A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 5 IN SEARCH OF SIGNIFICANCE

 

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 5

IN SEARCH OF SIGNIFICANCE

While talking to my grandson on FaceTime a few days ago (as I do every morning), I complimented him on a poem he had written in school. In fact, I was astonished that a twelve-year-old boy could write a poem running to about sixty lines on the American War of Independence. I reproduce a few lines to give an idea of his thinking process-

Fighting and fighting,

Waging a war,

Wondering what it’s worth,

What it’s worth fighting for.

In the years to come if the next generation continues with this mindset then I am sure that the world will become a better place to live in. What impressed me more was the quality of mentoring imparted at the school level in molding the thinking process of young minds.

As the subject for the day centered around poetry, I asked him whether he knew what ‘Haiku’ is. 

“Yes, it is a type of short-form poetry originally from Japan,” he replied.

“They taught you that in school?” I asked.

“Yes, we had a discussion on that,” he replied.

“I will read out a poem I had written, can you tell me whether it is a Haiku?” I asked. 

I then read out the following poem to him-

In the shade

of the redwood tree,

I stood, a fly,

In time and space,

Insignificant.

“No grandpa, it is strictly not a haiku. It is a short poem,” he said.

“And why so?” I asked.

“We were taught in school that a Japanese haiku consists of three lines or phrases with a 5-7-5 structure of syllables,” he said.

“But it does have other important features of a Haiku, like it is short and contemplative and has an emphasis on imagery,” I asked.

“Well, you can call it an English haiku,” he replied.

As I continued conversing with him I learned a few things myself, that it is never too early to understand nor is it never too late to learn. A few significant things arose from the conversation, though the keyword in the poem was ‘insignificant’. The most striking observation was when he said that ‘insignificant’ indicated ‘existential dread’. It left me groping for words. 

“And where did you learn that,? I asked.

“We had a discussion in school, and that’s where I heard about existential dread,” he replied.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked again.

“Oh, it is something to do with anxiety and finding a meaning in life,” he replied.

“But grandpa, no one is insignificant,” he continued “everyone is significant in some way isn’t it?”

“Yes, you have a point there,” I said and stopped.

I decided that it was time to change the topic of our conversation and veered off to more mundane things. I was afraid that we were stepping into an area that was far beyond the realms of childhood and disturbing the innocence that lay therein was not my idea of a conversation. He seemed to have touched a spot that had taken me years to understand and experience. I was also aware that he had only spilled out what he had picked up during the class. But he had touched a raw nerve when he talked of existential dread.

Several years ago (eleven to be exact), when on a visit to the US, I had the opportunity to visit the Muir Woods National Monument which is situated a few miles north of San Francisco. The 558-acre Monument preserves one of the last remaining ancient redwood forests in The Bay Area. Some of the redwoods are nearly 1,000 years old and reach heights of more than 250 feet. As I walked through the preserve I was overcome with a sense of awe looking at the humongous size of the trees: so tall and so broad around their trunks that you felt like just an insignificant dot in that landscape, for all purposes non-existent. As I found a place in a cavity of the trunk of one tree and stood there, my nephew who had accompanied me clicked a photo (the photo is attached along with this post). When I returned home to India and scanned through the photographs, this one stood out and I immediately penned the five lines reproduced above.  At that time what went through my mind was how small I looked compared to the giant redwood tree. 

It is only now, years later, that the question of ‘Existential dread’ rose again (after the talk with my grandson). I had long ago felt the anxiety, the dread of melting away into ‘Insignificance’, like Antoine Roquentin in Sartre’s novel ‘Nausea’. Throughout the novel, Roquentin grapples with uncertainty about his own existence and the existence of objects and people in the world around him. The seemingly impulsive act of picking up a pebble and throwing it into the sea overcomes him with nausea and the meaninglessness of his act. He is left searching for authenticity in his living. 

There is no general formula for tackling this anxiety of fading into insignificance. Each person carries his own burden and seeks out his own answers. Maybe that is why I found my way to becoming significant through my books. My first book ‘I am just An Ordinary Man’ arose out of this question of existential dread. Writing has given me release. 

In other words, it is the aspiration to be something of ‘Significance’.  But like my grandson said ‘no one is insignificant, everyone is significant in some way isn’t it?”

