25 realizations from a 25 year-old

After I turned 25 last month, I was struck by this desire to list down 25 things I have understood in my life over the course of 25 years. This is perhaps a result of being exposed to such lists on Medium and Quora every alternate day. After I started preparing this list, there were many questions that popped in my head. Did I really have anything important to say? Have I lived enough for creating such a list? Did I understand life well enough for such an exercise? Being caught in an internal conflict, I visited points 9 and 22 in my list. What would be the use of publishing such a list if I failed to implement them myself? And hence, the list below. 
None of the points are groundbreaking or new - they are all the same old pieces of advice that are gifted to us from our family members and good books. But, personally, I have come to understand that I take a life lesson seriously when it is not just offered as a piece of advice but is offered with an example from life. In such an attempt, I have tried to present each point with an example to the best of my efforts. As a reader, if you find even one of the points below to be helpful, I would be a happy writer and a happier human being.  

1. Respect love that comes the easy way
• A realization that hit me during the final year of my college. A realization I wish I had known earlier and a realization I wish is easy to keep up to. The adventure of impressing a new person/a new group always seems more interesting than the routine of keeping up with an accepted love (family/friends). The most painful part (in retrospect) is when you have people who will not let you go, who will not love you less even when you don't repay their love in the right manner. I have had many such angels who have loved me more than I deserve, and have also made me understand that true joy lies in love that you reciprocate than love that you seek. 
2. Be kind to yourself
• Another late realization that has made me a better friend to myself and others. I put in considerable efforts to be a good friend to others without noticing that the person who needed my friendship the most was myself. It is easy to be harsh upon ourselves because we never have a chance to break up a relationship with ourselves. Which I came to understand as the exact reason why being compassionate to ourselves is mandatory. Post this realization, whenever I have had a bad day and whenever I have wanted to place all the blame upon myself, I have started drafting a mail with the beginning, "Dear Soorya..." And trust me - our inner voices tend to love us more from the 'third person' point of view than from the 'first person' point of view. 
3. Fall Be in love
• It is easy to fall in love than it is to be in love with somebody. It took me countless mood swings, pointless arguments and repeated visits to Kris Gage's beautiful article before I understood that love is not a feeling but rather a commitment. To quote Kris Gage, "Good love is just the everyday — every day." And if one decides to be in love with someone, why not just extend it to all the people around oneself? There is no greater motivation to live/work than realizing that there are thousands of unexplored possibilities to make your loved ones happy. Hence, be in love. Always. 
• Another lesson I had to learn the hard way (and from the above shared Kris Gage's article) was to stop expecting the other person, in any relationship, to be my cheerleader 24x7 for 365 days. After all, the other person is still a person - someone capable of having a bad day, having a sad day, having an exhausting day. He/she is not entitled to be our source of happiness just because we are in love. Our happiness is our responsibility. If the other person also makes us happy, fantastic! 
4. Express what you feel about other people to them
• I remember watching an Indian television show in which an American actress was being interviewed by an Indian anchor. One of the questions was about the actress's married life and she replied that she had one of the greatest husbands possible. Before the interviewer could move on to the next question, the actress quickly asked the interviewer if he was happy with his married life. He replied with a confident 'Yes'. She then asked him smiling, "Did you tell your wife 'I love you!' today morning?" The interviewer responded with a sheepish smile. The actress repeated her question with genuine care.  The interviewer replied with an uncomfortable smile, "We don't do that in India." The actress was taken back. "Don't you guys tell your wives that you love them everyday?" The interviewer shook his head in silence. 
• That interview affected me. That, and another incident. There was a monthly short story writing competition conducted by a newspaper. I submitted three short stories for three consecutive months and for all the three months, my short story did not make it to the top 10 list. On the third month, the day when the results were published online, I felt very bad. That night was a difficult night and as I lay on my bed feeling hopeless, I received a message from a friend, out of the blue, stating that she had come across my blog after a long time and she really loved a few of my recent posts, with one post having moved her to tears. That message - that message that the friend needn't have sent - made all the difference between a happy night and a sad night. I will always be grateful to her and from then, I have always expressed my feelings/gratitude to other people whenever I can
• P.S.: This is more important with family members like parents and siblings who never really expect anything in return.  
5. Understand others. But primarily, yourself.
• Till I went to college, I did not even feel the need to understand myself. But in my college, especially in my hostel, after I was exposed to various groups of people who held very different perspectives on sports or movies or even life in general, from the ones that I held, I made an attempt to understand my tastes and traits. Why was it that I got easily bored by a very entertaining 20-over cricket match but could be extremely engrossed by a slow-paced Russian film? Why was it that I remained abnormally silent during group discussions but burst out with energy during a one-to-one conversation? Why did I prefer being alone even though I absolutely loved every person I met? Why did I have to practice an imaginary back-and-forth conversation before I placed a phone call?  Why could I never grasp sarcasm or crack a joke spontaneously? Why did I want to start a blog and share incidents from my life when I found it difficult to open up about certain things even to my loved ones? Why did I even have so many questions about myself? It was only after I found answers to these questions did I convince myself that there was nothing wrong with me. But more importantly, understanding myself helped me understand others. Whenever I was part of a group activity and I noticed someone being silent and feeling uncomfortable about it, I eagerly extended a hand. Whenever I was part of a group activity and I noticed someone who couldn't help being the center of attraction, I also learnt to appreciate that. Don't all things need love? Be it silence or be it stardom. Be it books or be it parties. Be it movies or be it scriptures. In this way, I have come to love myself for all the things I love, and I have come to love others for all the things that they love. 
6. Listen when you can, speak when you have to
• I must admit that I started out listening to people and their stories without interrupting/advising/opining because I wanted to gather material for my writing. But very soon, I understood that people opened up a lot more when their statements are received with silences instead of judgments. Which led me to get genuinely interested and grateful. In this 'social media' era when we are encouraged to express our opinions on a movie/sport/political issue (which is definitely good in a way), it becomes easier to do the same during conversations. Such an act is welcome in a conversation where one's advice is sought but it hampers conversations where the other person wants to be just listened to. We needn't always be an interviewee in our lives. Being an interviewer also has its own perks.  
• P.S.: Listen to nature as well. The song of a bird and the music of rain also needs an audience.
7. Be grateful for the successes, and more importantly, for the failures
• I used to be extremely grateful whenever I faced success and become extremely sad whenever I faced failure. One day, I decided to sit down and list all the events from my life which I considered to be failures. After I listed them down, I realized something. Each of my failures had actually paved the way for something better/happier in my life. To list a few examples,         
