When the sun set

 Memories fade with time. Especially of people who depart early in your life. Year 1980, the month of August, the month of celebrations. Our family had 2 birthdays coming up. One was my father's, a fiery man, given to quick temper, and my sister Jaishri, who inherited some of his characteristics. We didn't really celebrate our father's birthday. My mother probably would have made payasam (sweet) but my parents never celebrated their birthdays. August 15th came before my sister's birthday and I clearly remember her dressing up to go out, telling me casually that the speech she wrote for a student came really from her heart. (She wrote for students who were asked to give speeches for India's Independence Day.)

August 18th was her birthday and so on the morning of 17th , a Sunday, she was busy stitching a fall for her sari that she was going to wear to work the next day. The music strains of Kamakshi suprabhatam & other songs of MS Subbalakshmi still ring fresh in my ears. We had the LP record at home which she had bought from her salary. These were unusual things those days. We lived frugally, my parents saving every rupee for our future, that is, our marriages. Spending them on entertainment was not normally done. Spending on entertainment was a waste of money. But Jaishri insisted. Marriage can wait, she would say, let's live our life in the meantime.

How very characteristic of her! Strong-willed, with revolutionary ideas, her thinking and reasoning was far ahead of her time, something that my parents couldn't quite handle. What would invariably ensue was a war of words, of which I was a silent spectator. I admired her. She was strong and fearless, determined and brave. In fact my friends would say that she totally dominated me, that I hardly had a voice of my own. 

I digress, it was the 17th of August; sari fall stitching done, lunch eaten, her classmate from German class came over to study with her for the upcoming test they had. Jaishri was a lecturer in a Junior College and attended German classes once or twice a week. We lived in a two-room kitchen those days. Everything happened in those 2 rooms: Jaishri studying with her friend, and my mother cooking furiously a whole lot of curry pastes and chutneys to last us the next week as she would be busy at work. In addition we had an aunt dropping by with her friend. Sundays were always abuzz with activity. 

I was dressed in a nylon "half sari" and Jaishri teased me that the colour was so bright that I could easily be mistaken for the religious procession of "Mahankali" celebrated with gusto in those days.

Cauliflower figured in every meal we ate that day. My mother planned to finish cooking the night's dinner too and by 6 pm we went to the terrace to relax. Before that, Jaishri changed into a nylon sari that she rarely wore, just to walk her friend to the bus stop, after their studies were done for the day. Unable to bear her teasing, I changed into cotton trousers and shirt in the evening.

Standing on veranda of our house, I remember watching her return home after seeing her friend off at the bus stop. Some memories just don't go away. I wanted to talk to her. I always loved talking to her.  I felt inspired, something to ponder about always. We went up to the terrace first and she spotted a neighbour on her terrace and went over to chit chat with her, while I waited for her patiently. But it so happened that the neighbour had to leave soon, much to my delight and we sat together and talked. 

"Wait a minute," she said, peering at my face. "The sun looks beautiful reflected on your glasses." The sun was setting, unknown to us, in so many ways that day.

My parents had come up to the terrace by then. And suddenly my mother called out to me to go down and check if she had switched the stove off after cooking. I went down and checked. Yes, there was a small lamp burning at the altar in the kitchen. The gas stove switched off. Nothing amiss, I returned to the terrace. Jaishri sniffed again and said .. I smell gas, and we went down, she ahead of me. She opened the kitchen door and we were surprised to find the rubber tube of the stove had slipped and fallen on the ground and there was smell of gas everywhere.

She ran in, bent down and closed the cylinder, one hand covering her nose with pallu of her sari. "Quick", she said, "Open the window." It was one command that I wish I hadn't obeyed. I usually listened to everything she asked me to do. I wish I didn't on that day. But no, I did, I opened the window. The strong gush of air, deflected the gas to the corner where the lamp was burning at the altar and Boom! a loud noise and fire.

We didn't know what hit us at that moment. She did the correct things didn't she? Closed the cylinder, asked me to open the windows, but we didn't think there would be that much gas collected in the room. I turned around and found the room on fire, in clouds formed by the gas. I was scared as now I would have to cross the fire to get to the other side, to the  door. Jaishri was at the door waiting for me, unmindful of the fact that her sari had caught fire and it was a nylon sari. I wish she had removed the sari, instead she rolled on the ground, with the sari sticking to her as she rolled.

