The Remarkables and my neck

After the long long bus journey, I reached Queenstown at around sevenish. Queenstown was so busy, busier than a normal Christchurch day I  should say. The town center was full of ski shops and renatl shops and there was crowd everywhere – in the info center, restaurants, pubs, ski shops, everywhere. I found out my backpackers and settled in. Then I came out to explore a bit of the town. I could see that bungy, skydive, shotover and all other “adrenalin” activities were prohibitively expensive that the sight of the rates itself gave a bit of adrenalin high. I had one day in my hand. Sunday. I explored further. I always wanted to try my hands in skiing – again form the knowledge of skiing from some tamil movies. But I did not plan to do it in this trip.

There are three skiing areas near Queenstown – Coronet peak, Remarkables and Cardrona. The snow center where ski reservations were to be made, was already shut but I could find brochures on these fields. The remarkable beginner pack worked out to be the cheapest – transport, lift pass, two classes and equipment for 112 dollars. Not a bad bargain.

So the next morning, the snow center was to open at 7 40 am. I reached there at 7 45. There was a small queue. I made my card and then reached the bus which was to take us to the Remarkables. The bus journey reminded me of the ascent on tirupati hills in the devasthanam bus. It was very similar with hairpin bends and bit of nauseation sometimes but the difference was there was snow everywhere outside. The ski field was one of the most crowded places I had seen so far in New zealand. Lot of people were pouring in. Literally like tirupati again. I was fitted with the ski boots, skis and the poles. The boots were real tight. Came out of the rental store. There were many young boys and youth already skiing in the low areas. I asked a nearby person to help to put my skis on. There was a small slope next to where i was standing. I have this problem of acting childish sometimes.

I wanted to try and ski myself since I was seeing a lot of people effortlessly doing it. Off I went down on the slope and in three seconds i lost control and fell over on my face. The snow was powdery and soft, i was not hurt but i could n’t get up and stand either with the ski boot and ski on. I could n’t balance at all. After all, the thrill is in balance and control, not in the speed. Again, a good atma nearby helped me get up. I gave up this foolish attempt and went to the cafe to have a coffee.

The class started at 9 50. All the beginners were made to stand in rows of tens. The crowd was so much that two more were added to out row. Our instructor was a girl from UK. Cheerful and helping. She was a good teacher. She taught us how to fit the ski, how to stand, how to walk with the ski on, how to start, how to stop. This took all the morning and i had fallen atleast 8 times already. But now I was able to get up myself.

By now the sun was strong and the whole ares so warm. With the exercise I was perspiring. I took away my gloves. My hands were sweating. I liked the sport not because of the thrill of skating down in ice but because the whole game is about control and balance. I was inspired by the teacher – perhaps five years younger than me, who did the movements on her ski so effortlessly, as if she was born with the skis fitted.

 I practised in the lunch break and by the afternoon class, I was no more falling down. But my teacher was not convinced. Among us 12, i was third from last in my capacity. Others were really good. But two performed poorer than me. She prepared us for a big descent. She came in front of me. “Look mate, can you go down without falling?”.

“I think so”

“You think so or you know so? ‘coz I don’t want any accidents here. There are lot of kids around and I don’t want you to wipe out anyone. Hold my hand and come down with me”

This was like my ability tested. The tone in which she said this was not friendly. I know I am not good at control but I told her “Look I can come down myself, you go down and wait for me”

She went down. Just as I started, a kid came fast into my legs and hit me. I fell and he fell too. I got up and then with a firm resolution as to not to fall any more, headed down. I did not fall. The girl came near.

“Good, I see you have practised in the break. You are a lot better now”

After that I did not fall down. I improved. By four, the ski field closed. I went to the line for the bus to take us back. By now all my muscles were aching individually but my neck especially. It was getting cold and I could feel it on my body under the four layers of clothing I was wearing. The queue for the bus was long with  some 250 people waiting. I was in the middle. I got my place in the third bus which came after an hour of waiting. Probably skiing is like pilgrimage for these people, I thought.

All said and done, I reached my room only to find out that I have hur tmy neck badly somehow. I realised why they say “pain in the neck”. It is really nagging, like a old wife. Three days on, it’s still not gone.

I fell in love with skiing. I would probably get some more chance before I leave for my motherland, which also has a couple of ski fields. Let’s see. Let the neck get right first.

To my prospective bride (or) The married woman

                Hey my sweet young lady,

Hope you are doing well. I am good here.