• My failure to secure great marks in my 12th Board examinations and thereby, secure an admission in a Chennai college led me to secure an admission in a college situated about 300 kilometers from my home.  This college changed me in ways I had not imagined and made me a better son, a better friend, and a better human being
• My failure to get romantically involved in a relationship in college led me to take up writing again (a childhood hobby I had given up during my teenage years) and start this blog
• My failure to get selected in the interview round of a Chennai-based organization led me to secure a job in Bangalore and have an amazing 2-year stay with my brother which expanded my views on art and life 
• Failures, in that way, are like Kamal Haasan's films. When they arrive, they are not received well. But a few years down the line, they will end up getting celebrated.
8. Dream big. Dream wild. Most of them come true
• During the first 2 years of my college, I developed an extreme fondness for cinema and also turned extremely introverted. Despite such a paradoxical mix, I would constantly dream of 2 things that I wanted to accomplish before I left college. 
• Talk about cinema and its power to an audience in a packed auditorium 
• Screen a short film/video that I had made to my entire class
• If I had shared these dreams with any of my friends, they would have laughed. And I would not have blamed them. Because I was not a part of any cultural club in my college and I did not make any attempts to start/shoot a video in college till my second year. Yet, the dreams continued and my efforts to understand cinema continued. During my third year, a classmate of mine asked me to participate in a Tamil cinema quiz which I took part in, solely, for the joy of seeing a question paper that contained questions about Tamil films. Unexpectedly, me and my team made it through to the finals of the event and ended up becoming the organizers of the event for the next year. As a result of that, I got to stand on top of a stage in my college auditorium and address an audience about cinema and its power. Something similar happened with my second dream. On the penultimate day of my 7th semester, a dear friend and a classmate of mine asked me to create a farewell video for my class. I went ahead with the exercise not really knowing what would be the outcome but at the end of it, the farewell video ended up being screened to my entire class on a projection screen.  
• Do all dreams come true? Maybe not. But dreams that inspire you, dreams that make you better, dreams that make you work towards them do come true.
9. Say 'Yes' to things that make you uncomfortable (in a good way, of course)
• When I look back at my life, the things that I fondly recall and the things that I am proud of have all happened only because someone forced me or I forced myself to say 'Yes' to them. I signed up for a two-day photography workshop after severe compulsion from a dear friend and I still remember the extreme discomfort I experienced on the morning of the workshop. What if the workshop was filled with terrific photographers and I was the only amateur? What if the photos I captured during the workshop turned out to be pathetic? I had to pressurize myself to turn up to the workshop and after the workshop ended the next day, I was a happy man who had learnt a great deal about photography and had met a few photographers with very different perspectives on photography. Something similar happened on the morning of my first solo trip in 2017. There were numerous fears troubling me. What if I got robbed? What if I got lost? What if I got extremely ill during my trip? I had to pressurize myself to board the bus that afternoon and a week later, I was a happy man with a pleasant baggage of experiences. 
• Adding one of my favorite quotes from the book, The Last Lecture, "The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something." 
10. Find joy in the small things
• Once, when I was in college, I was sad one morning owing to an argument with a friend in hostel. After I reached my classroom, one of my classmates noticed that I was not in good spirits and asked me about the reason. I told him about the argument. Later in the day, after the lunch hour, he came over to my bench. He had noticed that I had become cheerful again. "What happened? You seem to be happy now. Did you sort out everything with your friend?" I smiled and gave him my answer. "No..No..I still haven't spoken to him. The reason I am happy now is because I had an amazing cup of filter coffee in our college canteen." My friend stared at my smiling face for a few seconds and then, he walked away. 
• Coffee. Podi dosa. Fallen flowers. Books. Butterflies. Balconies. Beautiful handwriting. Rainy roads. People wearing black colored clothes. My list of things that gift me joy are mostly simple. And more often than not, they help me stay happy most days. I believe that joy from such sources becomes important as we age since we tend to complicate our definition of happiness with more exposure to life. Adding a quote from one of my favorite writers, Ruskin Bond, "And when all the wars are done, a butterfly will still be beautiful". 
11. Do not idealize your parents
• During a conversation with two of my colleagues a few years ago, one of my colleagues complained, "I just hated the 4 years I spent in college. I wanted to join a different college and I fought with my father for that. But he just wouldn't listen. And I will never forgive him for that." I was surprised by his anger and asked him if he was angry upon his father or upon the college. "Both, of course. But, more on my father. He should have known better." I remained silent and my other friend took over. She asked him, "What according to you was your dad's mistake?" My friend replied, "He should have known which college would suit me better. After all, he knew me from my birth." My other friend got visibly angry and asked him a question. "Don't you know your younger sister from her birth? She's what - in her twelfth grade now? Would you happen to know which college would suit her the best?" My friend tried putting up an ineffective defense. "But yeah..I know what my sister likes. I know what sort of a person she is." My other friend promptly responded again. "But what if she doesn't like the college you choose for her?"  My friend remained silent while my other friend went on. "And tell me this..You wanted to join some other college, right? Imagine your dad had agreed and had gotten you an admission in that college. What if you had not liked that college? What  then? Will you blame your dad for that as well?" My friend did not have an answer. My other friend continued. "First, I do not completely agree that your dad committed a mistake. But even if he had, at the end of the day, your dad is also a normal man, right? He might be 50+ in age, he might have known you from your birth but still, he can also make mistakes, right? Take our manager, for example. He is also a man of 50+ years. He also has more than 20+ years of experience in our domain. But a decision he made last month almost shut down a project. You seem to be willing to forgive him but not your dad. Come on..cut your dad some slack." After she finished, the three of us remained silent for some time.  
• It is easy, especially in an upbringing in an Indian society, to always view a father as a Father and always view a mother as a Mother. Understanding them as individual men and women, with their own set of positives, negatives, and desires makes life easier and happier for everyone.
12. Every person has a story and a talent
• I have always been a believer of this but after I moved to Bangalore and after I started using Ola/Uber at a higher frequency, my belief in this has gotten stronger. After I board a cab and after I figure out that the driver likes having a conversation, I slip in the question, "Aap kahaan se ho, Sir?" (Where are you from, Sir?). That generally suffices and by the end of my ride, I get down at my destination having learnt about the life-journey of another fellow traveler in this world. And I must admit that every cab driver I have conversed with has had such an interesting/affecting backstory that I have convinced myself that the easiest way to overcome a writer's block is to take a cab ride. 
• I remember one December when my friend and I sat down to create 'Secret Santa' chits for my teammates at office. We had decided to assign nicknames to all my teammates and list down a few of their traits instead of using their original names in the chits. After my friend and I had created all the chits, I was pleasantly surprised by noticing how unique each of my teammates' traits were and how talented each of them was. The biggest gift I received that Christmas was to understand the greatness of each of my teammates.