People say accidents are caused they don't happen. I am still baffled at the way things unfolded on that fateful day. I wish I could turn the clock back as I have wished so many times in the years that followed. I wish I hadn't opened the window, I wish I had put out the flame before I did. It was as if a strong wind of death blew into our house to take her away.

She was rushed to the hospital where she battled bravely for two days and gave up. When she was conscious she asked for me and was surprised that I wasn't injured much. I did have a few burns on my arm and feet but nothing serious.

And so she left us exactly 25 years after her birth in this world. I knew her for 17 years and the last six years of her life was the time I was really close to her. I avoid talking of this accident as not everyone understands what we went through on that day. How unexpected things were, how at every turn we were taken by surprise. As with most unnatural deaths, people would speculate so many theories. All those were and are still painful to listen to, especially as I was there with her and know what happened.

She was special. I wished she had lived longer to realize her dreams, for she had dreams. Dreams of going to the US doing research in cellular biology. Earning a name for herself in scientific discipline.

She would tell me a life lived well, matters. For this I need to have clarity in my goals, and an ambition, a striving towards perfection. To be intensely interested in every little piece of work that I undertake and do my best and excel in  it. She shaped my thoughts & aspirations in many ways. 

Very often, I mentally inform her of my small achievements, and hope I have made her proud.

"In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!"

This was one of her favourite lines from "The Psalm of Life" by H.W Longfellow 

That was how she lived and urged me to do as well.

What's in a name?

 My name is Radhi. Just two syllables. Easy to pronounce. Or so I think. A lot of people do not have a problem with it. But some do. And I am quite intrigued at their questions and unwillingness to call me by that name. Some even choose to rename me because of their non-acceptance of it.

Yes, my mother named me Radhika, she told me. However, my sister who is 12 years older than me was impressed with a name Radhi Sittampalam, a Sinhalese ex-student of the school she went to (and later I) and so I got the name Radhi. My parents did not mind it and when I was registered in school it was as Radhi Kannan, Kannan being my father's name.

So that was how I was called right through school. In Junior College I remember once a senior chided a boy for calling me Radhi, instead of what she thought was Radhika, and he was thus being "disrespectful" of me. I clarified that it was indeed Radhi. She looked puzzled but did not say anymore.

Then came undergraduate admissions and I remember the lady at the counter suddenly insisting I give my actual name and not a shortened version. I asserted it was my real name: Radhi Kannan. She looked over at her colleague and asked her if she had ever come across a name Radhi. The other lady shook her head  and said no, it is usually Radhika or Radha... not Radhi. However, as my school records did have it as Radhi, they couldn't do anything except be puzzled by it. So for fun, I simply thought up a reason: I told them that if it was Radhika followed by Kannan, there would be a "Ka" that was repeated. So, for brevity, it was Radhi. They were very pleased with that explanation and we all had a good laugh.

The next encounter was when I got married. While wedding cards were sent for printing, those that went forth for my in-laws, had Radhika on them and the ones that were printed by my parents had Radhi on them. In fact, my mother-in law initially called me Radhika, and later had no problems changing to Radhi after she realized that it was my name.

The strangest encounter was with a colleague I was working with. She would always call me Radhe. Initially I thought she hadn't got my name correct, so I explicitly told her it was Radhi and not Radhe. She said she knew, but she felt and thought that Radhi is not a name so she called me by the name that made sense to her. Isn't that weird? Can anyone randomly change someone's name like that? You are referring to a person right? A person with an identity, and a name that represents it? Well, our meetings were few, and I did not wish to make it an issue at that time.

I met an Indian Vipassana teacher at Kuantan, Malaysia. I was co-conducting a course with him. He told me that he was very puzzled when he was informed that "Radhi Raja" from Singapore would be the co-conducting teacher. He told me that no Indian can have a name "Radhi". Something is wrong here, he said, either she is not an Indian, or her name is not Radhi. The organizers have made a mistake. 

When I clarified my name was indeed, Radhi he refused to accept it. How can that be? You must have changed it. Radhi doesn't mean anything you see! 🙍

One interesting confusion I need to highlight is that a lot of Tamilians take my name to be Rathi. This is probably due to the spelling for both Radhi and Rathi in Tamil script  is the same. Probably the Sinhalese girl whom I was named after was also Rathi? 

