Surviving through that Humiliation - A day of Disgust!

I write this to that child with disability. She, who needs to hear one of my many nightmares. My scars. And how they shape me till date.

I was 16 years old then. SSC Class X public exam, it was that day. American president Bill Clinton was visiting Hyderabad. And I needed to get to the exam centre early; At least 3 hours early to avoid any delays from traffic.

Amma and I started in an auto that day. The March month of the year 2000. Even as we began to reach, I knew my medical condition – lack of bladder control – was going to make its presence felt that day. Thankfully, Autos in this country have leather seats, I had thought and always do! By the time I reached the centre, my pants had soiled partially. I was embarrassed to the core.

Is all okay, Amma asked. Hmm ya, I said without any thought but I was soaking in shame and disgust about myself. How can a young teenager ever console himself that he is not to blame for his own condition? He cannot. I could not.

When we reached the exam centre, I sat on a cement bench, uneasy and distressed. A small crowd was gathering. Amma hadn’t eaten in the morning and was worried about my Sister being along at home. I stared at other students coming to the exam centre. I was also scared that my friends would arrive soon and I may have to get up or make small talk. I put on a stiff face, bringing my legs closer, even as the stomach churned again.

Ennachu, Is all okay? Amma asked again.

Yes Maa, I said in a frustrating tone.

Why do you get irritated all the time? Speak politely!, said Amma.

Seri Ma, I replied.

An hour later, I was climbing the stairs to the second floor. To go to the exam room. As I got onto the steps, my pants completely were soiled now, even as some students moved away from me, embarrassed by the very sight of my hygiene. Tears formed in my eyes as I slipped and fell on steps once. The writing pad fell too. And the cement steps imprinted with the wetness of my pants.

I wanted to run away then. But given my other medical condition, I couldn’t run! Also, I knew Amma would be waiting for me at the school gate. I shook with humiliation about myself, yet kept climbing the stairs. I reached the exam room, drenched in sweat, my own pee, and poop. The exam was to begin in 15 minutes.

After the hall-ticket was checked once again, I went to sit in one of the benches. A wooden one. I thanked a million Gods that it was wood. But was repulsed at the colour of my ‘Khaki’ uniform. I have never liked that colour since that day. 5 minutes to go for the exam to begin.

 A girl from another school arrived and sat to the other end of my bench. She held a handkerchief to her nose immediately. It brought back another horrible memory. So, I sided myself to the wall, wanting to hide into it out of sheer nausea about myself. Another boy turned back to look at me then. Was he sneering because of my stench? I wondered. I did not know. I hated myself and hated my every feeling within.

And then, my stomach began to churn again. More shit into my pants. I was also freakishly thirsty as I did not drink any water deliberately since morning. God wasn’t going kind to me that day or any day thereafter, I knew. But what could I do?

I saw the girl on my bench moved to her right a little more. Almost onto the edge of the bench. Her kerchief was still on her nose. I looked to the floor, and the floor blurred with mere seconds to go for the exam.

Sing a song for yourself Sai, a voice said within.

Sing a song da, you need to finish this exam!

More stomach churning. I could feel the wet pant cling onto my thighs and the burn of the skin rise in the saltiness. I tried humming a ‘Lucky Ali’ song to myself; I couldn’t. I tried a Palash Sen song – Maeri. I was trying to concentrate on the tune rather than everything around me. I just couldn’t.

Here, stand up and take the paper – said the invigilator, appearing out of nowhere and shaking me up from the shame I was drowning into. I did not want to stand. I did not even have the courage to stretch my hand. The girl next was holding her own question paper in one hand and kerchief on the other. The invigilator sensed something was off. I dreaded that moment and have woken up in nightmares for 20 years since then.

No, the invigilator did not say or do anything though. But the fear he might left me trembling. He asked the girl to pass the paper to me and she did it with as much unease as possible. I don’t blame her. I would have done the same.

Sing a song for yourself Sai, a voice said within.

‘Nahin rakhtha dil mein kuch, rakhtha hoon Zubaan par’, I sang that Lucky Ali song to myself.

I do not know why I began to cry even as I began to read the question paper. I understood nothing of what was asked. I read and re-read the questions, but nothing came to my mind. All other students began to look down and write. My heart was starting to race, and I was panicking. My pen did not move and would not move. Not that day. All I wanted was to disappear from the world. And just keep listening to Music, especially Lucky Ali’s songs from Sifar album.

‘Keha nahin saktha kya sehtha hoon chipakar’, the song’s lyrics went on in my head. And not a single word was written. I stared at the blackboard, letting the emotions overwhelm and scar me each minute.

‘Can I have an additional?’, some student had stood up and said meanwhile. That voice shook me out from the trance of misery and shame again. He took the additional and hurried to write. I noticed he was too excited as everyone saw him with awe for a second. I pray he tops the State, I told myself.

I was turning numb now. If only I was not that ashamed, I would have walked out. But I knew I had to sit through until everyone left. I did not want to any more sneers, stigma, or disgusts at my hygiene because of my medical condition. I will sit through the exam even if my thighs burn out from the pee, I told myself. And then, for the first time, I began to read the questions in the paper with a little bit of clarity.

One hour had passed. That Bill Clinton fellow! Why did he have to come today of all days?, I cursed in my thoughts. With little more than 90 minutes to go, I wrote my name and hall ticket number on the answer sheet. I looked at the questions and calculated what minimum can I write to pass the exam? I was breathing my own stink, unable to concentrate. And just as I was piecing myself together, the inspection team had come!

Everyone stand-up, we will check your pockets – he said.

If ever as a child I wanted to end my life, that moment was it. I knew it would be the worst humiliation ever. I wanted to run away and jump off a cliff. On most winter nights, I would wake up in a dream of that day and moment. Again and again. I have relived that day a hundred times because of my nightmares. I wouldn't even know what triggers it till date. Oh, how the childhood scars us!

As I struggled to stand, the inspector looked at me with pity.

Ok sit sit, he said in a hurry as if I am an untouchable insect; I wanted to run to Amma and hide in her hug then. An yellow ball of crap had rolled down my pants. I put my feet on it so as to not draw any more attention.

Not one word on paper yet, except my name.

My stomach churned in pain again. Amma please, I screamed to myself, trying to remember some song.

Amma, I remembered then. She must be waiting at the gates in the Sun. She has hopes of me. She believes in me. I remembered. A surge of her memories calmed me. I should write this exam, a voice called out.

I opened the map-pointing section. I knew I could score some easy marks there. The maps would be given later, but I knew I could gain a score from there. Two strong answers and objective questions – it will lead me to pass the exam, I convinced myself.

So, with shit beneath my feet and in my pants, I began to write. With my thighs burning, body stinking, back paining, and above all, my eyes tearing up – I wrote two long answers in 45 minutes. I wanted an additional. But I did not want to ask as that means I have to stand. I narrowed down the last lines of the answer to fit the page I have.

All my hope was now on the objective and map pointing section. When the papers arrived, I saw the world map and the questions asked. I remembered Lucky Ali’s video songs, how he had shot in different countries – Cuba, America – and remembering where those countries were in the map. I remember the Titanic Movie and had tracked its journey, beginning from England. Regardless of the questions, I pointed out these places on map. I also named all the seven continents for myself, closing with ‘Antarctica’, a land I did not know I would eventually visit.

In 10 minutes, I finished the map questions. 15 minutes thereafter, I wrote the objective paper. I counted what score am I likely to get. 35 was the passing mark. I had attempted questions worth 36 marks. That is all I could do when the final bell rang. And the invigilator came to give the thread to tie the paper and collect it all. I handed the paper over to him, completely exhausted. The girl put the kerchief back onto her nose and was ready to run away and probably puke. I wouldn’t blame her. I myself wanted to.

When all papers were submitted, and the students began to move, I sat there. Tears were punching through my eyes again. They would never stop for years. My core would be overwhelmed by them forever. And as I attempted to move after everyone had left, an Ayamma had come into the room. She saw me and the floor. What I had done to the floor, the bench.

‘Chi’, she said, embarrassing me further.

‘Sorry’, I replied.

‘Jarugu po’, she retorted in anger and mouthed a few foul words, whose corrosiveness killed me further within. I stepped out with poop on my feet, my pants semi-dried, tears in eyes, and limping my way down to two floors.

As I emerged out of the gates, Amma was waiting. She saw me and in a moment understood everything. ‘Come here’, she said and hugged me. She wiped my face with the edge of her saree and gave me a towel to wrap around. Calling an auto, she offered me water to drink. I did not have the strength to lift the bottle. So, how was the paper?, Amma asked. ‘Super ma’, I lied not wanting to disappoint her. ‘I know you must have done your best’, she said. ‘I am very proud of you for trying’, she added.

I tried, and that try mattered to her. And it mattered to me that she feels good. Together, we left the place. She in hope. I in shame and scars.