• Never ever underestimate any person. If you tend to feel that a person has an easy life or a person does not have a special talent, just understand that you need to know the person better.
13. Find what you like and have a hobby
• Hobbies really help. For conversation starters. For making a resume stand out. For leading a happy life. I remember many nights when my work had driven me to a difficult place and my writing had helped me recover. I also remember many nights when my work had made me happy and my writing had complemented it. It is very easy to lose oneself in the rat race and I have found many times that my hobby has kept me human(e).
14. Ego doesn't help. Never.
1. Being a single child to my parents and having been doted upon by almost all my family members, it took me a while to understand that I am not the sole special person in this universe. Prior to that, I always held other people's opinions at an arm's distance and I never embraced any feedback which showed me that I was wrong. "How dare you say that I am wrong? It's just that you do not understand me and my circumstances better" was how I would react. I had to go through some failures and some pain and some amount of self-abuse before I could admit to myself that I can make mistakes. It took me some more time after that to admit to others that I can make mistakes. After understanding that I need not always be right, and every person around me is equally special, life has become easier.  
2. Ego in relationships is a different beast. Why should I be the one to text/call first? Why should I be the one to respond first in the WhatsApp group? During my initial college days, I made it a point to respond to any text message only after 15 minutes because I felt that responding immediately would mean that I wasn't really busy (though I wasn't, most of the time). Even in a friendship, I wanted to hold the upper hand. And then arrived a friend in my final year of the college. She was unlike any other person I had come before and she totally destroyed the existence of ego in our friendship the way children destroy the rules in an adult world. "I don't care whether you want me as your friend. You are my friend and that's all that matters to me," she would jokingly say. I understood the power of this statement only during my sad times - the times when I make it extremely difficult for any person to help me or even be around me. It is during these times that each of us need a friend who says the above statement. How great would it be if we could be that friend to others?
15. Pay back your gratitude to the society. Pay it forward as well
• Last year, I came across an article about the efforts of an Oxford University graduate to set up a mobile library in Afghanistan. The attempt to set up a mobile library was owing to the fact that parents were not ready to send their children to a library set up inside a building. In Afghanistan, public buildings can become easy targets for terrorist attacks. After I read the article, I was touched by the extent to which the graduate had gone to ensure that reading became a part of the Afghan kids' lives. I was also stunned by the realization that I had never considered spending endless hours in a library, inside a building, as a privilege. Which made me reconsider all the other gifts from my society that I had taken for granted. My food. My shelter. My education. My job. My freedom. Isn't it only appropriate for me to pay back my gratitude to the society, by helping those whom the society finds it difficult to help?
• My father was a man who always believed that if someone wanted to donate his savings for a cause, he should choose education. He held this opinion because he believed that if an underprivileged kid could be given the right support for education, he could be empowered to improve the state of his family and his society. The empowered kid might go on to enable a few other kids with education which could continue to form a network of humanity. In a twist of fate, after my family lost my father, my family became financially weak and it needed support for my education. Thanks to various NGOs and welfare groups, I was able to have the education I wanted. I also know another friend of mine whose family was in a financially worse state than mine, and he has managed to improve the state of his family now, because someone supported his education along the way. Whenever I meet this friend, after all the chatter and jokes and banter, we end up discussing about any new article that we had read about a social activist or any NGO that we had heard of which was supporting underprivileged families. Isn't it only appropriate for us to pay forward our gratitude to the society, by helping those whom the society finds it difficult to help?
16. Discipline does wonders
• In the final year of my college, I had a routine that I followed sacredly. Every morning, I would wake up at 5:30 AM, set out for a morning walk around my college, capture photos of things that fascinated me, and return to my hostel to read a book or the newspaper (if it was optimistic enough) for about 30 minutes. There were many mornings when I did not want to get out of my bed, when I wanted to steal another half-an-hour of sleep. But I always forced myself to get out and in retrospect, I am extremely happy for my doggedness in my final year. As a result of that morning routine, I managed to publish 85 posts in my blog within the span of 1 year. Which, for me, is a considerable feat since the number of posts I have published over the next three-and-a-half years is about 120. And I know the reason for this decline in output - I simply stopped my morning routine and took a break from being disciplined. 
• Is discipline mandatory for a happy life? I am not sure. But I have found it to be of great help in writing and even in my everyday life. Discipline provides that touch of normalcy in the happiest and the saddest of times. Discipline provides you something to hold onto when life leads you astray and eventually, you make life into such a strong habit that even during the strongest storms, you still find your way home. 
17. You cannot control everything that happens in your life 
• Till I finished my schooling, my performance in examinations was the one thing I cared about greatly. My performance always remained within my control and life was easy. After I entered college, when my priority shifted to people and relationships, life got slightly difficult. Because people and their choices and their actions cannot be controlled. A couple of years back, a dear family friend was diagnosed with a fatal disease. Life got increasingly difficult. How does one control diseases? Last year, a friend had to break up with his 3-year long girlfriend because their families opposed their marriage citing caste differences. Life got unbearable. How does one deal with caste and religion? And then I got my answer. One cannot control everything that happens in one's life. How then does one deal with life? I quote Iain Thomas's lines from his beautiful book, I wrote this for you. "You will only be hurt a finite number of times during your life. You have an infinite number of ways to deal with it."
18. Some lies are good
• I love truth. Simply for the fact that it makes life easier. And up until a few years back, I forced my truth upon everyone else around me as well. I did not care if the other person liked it or not. I just put out my truth and expected the other person to be mature enough to face it and accept it. It was only when I was faced with a few truths that I found difficult to handle did I understand that every truth needed a timing. People generally tend to be pretty harsh on themselves (remember point number 2?) and at times, a lie that can motivate someone or a lie that can lighten up someone is good. At least till the time they are ready to face the truth.
19. Happiness and sadness are internal
• The story writer in me made me understand this. Whenever I got an idea for a short story, depending on the tone of the story - whether it was happy or sad, I would spend the next 3-4 hours listening to songs and recollecting memories pertaining to the tone. If it was a sad story, I would listen to a playlist of songs that made me feel sad and ruminate on incidents from my life that made my heart heavier. If it was a happy story, I would start watching Robin Williams's interviews and I would be remembering memories that made me smile. Through such an approach, I found it easier to enter a happy/sad mind space from which I could write the story in its appropriate tone. And it was during such a session of setting my mood for a story that the thought hit me. If I could make myself happy/sad for a story, why shouldn't the same work in my life? 