But no, I would rather prefer to be called Radhika to Rathi. After all, Radhika was what my mother named me initially right?

But really coming to Shakesperes' famous quote: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." It will be good if people just accepted a name the way the person owning it wishes to be addressed.

Swimming: A form of meditation

 It is strange, but I have started noticing how swimming is a form of meditation. Especially swimming the breaststroke, which can be done slowly & purposively.

The other day, I recalled something from the distant past and was full of resentment about a person, as walked to the pool. When I started swimming, something changed. As I felt the cool water all around me and my head went down and I started to glide I wondered how these thoughts take possession of me and upset me. It seemed like something just gripped my mind and was unwilling to let go. As I kept observing my thoughts and kept coming up for my breath and going down again, I realised that I can let go of these thoughts of the distant past that were so unpleasant. Does it really matter what the person did or said? Do I have to carry that resentment? Of what use or purpose did it serve? 

This is what I have experienced in meditation too. Many times thoughts would surface, unpleasant thoughts and I would be overcome by them, till I re focused on my breath--this moment, this breath, this sensation. And there is that calmness that slowly descends on me, returning me to the present moment. This is all that we have. This moment, this breath. 

Swimming is a kind of meditation for me. It helps me stay in the moment, focus on my breath, feel the sensations in the body as I move, pushing through the water. In the beginning, my only objective was to reach the other end of the pool. So I would furiously do my breaststroke with sole intention of quickly reaching the other side. 

So it was when I first started to meditate my one hour sitting. Hardly 10 minutes into the hour I would start wondering how long more should I sit here? When will the hour end? Gradually I realised  what it was to focus on my breath and pay attention to the sensations I experienced as I sat there. The hour eventually passed by. It took me  sometime to realise the importance of moment-to-moment awareness. This moment is all that we have and it is so important to keep our mind steadfast in the present. 

I am now doing the same with swimming, enjoying the moment to moment movement through the pool--- the pull, the bubbles, the kick and the glide and eventually I am bound to reach the other end. 

In fact, I have started noticing that even when I cook, I would keep thinking that I should finish it quickly and get on to the other things that I want to do. My eyes on the clock to quickly have this chore out of my way. As I started observing this, I started to let go to get to the other side of things. Instead, to become fully aware of the moment and do things more and more mindfully, meditatively. 

Surrender to the present moment. There is joy and satisfaction in doing so. For  as you truly live and experience each moment, more harmony and peace envelops you.

A late bloomer

That is me : A late bloomer. Recalling my early childhood days, the things I loved to do was play...I remember that one activity that I enjoyed. I think I was good in school till about 4th grade and then began a slow decline. Difficulties in getting good grades were exacerbated by a slow failing eyesight which my parents thought I was malingering. The poor performance in turn led to lack of motivation to even try. I gave up. I was stupid...why should I prove otherwise? 

When you are young, and parents and older sisters do most of the things for you, you can get away being irresponsible. I didn't even understand why I went to school or why I had to study. 

Some things that my mother told me stuck to me and proved to be a turning point in my academic pursuits.  She pleaded with me to do well in Junior College and later in my undergraduation and said she would no longer comment on my academic performance thereafter. I overheard her telling my dad that it would be a great achievement if I got past undergraduation. 

I trained to be a teacher after that and got really interested in Psychology. My parents were not happy about my interest in doing a Masters in Psychology and they thought I should get married instead. And then I went through this traditional arranged marriage but not before I found out from Raja (my then to-be husband) that he was ok about my continuing my studies.

Newly married,  life was different. We lived in Mumbai, I enrolled for Masters in Psychology at SNDT University Churchgate and I loved my life. I was really interested in academic activities, actively participated in all of them.  Pavithra was born, we moved to Hyderabad and I continued to do my MPhil (Pre-PhD course) against all odds--I was working, studying & was pregnant again. But I did it , and did it very well. Akanksha was born and I completed MPhil  successfully. 

We moved to Chennai and there I met my very inspiring Research Scientist and yoga practioner, who was later my guide for PhD. I completed that too, in between working & raising my children.

Then the move to Singapore. I continued to work as Adjunct Lecturer, first at Unisim (now SUSS) and then at University at Buffalo (Singapore campus) and I work there till this day.

