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

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 1

 

A JOURNAL OF LIFE’S LESSONS- PART 1

I don’t know whether to feel sorry or get angry. I realize that either of these emotions is not being helpful. But surely I feel concerned and that is something I cannot help. I know that now I am of the old(er) generation and marching towards being a relic to be confined to the cupboard at the corner of the room. Every generation has its own value systems and way of life suited to the ever-changing world around. And that is the truth and it has happened to my generation also but there are certain principles which are the basis of good living in whichever era you belong to. 

Sitting in that chair at the corner of the room, I observe, for I have learned not to speak or sermonize lest it hurt the sensibilities of those around. So I let them be and work their own way through this maze of life and hopefully reach a stage of personal satisfaction. But I cannot let go of this concern. So I found that the best way to lighten this burden of concern is to write it down. Maybe you will read, maybe not; maybe you will agree, maybe you will not. Maybe I shall learn of my own shortcomings and accept and move on a wiser man; maybe I shall rant and remain where I am, self-piteous and not willing to accept changing perceptions. But at least now having written what I have felt like saying, maybe I shall have the courage to look at myself in the mirror.

I started my life as an ordinary man and retired to a satisfactorily normal life except perhaps passing through periods of extraordinariness that I could never sustain. I am not being vain but that is the truth. In my book “I am just An Ordinary man’ I wrote  ‘I have lived an ordinary life. I have done all that the others have done and at the end of the day when I evaluate my life, I find I have not made any lasting contribution’, but that is not the entire truth. Maybe I am judging with different yardsticks. To be true when I look back at my life I am satisfied. My wife and I live a normal life. There were wants but not great ones and they were fulfilled. A modest salary by today’s standards, a good career and by the time I retired, our children were educated and married. A decent amount of savings and pension from the bank and a flat which I was wise enough to invest in, way back in the early years of my career, ensured a decent retired life, again underlining the fact that our wants were simple and few.  

So what are these principles which are the basis of a good living, whichever era you belong to- 

The first and foremost are relationships. We are social animals and it is through interactions with our kind that we derive empathy, the satisfaction of our need to relate and be recognized, compassion, and love. There should always be reverence, and humility in our approach, for that apart from creating respect enhances our self-esteem and acts as a mirror to recognize our own distortions.

I came across a passage from Will Durant’s book ‘Fallen Leaves' - 

‘Children and fools speak the truth, and somehow they find happiness in their sincerity’

‘Watch him, and see how bit by bit, he learns the nature of things by random movements of exploration. The world is a puzzle to him; and these haphazard responses of grasping, biting, and throwing are the pseudophobia, which he puts out to a perilous experience. Curiosity consumes and develops him; he would touch and taste everything from his rattle to the moon. For the rest, he learns by imitation though his parents think he learns by sermons. They teach him gentleness, and beat him; they teach him mildness of speech, and shout at him; they teach a Stoic apathy to finance, and quarrel before him about the division of their income; they teach him honesty, and answer his most profound questions with lies. Our children bring us by showing us, through imitation, what we really are.’

We think we know what our children want and what they should do. Listen to your child. If only you can cast aside your ego and listen, a child has a lot to teach, for in its innocence there is truth, and the truth is what we avoid as we grow older for we are afraid to look at our own failures, our weaknesses. In trying to shield your shortcomings you try to impose them on the child. Remember our children bring us by showing, through imitation, what we really are. 

Children are sensitive so don’t shout at them pointing out what you think are their faults. Don’t shame them for they are sensitive and will carry that in their psyche. I have seen parents shout at their children in front of others. This is the worst kind of hurt that you can inflict on the child. I remember that I was never shouted at, or have I shouted at my children. Maybe I carried over what my parents did to me. It is good to teach your child to reach for the sky, but ask yourself whether you ever did reach the sky. Respect a child’s capabilities and accept that he is good as he is. It is better to teach the child that it is ok to be rooted to the ground first, he will learn to fly later and maybe reach for the sky in his own time. We ultimately pass on our values to the child, so introspect and set your values right if they need to be set right. Telling your child to be a good person is the best value you can instill. Remember many a child prodigy has faded away as they grew older because of the pressures and expectations that they have been subjected to by their parents primarily. 