• After this realization, whenever something significant happened in my life, I made it a point to understand why I felt a particular emotion. I always ended up understanding that my emotion was owing to a past memory or a future assumption related to the event but never because of the event itself. Our emotional reactions, in that way, are like the manipulative background scores used in films to underline happy and sad scenes. Most of these scenes, when watched without sound, do not actually make us feel anything. It is the background score that directs our emotions. Why then shouldn't we become the music composers for our lives? Fortunately, I have a host of A R Rahman's background scores to take inspiration from.
20. All good things take time
• If someone asked me the question, "What would you never give up in your life?" my reply would be this. "The potato curry my mom prepares." It has become such an integral part of my life that on many days when I have felt sad, I have simply set the photo of my mom's potato curry as my phone's wallpaper and attained peace. Though I hold so much affection for this dish prepared by my mom, during my college days, I would take a dig at my mom saying, "You have been making this potato curry for twenty years now. And you still make it the exact same way. What a bore!" It was only after I moved to Bangalore and started cooking for myself did I understand how difficult it is to achieve consistency in cooking. I then asked my mother as to how she managed the consistency, despite preparing it under all sorts of conditions - with very less time, with all the time in the world, with freshly purchased potatoes, with potatoes purchased long back, while only preparing for me, while preparing for the entire family during a function. My mom replied smiling, "It is because of the same joke you crack. I have been doing this for more than twenty years now." 
• I am generally a person who likes to do things in a slow and unhurried manner. One of my friends even pointed out once that I use the word 'slowly' often in my stories. But lately, having been exposed to a lot of Amazon prime and Swiggy, I tend to get uncomfortable when I see things taking their own sweet time. During such occasions, I ask my mom to prepare her potato curry. When I lay my eyes upon the golden brown beauties after they have been cooked, I tell myself two things. First - if it takes twenty years for something to get this good, then so be it. Second - as a Bioinformatics graduate, I need to identify if a potato-preparation gene has been passed on from my mother to me.  
21. A job is a part of life, not life itself
• There were two incidents that made me snap out of the mistake I was committing - treating my job as important as my life. The first instance was when a dear friend was quitting my first company. Her farewell ceremony was about to be held at 9:30 PM and I had a call scheduled with my US-based client at the same time. I could have rescheduled the call with my client or asked my teammate to take over. But the professional in me overtook the friend in me and directed me to make the client call successful. After about thirty minutes, the client call ended successfully and so did my friend's farewell ceremony. In the next five minutes, I realized what I had lost and what I was never going to get back. The second instance was again after a client call. One of my clients was explaining about a new data security regulation implemented at his organization and I was listening to him with all my attention, not letting myself be distracted by anything else. After the client call, as I began to type the discussion points from the meeting, I was struck by a realization. I couldn't remember the last time, in about a month, when I had paid absolute attention to my grandmother during a phone call of hers. I had always been doing some other work in parallel and had only been partially listening to my grandmother's questions and answers. This want of mine to impress my client more than my grandmother saddened and scared me in equal measures. After that day, I made it a point to never do any other work when my grandmother spoke to me over phone. If I could set aside 30 minutes everyday for a US-based senior director I had not even met, I could definitely spare some time for the woman who had raised me.
• I am not sure if this point applies to everyone. Because I have come across some people who are genuinely in love with the work they do and do not mind letting work dictate all their other choices in life. But for some of us who absolutely love the people in our lives, who measure the success of our lives by the success of our relationships, who love life too much to care more about the experiences than the earnings, who sometimes get the priorities mixed up, I believe this point holds good. Ending with a quote from the extremely moving Tuesdays with Morrie, "Well, the truth is, if you really listen to that bird on your shoulder, if you accept that you can die at any time - then you might not be as ambitious as you are".
22. Do not postpone what can be done now
• My maternal grandfather had always wanted to visit Bangalore - he had a special place in his heart for this 'garden' city. After I shifted to Bangalore for my job, I wanted to invite him to stay with me and take him around the city over a weekend. But whenever the thought arose, I told myself that I needed to move to a bigger/better house and needed to earn more money before I invited him. As a result, I did not invite him to Bangalore for about a year after I moved here and then, suddenly, one night he passed away. Every now and then, the regret of not having invited him to Bangalore hurts me. And it also drives me to act immediately upon something that can easily be postponed, and later regretted. That apology to that friend can be asked now. That family trip, paid for with your salary, can be had now. There will always be tomorrows but our desires tend to have deadlines.
23. Every person's problem has a different solution
• One of my dear friends told me this. I was sharing a problem in my life with him and he narrated a similar problem that he had faced earlier in his life. After explaining how he had overcome the problem, he told me, "But, Soorya! I am me and you are you. What worked for me might not work for you. Every person's problem has a different solution." Which I stand by till today. There are no rules for life. There are only guidelines. How we put them to use in our lives depends on our understanding of ourselves.
24. Some of your loved ones would leave you. Some may die. Life still goes on
• I had a very close friend when I was in kindergarten. We remained friends for about three years and after we reached the second grade, I concluded that it would be impossible for me to attend school without my friend. The next year, his father got transferred and my friend left my school. I was heartbroken and cried for many days. At that point, I decided that I would not be able to digest another departure of a loved one. Post my decision, I have lost my father and both my grandfathers. And I have lost a few other loved ones too. But my life goes on. It goes on with the memories of the ones who left and gratitude for the ones who remain. With every death and separation, I learn to value the love of the people around me more. 
25. Life is wonderful
• Life is absolutely wonderful. In the pursuit of more success, it becomes easy to lose ourselves in the next goal. I agree that goals are good motivators but time and again, it is also necessary to look back at life and be grateful for all the things that turned out good. That one person you love - imagine the odds of him/her being born and brought up in such a way, being influenced by friends and society in such a way, being shaped up by school and college in such a way, being affected by books and films in such a way that he/she turned out to be someone with whom your likes and dislikes matched. That one dish you love - imagine the odds of it being invented by some cook centuries or decades ago and having been passed down from generation to generation, without it having been lost to time or gone out of popular demand, for you to be tasting it today. That one city you love - imagine the odds of it having such a geography, such a culture, such a group of people and buildings, and not having been destroyed by a natural event, for you to explore it today. That one piece of art you love - imagine the odds of the artist having lived such a life, having chosen such a profession, having been affected by such an idea for you to cherish it today. Life is absolutely wonderful. And how can it not be, when I have lived to become me and you have lived to become you?