Two months later, the results came. I had scored 36 marks exactly in Social studies. I passed the exam by one mark. But every mark I attempted, I had gotten it right. The intermediate colleges though, would not take me or give me a scholarship to study. With less than 62%, I was a loser by any standard. My neighbours and friends all celebrated their 90% and more.

‘Seri paravalla, you tried’, my father said that day, seeing my score. His kind approach to my mere trying brought me more tears. I felt I failed him. My mother. And my sister.

I tried. Yes, I did. And on most days, that is what counts. But I wanted more. Seeing my parents sad, I really wanted to be go back and write that exam with all the true knowledge I had of social studies. I did not care for any more shame. I wanted them to be happy. I wanted to top my state. I knew I could. I knew I would.

Looking back though, I am glad my shame prevented me from moving away from that bench and giving up that day. On many days even now, I wake up in nightmares about failing that exam. I wake up in tears, sweat, and it would take a few seconds for me to realize it was just a nightmare. Cornered to the extreme on a wall, I let my shame drive me to persist in that exam and just survive to excel on another day. And each time thereafter, I knew I just need to survive sometimes. Most times. And my day to shine will come.

Nothing thereafter – not even topping the state in Engineering EAMCET, topping CBIT with great percentages, Acing GRE or GMAT, Winning Torchbearer award and Merit Scholarship at ISB – nothing could ever normalize me or make me happy. The shame of that day, the fall on the steps, the girl’s handkerchief on her nose, the inspection, my feet on the poop, the mental image of my mother waiting, and the sheer disgust of myself is what I carry at my core. And oh, those songs of Lucky Ali continued to play in my mind and life forever after. Forever after.

Yet, those songs, the desire to survive, the humiliation of it all is what I internalized. And when I look back at it all today, I remember only powerful moment. The very image of my Amma waiting at the gates helplessly and full of hope for me. I know that for most people, on most occasions – helplessness, humiliation, and disgust is what it all feels like. Just surviving in itself is a challenge. And it is ok, if that is all you do then. Hold onto one image in your head. Any image. Some song. Because when you survive, you live to fight another day. You live to win another day. You live to be proud of your scars. And you live to experience joy. However, impossible it may seem at that moment. Eventually you will be who you are destined to be. You just have to survive until then. 

That little bit of truth !

A little bit of truth. Nothing has hurt lives more than that "little bit of truth". Have you ever wondered, how when two people argue, each believes passionately in their view because of that "little bit of truth".

You are a good person, yet I want my daughter to be happy. And how can she be happy with your problems that she cannot surmount? – said a Mother to me. She had a little bit of truth.

You deserve to study, however I am a person with limited financial means. I have to take care of the whole family also. Think beyond your own selfishness – commented a father in front of me. He had a little bit of truth.

A belief in God gives me peace. I do not care whether God truly exists, but if God isn’t there, I want God to be created even as a lie – stated a friend. My friend too had a little bit of truth.

I have often seen how that small fragment of truth – that little sliver – strikes people’s lives harder than any lie ever can. We often surrender our dreams, hopes, beliefs, passions, and even our whole life to that truth. We use 'Sacrifice' as a word to give into that truth. And when I think of it each time, it is remarkable how something so small of a thought with the mask of wisdom and truth can carry such weight, how it can hurt and divide people and how people refuse to see beyond their own reality.

Looking back now, my life has been dedicated to fighting such small truths in each phase. No, I deserve to be educated – I told my family. No, I can travel till I faint of exhaustion – I told my neighbours, who queried on my abilities to live or travel independently. No, I will go to the ends of earth just to experience the beauty of life – I told myself when I doctor aggressively suggested me to have one leg amputated, rest for a few months, and not risk further infections.

Each time, I stood up for myself, I received resistance from others. From people speaking their perspective. Rather 'their truth'. And when I defied their truths, they were quick to judge too. 

But in those moments of defiance, I wish I could say I discovered something greater: the strength to live on my terms, to carve my own path, to refuse the limits others would place upon me. I wish I could share that inspiring line. However, in those moments of defiance, I discovered not that inspiration, but something darker. 

I have come to realize through my life that our life’s realities will be shaped by the truths we choose to accept and the ones we dare to challenge. But then, our own inner peace, confidence, happiness, and all other good emotions are often shaped in those silent nights, where our spirit places doubts on our true nature. In those dark ungodly hours, our conscience questions each moment of us and we turn vulnerable. We feel stirred, trying to silence questions on who we truly are! I realized the truth that - Choosing our own path makes us feel lonely. No matter how many people surround us on the journey.

Yet, not choosing such a path would also fill us with regret. Now, I had also given onto and surrendered other people’s notions of truth frequently. I tried doing what other people's truths wanted me to do. And I have realized that each time I surrendered my own true, humanly desires for the sake of someone else’s truth, a small piece of my spirit decayed. I felt suffocated and defeated. I turned angry and resentful. And what I learned is this – living by the standards of others may bring temporary peace, but it is a hollow peace. It is a peace that fades quickly and leaves behind only the bitter taste of what could have been.

So, in a battle between any two truths then dear, it comes down to that fundamental question – which truth will you allow to define your life? Will you choose loneliness or a decaying spirit? I pray you can live with the hypocrisy that sometimes you chose yourself and sometimes others. Yet, it actually comes down to your instincts and people around you. Honestly, no one was born with a manual of how to live. And even if they did, I would want to toss that manual into fire as soon as possible! For why would I want to follow a wise book of instructions when I can write my own story in the only life I have ever got? In fact, why would I ever let someone else’s words fill my life’s pages when the pen to write my destiny is in my own hand? And even if such a writing were to actually punish me with loneliness, guilt, and hurt for the rest of my life, why should I feel that to be an unbearable burden? So, in the spirit of that thought, let me fill the page of my book's story say with this saying finally.

"My Dearest Sahana,

I was, by all accounts, born as an incapable, limited, and ill-suited individual for certain grand dreams. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, my heart cried out to chase those very dreams. Each night, my instincts, fantasies, and imaginations wept for those dreams with all the passion I could feel. And so, unable to bear that burden anymore, I chased my dreams eventually. In the prime of my youth, I committed to them. Each time. Every time. I defied my parents. I lived wildly. And, on most occasions, I failed. Miserably. I would feel the sting of my stupidity then and consider myself wiser because of the experience. I was also filled with loneliness on many days. I cried. I cried and cried in a small 6x4 foot room in three different countries. And then, when I couldn’t cry anymore actually, I began to write about it too. I wrote for myself initially and to you in later part of life. And through such writing, I also realized something significant silently. A thought has come upon me slowly. A feeling has overwhelmed me eventually that although I had failed many times in life, I have also lived authentically. I have lived foolishly dear, but authentically too. Also, I have not let the restraints imposed by others and the truth of the words of the others to limit the spirit with which I wanted to live. And as long as I live, I will never let that happen to me. Not only to me. But I will not let anyone, any word, or any feeling restrain you too or any other. No matter how thoughtless your desires are. Let me tell you my dearest, the two feelings – authenticity and foolishness –  may seem opposed to you each time you make a decision. The wise ones with all the love they have will warn you of the risks, even as your own heart dares you plunge in.  And when you confront such contrasting emotions within you, you must realize that the two opposing feelings have to exist together. Exist within you every moment. Exist every time you make a choice. And as you let them live within you for as long as possible. The two feelings must exist until they merge  into an honest foolishness. Only then you will begin to find your truest self. You will act with an unapologetic approach. You will begin to come alive. And as you learn to slowly turn a blind eye to embrace the world’s judgmental eyes on your foolishness dear, you will eventually let the spirit of your heart come to the fore to the fullest. And that is your purpose, my dear. A never ending pursuit to let your spirit live to the fullest. Generations of our family have come together to give this beautiful opportunity of life to you. So, embrace that gift and reveal who you are to the world dear. No matter how much it judges you. You were born in the world, not for the world. Experience it to the wildest of your capabilities and dreams. And when you do so, even against anyone's or everyone's wishes, be rest assured, I will love everything about you. I will love you with every little bit I have to my last breath and more. You are mine and will always be. Your spirit, your choices, and your joys is what I wish to see. So, do not let the world dim your foolish authenticity by any means. 

For you, Because of you - Sai Prasad Vishwanathan"

Shame, Shame, Shame.

It has taken me almost 30 years to begin writing this. Even now, I am still not sure whether I should write. However, the truth must be written. Someday. Probably today. Because that truth is a part of my very life. A very important part.

Such a truth starts with two words – Neurogenic bladder. These two scientific words mask the ugliness of the life consequences. They hide the devastating effects it can have on my everyday life. And more often, they soak me in shame that remains unspoken.

The two words stand to mean one thing actually: No control over bowel movements or passing of the urine. A person with this condition, or me actually, well, we are soiled most of the times. Heck, I am still not ready to state it directly. I shit my pants almost most of the time and I have no control over it! That is the truth of this condition.