TO BE CONTINUED

IMMERSIVE MONET & THE IMPRESSIONISTS

 

IMMERSIVE MONET & THE IMPRESSIONISTS

On the 1st of September 2022, I found myself submerged, not in the water, but in the paintings of Monet and the Impressionists at the Lighthouse Artspace Chicago. The Show was  ‘Immersive Monet & The Impressionists’. As I stood in the center of the hall and proceeded to walk from room to room, I literally walked through the paintings of Monet, Renoir, Degas, Manet, Toulouse-Lautrec and Pissaro, and a few other Impressionists. When I stood on the upper floor and watched the paintings come to life on all the walls, the floor below, and the ceiling, it was magical, to say the least. In fact, when Monet’s ‘Water Lilies’was on display, I could see the water in the pond and the lilies on the floor, making me want to touch it. The highlight for me was looking at Monet’s ‘Impression Sunrise’ with the changing hues as one watched them on the walls. Monet’s ‘Woman with a Parasol’ most probably depicts Madame Monet and her  son, and ‘La Gare St.Lazare’ is a depiction of the Paris station, which Emile Zola described, “One could hear the hum of the trains and see the smoke overflowing into the galleries.” And that’s exactly what I felt- the train moving and the smoke coming out seemed to overwhelm the gallery. There were many great paintings of the other Impressionists, some of whom I could identify- Degas’s ‘Ballet Dancers’, Manet’s ‘Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe’, and Renoir’s classic ‘Bal du Moulin de la Galette’ which is a simple slice of life of the working class Paris. The use of light and color in all these paintings creates a movement in our minds which stay forever.

I had a similar feeling when in Paris I was at the Musee d’Orsay and as I stood there in the halls surrounded by the paintings of Monet, Manet, Renoir, Sisley, Cezanne, and other impressionists and Van Gogh it was a pilgrimage fulfilled for me.

There is so much to be said of Impressionism, but I would rather start with the words of Claude Monet, “It’s on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.”

if you take the paintings of Claude Monet, he lays emphasis on the changing effect of light on the subject and visible brush strokes. This is very much seen in a series of paintings he made of the sunset called ‘Impression Sunrise’. It is from this painting that the word for the movement, Impressionism evolved. 

But perhaps the forerunner of Impressionism and the Expressionist movement in art is Turner (Joseph Mallard William Turner 1775-1851), Though he and John Constable (1776-1837) were exact contemporaries, their approach to depicting nature deferred. While Turner sought to capture emotion, perpetually aiming to be extraordinary, Constable sought to capture the grass, the skies, and the British countryside as it was, with its farms, churches, and bridges as they were. Turner was referred to as the Philosopher while Constable was the scientist. Turner preferred to paint outdoors and was so obsessed with natural illumination that his final words were, "The sun is God.”

If we look at the impressionistic painters such as Claude Monet we see the effect of Turner in the way they depicted nature. But you find their tones are much softer, but the similarity in style can be seen. The powerful and overwhelming nature of Turner, can be seen in the expressionists like Van Gogh.

The Impressionists like the Romantic landscape painters did not seek to control nature, they sought to capture the fascinating, ever-changing, and unpredictable moods of it through scale and treatment of space, brushstroke, and new relations of color to tone. They often sought to capture the sublime, with a strong emphasis on sensation ”.  The impressionist painter is concerned more with the visual impression of the moment, especially in terms of the shifting effects of light and color.

So it was, as I stood in the midst of all these moving paintings capturing the moments as seen through the eyes of the painter, I was transported to the sublime world of the artist having the quality of such greatness, magnitude, or intensity, that our ability to perceive or comprehend it is temporarily suspended.  To understand Sublime, I have not found a better painting than the painting ‘Wanderer above the Sea of Fog’ by Casper David Friedrich, the German Romantic artist. The painting draws attention to the smallness and insignificance of an individual in comparison to the untamed and possibly hostile natural setting. In it, one can even sense the immensity of the mysteries before us. When we stand on the shores and look across the oceans, we are struck with wonderment and also a sense of fear at the immensity before us. The awe is beyond definition. The same sense prevails when we look at the night sky, the stars, and the world beyond. One would want to merge with this immenseness. This is exactly how I felt. It was a sublime feeling standing in the midst and being transported into each of the paintings that were on display. 

FINDING MY CITADEL: MY MIRROR AND ME

 

BOOK REVIEW

FINDING MY CITADEL: MY MIRROR AND ME

by HARI BASKARAN

When I went through the Author's Bio I was amazed at what Shri Hari has achieved after attaining the age of 60 taking up cycling as a hobby and physical activity, culminating in a 250 km ride dedicated to children affected by cancer, to trekking in the Himalayas up to a height of 5000 meters. At the ripe age of 70, he went on a Cyclothon from Chennai to New Delhi a distance of 3000 km partnering with HelpAge India to inspire Senior Citizens. It has been necessary for me to summarize the author’s bio mainly because the reader will be able to understand and appreciate the person behind the book. Obviously, such a person has to be a leader and successful in the Corporate world where he spent most of his working life. When you read the book you travel along with him on his journey, his trials and tribulations, his overcoming self-doubt to faith in his abilities, and this sets him apart from the crowd.