The word thief

He was a ruthless word thief
A thief who stole words that hurt
Words do hurt, don't they?
They hurt worse than wounds
Words uttered in anger and hatred
Words uttered in hopelessness and desperation
Words uttered after consuming alcohol
Words uttered before committing suicide
Words uttered during a domestic argument
Words uttered during a legal judgment
Words uttered to release pain
Words uttered to cause pain..
The ruthless word thief specialized in the theft of the last type
The type that hurts the most
The type that makes man's brain return to its beastly nature
The type that makes man's heart hold unresolved regrets
The type that makes lips bleed
The type that makes languages an unnecessary greed
The type that breaks human bonds
The type that harms health and happiness..
The ruthless word thief specialized in the theft of this type of words
The type that hurts the most
The type that is unintentionally uttered by a wife
Before her husband drives away to die in an accident
The type that is unintentionally uttered by a son
Before his father walks away to die of a weak heart
The type that cannot be taken back
Like the rain drops that cannot be taken back by the sky
Like the shed flowers that cannot be taken back by the tree..
The ruthless word thief would steal such words
And dump them in a garbage yard
To set them later on fire
The words would burn fiercely
Fueled by the flames of regret
And after they had burned out
One could always see their silvery ashes
Lying on the garbage yard like unwanted babies
One could also hear the gentle whispers of the silvery ashes
During cold nights and rainy mornings

Like the breeze's lullaby to a war-torn city

Like the ocean's lullaby to a stranded sailor
The silvery ashes would gently whisper,
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!"

The houses I have lived in

I wonder if the houses I have previously lived in would remember me.

Would the ceilings remember the times I erupted in celebration? Would the floors remember the tears shed during times of distress? Would the windows remember my yearning for a journey, and would the doors remember my yearning to stay indoors? Would the kitchens remember my never-ending hunger, and would the balconies remember my slowly-diminishing anger? Would the cupboards remember the scent of my clothes, and would the racks remember the stories in my books? Would the ceiling-fans remember my exhaustions, and would the night lamps remember my dreams?
Maybe they would. Maybe they wouldn't.

But I am sure that a visit to these houses will help me remember a part of myself that has been comfortably forgotten in the pursuit of the present. The visit might even help me remember some dreams I have forgotten, some promises I have broken, and some relationships I have left behind.