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 4 IN PURSUIT OF TRUE HAPPINESS

 

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 4

IN PURSUIT OF TRUE HAPPINESS

“What is happiness?” I asked.

He remained silent. When I repeated the question again, he said-

“I don’t know.” 

That was an odd answer coming from someone who was revered as a learned person and a Guru.

“Then why do people say they want to be happy,” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he again repeated. 

“But Guruji, frankly, they must be speaking on a stage where they will be devoid of all miseries and achieve what they desire. Is that what they call happiness?” I persisted.

“I really don’t know,” he said and then looked at me intently and smiled. He knew that I was getting irritated at not getting any positive response from him. 

“When have you been truly happy?” he suddenly asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“See, you have answered your own question. You do not know when you were truly happy. Isn’t it because you really do not know what true happiness is?” 

“I am confused,” I said.

“Well, we can at least start at this point, that we do not know what happiness is. What we call happiness can never be defined. It just happens, you can never plan to be happy, for it cannot be pursued. Again, it is subjective. It happens to different people at different times. So what is the point of looking out for definitions, or seeking other people’s views on it? The closest we can try to understand is that moment when all other thoughts come to a standstill and you are totally immersed in that sensation of joy. ‘True Happiness’ is always ‘Is’ it can never be ‘Will be’.”

“So Guruji, you said ‘sensation of joy’. Isn’t that happiness?” I asked.

“Well, I leave it to you to answer that to yourself. I talked to you about moments and the sensation of joy. How many times have you experienced these moments?”

I sat in front of him for some time, in silence. He smiled at me as I took my leave and left. I did not get an answer, but was left with a question, searching, trying to recollect those moments. They were only moments that passed away as we moved on in time and space, nothing everlasting. The conversation had left me in confusion. 

I remember that during one of my early morning walks along the seashore, I took a break and made my way toward the sea. It was still dark and a few minutes before dawn. I stood, feeling the cool air and the rhythmic motion of the waves and felt them, caress my feet as they flattened out before withdrawing back into the ocean. It was a strange feeling: mystic. And as I gazed at the distant sky, I saw a faint glow starting to light up the horizon. I watched as if a spell had been cast on me as the sun arose, a red orb, and at that moment when it came out and kissed the horizon, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of immense joy. At that moment, nothing mattered, only pure joy. As the sun rose the spell wore off and the day dawned. That feeling of pure joy lasted only for a few moments. I did try repeating the process several times later, but the intensity of the first experience was never captured. Though I did feel joy, maybe because I knew what to expect, the exhilaration of the first was missing. I still enjoy the dawn break and the sunset, with the sky, a canvas painted in brilliant hues; it made me happy. But that initial moment of happiness happened when there was no expectation. That moment frozen to eternity would have been everlasting happiness. I realized that our life is spent in pursuit of such moments and to eternalize them. Sad, the truth is those moments pass and so does our life. 

Way back in 2011 my wife and I went to the US to be with our daughter who had just delivered a baby boy. The six months we stayed looking after our grandson was one extended period of moments of joy. Every time I gazed into the eyes of the child I was carried away by the pure innocence, and when he smiled, it was sheer joy. And when we left I carried back the images of those moments. There is joy in pure innocence and happiness in experiencing

I have had many trysts with moments of joy and the resultant expression of happiness - these have been spontaneous moments, whether it was during a walk in the rain along the beach road listening to music from my iPod, or reveling as a child dancing in the rain and jumping onto puddles,  These were never contemplated or pursued, it just happened. I have always loved to see the rainfall. At such times I would sit by the window watching the droplets dancing on the ground and listen to their patter. As a child, I remember making small paper boats and watching them move along with the stream of water. Who does not savor moments like this, especially with a hot cup of coffee or tea accompanied by hot pakoras or bhajjias. I know you will say yes. 

The other day I met a friend of mine during my evening walk along the beach. Don’t ask me whether I keep on walking along the beach road perpetually. Well, this time it was evening, and no I don’t walk perpetually, for then I would have felt like Sisyphus rolling the rock up the hill to eternity. But seriously, I find it spiritually elevating with the waves and the sea and the sun, whether it is rising or setting. I find myself in the twilight zone, between reality and fantasy. Well, when I came across my friend, my conversation with the Guru was still playing in my mind, so the first question I asked him was “are you happy?”.