Chapters 1 to 7 trace this aspect of his life. For me, the book really starts from Chapter 8 - Finding Me. It’s here his spiritual journey starts when he says that finding oneself is a lifelong journey to seek the divine within you. The passage - ‘The starting point of the journey is to have a deep desire to understand the fundamental questions of who we are and what is the purpose of our lives is explicit enough. One can understand his attitude to life ‘Every moment is an opportunity to learn and grow and then when we break out of an excessive concern for ourselves, and with innate compassion reach out to help as many people as possible, every moment of our lives is then an opportunity to create value and to sow seeds of happiness around us. Shri Hari Bhaskaran comes out as a very spiritual person and believes that the simple act of faith showed him the power of sincere prayers. He talks about Relative Happiness and Absolute Happiness and is a believer in NIchiren Buddhism and quotes from Daisaku Ikeda the third President of Soka Gakai that Prayer without action is just wishful thinking and action without prayer is unproductive.

In all, I would classify this book under the self-help category, written by a person who has seen both sides of the coin. Except for the fact that some misspellings have crept into the narrative, the book is a sincere attempt to bring out the lessons learned during his journey of life and share them with the reader so that it can be both helpful and a positive guide to self-actualization.

https://www.amazon.in/Finding-My-Citadel-Joy-Mirror-ebook/dp/B0BB7YWSBB/ref=sr_1_1?crid=9TYMJMBJ8FLX&keywords=finding+my+citadel+of+joy+my+mirror+and+me&qid=1662349629&sprefix=Finding+my+citadel%2Caps%2C197&sr=8-1

SIGNS OF THE FALL?

 

I looked through the large arched window at the red of the Japanese Maple tree with the soothing green of the lawn spread in the background. From inside the house, it looked as though I was looking at a large landscape painting. My previous visits were during the Fall and going into Winter. This time we landed at the beginning of May in what is supposedly Spring - Summer, but we were welcomed by a cold, windy, and raining Chicago. Since then, there have been bouts of sunshine, rain, and thrice even a tornado warning. But for the past month, the weather has been warmer and even hot for a week reminding me of the weather we had left behind in Chennai. While here we were told that it is very hot and the weatherman (who is pretty accurate in his forecasts) warned that exposure would make one susceptible to heat strokes, I felt cold inside the house aching for the sunny outside. The best part of the day has been the morning walks around the neighborhood, feeling the tender warmth of the sun and gazing at the cooling green of the trees and the grass that embraced the surroundings. My wife and I enjoy this part of the day, for apart from the physical activity it is the peaceful surroundings that act as a massage for the mind (you come across only half a dozen people who greet you with a hello and pass you by). 

For the past few days, there has been a perceptible coolness seeping in, a nip in the air you may say, which we felt during the morning walks. Here and there the ground was strewn with yellow leaves, and as I looked at them a faint glimmer of hope arose that Fall could come earlier this year. Maybe it was my wishful thinking for the images of the Fall of 2018, when I was last here, are still fresh in my mind. Exhilarating as it was, Autumn has always reminded me of life’s glories and decadence; the leaves of the trees went through their complete cycle from several shades of green, then from yellow to orange, and finally to red and then brown. I reproduce a passage from my book ‘Autumn Leaves- Seasons of Life'

I watched as the leaves fell from the tree near the balcony, once green, then golden yellow, brown, and then on the ground. The tree stood barren and stripped; waiting for winter, to be covered white with snow, the rejuvenation in spring, and glory in summer to once again the fall. The cycle continues. Isn’t it very similar to the processes we undergo during our lives? Then would winter signify the hibernation we undergo after death to be rejuvenated and born again during spring? 

Usually, it is towards the second half of October that it starts and stays in full bloom till the first week of November. This time I knew I was going to miss it as I was due to return to India by the second week of October. But it was as if I was willing it to happen earlier so that I could carry back with me once again the images of life in its full bloom.

Today, as usual on my morning walk I was absorbed in the greenery and looking at each tree to see if there was a speck of color creeping in. All that I found were some leaves turned yellow, some brown lying around. Suddenly I saw a speck of what appeared to be a piece of colored paper on the path ahead. When I stooped to pick it up, I realized that it was a maple leaf. My joy knew no bounds as I looked at the various shades of green, yellow, red, and a small portion of brown. It was as if I was holding the whole of Autumn in my hand. I brought it back with me and placed in a copy of my book Autumn Leaves. I know the colors will fade, but that moment of joy will remain.

I would end this post with a quote from Stephen King

"But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous a** as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you." — Stephen King, Salem's Lot