One play two roles: "Oxygen 95"

One play, two roles.  "Oxygen 95" staged as part of Pathey Nimidam at the Esplanade this 28th, 29th and 30th January 2022,  was more than just a 10 minute play. On the face of it, it was a true life story of a lady trying to come to terms with her mother's death due to covid, unable to visit or be with her. However, for a discerning viewer, it had quite a number of layers when it finally went on stage. 

I played two roles, one was a counsellor (Dr. Badri) who the lady (Meena) visits to make sense of her life that has turned upside down with this sudden loss. Death of a parent at any age shakes you up for sure, and death in such strange conditions of covid, where visits are impossible, can be traumatic.

The other role I played was a mother. A mother who loved her daughter, independent, yet nurturing strong ties with her children; forceful, yet helpless at times as hospitalization makes her feel increasingly depersonalized and out of control.

The director's idea of the swivelling chair to show the change of characters was brilliant. To me it lent a new interpretation to the story. Meena is distraught and is expressing a complex set of emotions to her counsellor who at times is able to mirror her mother. In her eyes she sees her mother in the persona of the counsellor. On the face of it, Meena is speaking to her counsellor but at another level she is speaking to her mother trying to revisit and unpack the sequence of events that transpired before her demise in the hope of making sense of it, if ever there was one. Did she do her best? Could she have done more? And as many of us feel in a similar situation, can she turn the clock back? 

For many of us, our mother is our first counsellor, we would run to whenever we faced a problem. Even as grown ups, sometimes overburdened with the cares of the world one might just want to place their head on their mother's lap to find comfort and solace. So was it with Meena. 

So was it for me enacting the two roles. For I found a merging, blurring yet distinct characters being played out. 

I must also mention the poignant end when the mother rises up to come to the distressed daughter, to accept with serenity the inevitability of death and that the grand master above knows best and takes us into his fold; we may cast aside our physical bodies, but our soul lives on. 

This was the symbolic casting off the gown after giving her final message. "We do our best and leave the rest"

This is why theatre fascinates me. The depth of the roles and the persona that one gets to portray. It teaches you about life and the choices people make. Teaches you to look below the surface of characters in the play. It also helps us understand peoples' behaviour in general. Each of us going through some issue, fighting our silent battles and yet being able to show up and play our role.

Yes, all the world is just a stage, as the famous bard said. 

Start again! - the story of my macrame curtain

This macrame doorway curtain was an ambitious project as it is the biggest I've ever attempted till now. It took me two weeks to complete it and I loved the way it turned out. However the rod, which is adjustable, and which was supposed to be fixed on to the wall, did not stay for long and after two weeks of display it came down.

Disappointed but still determined to hoist it up again, I took some additional measures of using a double sided tape which would help the ends stick to the wall. And so it went up  again. It held promise for a few more weeks till one night it came down again. 

This time, I decided to consult my friend who  has a "curtain" business. I wanted to know if I had made a mistake in getting the adjustable, no-nails rod. He suggested that I buy inexpensive wall fasteners online and take care to clean the wall before I fix them. That was exactly what I did. I bought the wall  fasteners and fixed them with great care, cleaning the wall first with alcohol and waiting for 24 hours for the adhesive to work effectively before placing the macrame curtain again. This time, it lasted a greater number of weeks until once again I saw it on the floor when I woke up one morning. 

I thought it was really curtains down, and felt very very disappointed. I thought of the moment I proudly took pictures of it and posted it on my social media and got so many appreciative comments about it. Little do people know the frustrations associated  with it. Apart from not having a display  anymore, I worried that I now had this massive amount of rope on my hands. 

Then I examined the damage. The plastic outer fastener that held the rod had got detached from the plastic on the wall, but it wasn't broken so it could be fixed back with a strong adhesive. In fact the packet that the fasteners came in had an extra tube of glue. This I used to help stick back the outer plastic piece. Now it is up again much to my delight and satisfaction.

I couldn't help singing the Hindi song : 

Yeh jo chilman hai, dushman hai hamari.

(This curtain, is such an enemy of mine)

It also reminded me of the story of the Scottish King Robert Bruce who after being defeated in war with the English, went into hiding in some caves. There he drew inspiration from a spider spinning its web. He watched the number of times the spider tried and failed, till it finally succeeded in spinning its web. There is a lesson in it for all of us as well as Robert Bruce, who went back to war with renewed energy and spirit and was victorious. 

And of course Goenkaji's sonorous voice asking us to "Start again" at the meditation retreats was a great reminder to leave the past unsuccessful attempts and press forward with renewed vigour. I hope I am successful this time and the curtain doesn't come crashing again. 

But then even if it does, I will start again. Down maybe but never out. 

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