It was Osho who once said: If you don't have breakfast you are going to be hungry at lunch and if you don't have lunch you will be ravenous at dinner. He was referring to childhood, adulthood and old age when he said that. 

I never paid attention to sports or sporting activities when I was a child or young adult. And now post 55yrs I have taken to badminton in right earnest. I train twice a week and enjoy the activity. I learned to swim recently and swim the breaststroke regularly. It has become my morning workout regimen. 

People who have known me in my younger days are surprised and I love that look of surprise on their faces. I sure have come a long way and feel its my inherent  zest  for life that I inherited from my mother that has stood me well . 

Enthusiasm & a zest for life makes life worth living.

The year that was 2020 and now this far.

Sometime in the beginning of 2020 we heard of a virus affecting people in China. When I heard of it, I was reminded of the SARS epidemic in  2002 and the stringent measures taken by the Singapore government to arrest its spread. I was confident we would be safe as we were then.

So sometime end of March 2020 when we were asked to plan our lectures to present them online to students, I felt it would be only a temporary one and we would soon be back to classroom instructions. Initially I struggled to teach Statistics online as I was not really prepared with the gadgets that may be required. I used my phone, laptop, social media, juggling between them to conduct my classes. 

Being a meditation instructor, I was asked to conduct meditation sessions online as well, though that was easier than conducting Statistics classes online. Then came the end semester break and as I was not teaching in summer I had a fairly long break of 4 months. I had planned to go for my 45 day Vipassana meditation course in June-July but that was cancelled due to the Covid pandemic. 

I am not sure if it was the years of practising meditation that I stayed calm and equanimous through all these unexpected change in plans. I did a 10 day self course at home and it was very energizing and successful. I cooked the meals and meditated according to schedule.

I love staying at home. I seldom get bored with being at home. I have number of interests. I draw, sketch, paint, crochet, do macrame, read, play scrabble online, do jigsaw puzzles online, upcycle waste boxes, decoupage ..the list is endless. How can anyone be bored at home is just beyond my comprehension.

This doesn't mean I don't like being out doors. I love to cycle and sometimes go for walks. I would travel a lot between semesters to Malaysia and India to either sit for meditation courses or conduct them. Home is where the heart is and these places I travelled to were places I enjoyed going to. 

The sports activities I picked up this last year were badminton which I started playing since October 2020 and swimming which I started in February 2021. I enjoy them both, particularly swimming which I initially thought I was too old to learn.

I look forward to each day to either play badminton or to swim, either practising on my own or being coached by the instructor. The other major learning experience was baking bread at home...gluten free, vegan bread. Healthy bread that I practised and mastered the art by following some recipes and then tweaking a little to suit my convenience & taste.

I do occasionally long to visit my sister in Mumbai who lives there alone. I wish we were together in one place or house. But not yet. India is going through its second wave of covid and it's sad to hear people suffering and normal life restricted. 

I don't know if I am just lucky. But I wonder at all these new words that are going around to describe our mental state ...languishing is one such I came across today. I don't think I am languishing. Yes, my life has changed, but I continue to do interesting things. I am with the flow. "Flow" that brilliant concept that Mihaly Csikszentmihaly introduced us to years ago, to be fully immersed in what you are doing such that nothing else really matters. It is a totally happy state to be in. 

Yes, there is always something you are not happy with , and right now it's the pandemic and not being able to visit my sister. But depressed ? No ..Languishing? No. 

Werner Erhard's quotes come to mind "What is, is; What isn't, isn't."

"Happiness is a function of acceptance of what is" 

A Sanskrit prayer for the well being of all in this world:

सर्वे भवन्तु सुखिनः

सर्वे सन्तु निरामया

सर्वे भद्राणि पश्यन्तु

मा कष्च्ति दुःखभाग्भवेत

ओं  शांतिः शांतिः शांतिः

"Mind as healer, Mind as Slayer": Replacing fear with curiosity

"Mind as healer, the mind as slayer": I have read this Kenneth Pelletier book, way back in 1998 when I was studying for my PhD program. This catchy title has always been with me in my memories whenever I deal with challenges. It just takes a little impatience to go off balance and panic in the face of impending danger, and in contrast, it takes just a little practice to remain observant, calm under stress and stay on top of it. 