Isn't that the scary part of facing our past? Along with our growth, it also shows us the price we have had to pay. The price of progress.

"The magnitude of a progress is gauged by the greatness of the sacrifice that it requires," said Friedrich Nietzsche.
Some of us can gauge our progress by the houses we have left behind. Perhaps, also by the dreams and promises and relationships that are slowly peeling off the long forgotten walls.

Transitioning out...

With about 3 weeks left before my exit from my current organization, my manager and my on-site counterpart placed a request before me. "Please ensure that you help your replacement gain the complete business context and process understanding of your project."

After I finished creating the KT (Knowledge Transfer) plan, I was saddened by the realization that such a procedure did not exist in real life.
Wouldn't life be easier if a person exiting our life could identify a replacement and conduct a KT of his/her responsibilities? Don't many of us helplessly struggle with voids that grow into a quicksand of emotional turmoil?
Yes, most deaths cannot be anticipated. Yes, most people cannot be replaced. Yet, couldn't some pain be avoided?

After I created the KT plan, I worked upon creating an exhaustive QC (Quality Control) checklist that could mitigate the possibility of errors in the project.
Wouldn't life be easier with the existence of a QC checklist? Aren't many of us guilty of repeating the same mistakes, be it with some relationships or be it with some events?
Yes, outcomes of certain choices cannot be anticipated. Yes, certain circumstances cannot be changed. Yet, couldn't some suffering be spared?

As I continued pondering upon this topic, something struck me.

KT plans and QC checklists are created in an attempt to transform a project from being people-dependent to being process-dependent. Why then should these be applied to life? 

Don't we already have enough processes in our lives in the form of smart phone applications?  

Moreover, what would happen to philosophy and poetry if life became process-dependent instead of being people-dependent? Would we like our lives to be filled with user manuals and procedure documents instead of being packed with poetry and literature? 

I, for one, would definitely not want that. 

Like Philip Pullman said, Thou shalt not is soon forgotten, but Once upon a time lasts forever. 

You've got a friend in you!

Last month was a difficult month. It demanded major decisions from me, personally and professionally.
The decision making process made me realize many things. The lack of maturity I had always prided myself of possessing in abundance, the irony of my 'Decision scientist' designation at my organization, the role of a father in his child's life were a few among them.

I generally consult only my brother before making a major decision. Not because he has it all figured out. But he is one person who asks the right questions to help me figure out. He is one of the best fits for my organization in that sense. He doesn't just solve problems; he helps you figure out your own way of solving problems.
But last month, when major decisions were demanded of me, I did not just stick to my brother for advice. Adopting the typical team leader mentality of 'more resources = faster & better work', I went about seeking advice from a lot many people. As I explained my problems to each of my friends and as they offered me possible solutions based on their life experiences, I was surprised to find how different my friends' lives & opinions are. Though the diversity gladdened me, the collection of solutions to my problems resembled a pizza menu - similar in their approaches with slight variations to the outcomes. And I must admit that I am bad at choosing a pizza type; all pizzas taste the same to me. 

Having reached such a mental barricade, I did not know how to proceed. Instead of using my energy to list down my problems and solve them one by one, I started being hard on myself. I blamed myself for lacking maturity. I blamed myself for being fickle minded. I blamed myself for not taking enough risks. I blamed myself for every problem I encountered in a day from being stuck in traffic to missing an elevator at office to a database issue at the client's end to an incredibly priced Uber pool fare. As the days passed, the blame-game got worse and I started hating myself. 

It was at such a point that a friend from a previous project at office approached me for some advice on her MS plans. "I am not sure if I should even be aspiring for a Masters program. What if I am not cut out for this? What if I am not smart enough and I am just not realizing it?" I let out a hearty laugh after listening to her and asked her to take a deep breath. I then had a long conversation with her during which I tried to encourage her and make her understand how wonderfully talented she is in contrast to her fears. After that conversation and after a few recollections of the good old times we had had being in the same team, she was about to leave. As a conclusion to our conversation, I offered her a piece of advice which had stayed with me from a beautiful TED talk.
"Do not be too harsh on yourself. Be that friend to yourself that you would be to another friend in need."
It was only after my friend left that my advice hit me like a hammer for my own hypocrisy. 

If a friend had admitted that he lacked maturity, would I have tried to encourage him or would I have tried to put him down? If a friend had admitted of being fickle minded, would I have tried to motivate him or would I have tried to add more pain to his guilt?

I realized that I am a considerably better friend to others in comparison to the friend I am to myself. 

A few days back, I gifted myself a slow, long walk around my neighborhood. Throughout the walk, I offered advice to myself the way I would have offered to any other dear friend of mine. By the end of the walk, my heart felt a lot lighter than it had been the entire past month. 

After I returned home, I took out my notebook where I have written down the names of all my friends from school, college and office. I made a new addition to the list which should have been added long back. 

Soorya Prakash S.

Home, sweet home...

(A short story - also, my 200th post - dedicated to a dear friend who cannot be thanked enough for leading these writings and this writer to this happy place)


I have always loved wet streets, wet walls, and wet sand with the love of a man who has received a surprise hug from his lover. But today, as I walk through the wet street leading to my wet house with an emotionally dried up family, my love for the wetness resembles the love of a man who is denied a hug from his lover because she has had a tiring day. I pass a television news reporter who is screaming at the camera pointed towards her. “…as Kerala reels out of one of the worst floods any Indian state has witnessed in the recent future, the Indian government is still accountable…” The sight of my house drains out the voice of the news reporter. I halt and look at the remains after an incessant rain. The large, iron-gate that served as the security guard to my father’s Hero Honda Splendor and as the wicket in the cricket games played between me and my sister is now missing. So are the hibiscus plants that my sister so dearly nurtured and the tulsi plants my mother so dearly revered. The television set and the refrigerator lie on the front-yard. A couple of earthworms slowly wriggle out of the butterfly-stickers-laden refrigerator.