There you go! I said it now. Once and for all. Openly. Finally.

For the sake of that little child, whose name I do not wish to reveal, for the sake of all those children, who are going to live with the same fears, hurts, solutions, and madness I did, and for the sake of all Parents of children with Neurogenic Bladder, who struggled as much as my Mother and Father did, do.

That day, in the fifteenth year of my life, I saw my father plead the tuition master. Because of my lack of control, I had shit unknowingly and uncontrollably in the classroom. The tuition master was very angry. He slapped me. And dismissed me in front of 20 other children. I cried madly that night. Weirdly, I cried not because my father had to plead. Nor because I soiled the room. Or because I was slapped. I cried because I lost an opportunity to take tuitions to study and to make any friends in life. Later on, I almost failed my class X because of that scar.

In another instance, I came across a school bully. ‘I will hit you in the balls if you soil the school bench once more’, a bully once said. I did not care. What hurt me was not his filthy language or words. I was instead worried that I would no longer be part of my class students’ sports team. Strange are God’s ways. Because people were hurting me with words for some reason and I was getting hurt for some other reasons.

Later on, in my teenage years, when in class XI, Malaria hit me 4 times.  I lost college attendance. I became much much weaker. Adult diapers were yet to come into the market. So, I walked into classrooms irregularly, shivering that the professor may judge me and even beat me. In that fear, I would soil myself further. I would stink up the whole classroom. I would then be unable to meet anyone eye to eye. I would keep my head down and buried in books. I drowned in stories of the R K Narayan novels just so that I do not have to see anyone and their judging eyes.

Meanwhile, winters were and are always terrible. I would wake up at 2 am or 3 am, completely surrounded by piss and shit. I would be too lazy to go to the washroom and clean up. And I too stinky to sleep again. This is going to be my state, all life – I would tear up on some days. On some other days, I would manage to wake up the whole family to help me at 4 am. I felt guilty about that. So, returning their help, I chose to sit down and study.

College came and with it also came three floors of climbing each day. Unclean bathrooms led to multiple urinary infections. Such infections gave more fevers. Fevers turned my body weak. I stayed away from college and friends. So, I achieved even more judgements.

As if this were not enough, I was also born with an inability to walk properly. In college, I did not want others to look at my wet pants. So, I would not even move out of my bench for 7 straight hours. I would be the first to enter college at 8:30 am and last to exit at 05:00 pm, so that no one sees me or judges me. Friends helped, no doubt. And I am eternally grateful to them. But I grew more and more depressed & shameful within. I buried myself in my own thoughts, books, studies, and loneliness. I barely spoke to anyone. I learnt to write sitting in a little temple. I threw away the pages on way home.

Meanwhile, I unknowingly picked up an unhealing injury on a trip. The injury turned into trophic ulcer. So, medical expenses piled up. The insurance would not cover because of pre-existing conditions. Worse, the ulcer required me to be dry and minimize movement, limiting the times I would visit the restroom. Each time I visited, I would also have to re-bandage.

So, on one hand, if I stayed dry for the wound, I would stink up myself. If I visited the washroom, I would have to re-bandage and the wound would not heal easily. A Catch-22 situation.

Subsequently, I stopped wearing shoes because I needed to prevent the injury from getting infected. I needed leather seats, rubber sheets everywhere I sat to prevent the place I sit from being soiled. I would refuse to get into cars out of embarrassment. I kept away from events, meet-ups, and was on heavy antibiotics for the ulcers. I turned weak. Very weak. Winters came and punished me more. Summers would dry my soiled pants and make them stink. And I would not be able to walk or find privacy to change regularly.

I would tear up reading, writing. I found some healing in Music. I turned bitter and sarcastic about my own life. I would become angry at every little thing in life. I wanted to run away from it all. The only people I visited were doctors.

Such doctors suggested catheterization. Regular emptying of bladder. And a few more solutions. All tried. All tested. All helping a little. But never solving the whole. So, I learnt to dislike doctors. And I learnt to dislike people in general.

Running away from everything was the only solution. So, I travelled to the other side of the planet. Literally! I went to USA to do my MS. I fought my own people to see that choice through. I took many hurts in that process. I also gave a few. No matter what, I left to Madison. And there, one fine day, I met religious people too. They offered to help on my ulcer. In doing so, they pitied me. I hated that pity. I found God as a silent, cruel witness to my fate. I became even more arrogant. I looked for my own imaginary heroes. I found and worshipped Karna of the Mahabharat.

A few years in USA later, I returned to India. I was 25 now. I was admitted to a renowned business school. Yet I lacked any form of confidence in life there. Every few hours, I would disappear from study group meetings to change. I would not be able to sleep through the nights. I skipped study group meetings. I skipped homeworks and assignments because I was too busy taking care of my injury and other unmanageable needs. As I did so, I knew and heard acquaintances speak of how I stank. I listened to how others spoke behind my back about why they are unable to even bear my stinking. I tried to tear up. But I couldn’t give a damn anymore. It is not even my fault that my neurological bladder does not work, I told myself.

Why I survived all this, I would not even know. Why the shame did not break me, I do not know. I hated my life. But may be, just may be, I also loved living too much.

God. Friends. Money. Myself. I had lost faith in all of them.

Imaginary characters became my world and gave me inspiration.

Karna. John Nash. Tyrion Lannister. James J Braddock. Severus Snape. Albus Dumbledore. Howard Roark. Jack Sparrow.

Their stories that kept me going. I read and re-read them. I watched and re-watched them.  I drowned and drowned in Music about their emotions. I would also write madly occasionally and burn my writing some days. On other days, I attempted peace and would put up my own quotes on social media.

As late 20s hit, I tried to find solace in religion. But I found none. I hated Krishna for bringing ‘Karma’ into Indian culture. I came up with my own belief system. ‘There is no life after death’, I told myself. This is the only life you have Sai, and you may as well live and experience it – I repeated each day.

Meanwhile, Love came along too. More than once. Only to break me further. Only to hurt my own view of myself and my character. Insanely. Nevertheless, like a creature, I still lived. Like a broken, soiling, shameless insect, I struggled and struggled to retain my own non-existing self-respect. I read Kafka’s ‘Metamorphosis’ and began to laugh at the dark humour in it. I am the insect – I felt some days.

Time and innovations brought Adult Diapers into my life. Somewhat of a relief, they turned out to be. Yet, the skin rashes and burning on the thighs because of the urine continued. The stinking was relentless. Winters and weaknesses only became worse and worse.

But I was a working professional at a Big-four firm now. I made money. Good, Hard-earned money. So, I would buy the craziest and costliest perfumes to get rid of the stink. Ironically, I would also get suspicious of anyone who would gift me perfumes. I broke friendships on that so that I don’t lose my self-respect.

And one day, out of nowhere, I did not see why my being a consultant made a difference to anyone. To any life. I saw that my inability to walk took worse turns at work. Will I do this for the rest of my life, I wondered then. I entered kitchen and tried to cook, realizing how thoroughly useless I am. I feared how my last years would be. I began to crawl to move from place to place because my legs have now started to fail in bigger ways. I would crawl in washrooms. I would struggle to stand. Occasionally, I would skid, fall, and hurt myself.

I wanted to cry. But I could not. I would not. In fact, I felt nothing. I burned people with sarcasm to make up for my own shortcomings. I burned myself for being who I was. And I felt a strange sense of calling and love for those who suffered. Helping the downtrodden, turning the hopeless into winning positions, beating impossible odds to help realize other people’s dreams – these aspects satisfied my ego and gave me a purpose.

Even as I explored difficult entrepreneurial dreams, on an unknown day, I realized I hated dogs. I hated people for speaking about dogs. Dogs reminded me of myself. Their walking, my crawling. Their desire to be loved. All aspects of them were a sign of my own life. I hated everything about them. I disliked people suggesting me to have a dog. I disliked myself for disliking kind people’s well-intentioned suggestions.

Meanwhile, laurels came and went. Merit Scholarships, Adventures in Antarctica, Great Degrees, Entrepreneurial Success, Directly working with dreams of over 2000 young people. Making a true difference to at least 20 of them. May be even more. A few moments made me cry tears of joy. A few other moments made me puke on the middle of the streets.

And so, the years have passed. I am in my 30s now. It has been over a 1,000days since I slept at my own home now. A resolution that I have happily succeeded on. To give me parents at least that bit of happiness – my absence and my lack of constant need of them. These 1,000 days also brought me friends, made me lose friends. Brought me perspectives. Gave me peace. Took away peace.

So, three more severe winters and worsening health conditions later, I am still piecing my life together. Music, Writing, Reading, Binging on my favourite heroes and heroines repeatedly. And off late, collecting paintings of Saraswathi.

Nothing washes away the stink and the shame. Nothing ever will. People have started to use the word ‘inspiration’. Truly, it means nothing to me. Each day, I read obsessively, teach passionately, watch movies happily, learn about people’s stories and their journeys curiously. Each night, I drown in my own misery of the so-called ‘Karma’, I was born into.