In my Statistics classes, I urge students to close their eyes and be with their breath for a few minutes before they write their test. I tell them a calm mind helps to solve the most complex problems. A calm mind helps us in so many ways. I urge them to develop curiosity of numbers not fear. I share with them my own experience of learning something as new as swimming.

I never thought I would learn to swim. I thought if you did not learn it when young, you have lost your chance. And then I was diagnosed with Chronic Venous Insufficiency (CVI) and read that swimming was a good exercise to help the blood circulation. I got to know there were swimming classes in the pool in the condominium I live in. I was curious and joined the class. I asked my coach if a person of my age can learn swimming. In reply, he told me he once taught a 90 year old lady to swim. I definitely did not want to wait that long.

The coach began with doing a few stretches before we entered the pool. Then we entered the shallow part of the pool and spent a few minutes getting used to the water. The first major exercise was to learn to blow bubbles under water. I struggled to learn this. Initially, I would simply hold my breath under water. This served my immediate purpose, but of course it wasn't the most efficient one. It just took a lot of practice. A lot of practice. Plenty of practice. And finally I got it. I learned to breathe out under water. To blow bubbles in water. 

Having achieved this milestone, I could easily glide face-down underwater and move a certain distance, then I would stop, stand up for breath and resume again. I did this for quite a few days. My coach meanwhile introduced me little by little the next task, to learn to kick like a frog. She was going to teach me the breaststroke. She taught me in a number of ways how to kick. It was fine when she was there, but I could not do it on my own. So I started watching youtube videos. There are plenty of instruction videos on learning the breaststroke. These helped me so much as I could picture the strokes in my mind and that helped translate into actual kicking.

The coaches were very good and taught me a few ways to relax in the pool by floating. I would keep my head on the edge of the pool and look up at the sky. This was one of the most relaxing exercises in the pool. It helped get used to the water, to trust it. To learn not to panic. The coach also taught me to bring my knees together and lift myself up for breath anytime I felt unsure of myself. This was extremely helpful.

Learning to kick, and then learning to pull with the arms were the next part of the coaching. Finally the sequence of pull, breathe, kick & glide for many lessons helped me improve my muscle memory. There were moments, when I forgot, swallowed water, forgot to breathe or let the water into my nose.

 

But then you start again and practise till you get it. The euphoria you feel at the end is certainly worth the effort. It took me exactly 2 months to swim independently. And it is only the beginning; there are a few other strokes I plan to learn. Replacing fear with curiosity has helped me go far in learning new skills.

Swimology: My swimming journey

 My respected meditation teacher Goenkaji tells us a story, "Swimology", during the 10 day Vipassana course. The story goes like this: There was once a very learned, erudite Professor who was travelling by sea. Learned as he was, every evening he lectured to his co-voyagers extensively on many of the curious things of life, demonstrating his wide, in-depth knowledge and expertise. An old sailor who worked on the ship was very impressed with the Professor and would attend his daily lectures regularly. One evening the Professor chanced upon him as he was leaving, and called out to him asking if he knows anything about Geology? The old man replied in the negative, nervously. The Professor said, "What? You know nothing about the earth you live on? Old man, you have wasted a quarter of your life!" The old man shook his head sadly and left. 

The next day, after the lecture, as the old man was cleaning up the place, the Professor called out to him and asked: "Old man, do you know anything about Meteorology? " Again the old man sadly shook his head, and asked "What is that sir?" The Professor replied, "Oh it is the science of the weather. Old man, you do not know anything about Geology, the science of the earth you live on; you do not know anything about the weather your ship is subjected to, you have wasted half of your life." The old man was indeed sad: the learned Professor says he has lost half his life, it must be true, what has he done that is worthwhile?

The third day dawned, and again after an enlightening lecture, the Professor called the old man and asked: "Old man, do you know anything about Oceanology, the science of the oceans?" The old man again replied, "No sir, I do not know anything, I never went to school at all!" Surprised, the Professor told him with a laugh: "You useless old man, you do not know anything about Geology, the earth you live on, you do not know Meteorology, the science of the weather you are subjected to, you do not know anything about  Oceanology, the science of the sea you are travelling on, you have lost three quarters of your life!" The old man left sadly.