I do not know where you are. I don’t know whether you would exist at any time either. But I felt a strong urge to write you a letter today. This letter I thought of writing to you after I read a book. Obviously men and women are not the same and it is normal that they think different. Their needs, their perception of a predicament and their decision making are all different.

 I had not read many women authors before. Possibly because I don’t like reading books for the sake of passing time or because I had not come across good women authors before. This book I found in the “cancelled section” in the public library. It was called “the married woman”. It was on sale for 50 cents.

The author, Manju Kapur, teaches English in Delhi. I somehow felt the book should be interesting, at least for me. I bought the book. The book is about a woman brought up with all unnecessary fears and insecurities a woman should have in Indian society. But the difference was it was from the woman’s view point. It starts with the school day crush of the girl, the affair in college with a boy who she strongly believes would marry her and with that belief goes up to a “lip kiss”. Or many mouth explorations rather. The boy flies off to a foreign country.

The frustration from deceit lingers. Memories give more pain. In between this the girl’s mother arranges for a boy to visit her house from one of the newspaper matrimonial ads. The anger and irritation of a girl is well brought out here. She is furious that her mother wanted her not to meet or talk to any boy before but now she wants her to meet and talk to a man she hardly knows. This is the irritation any girl would get with being treated as an object. I could sense it when I read the book from a girl’s point. The anger of the girl is definitely reasonable. You can’t expect an educated girl of that age to act in any other manner.

Finally after a few years an alliance is fixed. The suitor is a good looking, foreign return lad from a well to do family. All that an Indian woman would need for marriage.  The boy had liked the girl and enquired about her through someone and reached her family. The wedding and honey moon pass well. The excitement is gone and boredom sets in. The role of a traditional Indian wife is being widely misunderstood by both men and modern women. The woman always thinks that her opinion and her interests are neglected. The thousand things a working woman has to manage, the tensions in marital life, the unsatisfactory routine of sex and above all the feeling of neglect makes the woman suffer for herself. She feels caged even though she has got a good husband, two handsome children and a house in a posh Delhi suburb and blab la bla. She feels lost even though she is with her husband and loving children. She feels the hallows in her. She basically thinks too much for an average Indian woman.

I felt she did not have the many other problems a Indian woman had to face like problems from in laws and husband’s relatives, harassment at workplace, financial problems mainly for big expenditures and the like. Obviously she is a woman from upper middle class – high class level so she has to have her own things to worry about and there comes this craving for constant attention and companionship and recognition and sharing. I don’t deny that these needs are not there in the lower sections of the society but in front of the major obstacles for survival, these needs look more like an indulgence rather than a need itself.

But these needs are always there, whether overt or deep inside. The man has to take care of them. In this story we see the woman finding the companionship and love in a widow and ending up having an affair with the woman which at one point goes to the extent of threatening her marriage. The craving I would say, for these subtle things such as recognition and companionship sometimes blinds us from the gross reality. The foolishness of a woman’s mind is also portrayed in the desire on a jewellery box. The author had tried to justify the interest on the jewellery box but on this one thing I would take the side of the husband. I don’t agree with the author.

In the midst of this fluid and emotional family story, the Ramjhanma bhoomi problem is touched upon and explained and is part of the novel. That is the “useful information learning” part of the novel. The feeling of the woman to do something in this issue is being met with discouragement from family saying that is not a woman thing. That is again part of Indian societal make up.

The woman is a poet and a painter. For an artist, be it poems, books or paintings, the publishing of them is also about exposing them, their nature, their state of mind and desires and feelings. The fear of being exposed remains for a writer or a painter. For example, talking in Indian terms, the book’s description of lesbianism makes you suspect for a moment the orientation of the author herself. That is one of the “industrial hazards” writers face.

Anyway coming to the spiritual part of it, the expectations from others are the keys of disappointments. But you can’t help yourself from expecting from your spouse the things you need the most. You all the more expect the needs you have, to be fulfilled by your spouse without you demanding for them, by sensing it directly from your heart, like telepathy or something, the symbol of true love – the desire being fulfilled when it is still in your thoughts. This does not often happen with couples, the poor spouse hardly ever knows of your expectations, he or she is in her own longing s and needs from you. The art of good family life is in fulfilling the needs and getting our expectations cared for without getting hurt or hurting in the process. This is not easy. But one can definitely try.

The story ends with her lesbian partner leaving abroad and the woman left “suffering” in her family predicament. Humans are all poor little things with small little hearts needing a bit of love, care and attention. This seemingly simple thing is the most difficult concept to come to terms with.