I thought I would be used to the shame and embarrassment now. But the truth cannot be further. I still am the scared, angry, and hurt kid – who was removed from the tuition classes for his medical condition. Who was bullied by a few, ignored in sports teams, stared by strangers, judged by acquaintances, limited by opportunities, and disgusted by myself.

And then, cruel jokes began to happen. Years later, a boy arrived at my own coaching class. He had the same condition as mine. I could see the embarrassment in his eyes for he shared the same situation as mine. It is alright, I said. I knew my words did not make a difference to his embarrassment. Later on, I also met a little girl, whose parents are going through what my parents did because of my medical condition. ‘Encourage her to study. That is the only way she will find peace and calm in her life’, I commanded them and left the hospital in further hurt. It was easy for me to say and difficult for them to live, I told myself. 

These days, sleepless nights and disgusting smell have begun to give me more headaches. So, I started to rely on tablets to lose the headaches. Because of the tablets and irregular night sleep, I sleep in the noons. Because of the tablets, My nerves have weakened. I have also put on weight. The weight brought backpains. I fall more often in the washrooms. I achieved new injuries. And so, more medications. A vicious cycle.

Through all of this, I heard a voice within. Shame, Shame, Shame – a voice screamed at me whenever I became alone. And so, I played the music a little louder, hoping the noise cancellation headphone will cancel the noise within me.

Nothing worked. Nothing ever will. So, a few more years of this, I have to live. And as i look into the second half of my life, I realize a truth. A truth that some lives are not meant for happiness. Some lives are just meant to be endured. Endured against all shame. All challenges. All failings. All loneliness. And all lack of love. Just endured, my dear Sahana.

What is such endurance worth, you may then ask. I have no answer. Not for now at least. For now, I want to live and am trying to live. I am trying because that is what my parents, sister, friends, heroes and heroines taught me across their own life, novels, movies, music, and stories. So, for their sake, I will breathe. Even if that breath stinks of my own shit.

The Autobiography of Disability - Part 1

Dear all,

I am disability. Now, before you close the internet browser window, please understand, I am not a ‘disabled person’ – but I am disability myself. I am different from the person possessing me. I have my own identity. Most often, people confuse me with that person. But then, I consider that as an insult to my individuality. It is as if a woman wearing a make-up, owns all the beauty she has, because of the make-up ! How unfairly does the world give credits ! Anyways, enough is enough. I need my value to be recognized. So today, i thought, i will speak out to the world. I thought i will give my side of the story to the people. I thought i will clarify a few things. And hence, this is my autobiography.

Honestly friends, i must first tell you all, the person possessing me – has no influence on me. He has no reason to live with me. You want to know why ? Well, for that, you need to understand my birth. So, let us go there first. I came to the world to live with some people. It is not because such people are 'special'. It is not because they are 'differently-abled'. It is certainly not because God wanted me to spend some time with those people, because of their past actions. It is not even because of nature’s biological defection on the person. Honestly, it is because of sheer bad luck. Yes, bad luck. Do you know him ? He’s my elder brother. Like how he meets you all, every now and then, taking your life into unknown zones - he made me meet with the person i got. More on my brother later though.

Coming back to my birth, my presence makes people wonder about the person I am with. Even with no understanding of me, people seem to think I am an eternal curse to that person. How mean of you all to judge me ! And worse, some are immediately sympathetic. Many are even scared. But most hurt I am, when the parents of the person I am born to, are ill-treated attitudinally. I wonder what was their fault, for my existence ! Just because I have come to exist with a person, does it mean that his/her parents have to be attitudinally ostracized ? Sometimes, I wish my elder brother curses such people for behaving so !

Anyways, back again to my birth. As you see, my birth in itself creates the first big problem. And the problem is that people seem to judge me. Worse, they seem to judge me, even without knowing me. They do not even want to give an opportunity to know me.

And then, without knowing me, without any understanding of my nature, without any attempt to understand my nature – people want to confine me and the person I am with – into a room. They seem to think I will be happier in a room. Do you think I was born for that reason ? I have heard that in that country called America, children are confined to a room as punishment. So, are you punishing me ? Shame on you ! What right do you have to confine me to four walls ? You did not even give me a fair trial ! It angers me. But then, what can I do with that anger ? I cannot even express. Anyways, let me tell something to you all. I am here in the world, for a purpose. And until that purpose is met, I cannot go away. I will not go away. No matter what you do. No matter how much you ignore me.

So, do you all want to know what that purpose is ? Then you have to come with me, into my life’s journey. You have to come with me into my past, my present and my future.

- To be continued -



Of Choices & Regrets

There are moments in your life, you always want to re-live. There are moments in your life, you always want to take back. That night, my heart was oscillating in the memories of many such varying moments.

27 years of life, and the one eternal truth I learnt is that everyone encounters difficulties. Everyone makes choices. And everyone regrets. That is the truth of life. While idealism promotes that life is a choice between good and bad, while it says that a person encountered with such choice, must always choose good – reality infact is something totally different.

In reality, life is never a choice between the good and the bad ! That is too easy to make. In reality, life is a choice between greater of the two goods or lesser of the two bads. It presents us a choice in ways that any decision, will only eventually lead to regret. For instance, when a young son of poor parents, has to choose between ambitiously pursuing his passion or financially supporting his parents – either decision leaves him with regret. When a wonderful daughter of a sweet family has to choose between spending her time earning abroad, or settling with her family here in India –either decision leaves her with regret. When a middle-aged father, has to choose between loving his own family or bring in his biased relatives – either decision leaves him with regret. When an old mother, has to choose between letting her sons go and live independently or protect them till the end with her own possessive love, either decision fills her with regret.

Choices in real life, are never easy. It is as if they always come free with a regret. And add to it our own sense of morals, society’s rules, perception of others, the weariness of the years that will follow, our past experiences, loved ones’ opinions, the occasional loneliness and the endless emptiness arising out of missing what we didn’t choose – life travels into misery over time. It leaves us a tendency, where a burning desire to experience life burns out. It happens to everyone. There is no escape. Or so I thought, until that night.

That night, I thought of God. I wondered if he really existed. If he was a real physical presence, who watched over planet earth and its countless beings forever. I wondered what would he have to say on the decisions I have made. What would he say on regrets ? How different would his choices be ? Does he have any regrets ? I smiled at myself. That night, my heart answered.

It said, ‘Sai, why are you so worried about regrets ? Why are you constantly feeding them ? I understand they hurt you. I understand you are unable to get over it. I understand you are missing the life of the other decision. I understand you will be haunted all life by it. But then, they are nothing more than your shadows. The real you is the choices you have made. Why are you not happy for the real you ?’

‘hmm, may be. But I see that I could have been way better if only I made the other choice !’, asked my mind.

‘Well then, you have time don’t you ? To the one who relentlessly hopes, there will always be an opportunity to redeem himself’, said my heart.

‘That’s a philosophical non-sense which never works in reality. Sometimes, things just go too far and there is no turning back’, said my mind.

‘Hmm. That’s true dear. That’s a philosophical non-sense. And sometimes there is no turning back. But nothing stops you from hoping and working does it ? Would you hope only if there is a chance of things coming true ? How selfish !’, said my heart.

‘But why would i hope if there is no chance ? Infact, in life, how do I ever know what should I hope for ? Whenever think of my past or my future choices, at any point, both my choices seem right and both my choices seem wrong !’, said my mind.

‘hmm. Well, then. We have to see the larger picture – don’t we ? Sai, all of your life, you have made decisions you have made decisions under the impression that it is easy to gain forgiveness than to gain permission. That it is better to risk and be ruined, than regret and live yearning. But now, if you aren’t happy with choices out of them, there is only one way out’, said my heart.

‘What is it ?’, asked my mind.
‘You have to answer the three questions’, said my heart.
‘What are they ?’, asked my mind.

‘The first, what choice would you have made, if it is given that no one in the world will praise or criticize it ? No one will have any opinion on it. No one will even bother about it. What choice will you make, if no one in the world existed at all to know it ?’, said my heart.

‘Why should I think of it ?’, asked my mind.

‘Because that removes the effect of unnecessary attachments, wrong beliefs, peer pressure and societal attitudes ! That just leaves you and me. And since i am one feeling regrets, i believe you should ask only me.’, said my heart.

‘hmm, what is the second question ?’, asked my mind.

‘What choice would you make if you know you were going to die today ?’, said my heart.

‘And why that ?’, asked my mind.

‘Because, one day you certainly will. And you don’t want to die with me regretting then’, said my heart.

‘hmm, and what is the last question ?’, asked my mind.

‘Can you live with a hopeless hope of your choice coming true ?’ said my heart.

‘huh ? A hopeless hope ? What does that mean ?’, asked my mind.