The next day, the old man came running to the Professor and asked, "Professor sir! Professor sir! Do you know Swimology, sir?" Surprised, the Professor asked "Swimology? What is that? I have never heard of it!" The old man exclaimed: "Oh no sir! Then your whole life is wasted. The ship has just hit a rock and is sinking; those who can swim, can reach the shore, I am so sorry sir, your life is wasted!"

We may learn all the "logies" of the world, but if we do not know to swim the ocean of life, our lives are truly wasted. 

I love this story,  for its deep philosophical meaning and the more I listened to it course after course, I pondered over the idea of learning to swim. I thought I could never learn it. I hadn't come across any adult learning to swim and mastering it.

With age, I developed age-related medical issues and suffered from Chronic Venous Insufficiency.  This means that I had varicose veins which prevented the smooth return of the blood from the legs to the heart during circulation. I resumed anti-gravity yoga exercises, and came to know that swimming would be a good exercise for this condition. So when I heard there were swimming classes for adults in the place I live, I joined them with a great deal of hesitation & fear. 

Barely had I gotten over my initial fear of water when I developed severe ulcers on my feet, forcing me to abandon my grand plans to learn swimming. It took me two years to recover, more yoga and a long 30 day course in meditation and I was now again ready to resume my classes. 

So it was on the 9th of February 2021, with some hesitation and mild fears again, I resumed my swimming lessons. I practised diligently. My first milestone was being able to put my head in water and blow bubbles--basically breathing out in water. That helped me glide smoothly for a certain distance. Besides learning from the coach once a week, I would go to the pool on my own on other days just to practice what I knew to do, getting a feel of the water and becoming comfortable in it. Resting my head on the edge of the pool, face upward towards the sky and floating was the most relaxing activity I would do.

Then came learning the breaststroke. After being introduced to it I watched countless videos on youtube to reinforce my learning on how to best time myself, how to kick, how to synchronize the pull-bubbles-kick-glide routine. The videos helped in developing my muscle memory. The coaches were excellent. And finally, today, the 13th of April, two months after my first class, I could swim without the tube, board or any kind of support from one end of the pool to the other.

An incredible achievement for me! 

Swimology at last!

Reflections

"the version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility"

This quote has been doing the rounds on the internet & social media, with many people endorsing it, liking it & sharing, retweeting it  countless times. I did so too, as it rang an instant bell in my head and made me exclaim "how true!". 

Just a few days ago before I came across this quote, I went through an unpleasant situation at home when my husband and daughter said they were afraid to say anything to me as I tended to react with anger and hostility. I was distressed, and as I took time to understand this "feedback" from them I recognized that I was similarly evaluating others and felt I was correct in doing so.

So many times we make a quick evaluation of people we meet : He is very hyper, she is too sensitive, he is too impulsive etc. 

We think we "know" people. But do we? 

For that matter, do we know ourselves at all? Actually the only person we have lived with all our lives is ourself. Yet, do we really know ourselves truly? I might think "I am a calm person" but that is true only till I lose my cool when provoked.

We seemed to have an image of ourselves, and of others and we are constantly reacting to these images. This is brought out so well in an interesting illustration by Shri S.N Goenka in the 10day Vipassana course in his  Day 9 discourse

We meet a person and like him very much. It's because in our perception (which is an evaluation of what we experience) he is very good, wonderful , helpful and makes us happy. We meet him after a gap of few years and that image of his good persona comes to mind. If he acts different from our image of him, we become so unhappy , unable to comprehend what went wrong in our impression of him. 

Similarly we keep forming images of everyone around us including our own selves and keep reacting to these images based on our evaluations. If we just pause and think that it's only our perception that helped build that image, we would come closer to the reality that each of us change and grow every minute. The so called "obnoxious" person was so only because of our perception of him, he may have a good side to him, and just because we did not see that good side does not mean it does not exist.

We all have different facets to ourselves, some visible and some hidden and it would help us a lot if we did not make harsh assumptions and evaluations of others, as these are based only on our limited experience of the individuals we come across. The truth of what the person really is, would be much more than what we are aware of.

To the person who is at the receiving end of the evaluation, like me at the start of this blog, it would be good to pause and get in touch with our inner self and not get distressed  but look at the evaluation more  objectively.  Develop our equanimity and continue our practice daily.