For a moment he was taken back, maybe wondering how anyone could start a conversation like this, but then he looked at me quizzically and said-

“Of course, I am happy. But why did you ask.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I answered.

“That’s ok. I am just curious why you should suddenly ask that question,” he said.

“You see I was just continuing a conversation I was having with myself,” I said and laughed.

“Well, let me join in,” he said and also laughed.

“Ok. Were you happy yesterday,” I asked.

“I guess so, maybe,” he replied with a frown lining his forehead.

“Will you be happy tomorrow?”

“I hope to be. At least that is what I would like,” he replied.

“So the only thing you are sure of is that you are happy now, isn’t it? I asked.

“Yeah, I am sure of that,” he said.

“What is it that makes you happy right now?” I asked again.

“Well, I received news that I have been promoted as General Manager in my company. I was just thinking about how everything has worked out well for me. That made me happy,” he said.

“Congratulations. May there be many more moments of happiness,” I said.

“So what next?” he asked.

“Nothing. I am done for the day. Since we have met after some time, let us complete our walk and have coffee at the stall there.”

We continued our conversation on other mundane topics as we walked and as dusk descended and the last rays of the setting sun disappeared, we said bye and headed home. 

We usually connect happiness with the achievement of certain goals or aspirations. That is understandable. A parent feels happy at the success of the child in all his/her endeavors. We are happy that we have done well and achieved our targets and earned our promotion, acquired assets that we have long planned to get, and so on. Well, these are moments that we build up to with the anticipation that they will make us happy. That is true and maybe that’s what we would like to term as ‘in pursuit of happiness’. But true happiness is the spontaneous outburst of joy when all other emotions come to a standstill, a magical moment.  Thich Nhat Hanh the revered Zen Buddhist monk says “True happiness isn’t found in success, money, fame, or power. True happiness should be found in the here and now”.

I recalled my conversation with the Guru who said “What we call happiness can never be defined. It just happens, you can never plan to be happy, for it cannot be pursued”.  

But perhaps one of the best quotes that I have come across and that lends credence to what I have said so far is -

"The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us." —Ashley Montagu

I asked myself whether there is such a thing as perpetual or everlasting happiness, the kind that the saints and mystics spoke of, Ramana Maharishi, the Buddha, and others. The only thing I am sure of is that I am neither a mystic nor a saint, I am but a mere mortal in pursuit of happiness that will lessen the burden of living.

I reproduce a few lines from my poem ‘Moments of Happiness’ -

These are certain moments and they pass me by,

They remain etched in my memory, as I try

To understand what is my quest,

To perpetuate these moments, I try my best.

For these are goals that move away,

Before I can rest and have my say,

And hope everyone finds happiness

On his way.

REMEMBERING MY SISTER

 

REMEMBERING MY SISTER

A bubbly teenager, a pretty woman transitioning into a graceful elder, this is what stays in my memory. Though I would like to forget the last four, or five years when she suffered from the ravages of Parkinson's disease, watching the slow deterioration and increasing suffering of someone who was lovable and whom you loved. That was my sister who passed away one could say peacefully on 10th January 2023. We console ourselves that when the end came it was sudden and at home, but a loss is a loss that can never be recovered. Her mental faculties had not suffered despite the disease; at her age of eighty-three, she could converse on the phone, though with a distinct slur. 

She was a very caring person, and that stood out in the way she interacted with people around her. I can still visualize her sitting by my side whenever I had my asthmatic episodes as a young boy, not knowing what to do except be there and by her presence afford some relief. She was timid by nature and I feel that could have been due to the fact that my mother was a very strong personality and was overtly overprotective where her daughter was concerned. A latently talented person who showed promise in music and dance could never achieve fruition. She was married at the age of seventeen as was the norm during those days and for a woman, the avenues for self-development more or less came to an end as she settled down to the duties of a housewife. Going away from home to set up her own at that age must have been very difficult, but things settled down with a supportive husband. 

I remember that after my father expired, my mother and I along with my grandmother moved to Madras to complete my schooling. She and my brother-in-law were there to stay with us and help cushion the loss before they moved to Calcutta. It was there that she spent a long time with her family. She adjusted to the new life and found her bearings in what should initially would have been alien surroundings. She spoke Bengali fluently, and when I look back, I am inclined to believe that Calcutta did feed her with some fodder for her latent interests. I know she was very happy there, perhaps the best period of her life. 