‘Dear, it means a mad desire for life. It means a blind belief that things will go your way one day. It means an arrogant attitude that you will not let your past wear you down. It means that you will stand up for your decisions, take responsibility for them and work hard to become better. It means creating yourself in a way, that you care not for what else you could be', said my heart.

‘And how would I do that ?’, asked my mind.

‘By believing Sai. By believing that, what you are now is of little importance, when compared to what you must be in future. By understanding that you are not just choices and regret, but are work and results. By knowing that you breathe every moment, not for the past, but for the future. By trusting that the universe always gives the worthy, a life to be proud about’, said my heart.

‘So, that approach will give me a life that I could have lived ?’, asked my mind.

‘It may or may not. But that’s your only chance. Don’t you want to take it ?’, said my heart.

‘hmm, I am not sure’, said my mind.

‘There is no need to be sure dear. Life is not about being sure with events, but about being comfortable with yourself. And you must be comfortable to think of your past. To love your present. And to live for the future. The regrets then will automatically give way to a beautiful story of life, that even god above will be proud of’, said my heart.

‘hmm’, said my mind.

That remainder of the night, my regrets and memories were silent.

Hurting love or Hurting Sacrifice ?

The days seem long. Yet, the years are short. The memories of the past haunt me everyday. Yet, the craving for the future, never fades. It was another night, another time and the same feeling – The feeling of helplessness. Helplessness, arising out of my inability to express why I love, what I most dearly love.

It is the toughest challenge in the world. To explain reasons for your feelings. To convince people on why your life is worth it. To seek others’ approval for what you most dearly want to do. To tell them how you will succeed. I have faced this challenge on many occasions. I have also seen people taking different ways to do it.

Some people live the quote - ‘I am what I am. For the rest, I care a damn’. They follow their heart and are not afraid of the consequences. I am not one of those. I am what I am. And I do care, what others think of me. Especially, my loved ones. I do care, for what they’d feel, about things that I do.

Some others live the approach –‘Sometimes, to do what is good for everyone, you have to sacrifice a few things – and this includes things you most love’. I am not one of those people either. Of all feelings in the world, the one I hate the most is Sacrifice. Because when you sacrifice what you most want, you are only giving up your actions to attain it and not, your very love for it. You kill your feelings, with your thoughts. You whip your heart into becoming a feelingless creature. I cannot bear that either.

So, what is the right approach then ? When hurting your loved ones is painful, and hurting yourself is unbearable too, which of the two involves lesser suffering ? That night, I was madly in search of the answer. And I eventually looked upto my trusted friend.

‘Hey Dear, what do you feel ? What is the right approach ?’, asked my mind.
‘Hmm, what do you think ?’, asked my heart back.
‘I do not know yaar. This is a matter of feelings. So, it is upto you to take the call. The question is whose feelings are you intending to hurt – yours or others ?’, said my mind.
‘What do you think is right dear?’, said my heart.

‘Well, if you ask me, I think you should sacrifice Sai. Frankly, it is better if you are hurt, than your loved ones feel unhappy. It’d be selfish and mean otherwise. To keep your loved ones happy is the first and foremost duty of yours. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do Sai ? Feel for others ? Keep them happy ? Isn’t that what life taught us ?’, said my mind.

‘Hmm’, my heart sighed.

‘Ohh.. What happened ? Do you not agree ?’, asked my mind.

‘How does it matter ?’, asked my heart.

‘What do you mean by how does it matter ?’, asked my mind.

‘Well dear, in the name of others’ love, you ask me to kill my feelings. And worse, you want my approval for it today ? You make it sound as if giving up what I most want, is a virtue and use life’s teachings against me. So, what do you expect me to respond with ?’, asked my heart.

‘Hmm, Is not giving up what you most want for the sake of other’s happiness a virtue ?’, said my mind.

‘Ohh.. Is it a virtue even when you know that what you most want is probably the right thing to do ?’, asked my heart.

‘Hmm.. I'd say yes. It is a right thing to give up your love, if it can keep more people happy, peaceful and without troubles. It is a right thing to give up, if it prevents more people from unhappiness, shame and guilt of failure’, said my mind.

‘How can it be Dear ? In that case, why do we not give up God ? If there were no god, so many people would remain guilt free, without fear of the past, without fear of future, without confusion. People would remain frank, honest, straight forward, crazy and do things that they most love and enjoy. Why then do we not sacrifice God ?’

‘Hmm, do not talk stupid things. We are deviating from our topic. I asked you what do you feel is the right approach. Do you follow your love for your joy or sacrificing it for the greater good ?’, asked my mind.

‘Dear, do you really want to know my truth of what is the right decision’, asked my heart.

‘Yes’, said my mind.

‘Then listen to it. I feel that living up to one’s own love than for your loved ones is the better of two approaches’, said my heart.

‘And why is that so ?’, asked my mind.

‘Because of four other feelings’, said my heart.

‘And what are they?’, asked my mind.

‘Firstly, when my life ends, I do not want to hold animosity towards anyone who opposed my love. I do not especially want to feel that my dearest ones never understood what I madly craved for. I do not want to become hypocritical, wherein I remain unhappy within me, but falsely smile for others. That is robbing them of my true self.’, said my heart.

‘Hmm, not a valid enough reason. But go on’, said my mind.

‘Dear, feelings have neither validity nor an expiration date. They live with me forever.’, said my heart.

‘Hmm, I said go on’, said my mind.

‘Secondly, people change over time. That is the only eternal truth. Loved ones become indifferent to you. Indifferent ones start loving you. Friends loose touch. Unknown ones become friends. And for such transitory people, whose feelings and attitudes are never permanent, I can never give up what I truly love. I’d rather let Sai follow his love, make him work hard and convince his loved ones through his effort, how genuinely beautiful his love is and why they need to be happy about it. I would convince others into being happy through my love, than keep them happy by sacrificing what I most want’, said my heart.

‘Hmm. And what if you fail in convincing them ?’, said my mind.

‘Then I’d still be happy. I’d be happy that I atleast stood up for something in my life. I’d be happy, that I had the conviction to follow my feelings. The courage to put effort for the sake of myself. The feeling that I could trust my loved ones into understanding me someday’, said my heart.

‘Hmm, go on’, said my mind

‘Thirdly, feelings have no reasons dear. And reasons no know feelings. So, one must never judge feelings as right or wrong and others’ reasons as good or bad. One must just explore one’s life instinctively. One must try everything one righteously wants and triumph in whatever is possible’, said my heart.

‘Philosophical, but impractical. And what is your final reason ?’, said my mind.

‘Dear, finally and most importantly, I live only once. And I do not want it to be second rate. I want to dream shamelessly, hope foolishly, believe arrogantly, fail miserably and may be even succeed historically. I want to be someone who at the end of life thinks – Sai, you did everything humanly possible to live in a way that made you and your loved ones feel happy for you. You worked hard to follow your love and make your loved ones feel proud of you and feel the love within you’, said my heart

‘Even if it means others are hurt forever, if you fail in such a love ?’, said my mind.

‘I have to take that chance dear. It is a question of risking happiness versus accepting fate. It is a question of living wildly versus getting domesticated. It is a question of being a human versus becoming a tool in other’s hands. It is a question of giving people the true me or giving them a fake happiness that they never realized was false. And as a heart, I'd rather be temporarily hated for what i truly am and even as i live, than be permanently loved for what i am not and after my feelings have been killed’, said my heart.

'Hmm', said my mind. That night, my mind did not speak further.

A Philospher's Peace Or A Warrior's Death.. ?

There are times, when for no specific reason, you feel empty in life. You feel, as if, you are punished for a mistake you never knew you committed. You feel as if, you have to silently bear everything that comes your way and express your nobility by not reacting to it. You feel as if, suffering is your only birthright and you will get your daily dose of it. And it was one such night for me. It was a night where my entire life was in front of me and it began asking its age old question – “Why did you have to choose the latter Sai ? Why did you have to choose the latter ?”

I believe, at one point in everyone’s life, there comes a moment - when a person has to choose between the philosophy of peace and the glory of a warrior. One path takes him to a state of eternal calm, bliss and a life of no troubles. The other path takes him through darkness, wildness, adventure, madness, fame, pride, passion, love, hurt, hate and a possible eventual happiness. When that moment of choice came in my life, I chose the latter. I had my reasons.

Unlike the peaceful philosopher, I preferred to achieve things that I wanted, than wanting things that I had. Unlike the peaceful philosopher, I considered desires as the source of creation, growth and achievement than consider them as the source of destruction. Unlike the peaceful philosopher, I considered emotions as horses that will take me to my destiny than consider them as wild, uncontrollable and hurting. Unlike the peaceful philosopher, I preferred possessing attachment to my work, having passion for my world and expecting love from my people. And unlike the peaceful philosopher, I never cared for peace.