My younger sister, Selvi, grabs my arm and breaks down on my shoulder. I notice my mother enacting a similar action with my father. I throw a glance at my father – the man who always has the funniest things to say. He replies with his silence, a silence that teaches me two things. One, my father’s words can be silenced only by nature and never by mankind. Two, it is time for me to step into my father’s shoes.

“Why all this sadness?” I understand my father’s greatness as I mask desperation with hope. “Come on! We wanted to renovate our house anyway.” My father lets out a chuckle and a teardrop. I wonder if the teardrop is for the loss of a house or for the gain of a successor. I place a mild slap on my sister’s cheek to shake her out of her sadness and lead her onto the front-yard.

“No more untimely roars from a refrigerator older than Selvi, and no more dancing visuals from a television set older than me.” My joke works with the entire family and the damp atmosphere begins to lighten up. I lead my family into the house. An unbearable stench welcomes us along with books and utensils spread on the floor. “Were there any leftovers from your mother’s cooking on the day we vacated our house? Nothing else can smell so bad!” My father’s comment signals his return to his normal self and also adds a smile to my mother’s tearful face. An unexpected natural disaster is best dealt with an internal family joke.

My sister and I start picking up the books and utensils. My father points to a stainless steel bowl inside which a snail is resting and makes a happy declaration. “Finally, we have become a non-vegetarian family.” My mother places a mild slap on my father’s back and joins us in picking up the utensils. My sister lets out a giggle as she picks up two books that have gotten glued to one another by water. She holds them like a prize as my father and I understand her joke. The books that have gotten glued are Richard Dawkins’s The God Delusion and Bhagavad Gita. My sister, the rationalist, carefully places the books on a table, not separating their embrace.

My mother steps into the kitchen with the utensils she has collected, and I follow her. The kitchen that had always glowed with the warmth of the first two Harry Potter films now seems to be filled with the eerie coldness of the last two Harry Potter films. My mother places the collected utensils on a shelf and slowly walks towards the battered wet grinder lying on the ground. I feel sorry as I look at my mother having to deal with the loss of her wedding gift from her parents. My sister enters the kitchen and rushes towards my mother to offer her a needed hug. Wanting to reduce the drama, my father also joins us in the kitchen with a ready remark. “Our son is 26 years old now. Let us just get him married immediately and demand a wet grinder from the girl’s parents.” I throw an angry look at my father as the kitchen warms up with laughter.

****

“Mom! Come here! Just take a look at this kitchen!” Selvi’s screams and her enthusiastic face from a faraway section direct me, my father and my mother towards her. We arrive at the section where Selvi is busy with opening and shutting cupboards. “How great would it be to have a modular kitchen at our home!” My mother nods in approval of Selvi’s statement and walks to join her inside the kitchen. I follow my mother, voicing my confusion to Selvi. “Have you taken a sudden liking to cooking?” Selvi throws me the look of a teacher trying to explain an extremely complex concept. “Why should I like cooking to want a beautiful kitchen? Isn’t an inclination towards good design enough to appreciate a good looking kitchen?” I realize my mistake in trying to take a dig at my sister.

I step out of the kitchen and join my father. “Are you liking this?” I doubt if a communist like him would enjoy an interstate visit to IKEA’s store in Hyderabad, especially in its opening week. “It is definitely fun. What is not to enjoy when one gets to learn about the microscopic concerns of people who shut themselves to the macroscopic problems?” I question my father’s statement, realizing that my family always answers with another question. “But then, a society is made up of a few hundred families. Shouldn’t the families want internal happiness to start working towards a happy society?” My father smiles and delivers a lasting punch. “The want for happiness in a family always grows with its expansion. How many families do you know that have stopped expanding?” I remain silent as a family walks past us, discussing about the number of bedrooms they would need once the two college-going sons in the family get married.

“I think we have spent enough time trying to figure the right look for our kitchen. Let us proceed towards the living room section. That’s the room that relatives notice when they visit.” My mother’s finding directs us to the living room section. “Wow! This one has a Japanese table in it. Let’s buy one for our home.” Selvi walks to the table and kneels before it. “We can all have our dinner on this table, with each person kneeling on each side.” I look at my father who lets out a sigh, indicating that a joke is to follow. “Selvi still hasn’t come out of her punishment habit from her school days.” I wink at Selvi and let out a laugh as my father receives a call on his mobile phone. He walks away with his mobile phone only to return after a few minutes with a serious face. “What happened?” My father looks at his mobile phone and calls out to my mother and sister to bring the family closer. “I just got a call from Nambi. It seems the rains are getting intense back home. Let us wrap this visit in the next one hour and try catching the next bus to Kerala.” My sister and mother nod and hurry towards the living room section while I stay with my father. My father starts making phone calls to the other neighbours in our area.

****

I exit the kitchen and enter my bedroom. All the efforts my sister and I would put to keep our cots as far apart from one another as possible seem to have been washed away by the floods. The cots remain one on top of the other. My sister’s wall paintings of butterflies seem to have flown away, leaving behind an empty canvas.

My father joins me and places his hand on my shoulder. “Are you worried?” I turn to look at him. “Are you?” He shakes his head and tightens his grasp on my shoulder. “We will overcome this.” He then lets go of my shoulder and folds his hands. “Do you have any money saved?” I nod. “Do you?” He looks at me with his trademark mischievous smile and replies. “I am not as playful as my remarks.” I feel slightly offended by his misjudgement of my judgment. “I did not refer to the remarks or playfulness. I referred to the communism.” He remains silent. After a thoughtful minute, he turns to look at my mother and sister still seated in the kitchen. “Maybe it will do them some good to visit the IKEA store again.” I look at him confused. “Let’s just say that I am a better husband and a father than a communist.” I return him his mischievous smile with my reply. “Aren’t we all?”