It was during my five years stay at IIT Kharagpur that I got to know her even better for I used to visit Calcutta at least once or twice a month during weekends and stay with her. I remember the puja holidays spent at her home. It was a very happy period. In my fourth year at IIT, I was down with typhoid and spent my recuperation time with her. I can never forget the concern with which she took care of me. 

She was eleven years older than me and so when she was married, I was only six years old. In a photograph sent to me by my niece, I can be seen sitting behind her during the marriage ceremony. It did bring back a flood of memories. Yes, I can still recover some of those memories though it was a long time ago. The marriage was held in our village Gopalasamudram and practically the whole village turned out and sat through the night to listen to one of the top Carnatic musician’s nadaswaram recital which was arranged on the occasion. 

I can keep writing about her, but it is not my intention to write a biography. I have only touched on those recollections that came to my mind immediately and I do not want to dilute my remembrance of her with long-winded narrations. I still want to remember her as that bubbly teenager, a pretty woman, a graceful elder, and someone who exuded love and compassion.

When the end came, though it was sudden she was blessed, since it was in the home of her son and while on Facetime with her daughter who resides in Chicago. It’s only memories that stay with us while she makes her way to the land of the Gods. 

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 3

 

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 3

A few years ago while I was on my evening walk along the Tiruvanmiyur beach road, I met him. He seemed at least ten to twelve years elder to me, nearing his eighties possibly. Sitting on a seat by the sidewalk with the sea behind and watching the setting sun. For me, it was a poignant sight: who knew it could be me ten years hence, a preview. I have seen him there before, many times. At times he would be missing for a few months and that would set me wondering where he was or what had happened to him. That day I decided to talk to him, so I went and sat next to him and smiled in greeting, and asked him, “Haven’t seen you around for some months. Hope you are doing fine?” That was the first time I had spoken to him and introduced myself.

 

“Thank you for asking. I am just fine; my wife and I have been away to the US to spend some time with our children and grandchildren. By the way, my name is Vishwam (a pseudonym which I have used in my book ‘Autumn Leaves-Seasons of Life’).”

 

Then started a conversation that ultimately became the backdrop for my book.

 

“You must have had a lovely time being with your loved ones,” I said.

 

“Yes, especially with the grandchildren. They are young and affectionate. They are also growing up and in a couple of years, they will also be busy and will have lesser time to spend with us. But I guess that things take their own course and that’s how it will be,” he replied.

 

I could detect a hint of melancholy in the way he said that. He was talking to me but his gaze was far away directed at the setting sun. 

 

“I am sorry if I am interrupting your need to be alone. I fully respect that.”

 

“No. It’s perfectly ok, and at times like this, the need to talk to someone arises. I am happy you decided to take a break from your walk to come and sit here,” he said.

 

I sat silently waiting for him to continue for I knew he wanted to talk. From behind us, a cool breeze blew in from the sea with the sound of the waves in the background and the setting sun, a red orb now in front of us, preparing to disappear into the horizon. There was still some light and the neon lamps started lighting up along the beach road.

 

“I returned only last week after a six-month stay in the US. You wouldn’t believe it but during the last couple of months, I was exhausted from doing the same thing every day. All said and done even if you are with your loved ones, the stark reality is that they are busy with their own work and lives. My wife missed her temple and the celebrations that accompany each festival. I missed my long walks and daily interactions with friends and neighbors and the freedom to move out on my own. I missed my space. The funny thing is when we are here we are excited to be going there. The grass is always greener on the other side, isn’t it? We have had no thoughts about staying permanently in the United States; we never wanted to. I knew we would miss our home back here, our friends, the cultural ethos we are used to, and above all, it is here that we could be ourselves. Maybe one day we will decide to go when we are unable to withstand the creeping loneliness that comes as we age and our physical inability to carry on our own. It will not be an easy decision. There will be problems of accommodation and adjustment given the generation gap, but you are left with no choice. To a certain extent, the emotional need may be taken care of by having your own near you. But you will always be left with the feeling that you are a burden. Well, I speak for myself. Both my sons are abroad and I really have no choice. Lucky are those who have at least one of their children based in India; it’s a comfort. I know a number of my friends have moved over to Senior Living facilities, either because they do not want to go or because their children are not in a position to take them over. Well, I guess there is no universal solution for this. I personally cannot fit into this arrangement. In a sense, I have learned to be alone. I know that I am being selfish burdening my children with worry over our day-to-day welfare. I am seventy-eight years old now and maybe I will take a decision soon.” Vishwam said.

