? I’ve been a prisoner so long! Time now to free myself! “Don’t sweat the small stuff” said Richard Carlson. Look at how many years it has taken me to get there.

“It took me 40 years to look this good.”

I’ve begun to question my own ideologies, to not be unsettled by the answers, to be shaken by the truth. I wasn't always this confident. Oh why not,I moan today! The years I’ve lost in trying to please people & confirm to their mould of how a woman from a certain place (Udupi) or caste (Shetty) or religion (Hindu) or profession (Teacher) behaves. “Lost myself trying to please everyone. Now I’m losing everyone while I’m finding myself" - Whoever said this, it echoes my sentiments perfectly. I finally know where I stand in my relationships with people – family, friends, and acquaintances. I can separate the grain from the chaff. And that knowledge, in itself, has been greatly liberating, saving this woman many a heartaches and needless stress.

“I’m 40 years old. I’m done with faking friendships & orgasms. Done”

Has the thought of turning 40 galvanized me? I’m finally unapologetic of my opinions, not ashamed of my desires. I abuse. I lust. I speak my mind. I think now I can surely punch people in the face, if needed. And simply dump the new found aggression at the door of my exploding hormones. I can beat my chest, puff it up & exclaim “Don’t you shhhh me anymore.” 

 “At middle age the soul should be opening up like a rose, not closing up like a cabbage.” John Holmes

To be able hear clearly our own voice amid the din surrounding us, to listen to the inner thoughts, to relish solitude, I believe TIME has already started its magical effects on me. Am I looking forward to my own end? Is that giving me wings to fly? Family taken care of, a child given birth to & raised, a husband well looked after, is it now time to let go? I hear doors of opportunities opening, for self-exploration, for trying out things, for dusting off the past, making one final, clean sweep. I’m looking ahead, ready to take chances, with people, & experiences, ready to let go. The lonely walk that was scary earlier is revered now.

Parallel Universe

How can you even begin to describe a person whose writing you admire immensely? I can’t. But what I CAN do is refer to 2 of my all time favorite posts on his blog: A Tragic Art and Mystic Meander to give you an idea of how beautifully he writes.

Presenting to you the third guest post on Conversations: Parallel Universe by Rajagopalan Ratnaraj whose blog name is A Beautiful Mind. Read on!

Almost every one of us has a thing for legacy! We dream of seeing our names in tabloids & billboards; our heart pulses up on every mention of our name. We all like to outlive our time in this world in some philosophical form unless your idea of mortality is to store a few of your skin cells in a Petri dish inside a robot programmed to live forever. But half way through our lives, we are smart (or foolish) enough to realize that greatness is destined to a select few who go on to change this world for good (or bad) & thrust their legacy into history books & their neighbors alike. Then we watch our favorite movie star who starts out as a son of a farmer, goes to the best college in the nation, romances the most beautiful girl, fights 20 baddies while smoking a cigarette, turns a millionaire in the course of a 5 minute song & lives happily ever after in the hearts of his people. And then we watch him do just about the same thing in his next movie: this time as a factory laborer’s son. I see one difference between him & me: he has me in his audience & I've me as my audience. Well, heck, who cares! A parallel universe is thus born!

We might or might not learn about the concept of a parallel universe in the inter-twined realms of physics and philosophy but we are certainly introduced to its more conceivable form by the various larger-than-life characters we see around us. Our parallel universe, when formed is a very crude one. It starts out as an inner world where we rehearse our future without the risk of failure. We start out longing to be someone famous, notorious, strong or intelligent. Our thoughts are someone else’s opinions and our passions are borrowed quotations. But slowly literature, science, philosophy, music: all make their way into our universe & we cease to be someone else’s shadow. We create a world that is magical & has the potential to create, give & most importantly make us truly immortal!

A parallel universe has no rules & no bounds. And certainly endless possibilities! A child might dream of being like his father one day while the father might be ready to give anything to be a child once again. Almost every one of us who read Ayn Rand in college would have dreamt of stopping the motor of this world, living out of the fantasy pages of Atlas Shrugged’s Objectivism. Columbus might have used a sextant to find his way through but could've dreamt of a GPS application on a cell-phone. Your mom might be buying a few nautical acres of land in the Indian Ocean to build a vacation home while you might be considering a skiing trip with penguins inAntarctica. Einstein could've travelled faster than the speed of light & thus achieved infinite mass. And all this could one day turn real!

But alas at some point, we are battered so much in our real lives that we resign & seek solace in our parallel world. It ceases to be that missile destined to launch you to glory & ends up as a luxury vehicle that takes you on an exotic holiday. It fuels your ambition no more; it just feeds your hurt ego. We come home, play the guitar, solve the Global Economic Crisis in an hour, write a book & get it published in the meantime. By the way, you do all this while you're partying in Hawaii. Then it is time to go to bed & wait until the next evening for another adventure. We give up reality & embrace an illusion. The parallel universe helps you live a hero’s life; it helps you dream about realizing your dreams without making any sacrifices; it is an effect without a cause. It helps you leave a legacy: at least (only) to yourself! It ends up as just a life within a life to make you feel that your life is actually good!

Parallel universe means different things to different people. It is eventually up to you to decide what you want to do with it. You can look at it as your book of enlightenment or as your evening entertainment channel. To me, it is an incredible philosophical paradox. If you work on it as a dream, it eventually becomes a reality. And if you imagine it as a reality, it stays as a dream. Well, If Beethoven could compose music without hearing; we can try to live a dream without dreaming!

Imagine you just painted your best work of art! You can sell it for a fortune. You can hang it above your bed & keep gazing at it for the rest of your life. You can gift it to the person you love the most. You can burn it down so that no one else ever has the single moment of ecstasy. The choice is yours. But don’t just imagine it: paint it! It would be a shame to imagine but not feel such a precious moment. Go ahead and create your own parallel universe. Who knows one day you might actually get to live in it! A parallel universe exists in the realms of every human mind. The question is: Do you want to be materialistic or not? Do you want it to work wonders for the world or just for yourself? The choice is yours!