Ok, now coming to our letter, this book opened my eyes about the feeling of a girl when a stranger turns up one morning in the house or calls her up and mentions that her dad wanted him to talk to her to make friends and marry. This is like absurd. It is pretty natural to get angry at your Dad and also at me if I do this to you. I agree. It is so many things being tested. First you don’t know who I am and you can’t start a friendly chat like “hi, are you going to be my husband?” How awkward to think like that. It is pretty odd. It is odd for me too. I have my own fantasies and dreams about my wife too. I am sure you have yours.

I am sure most of us have small crushes in schooldays. Some have serious affairs in their college days. Few don’t really get the chance of being in a relationship. It is better to have a relationship. It comes with a price. You fall in love – the most beautiful and at the same time the cruelest feeling in the world. You end up losing pretty much everything from sleep to hunger to money to time to self respect and what not. You put yourself deliberately in the mercy of the thing you love. You are filled with his/her fantasies 24*7. You are tortured by nobody but your own mind. Nothing else in the world seems important than the proximity of the loved one. It is not physical at all I know.

It is nice to have the feeling once. Like bungee jumping. It is a thing to be experienced. You actually start learning from it only when you break up. I feel a person who has had a relationship and broke up can be more mature in his/her expectations towards their spouse. It’s my feeling. You may contradict.

It was all my expectations about my future wife till date. Now I have started to think what I would give her and what I would do to keep her happy (one impossible thing in the world?). I am sure a love can’t blossom in the setting of Indian arranged marriage. The thrill of love is not comparable to the sucking pre marriage dates with the fiancé. It sucks to talk to know a person after the decision of marriage has been made. How irritating for a young modern educated girl who knows she too has her say in every decision involving her. First is about the person. He is no way comparable to my lover/boyfriend/dream boy/whatever. Though broke up now. Still mind feels the best one is that. Nothing can be compared. Still realities are bit different. It might take years before the imagery of the dream boy disappears and the current husband makes his way into the mind. I understand. It is the same on both sides. But then, arranged marriages work. Not by overwhelming love, but by consideration and accommodation. After all, that is love. You are ready to break any barrier for the loved one. But when to comes to the parent’s boy, your demands rise to the sky. That’s natural.

Again, It may be years before we see through each other. But it is a nice start to make knowingly. It is nice to start as friends. Friendship has no hierarchy. It is one good thing to start with. You may not like me for all this deliberate bullshitting. But I am like this.

 It all depends on the kind of person. There are people- simple people. Simple thoughts, simple pleasures, happy most of the time. Then there are people – who think too much. Complicated hedonics – for whom any joy gives thoughts of the pain associated. Those who like thinking just for the sake of it. Think into every damn nonsense possible. Whether this small movement today morning in the meeting might have meant something to this guy, by sitting down did I send a wrong note to that guy, by talking this would that lady might have thought something about me, thousands like these to keep you busy and the countless arguments and counter arguments take place in the vast arena of mind. You end up defeated anyway. Even when you win the argument, you have spent worthless time on this wasteful thought game. Unfortunately I belong to the second group. So all this bullshitting is part of me to be accepted.

I understand it is going to be hard for you to bear with me, that too an entire life time. Believe me, I’ll help you in that. Wishing you well always,

Yours truly,

Karthik.