 

 

I understood the dilemma of Vishwam. Our children staying out of the country themselves face a number of challenges. The foremost is having aged parents back home in India and worrying about their well-being day in and day out, apart from having to cater to the habits and lifestyles of their adopted country. Neither able to completely identify themselves, nor able to stick to their roots, they find themselves at the crossroads. Many parents opt out even if their children are in a position to sponsor them for a green card because they feel uncomfortable adjusting to a new environment where they may have to shed all those things they have grown up with. This is understandable; it’s very difficult to move out of your comfort zone, your memories, family traditions, and cultural practices. So the dilemma is on both sides. Neither is to blame.

 

We sat for some more time in silence and as the sun just disappeared over the horizon, I got up to go back home.

 

“I am also leaving, let us walk together. I will be going to the temple before heading home. That’s also a daily routine. My wife would have already finished her temple visit and will be back home, busy in the kitchen. We are used to this for so many years that any small change in the routine distracts us. So you can imagine how we would have spent six months in the US,” Vishwam said. 

 

Aging is a process that can never be reversed. Acceptance of the fact makes it easier to carry on. As your children move away seeking their own pastures, they drift away to longer distances and that is the reality of life now. Gone is the generation when families stayed together and to an extent staved off the loneliness that accompanies old age. But this came at a cost. The cost of encroaching on individual freedom. We never learned to be alone. The distance in space and time brings with it its own dilemmas. Aging brings with it infirmity and loneliness; the reality of the present day is that most are left to fend for themselves. The misery is on both sides of the ocean. 

 

Having seen around me the reality of aging and loneliness predominant, the younger generation moving still further away and the older ones slowly learning to cope with being by themselves. In my book ‘Autumn Leaves-Seasons of Life,’ I talk about this reality. The story traces the disintegration of families from what was once a joint one with a ruling patriarch and the other members strewn around not far away, to single units ultimately spread out in far and distant lands; the slow but perceptible shifting away in distance and relationships and acceptance of which as a reality was unalterable.

 

I end with an extract from my book ‘Autumn Leaves- Seasons of Life’-

 

“The advancement in knowledge and the growth in opportunities away from home, contributing ta more independent individual learning to live life on his own terms, though desirable, has led to the splintering of families and in a sense an inevitable reality of being left alone as one aged. ‘AutumnLeaves’ traces one such family’s travel through four generations. Krishnan finds himself sandwiched between his father Vishwam’s and his own children's generations similar to what his father had gone through; each moving away to accept new values and shedding old ones which had ceased to be relevant, to accommodate the changing world.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 2

 

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 2

“The word 'listen' contains the same letters as the word 'silent'.”

― Alfred Brendel

“When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.”

― Ernest Hemingway

“Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”

― Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful

This journal is a record of the lessons that life has taught me. I am still learning. I do confess that much of what I have written below are stages that most of us pass through or come across in the course of our living. I have been guilty of many of the transgressions I have dared to list. But I have learned and tried to correct myself. The purpose of sharing this is the fond hope that it helps us to introspect and realize where we stand. It's never too late to change and correct. In the end, our life is all about relationships.

Listen and be heard. Most of the time you are busy listening to your own voice so much that you are not sure you have been listened to. Most of the time you shout to make sure you are heard, but sadly the receiver shuts himself off rather than listen to the noise. In the process, you lose your authenticity and termed a loud mouth with no substance. You do not matter. More often than not, shouting is a defense mechanism to camouflage your own insecurities. Calmness results from self-assurance and from recognizing your strengths and more importantly your weaknesses.

Don’t keep talking about options and alternatives for everything. Of course, it is necessary to evaluate what is best for you, but too many options and too many alternatives for deciding day-to-day mundane activities will only end up getting nothing done. In the process, you will end up confusing not only yourself but also the other person to whom it is addressed. I am reminded of the book ‘Zen and the Art of Archery’. When you aim, too many options and alternatives will only serve to distract you and the arrow will never find the mark.