My father and I walk to the living room where my sister also joins us. “Mom wants us to search the entire house and gather the scattered idols of Gods. She wants to perform a pooja before proceeding further.” The three of us separate in different directions and set out on our spiritual quest. After the passage of half an hour, we meet again in the living room with damaged and muddy idols in our hands. “I finally found God.” My sister winks after her joke and my father and I let out a hearty laugh. My mother joins us with two clean, undamaged idols which she had packed with her while vacating our house. She arranges all the idols in neat rows, like school students waiting to be photographed for the school album. She then lights a lamp before them and begins her prayer. My father, my sister, and I silently stand behind my mother, knowing well that my mother’s prayers would suffice for the entire family. As I look at the tiny temple my mother has created for the Gods, I am reminded of my state’s pet name.

Deivathinde swantham naadu. God’s own country.

Understanding art through a haircut and bruschetta

Last weekend, I visited the barbershop in the neighboring street. The barbershop where my barber friend offered me a haircut for 70 rupees and his political opinions for free.  
Last weekend, the topic of discussion happened to be Karunanidhi's death. As hair strands kept falling before my eyes, we discussed about the possible protests that would have erupted had Karunanidhi been denied his final resting place at the Marina beach. In the middle of our discussion, my friend suddenly paused and held a mirror behind my head. He asked if I was satisfied with the amount of trimming on the back of my head. I did not care to pay much attention and hastily nodded in agreement. 
Our discussion continued and a couple of minutes later, my friend paused again to ask if the trimming on the sides of my head was enough. I smiled and calmly replied, "Just give me a haircut that will keep me out of your shop for at least 1 month." My friend laughed and continued his work. 
After about five minutes, he wrapped up his finishing touches and admired my hairstyle. He held the mirror again to the back of my head, to the sides of my head and eagerly looked at my reflection in the mirror hung before me for my approval. I showed him a thumbs-up and as my friend happily began to untie the cloth that had covered me from the falling hair strands, a realization hit me. 
My barber friend cared more about my hairstyle than I did.
For me, the haircut was just a solution to keep my hair out of my ears and eyes. Nothing more. Nothing less. But it wasn't so for my friend. Which gladdened and saddened me in equal measures. 
I was glad because I had met a man who put his heart and soul into his work. I was sad because I did not even attempt to understand his work. 

****

Four days after the haircut, I visited an Italian restaurant near my office. I ended up there since my team was in a mood for authentic pizzas and pastas. As my teammates patiently examined the menu card to decide upon the most mouthwatering dishes, I downed my second glass of drinking water in an attempt to prevent my face and stomach from emitting signs/sounds indicative of my terrible hunger.
My hunger made me wonder if my teammates assumed that they were on a real Italian vacation. They seemed to be conversing and laughing and deciding dishes at a very leisurely pace. Screw you, Dolce Far Niente! In comparison, I seemed to be a man stuck in a Bangalore traffic signal, irritated by the ten seconds remaining for the signal to turn green.
Fortunately, after what seemed like the time required to explore the entirety of Venice and Rome, the waiter brought the starter dish. It was called bruschetta. My hunger did not care if it was bruschetta or bhel puri or bisi bele bath. All that mattered was that it was edible.
I did not care for dining etiquette and reached out for the dish. The waiter stopped me. "Let me serve you the dish, sir." I agreed with a forced smile as my stomach growled.
The waiter took a piece of roasted bread and slowly applied olive oil to one side of the bread. Meanwhile, my stomach armed itself with a pistol. The waiter then took a tiny piece of garlic and gently rubbed the same side of the bread. My stomach unlocked the safety lock in the pistol and was ready to fire at the waiter. The waiter then placed a basil leaf on top of the bread and slowly arranged diced tomatoes one after the other on the basil leaf. Boom! Boom! Boom! My stomach had fired 3 fatal shots already.
The waiter then carefully placed/presented the dish on my plate. "Oh you poor soul! You have already been executed." My stomach let out an evil laugh at the waiter. I picked up the bruschetta and ate it, only to be reminded of the bread-sandwiches I would prepare with my brother when we did not have enough time and ingredients.
My hunger satisfied itself, giving up all hope on food, and I relaxed on my chair, embracing the Italian lifestyle.
But as I relaxed, I noticed the waiter passionately preparing the bruschetta, one after another, for my teammates. His face glowed as he repeatedly applied the olive oil, rubbed the garlic on the bread, placed the basil leaf and arranged the diced tomatoes. His face glowed more as he saw smiles spreading out on my teammates' faces as they chewed upon the bruschetta. Which gladdened and saddened me in equal measures. 
I was glad because I had met a man who put his heart and soul into his work. I was sad because I did not even attempt to understand his work. 

****

For me, fashion and food are only the means to an end (a good life) and not an end in themselves. Owing to this, I have missed many opportunities to appreciate the artistry behind hairdressing and cooking/serving. 
As I understood this aspect of mine through the above incidents, I also understood people who have missed many opportunities to appreciate the artistry behind writing and filmmaking. 
For many people, books and films can be only the means to an end (a good life) and not an end in themselves.  

After this realization hit me, I visited the barbershop in the neighboring street. My barber friend was discussing about the floods in Kerala with a customer. I interrupted him, shook his hand and thanked him. My friend did not understand. "I feel extremely light-headed now." My explanation did not help him. I thanked him again and walked out.