The argumnetative Indian

Queenstown is one of the much hyped tourist destinations in New Zealand. It has been dubbed as the adventure capital of the world. So it was almost sinful to live in south island for six months and return without visiting this place. Since my consultants were going on vacation (they go on vacations every coupla months) first week of July (it was school holidays then) I decided I would rather escape from the sin by visiting Queenstown. Car was broke and driving in snow was supposedly dangerous, flights were prohibitively expensive coz of the ski season and so the poor man’s mode – low fare bus became the only left option to get there. In fact I was happy to choose the bus, one reason being the scenery on the way which was to be enjoyed without concentrating on the road and the other obvious reason - time to spend with a book.
I had chosen a couple of books for the journey from the library. Sulman Rushdies’s “midnight children” was the first book to be completed. Next in line was “the argumentative Indian” by Amartya Sen. This book’s title attracted my attention when I found this in the library. I had always liked arguments and discussion. In a healthy way of course. In fact the spiritual masters recommend Satsanga – company of like minded people to discuss and foster knowledge. Indians are probably argumentative it ought on seeing this big book.
The bus journey started at 9 30 am. The day was unusually sunny with good views of the distant mountains which progressively became closer, all laden with a number of inches of snow, some fresh and some a few days old. Snow was everywhere, on the roads, over the roofs, in the carparks, on the hills, snowy white everywhere.
I started with Salman Rushdie. Somehow, I was not very comfortable with him. I have started feeling that if I read a book or watch a movie, I should learn something just not get entertained. This notion is my father’s. He would always ask me if there is something useful for my exams in the movie which I was pestering my Dad to take me to. I would be pissed off so badly when he asked that every time in the same simple and innocent manner. But he eventually obliged by taking us to the movie knowing for sure that there is no useful lesson to be learnt for my primary school exam. This idea somehow probably got ingrained in me. I was hence was looking for information and learning rather than entertainment when i took a book. The initial pages of Rushdie did n’t fit into my taste.
I took this argumentative book then. The book’s introduction itself told me that I would find stuff of my interest inside it. The first essay is about the tradition of arguments in Indian history. I was suddenly reminded of the word “Dargashasthra” which I have heard somewhere. This shasthra lays down rules about the conduct an argument.
The essay in superb style elaborates Inida’s history and tradition in Amartya Sen’s view. Sen himself acknowledges the fact that provided the diversity of India, talking of India by any single person is always selected, not complete. Many facts in the essay were new and interesting to me. For example, we fail to realize that India was a Buddhist nation for almost 1000 years. Carvaka’s atheistic philosophy rejects the existence of anything more than human perception and bashes all rituals as just means by Brahmins to earn a livelihood. This school of thought is about 1500 years old and well described and acknowledged in texts. The character of Javali, a pundit in Ramayana is probabably not that popular as he is seen lecturing Rama about the Carvaka type philosophy. The scientific transaction between ancient Indian mathematicians and scientists with Persian and Arab scholars is another interesting fact. The rational thinking in India was influenced by their work and vice versa. Like Aryabhatta’s calculations about the solar and lunar eclipse were used and acknowledged widely by Arabians.
I wonder Aryabhatta’s discovery of earth rotation and eclipses were done in a period when people strongly believed in what is brushed off as mythology now – the devouring of moon by Raghu or the like. The scenario is like that of Galileo and Socrates in the west. They were outcasted and killed whereas in India Aryabhatta was widely respected. So the reaction to radical thoughts by a society is evident from this incident. The belief that the past of India is overwhelmingly religious or deeply anti scientific or exclusively hierarchical or fundamentally anti sceptical, is wrong according to the author.
Sen goes on to say that Indian literature has more rational writings than any classical language. He talks of Lokayata school which reproaches inference totally. India has a lot to know about her past. We tend to pose ourselves as the sons and daughters of this magnificient country with a rich past, just knowing very little of it, that too not in great detail. With that meek knowledge of ours we tend to look down on “Indian” ways.
More about the book will follow.

Pleasure and happiness

There are things which we enjoy doing. Some are very pleasurable. Some not that much. We derive pleasure while doing certain things but when we are done, it leaves a stint of guilt on us.Like smoking. There are many examples.These are our petty vices.We are aware that they make us feel guilty but the urge to do those exceeds often. The result is unhappiness.
And there are certain things which give us tremendous satisfaction once we had done them. They are pleasurable too. You know the examples. The examples vary with each one. Of course the satisfation you get is very subjective. The same action can gve happiness to one and guilt to another. But thinking in staright terms, the actions which are not against your conscience leave you with satisfaction and happiness. Those done merely for pleasure leave you with guilt and unhappiness. The vicious cycle continues when we run towards those same actions in refuge to our unhappiness.

It is not easy, but it is not difficult too.