Books and the stories behind them Part 3

I would like to pause here to think why I write this blog? Is reading important? Yes it is, it develops your vocabulary, your expression and an opportunity to immerse yourself  in language and literature. It can shape your thinking, and provide solace & encouragement at times. 

"Man's mind stretched by a new idea never goes back to it's original dimension"  This quote by Oliver Wendall Holmes was in a book that was gifted to me. 

Which is what a whole lot of "self-help" books did for me in my teens. Wayne Dyer's "Your Erroneous Zones" taught me how not to procrastinate and in general understand & manage my emotions.Presented along with case study examples they made reading interesting.

Of course I don't remember much of the details in the book. I remember it did impact my thinking and helped me learn a few good habits. I loved Wayne Dyer; infact in one of his books that I read much later when I had kids of my own, he candidly admits to the failure of some theories of raising children.

He says, quoting someone else, "I once had 7 different theories for raising successful children when I had no children, now I have 7 children and no theories" hahaha!  I could relate to that very well.

My sister's friend was clearing out his library as they were moving to another city and she brought home a few books. Among them was Thomas Harris : "I'm OK , You're OK".  A book on transactional analysis, made a very interesting reading. We each have a Parent, Adult & Child that transacts with each other and problems arise when the transactions get crossed. 

Then there was Dale Carnegie's " How to make friends and Influence people" and "How to stop worrying and Start living"..

These books were interesting, however I am not sure if my habits or for that matter I, really changed after reading them. They were undoubtedly good to read, so I read them.

It was my lecturer in Psychology who first mentioned Richard Bach's Illusions to me. 

"Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they are yours" she said one day, quoting from the book. I wanted to read the book, and it wasn't until  I got married, moved to Mumbai that I was thrilled to see it with my husband's collection of books. I devoured every page of that book, read and re-read multiple times.. quoted from it  backward and forward..well almost. I find the Messiah's quotes uplifting even today. The only other book that is similar to this is, "The Book of Mirdad" by Mikhail Naimly. I would need a separate blog to talk about Mirdad though.

After "Illusions", I was high on Bach: "Jonathan Livingstone Seagull", "The Bridge Across Forever" and "One". "Bridge Across.. was his meeting his soulmate Leslie Parish and it seemed like the most ideal relationship. And interestingly we read it (Raja, my husband & I) almost together and were quite excited with the book. It made us feel that we were soul mates too. :). Recent googling of Bach, held the news that he and Leslie parted ways and he remarried the third time. While Raja & I have not parted ways, it is quite interesting to note that a relationship this close can be subject to many challenges and the way you view or experience it can be different.

Raja brought home a good many interesting books from the L& T library (L & T was his place of work). One great book was Will Schutz's "Profound Simplicity"

Will Schutz was the pioneer of FIRO -B. Fundamental Interpersonal Relations Orientation. 

Interpersonal relations is measured across 3 factors: Inclusion , Control & Affection , measured in 2 dimensions each : felt (wanted) & expressed. His theory, I learned much later, but Profound Simplicity for the first time urged me to behave and live responsibly, especially in the area of personal health. The key message I took away from the book and which played a significant role in my life was... become aware of your psychological needs. The more aware you are of them the less likely you are to suffer illnesses. He traces major illnesses of people to their general emotional needs and how the illness is an expression of the psychological need.

Powerful book ...to me, life changing.

To continue...

Books and the stories behind them Part 2

Memories of the time spent in British Council Library are numerous. It was close to my dad's workplace. It was his after -retirement  workplace and he would insist that I match my visits there (to BCL) to his office timings so that he could pick me up or drop me there on his scooter. My protests would go unheeded and I sometimes missed going to BCL with my friends as a result of this. But that's a different story reserved for another blog.

Coming back to the books I borrowed and read from BCL Winston Graham comes to mind. Recently when I googled him, I found that he is better known for his Poldark series, but it was his other novels that I avidly read.

Marnie, After the Act, The Sleeping Partner, Cordelia and more... the titles are hazy. My friends at that time were into Mills & Boon and one of them thought I had no idea of what romantic stories was about. Till one day she took a Graham novel to read from me and came back totally flabbergasted. She said she was shocked at the storyline and more surprised that a serious person like me who read only classics would read such literature.