And today, years after beginning the journey, as I suffer each minute in the path i have taken, my life was reminding me of the choice I made. It reminded me of how I had neglected peace, for being a warrior. It was taunting me repeatedly. It questioned me relentlessly until I wanted to reply back. It hurt me until I wanted to ask, “Oh life, what is peace anyways ? To do nothing, get nothing, be nothing and therefore, not be in trouble for anything ? If that is called peace, then what is a waste of life ? Why, in the name of peace and settlement, are you forcing me into ‘stagnation’ till death ?”. But given my past experiences with life, I had no courage to speak back. And anyways, who am I to ask such a question ? I am just a warrior. I’d probably not even know what peace really means.

When I was a child, my mother told me that life is a mortal opportunity to create for yourself, an immortal name. When I was a student, my teacher told me that I must create a world that is a better place for at least a few people to live in. When I was young, I dreamed of living in a way that, when I die, life itself misses me. And today, i dream of nothing but building a world, far better than it was when i arrived. All life, I was born to be a warrior. I was raised to be a warrior. I dreamt of being a warrior. And yet, when I start behaving like one, the question of peace within life arises ! People put in me a fear, before I try. They put in me, a warning against my love. A mockery at my attempts. A lack of respect against my past. An indifference against my present. A hatred for my future.

And when I think of all these, I only want to ask “Oh people who have found peace in your life, what have you made out of your peace ? You all believe not wanting anything in this life will lead you to happiness. Not attaching yourself to anyone will keep away from suffering. Not expecting anything out of yourself will keep you out of troubles. You all teach me to just exist in the moment, having no desires, no expectations and no wants. But oh peace lovers, is that not how an animal lives ? Why are you trying to convert me into society’s, my family’s and God’s pet animal ? In the end, what reasons will anyone truly love me for ? You all say that true love needs no reasons. And since god and family’s love is true love, they’d need no reasons to love me ! But oh peace seekers, this reasoning too has always surprised me. It has left me stunned everytime I hear it. Can love exist for no reason ? Haven’t everyone in the world secretly, but truly experienced that a love that begins for no reason, a love that exists for no reason – will also become a love that ends for no reason ? Oh peace seekers, even a mother cannot love all children of the world, in the same way as she does her own child. Why then are you forcing me to take the gamble, renounce every creation of God as an illusion and hope that he will love me for no reason ?’

“Oh peace lovers, what can I say of your philosophies ? I wish I could be like you all. But then, no matter how hard I try, I cannot. In fact, I will not. I can neither refuse to see the fallacy in your own arguments nor can act as if I don’t want to see it. Oh peace lovers, I tell you all something openly and honestly today. I tell you all that - although I am a warrior who is afraid of what uncertainties life will take me into, although I am a warrior who will suffer due to unimportant things, although I am a warrior who is constantly doubting the very way of my life, although I am a warrior who says ‘yes’ to life, when the world wants me to scream ‘No’, although I am a warrior who will be fought against, defeated and hurt in the end, although I am a warrior who will be insulted by everyone for trying, lied to -for loving, hurt to -for trusting and although I am a warrior who will never have peace in my heart – I am fine with it ! But I want to be a warrior. I want to try things in life. Try what I most want. I want to be loved for a reason. A reason I created. A purpose I achieved. I want people’s love to inspire me and help me create a world of mine. That is how I define its trueness.”

“Oh peace lovers, I want to be a warrior who believes in accepting the gift of life that God presented me whole heartedly. In accepting that gift with desires, thanking it with celebrations, loving it with worldly attachments, and in the end gift it back to him after adding more beauty and love to it, through my actions. I want to be a warrior who plays, celebrates and attempts to win this game of life, God threw me into. I want to be a warrior who lived, loved and left life like God’s proud son, treating the world as a family. I want to be a warrior who attempted to make God’s creations on this planet better than it was when I arrived. I want to live like the child he created me, like his child. I want to live intensely, madly, happily and crazily. And if in the process, I have to encounter your countless insults, I will accept them. If I have to be laughed at, so be it. If I cannot feel peace, I don’t want it. But then, through all these, I will continue to keep wanting things, expecting love, working hard, getting hurt, living hard, celebrating harder- and most importantly keep trying forever. I will be a warrior who attempted to create a heaven here, now and in my own life. A heaven for myself, my family, my people and for God. And regardless of whether I succeed in doing it, what I know is that my attempt to do so in itself is definitely better than your peace, which insults life as something useless, attempts to mock expectations as hurting, attachments as a sin, puts a fear towards change, and punishment for trying. Oh philosphers of the world, I hereby swear that till the end of my life and thereafter, I seek to love life with the actions of a warrior, than to just exist as life in the name of peace.’ Strangely, that night, having answered life back in its own language, I slept in peace.

The King & The Kingmaker !

Sometimes, an entire life boils down to one decision. Happiness shall never be a part of life from thereon. There shall be no joys in your smile, no comfort in anything you do. You look insane in the eyes of others and feel crazy in your own heart. How can you take life from thereon ? To what avail, shall you live life from thereon ?
------------------------------

Laugh, but cry
Live, but die
Life is a dream, we are dreaming
Day by day
I find my way
Look for my love and its meaning
( Then you look at me – by Celine Dion )

As the painfully beautiful song continued to play in my iPod again, I realized that ‘they’ were there by my side. It was a queasy feeling. I did not want them there. Not again ! Yet, I knew i could do nothing about it. I was at their mercy. I tried ignoring them, by trying to read a novel.

But then, it was another of those ungodly hours on a restless night. Just as the dark clouds were robbing the moon’s light -my mind’s thoughts were robbing my heart’s peace. As minutes passed and as I flipped through the novel’s pages, I knew I had no option but to surrender to those three. I knew I had to respond to those three. I knew I had to fight those three. I knew 'those three' awaited my fight.

Those three personalities – the three personalities I am most scared of. The three personalities that I spend most of my time with. The three personalities that I most care for. The three personalities who are with me all the time. The three personalities called - My past, My present and My future. They were there that night, by my side, waiting to hear from me.

For those who are strangers to them, my past is a personality I am never comfortable with and probably will never be comfortable with too. She has this mysterious face, which is very difficult to describe. Her eyes feel beautiful, cold and tough – all at the same time. She reminds me of my decisions, my mistakes and my guilt. I try to see beauty and joy in her, but fail. I try to see goodness in her, but feel an indifference. I attempt to see happiness in her, but get a sharp pain. I believe that she is like a seductive mermaid, who tempts me into being with her and then punishes me for having given in. She leaves me tempted for joy, and suffering in pain.

On the other hand, my present is like my little child. She is someone whom I love to be with all the time. She is pure, innocent, but prone to hurt. She constantly endures my cruel past, yet foolishly believes in coming out victorious someday. She does not have the power to stand on her own, but imagines to rule the world with her love. Inspiration and pity- that is what I feel whenever I am with my present.

My future though, is what I believe in the most. She is my best friend. Although, only god is aware of her nature totally – I feel she is loveable, truthful and hopeful. My heart lives for her. My mind slogs for her. My work is dedicated to her. And most importantly, my life trusts her. She is one and probably the only reason, which keeps me going.

‘You can never get over me, can you?’, asked my past teasingly as if she were undeservingly punishing me for some wrong again.

‘Ignore her and focus on your novel Sai. Increase the volume of your iPod’, said my future.

‘Ohh honey, if he could have ignored me, he would have ignored me. And we would not be having this discussion now !’, said my past to my future in a voice of arrogance.

My present was already feeling troubled. I was feeling anxious. It was going to be a tough night.

‘Sai, trust me - what the world says is all a lie’, my past said.
‘Hmm, what is that lie ?’, I asked finally giving in to her temptation.
‘The things they say about people and time dear. About how people change. About how time heals everything ! It is all a lie’, my past said.

‘Hmm’, i replied.
‘Time heals nothing. In fact, it only makes things worse. You know it’, she said.

‘Hmm’, I said.

‘Just look at me. I am your past. Day after day, I have grown stronger and stronger. I have become a tougher and tougher burden to carry ! I have only been hurting you more. I have given you nights like these every time’, she continued.

‘Hmm’, I said.

‘I feed of your thoughts for me. Your thoughts keep me alive. Your feelings give me the strength. Your little child called present gives me the soul’, my past continued.

‘hmm’, I said.

‘You wouldn’t give me up. You cannot get over me. You are a slave to me and cannot live your life without me !’, my past said.

‘That is true’, I said.

‘And you know what Sai ? Someday, I would leave you with nothing more than a stinking guilt, pain and suffering. I would have killed both your present and your future. I would have scarred your life.’, said my past.

‘hmm.. May be ! But I believe you are just flattering yourself’, I said raising my voice against her for the first time.

‘What do you mean?’, my past asked.
‘Well, I mean what I said’, I said.

‘Explain yourself’, my past commanded.