The need for spiritual training

Life is peculiar in the same ways as it is simple. I see teenagers here. They romance publicly in pools, at 12 and 13 wear skimpiest outfits and pose as adults,smoke, do all the stuff an adult would do. This urge to grow out to an adult is present during the teen ages. Nothing is left for adulthood. Everything is tried. Th worst thing here is teenagers make decisions for themselves.One reason may be parents are busy themselves finding new partners or trying to hold to old ones. The other reason may be moral laws are not so strong as in Indian society.
In India, a teenager cant smoke in public. It would look awkward. A teenager cant kiss his girlfriend(who is in 7th class) on the road. There is a small fear still of doing socially unacceptable things. Then comes the role of the parents. The parents in India never think that their responsibility is over until they had married their kid off whether it's a boy or a girl. So we are answerable to them always. It is a lot of commitment and lot of responsibility to raise a kid in India. here I see parents keep baby sitters in the house and holiday in a foreign country for a coupla weeks. Is it possible in india? even if you to the next street you would carry your child.
Refined, civilised - this is how this society is described. The degustation dinner may be one of the refined things I find here. I am unable to find reasons to call this society more civilised because the ways for higher happiness or peace are never being thought. Material pleasures rule the world. A society addicted to material pleasures - bigger homes, better cars, newer holiday places,costly dresses and costly restaurants. the cycle of desire and pain in this materialism makes me feel there is no much reason to think that this scoiety is more refined. the evidence is the amount of psychiatric illnesses in the society.
One other point comes to light here. Man cant be happy onlt if he has better living, good food and good clothing.he needs spiritual support. Spirituality for what ever it means in India is a recent fashion of the rich middle class.
the entertainment spirituality gives to these people amuses them. Following a spiritual guru is a trend.but spirituality in its true sense has not gone to the urban slums or to the poor villagers. Most of the sadness of the state is concentrated in these places. Spiritual gurus hesitate to reach to these marginalised people as they find no gain in it. These are the real people in need of spiritual advice. If they remain happy, crime in the society would go down. If craving comes down, crime rates would proportionally decrease. Genuine spiritual masters have to reach out to the marginalized sections of the society for developing their mind. That involves lot of courage and patience.But success will be achieved.
I remember myself being a teenager being so angry at my parents when they opposed my decisions and had always THOUGHT ONE DAY i WOULD GROW AND NO ONE WOULD BE THERE TO CONTROL ME. everyone would have had such thoughts in their teen ages. It is common in this age to think like this. You oppose parents for whatever they tell you. the urge to act in an adultly manner is present all the time.
it is one of the beauties of adolescence.
Suddenly after growing old, becoming an adult I feel it was better as an adoloscent. even better a s a child under care of some one. the commitment of being a responsible adult is huge. You start felling " ahha! I was happier during my school days! beeter i grow younger again"
Parenting an adoloscent is a sensitive subject in which many are not experts.

the problem of the mind....

So everyone lives with some desire unfulfilled, many die with atleast some desires unfulfilled...unfulfilled desires give grief, fulfilled desires give momentous happiness, depending upon the nature of the desire, say for half an hour, one week or one month and then a new desire creeps in, occupies the whole mind, looks asif there was nothing else but this desire which was so important all time, puts us to great grief, anxiety and tension, makes try all eartly ways to attain it, once attained vanishes as if it had never existed, the contentment never lasts, immediately the next desire in line attains importance, thus keeping us an addict to desirous mind and never allowing us to be happy.
this cycle is funny to think about, bur too complicated to break. one big desire stands out all the time,of course another when the former is taken care of.to be aware of this and not to give in to any burning desire is important.it is not possible not to have desires but it is possible to be aware of them.
New zealand has a sadness running in the background of the minds of her people. the detachment to history of the european settlers here, a feeling of isolation from the rest of the world being an island nation, the notion that the world looks down on an islander, these are reasons these people have searched and found for being unhappy basically. 7 out of 10 patients I see have a antideperessant medication in their drug list. I heard that New Zealand is the couuntry with highest number of suicides.
These are disturbing.
the problem really is the mind. not knowing the ways to keep oneself happy. not knowing how to avoid becoming sad unknowingly.
definitely the answers are in India.

life: every moment is pregnant with endless possibilities!

I wish to write a lot but the motivation does n't come...today morning took bus to Cashmere with my bike and biked up hill for 4 ks...appah! back breaking! came down hill by bike that was fun....
still not getting the right direction as to what to do and how to do....
we all talk ill of advising others..but many mistakes happen just because of the lack of right advice in the right time...we get bored with advices but sometimes we yearn for the right person to appear in front of us to advice us regarding a crucial decision...the helplessness we are put into in such situations is really frightening...the fear of failure is not the the thing it the fear of self blame for the failure if it happens as the decision was ours..
the shear number of possibilities in life makes every moment interesting.Life is full of endless possibilities. That's why man tends to believe in supernatural powers in decisions of life be it big or small...not everything in life happens by co incidence..things seem to fall in place most of the time... everything seems to work in perfect harmony....it's only us standing in between and claiming ownership and getting into trouble all the time putting ourselves into unnecessary fear and anxiety and disappointment and agony
to stand aside and watch the beauty of all that's happening is not easy..unlearning and unconditioning is not all easy
after all the beleif in this body and mind is the one which keeps us moving, yet at some point we realize the anxiety about things is totally unwanted.mmmmm.....it's good to think and talk yet hard to live.