It is easy to order but difficult to execute. You may be master of the house but that does not mean you should expect servitude from others around you, especially your partner and spouse. It appalls me to see a chauvinistic male riding roughshod over his wife for trivial things forgetting that she has an equal or more than an equal right in running the house. It is time the spouse called a spade a spade and draws the line. Everyone has a value, the faster you realize it, the more conducive your relationships will become. Become a participant and add value to your partner.  My wife and I have been married for forty-five years now, and though we have had our differences it was never anything major. I have never shouted at her nor has she lost her cool. 

Some time ago I was talking to my niece and the conversation veered off to the topic of male chauvinism. That was when I first learned that there was a word for it ‘Mansplaining’. Afterward, when I looked up the meaning of the word, this is what the dictionary had to say ‘to explain something to a woman in a condescending way that assumes she has no knowledge about the topic’. 

The root of this word is traced back to a series of essays written by Rebecca Solnit way back in 2012 and most specifically in her book ‘Men Explain Things to Me’. She says -

“Men explain things to me, still. And no man has ever apologized for explaining, wrongly, things that I know and they don’t”.

“Arrogance might have had something to do with the war, but this syndrome is a war that nearly every woman faces every day, a war within herself too, a belief in her superfluity, an invitation to silence, one from which a fairly nice career as a writer (with a lot of research and facts correctly deployed) has not entirely freed me. After all, there was a moment there when I was willing to let Mr. Important and his overweening confidence bowl over my more shaky certainty”.

While reiterating that credibility is a basic survival tool, she writes “Having the right to show up and speak are basic to survival, to dignity, and to liberty. I’m grateful that, after an early life of being silenced, sometimes violently, I grew up to have a voice, circumstances that will always bind me to the rights of the voiceless.” 

While I can empathize with the feelings of Rebecca Solnit regarding male chauvinistic behavior, I find it equally true in same-gender interactions. It happens at the work level and relationship levels. I have seen, whether a male or a female, seeking dominance in interactions and mostly being rude and in a condescending manner. I have seen this happening with colleagues and more importantly within the family and that is where the damage occurs, many times irreparable.

Most such behavior stems from the ‘Know it all attitude’, not accepting the fact that the person you are talking to may be more than qualified to rebut your statements. I have found that such attitude can be traced back to childhood and upbringing. You spend most of the time deriding others forgetting the adage ‘the pot calling the kettle black’.

Stop commenting on other people's physical attributes you are not perfect yourself. Once when I commented to my daughter about her friend that she has put on weight and was looking fat, she looked at me and said ‘Pa, stopped body shaming. It really hurts. Hope she did not hear what you said.” That was when I learned what body shaming was. That was a lesson I learned, not to pass derogatory comments. Of course, now I tell my daughters to be physically active and look after their health. A more subtle way of conveying that they need to look after themselves. 

Perhaps one of the most important words I have come across is ‘dumping’. I have learned over time that most of what we acquire does not really serve its purpose. There is nothing wrong with wanting to own the latest gadgets, that is a human tendency-to own. I am at a stage where I do not know what to dump and where. The acquisitions have encroached on my space so the mantra as someone told me is ‘Dump it’. There is nothing wrong with acquisitions as long as they serve their purpose, and once that is done they are pushed to the side to be ultimately ‘dumped’. This cannot be carried to relationships. I went back in time to a period when as a young man much into music and newfound economic freedom (the aftermath of the first job) went about acquiring the things that I always wanted to have – a motorcycle, a stereo system, music LPs and ultimately a wife; for all practical purposes, it was in that order. The others have been dumped while the last one endures. That’s the point, in the end, what matters are the things that endure. 

My wife abhors wastage of any kind and this has rubbed off on me. The most grievous wastage is of food. One should indulge to satisfy one’s gastronomic urges once in a while. That should do the trick, but make it a habit and you are in for trouble with your health as well as your purse. More than that, most of the time unable to consume what you have got, the easiest way you find is to ‘dump it’. This is serious business for what you have dumped could have gone towards feeding a few needy mouths. Get what you want and get what you can eat. 

Humor is an essential part of our living. It lightens the heart and enlivens our living. But not when you try to pass off sarcasm as humor. It is hurtful and dims relationships. I have also been guilty of such transgressions, till I fell a victim to such jibes. I have since become conscious of what I speak, but I still can’t stop hitting out at sarcasm with sarcasm. Maybe I shall in due course learn to ignore and move on. That could be an effective counter. But why the sarcasm? Isn’t it better to be straight than devious?

TO BE CONTINUED