‘Hmm, I do not know where to start. But then dear, for far too long, you have overestimated your ability to control me. For far too long, you have believed that I am your slave and listen to you more than anyone else. For far too long, you have been blind to things I believe in and things that keep me going’, I said.

‘What are you trying to imply ?’, my past asked.

‘You see dear, you are my past. You were born out of my decisions. Decisions I took in the situations, life threw me into. Decisions, which I took out of my own knowledge, ability and skills. Decisions, which I took out of my passion, attitude and love. Decisions, whose results were always going to be uncertain. Decisions taken out of reasons. Decisions taken out of emotions. But most importantly decisions, whose results I was always ready to bear’, I said.

‘hmm’, my past said.

‘So, even before you were born, I knew of your nature. I knew you would sting. I knew what I was creating out of my decisions’, I said.

‘hmm’, my past said.

‘And sometimes, I was into situations, when my entire life boiled down to just one decision - I knew happiness shall never be a part of life from thereon. I knew there shall be no joys in my smiles, no peace in my heart, no comfort in anything i do from thereon. I knew I would look insane in the eyes of others and feel crazy in my own eyes if things went wrong’, I said.

‘Then, why did you make those decisions ?’, my past asked.

‘You see my dear past, some people live life, as if it were a test. You haunt them when they fail. Some people live life, as if it were a game. You haunt them when they loose. Some live life, as if it were a purpose to achieve. You haunt them till they find it. Some live life, as if it were principles to defend. You haunt them when they give in. Some live life, as if it were a wait to the end. You haunt them forever. So, you haunt everyone anyways.' I said.

‘hmm’, my past said.

‘So, my only chance at getting rid of you was by living for someone else -which means living for my present and living for my future ’, I said.

'hmm', my past said.

'The day you were born, the first time you hurt me -I preferred to live for my present and for my future. I preferred to live life like a celebration. That way, you still exist, but you cannot haunt me. You can grow in my thoughts. But, my passion for life will outgrow you. You can hurt my feelings. But my future will comfort me. You can make me suffer every night, but I shall live to build memories every day. You can live with me forever, but under the realization that i would live only for my present and for my future. And for their sake, I am ready to take on any amount of guilt, past, suffering you can throw at me for any number of nights.’

‘hmm, if that is the case, why do you even live with me ? Why do you not just forget me and move on ? Why do you suffer with me so much ?’, asked my past.

‘hmm.. Because dear, I love you and you are a part of me. You are a proof that I existed. A proof that I have tried things in life. A proof that I have made decisions. Followed passions. Created situations. Lived ambitions. To deny you, is to denied my existence. You are the sole price I will to pay, for keeping the life I want to celebrate. The pain you give, adds value to my love. The suffering you put me through, keeps me humble. The thoughts you remind, inspire me to try harder. The lessons you teach, force me to work like never before. The nights I live with you, makes me want the days ahead even more. And dear, while you boast around feeling that you rule my life, just remember – yes, you are the king of my life. You rule my thoughts and feelings. But as someone who had taken the decision to celebrate every moment of my life, celebrate every decision, celebrate every activity, celebrate every work of mine, celebrate my present and celebrate my future - just remember dear, I am the kingmaker. You can hurt me, but I possess the choice to either feel that hurt or transform that hurt into encouragement for my work. You can make me suffer, but I possess the choice to choose that suffering or transform that suffering into an inspiration to live more. You exist, because I choose you exist and i accept your existence as an inspiration, i said.

'hmm', my past said.

'Unfortunately, some people choose your existence, but they forget the reasons for your existence. They forget to give you a purpose for existing. They forget to celebrate a life that is ahead of them ! You took advantage of such people and ruin them into misery. I so very wish that they are released from your stranglehold too’, I said.

'That is none of your business to comment', my past said.

And although i remained awake for the rest of that night, my past no longer spoke. The ipod continued to play that beautiful song, as i remained awaiting a new dawn -a dawn that gives me an opportunity to create a beautiful present, a wonderful future and a lovable past.

Pseudo Secularism - My Best Friend's take

Friends, who know me well, know that I do not have a political ideology nor a religious fervor. Yet, on a lovely Sunday morning, when I read the below e-mail from one of my best friends, I could not hold back. Avinash’s take on pseudo-secularism is an unbiased, logical, thought-provoking, honest and crisp write-up on the real state of our country. While asking some seething questions, it raises a bigger issue that everyone of us have turned our backs onto !

Avi, I will save the below writing as a special work all life :)
Never read and I guess I will never read anything better on that topic.. I am taking the liberty to share it with my friends on my blog :) It deserves to be read by everyone who is interested.. !

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Dear Sai,

Finally, I relented to the strong desire to write on it. Finally, I did take out the time to write. And finally, i feel the necessity to breach the border of what our people call a sensitive topic -"Pseudo-secularism".

10 years ago, I was apolitical. For that matter I was too young to have political inclination towards any Party. Starting 2004, I started understanding the manifestos, ideologies of different political parties.

Back in school, We were taught the meaning of "Secularism" and I thought I knew the meaning of it, But I was wrong,

Political parties re-defined Secularism. I was in a dilemma as to which Political party is secular?

2 big national parties Congress and BJP were at the Fore-front with Congress men accusing BJP of being a Communal force. BJP always said it believed in Hindutva idea logy but never denied that it was Non-secular. Congress on the other was always seen as pro-minority party. India has many religions, but 2 of them were always at war with each other.

One of them was a Majority in this country and other was a Minority.

Last few years as I saw political parties from close quarters, I felt sad at the way Hindus were treated in India. Anyone who supported Hinduism were treated as Communal forces. Everyone knew that Godhra incident was a planned conspiracy by Muslims, the Banerjee Panel appointed by a Pseudo secularist Laloo Prasad yadav submitted a report on the eve of Bihar elections that Godhra incident was an accident which resulted out of cooking being carried within the carriage, and ruled out the possibility of fire having resulted out of any external attack.

Why have the so called (Pseudo) secularists stoop to such level for Minority votes?

Narendra Modi who was the chief minister during Godhra riots(in which both Hindus and Muslims died) will be questioned by pseudo secular media even after 7 years.

The same media does not question Farookh Abdulla or his Son who allegedly carried out the carnage on thousands of Kashmiri Pandits for years. Why is this discrimination? If Mr. Narendra Modi has done a mistake, then Mr.Farookh Abdulla has also done a mistake, a bigger mistake.

Congress has its allies in MIM(which is a hardcore Muslim party), MIM leaders give hate speeches in Hyderabad Mosques about Babri Masjid incident. Babri Masjid is not in Andhrapradesh, but still every Dec 6th, hyderabad is surrounded by Police to stop miscreants.

If BJP is a communal party, then definitely Congress is also a communal party for being pro-minority. Congress is wearing a mask of secularism, No other Political party has insulted and cheated the Hindus as Congress did.

A leading lady editor from NDTV conducted a debate on Terrorism, one of the speakers said "Countries should come together to stop Islamic Terrorism". She was quick to say "Please do not prefix Islam before terrorism, Terrorists do not have any religion". I was impressed with her.

The same lady when conducted a debate on Malegoan blasts asks the speaker "Isn't Saffron Terrorism on the rise in India". I was shocked, All my respect for her was gone. She was involved in the Radia tapes controversy recently.

Today I am surrounded with Pseudo secular Media, Pseudo secular Congress and it allies. My religion is in Danger, I have never felt the need of a savior for my religion as I did today. As I write this, Congress spokesperson says "We are the biggest secular party in this country". I felt all the ghosts of Godhra train accident were laughing at his statement.

Thanks,
Avinash Gajula

The Squirrel, The Monkey, The Bear & The Guru !

Disclaimer:
This blog post has had its birth in my offensive mood. So, just in case it offends someone’s sensitivities, I firstly apologize for the hurt. However, not in the wildest of imaginations, shall I apologize for the content following this. I stand by every word written in it and i mean everything that I wrote. It is probably my way of expressing love for a person who changed my life.

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It was like any other day. It was like any other place. But, nature though had suddenly and silently shaken the world of faith that moment. Time put three diametrically different feelings - love, hatred and indifference - at swords with each other. It made faith, doubt and silence battle out each other. And it was all happening on the banks of a small river.

Virgil, the squirrel was silently crying. A few hours ago, it had received the news of its spiritual Guru’s passing away. It was a pain, that would need years of mourning. Rafiki, the monkey, though was more happy than ever before. He never had any appreciation for the Guru, although given his monkey mind, he would, from time to time, appreciate the humanitarian works done. And Barry -the bear, couldn’t care for anything. He was a sort of atheist by birth and never believed in the principle of Gurus. He thought that the whole concept of divinity, miracles, followers was too foolish to be followed and too insignificant experienced.

It had been four hours since a word was spoken among them. A small, howling wind had just picked up and it swayed the branches of the tree on which Virgil and Rafiki sat. Barry was comfortably resting his back against the trunks of the tree.