While she could do that, M & B were strictly forbidden at home. They were considered sleaze. I was so curious about them that a friend in school gave me one to read reassuring me that there were "good" ones too. She was a topper in class and I was convinced. But yet had to hide the book from my parents & read. Soon I gave up, reading something in fear of being caught was just not worth it. I could hardly get past a few pages.

I wept reading some books... the one I clearly remember was A J Cronin's " The Spanish Gardener" . It was a sad tale of an over strict father getting his son to a psychiatrist because the boy formed a special bond of friendship with a Spanish Gardener who worked for them. At some point of the book I remember putting it down and having a good cry.

Around this time due to the untimely, sudden death of my sister, I was drawn to books that could offer  solace and meaning to the grief I was experiencing. I read a lot of poems of Shelley and even read about his life in detail. Hesse's Narcissus and Goldmund was another memorable one. It briefly introduced me to the teachings of the Buddha & meditation practices. Curious about meditation I read J Krishnamurthi with great interest, thoroughly intrigued with the occult practices in  the Theosophical Society. I remember poring over Krishnamurthi's Notebook that I found at BCL

Krishnamurthi was not exactly welcome at home with my parents, strange it was , as they would permit my sisters to read him.

I remember having serious intense discussions with a friend at that time on whether Hesse was or had inclinations towards homosexuality. According to her, his writings clearly gave that impression - that he was inclined towards it but suppressed it. And a man who was so suppressed had nothing much to offer. She also introduced me to William Golding's Lord of the flies.  I struggled to read it, unable to accept that little kids could turn so violent and become cannibals. 

One book that stands out towards the end of my teens is "Dibs: In search of Self" by Virginia Axline. It was heavy reading.. A true life tale of a boy labelled autistic & retarded, who through the process of play therapy is able to work out his emotional relations with his parents and find his authentic self. He goes on to have an  IQ of 168 (genius) at the end of the therapy sessions with Axline.

That book left a remarkable impression on me and till today it is a must- read for all my students in Psychology classes that I teach. It was also a book that helped me decide what course of study I would pursue for my Masters  degree. 

To continue..

Books and the stories behind them (Part 1)

I can't really remember when I started reading books or whether I particularly loved reading them. We had an hour each week for library in school and it was there that I started reading books by Enid Blyton. I loved them and looked forward to that time each week. 

My scholarly, erudite sisters read a great deal of classics such as Thomas Hardy, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte and ofcourse we had the Complete Works of Shakespeare. There was Oliver Goldsmith too...how can I forget "The Vicar of Wakefield" that I valiantly tried read or was forced to read. These books didn't particularly rouse my reading interest the way books by Enid Blyton did, but they were the kind of books good children from good families were supposed to read. My dad would eloquently talk of the richness of Goldsmith's writing and would read to me Shakespeare plays as well.

What caught my interest though, was my sister's penchant to act out a few lines from various plays of Shakespeare. The long, boring summer holidays were interspersed with learning some very interesting speeches by heart and reciting them like a theater artist would. I remember them fondly to this day and on occasions entertain my family with them. 

My memory goes back to 6th grade, when during the summer holidays my sister introduced me to Charles Dickens "A tale of two cities" It was difficult reading but interesting in parts. I learned about the French revolution, the guillotine (still sends a shiver down my spine to think people were executed in that gruesome way), Madame Defarge & her knitting, and unforgettable Sidney Carton. Sidney Carton has a special place in my memory as I answered a quiz question on him soon after school reopened. More than getting the answer right & scoring a point, I still remember the look of bewilderment & disbelief in my classmates face that I, a back bencher and no gooder in studies got the answer right. 

Then came the days of the British Council Library that opened its branch in Hyderabad. The rich collection of books I was introduced to there!! Somerset Maugham entered my life for sometime.. Moon & Sixpence, Razor's Edge, Of Human Bondage, Mrs Craddock.

Then it was George Orwell and I remember being impressed with his  "Keep the Aspidistra flying" more than all the other books he is well known for.

Looking back I wonder if I remember the stories in these books. I remember I read them though. But not sure of their contents. Some stand out by the richness of their content. Keep the Aspidistra flying shook me up, made me think & contemplate on how important money was. But memories of some other books fade or have become blurred.

(To be continued)