Rafiki ( The Monkey ) : Barry, why don’t you say something ? The silence is too eerie.
Barry ( The Bear ) : Say what ?
Rafiki ( The Monkey ) : Well, anything. Just don’t be silent. Something big has happened today. How can you keep quiet ?
Barry ( The Bear ) : Oh.. Rafiki, Just because something big has happened doesn’t mean I poke my nose into it ! And by the way, I know that our friend Virgil believes in the Guru. So, let’s not hurt his feelings.
Rafiki ( The Monkey ) : Oh Virgil, you wouldn’t mind, would you ? I know you wouldn’t. I have always been curious about knowing whether the Guru was really Divine. I personally doubt it. You know, when you see all the videos, hear the rumours, read all the articles, see the BBC news clippings, the commentaries and other happenings – anyone would. In a perfectly rational world, I cannot accept it without doubt.

Virgil was silent in response.

Rafiki (The Monkey ) : So, Barry, now that Virgil doesn’t mind, what do you think of the Guru ?
Barry (The Bear ) : Hmm Rafiki, I don’t know & I don’t care. Personally, I believe that God has no right to exist on earth. I mean you see all this suffering around you. And people say that God is silently witnessing everything. I ask, why should he even witness ? A silent witness to all the suffering happening on the planet deserves more punishment than anything else. If at all there is a true God, he is not doing what is expected of him and what is..

“What do you want Rafiki ?”, interrupted Virgil and speaking for the first time.
“Oh Virgil, you all right ?”, asked Rafiki hearing the almost choked voice of Virgil.
“I asked, What do you want ? Why this discussion ?”, asked virgil.
“Hmm, well, lets say i want the truth”, said Rafiki sensing the seriousness in virgil's voice.

Virgil : What truth ?
Rafiki : Whether your guru is a godman or a conman ! A miracle worker or a cheat !
Virgil : So, how do you know that what I shall say will be the truth ?
Rafiki : Well I do not. But I just want to know your perspectives.
Virgil : But since why do you care for my perspectives ? And why of all days, today ?
Rafiki : Its not out of care you see. Its more out of a need for rationality. Besides, there are thousands of crores of rupees at stake. And one has been hearing so much about the trust and other things.
Virgil : Rafiki, I am too small and too insignificant to discuss it all. I do not wish to speak. Can we all stop this discussion ?
Rafiki : Oh come on Virgil ! Who, if not you ? You have been born and brought up in Guru’s faith all life. So, why shy away now ?
Virgil : I am not shying away.
Rafiki : Then why are you not answering my question ?
Virgil : What question ?
Rafiki : The question of whether your guru is a godman or a conman ?
Virgil : hmm, what answer do you want to hear Rafiki ?
Rafiki : Your answer.
Virgil : Well Rafiki, you said ‘your’ guru. So, its already clear where your allegiances are and what your perspective is. So, I do not want to loose a friend by speaking my side.
Rafiki : Oh come on Virgil, be a sport. You know I wouldn’t mind.
Virgil : That’s the point. Of what use is my perspective, when it cannot cause your perfectly reasoning, rational thoughts to mind it ?

At this moment, Barry the bear got impatient.
Barry : Virgil, why don’t you speak it out, just so that this monkey can shut up and we all can sleep peacefully !
Rafiki : Sleep ? Oh Barry ! How can you think of sleep ? I mean, I know you are an atheist. But sleeping ? Not today ! Especially when our friend Virgil is sad !
Virgil : Well, Rafiki, honestly what is that you really want want ?
Rafiki : To hear you and your perspectives of the alleged happenings within the Guru’s ashram. Of the trust. Of what the media has to say. Of how will you carry yourself from now on ?
Virgil : What else ?
Rafiki : That is it !
Virgil : No, that is not it. There is something more.
Rafiki : Naa, that is it.
Virgil : So, what is your motive behind trying to know of the incidents, happenings and rumours ?
Rafiki : Well, there is no motive. I just want to know.
Virgil : Ahh, I know you have a monkey mind. But I have never seen you act without a motive. So, what really is your motive ?
Rafiki : Well, if that’s the case, then let us assume that my motive is prove your faith wrong.

“hahaha.. There you go ! I love you Rafiki. You are so very caring about me”, said Virgil with a hint of sarcasm.
“Well, I believe that we were not discussing your acknowledgement of my ability to care”, said Rafiki.
“Hmm”, said Virgil.


Rafiki : Come on Virgil, speak up ! Do you still hold onto your faith ? After all that has happened over the past few days !
Virgil : Hmm Rafiki. Yes, I still hold onto my faith. Infact more stronger than ever. Rafiki, unlike a rational world, where people love those who they consider trustworthy, faith in spirituality is born out of love. An unconditional, selfless, blind love. And faith born out of such love is blind too. So your attempt to break my blind faith using reasons, is like an attempt to break a hard stone using a loud voice – It wouldn’t make any difference.

Rafiki : But isn’t it wrong ? I mean to bow yourself in devotion out of faith to someone, who isn’t truly divine ?

Virgil : What is wrong in it Rafiki ? I am not seeking anything, but his love. I am craving away for his affection. I am learning to be selfless. I am giving away my wealth out of detachment. I am living for him. So, what is your problem ?

Rafiki : But he is not God !
Virgil : What has that got to do with my devotion and what i do ?
Rafiki : If he is not God, how can you be devoted to him ? If he is not God, he cannot change your lives. All his miracles are cheap tricks.
Virgil : My devotion has got nothing to do with his ability to do miracles. I do not want a miracle that can change my life forever.
Rafiki : Well, its not right ! He’s fooling your intellect and toying with you.
Virgil : And he is doing that with my permission.
Rafiki : That makes it all the worse !
Virgil : Why are you scared of it ?
Rafiki : I am not scared. But it is not right !
Virgil : What is not right ?
Rafiki : I don’t know ! But something is certainly not right !
Virgil : What is that something ?
Rafiki : I don’t know.
Virgil : haha.. you see Rafiki, that is the problem ! You don’t know what you want out of this discussion. The simple truth is that for too long, your monkey-natured human mind been too selfish and too self-protective. It is scared of hurt. It has been trained to be so. It trusts only those who can never hurt. And at the first instance of hurt, it goes into a shell and shall never trust anyone, anymore.

Rafiki : What do you want to say now ?
Virgil : I want to say now what you don’t want to hear. I want to say that I shamelessly believe in the messages of my Guru. I trust him because I trust his principles. I trust him because I have seen him stand by his principles and seen him execute his principles. I have myself received education, healthcare and potable water facilities because of him. All of his activities were love executed in action. All of which built my faith in him. All of which miraculously transformed my life.
Rafiki : But that doesn’t make him a god !
Virgil : Rafiki, who, for you, is a God ? A person who at the wave of a hand can miraculously produce something for your astonishment or A person who can provide food to the hungry, medicine to the diseased and education to the illiterate ? A person who has been a life giving support for millions of people – building their hope, support, affection, love and trust for each other ?

Rafiki : That makes him a great human being. Not God.

Virgil : For me, that is enough to treat him as a God.
Rafiki : Hmm, you say that you would consider him a God even if he does not perform miracles. Then why do them at all ? Why have the videos and the slander against you when you can calmly do your work ?
Virgil : Yes, I would consider him a God even if he does not perform miracles. And at the videos, slander and all the articles, I am happy for them.It helps separate my faith out of love from their faith out of expectations. Rafiki, to love God just because he can perform miracles is like loving a woman just because she is beautiful. It is nothing more than lust. My faith and love though is dependent on an unconditional, infinite trust. And such trust can never be broken.
Rafiki : Speaking of trust, what do you think of the activities of his trust and the thousands of crores of rupees ?
Virgil : Rafiki, such a monkey you are ! Anyways, why would I even need to think of the trust and all such things ?
Rafiki : Don’t you think its your responsibility ?
Virgil : Don’t you see my faith has got nothing to do with the trust’s money and the humans controlling it now ? My faith is more on the message, the principles and the service happening around ?
Rafiki : You have become a brainwashed, idiotic blind fool Virgil ! Hasn’t he barry ?
Barry : Rafiki, I said “I don’t care” for what he is ! I want to sleep. I am tired. So, will you stop all this non-sense ? And neither you nor virgil nor any fool is ever going to change mind out of all this discussion.
Virgil : Barry is right. I am a fool. And someday, if my faith is proved wrong, I will die a fool. But Rafiki, what about you ? Not that I care, but just incase, through a remotest chance, my faith is proved right, what would happen to you ? Wouldn’t you have lived a life of doubt, slander and libel ? Aren’t you already living on the hope that he is not god and that you’d not have to atone for the guilt of having spoken bad ?
Rafiki : Hmm, let’s not talk about it.
Virgil : Ok. As you wish. I would shut up.

“And that's what i have been saying. Shut up guys ! And I hope the media shuts up too !”, said Barry drawing the discussion to a close on an evening, where the sun never seemed like setting down.