The Inevitability of Death

Over 5 years we worked together. He was smart, quite and extremely funny. Sarcasm was his game. And he played it so well. But he wouldn’t hurt a soul, not even if he tried. When things got difficult, he was always there to lighten the mood. He would make me laugh so hard and sit with a straight face. And I would laugh even more. As night and day, chalk and cheese — he had in him a side that was serious. The side in him he put forth when I was troubled. He knew how to listen, he knew when to speak, and he knew how to lift my spirits up.

Fast forward to Hyderabad in 2013. I was in a classroom attending a leadership program when the call came. A fatal accident the night before. He was no more. Out of goodwill he had offered his seat to someone else in the bus. Little did he know then he had volunteered his own life to save the other person’s.

I remember that day so well. Not a drop of tear. I called my other best friend and we made travel plans to attend his funeral in Bangalore once I got back to Chennai the next day.

Things were so hectic the next day that we did not even stop to grieve. It was an early morning train and the four hour journey was a cocktail of grief, fear and pain. The burial was that afternoon and we were heading straight to the church where service was on. Our ride to the church was filled with gripping fear to face his parents and most importantly see him. Like that. When we arrived his friend led us in. The sight that met my eyes will forever be etched in my mind – a weeping father over his son’s half open coffin. My friend and I held each other’s hands tightly and tried to pull one another back – anything we could do to not see him like that. They slowly closed the coffin as soon as we caught a glimpse of him, all the while paralysed in shock.

The burial ground came next. Prayers, friends, family. The first tear came when they lowered him to the ground. He was so young. The months that followed were the hardest. Not seeing his message on my phone, not hearing from him. And knowing I was not going to hear him say, “Hey Sudha” ever again. The way he made me feel both dumb and smart at the same time. I will miss that.

As the universe is getting used to another year without him, I’m reminded of a few simple things —

How quickly life can be snatched away at the most unexpected moment.
How important it is to live our own life, take chances and brew our own dose of happiness.
Realising we all are damaged in our own ways and, there’s a bit of darkness in all of us. But also realising there’s always room for hope and happiness. We just have to see and choose what’s best for us.
“We deserve to be happy and enjoy this lifetime.”

To a friend who taught me it’s perfectly ok be quirky — You are very much missed.

20 and thriving

Workplace lessons – Be humble. Be hungry. And always strive to be the ~~hardest~~ smartest worker in the room.

The year was 1999. I had just turned 20. It was a Thursday morning and I was working a part time job telemarketing for cars. I had two hours before I head to college to collect my hall ticket for my final exams that summer. In between a call, I looked up to see my dad arrive at the showroom. He walked right in, smiled and congratulated me. I got the job. Not just any job, but THE job. The one I’d prayed and wished for. At the building I had passed by every single day for the past three years on my way to college — the one with the green lawn, the compound (I had to get up from my bus seat to take a peak) and the flag that flew within.

April 1 – I walked in with my new ID badge on and my head held high. A few friendly smiles, while others just looked. One walked up and said, “You will be the youngest here”. I smiled and in my mind asked “So?”.

A working professional. My journey had begun and little did I know then this would require me to be fierce as fire at each turn.

And what a journey it has been. Two decades later I think of every tiny step taken, progress made each day that has added up to big results. Heart wrenching ups and downs. Most importantly lessons learnt on trust and distrust. Seeing friends who started spewing venom and seeing my success as their failure was the hardest. Icy stares and chilly words. Threats, false allegations and curses. Years moved by. What remained a constant was the unquenchable thirst for knowledge. This fed the fire within and taught me something new every day.

And today, I am thankful for many things.

The invisible hands that have always been behind my growth.
Experiences that taught me it’s the effort that counts, not the applause that follows.
Loyal friends who had my back when the knives were out.
Understanding that sometimes it’s the will, more than the skill.
Making me come to terms with the fact that it’s your attitude that determines your direction.
Realizing that great things never comes from comfort zones.
And finally knowing that passion is the difference between having a job and having a career.

I am reminded of what my dear friend said recently, “You attract what you deserve.”

And maybe that’s true – I deserve this journey. To make me complete.

Silence in the midst of chaos

My monkey of a mind is constantly filled with thoughts, plans, concepts, people, what ifs, what if nots and what next. At times it feels like I am consumed by everything crazy going on around me and I fail to appreciate the important aspects of life.

In a world filled with noise, only a few understand silence. I have recently learnt to shut off the world (this means everything and everyone) and embrace silence to recover and recharge. Silence to me is now more powerful than any words or actions. It simply means nothing can get to me. Nothing can pull me down.

Use silence wisely. Master it, and it will bring you peace. My journey has just begun…

“Silence isn’t empty. It’s full of answers.”

There is always something to be grateful for…

The warm feeling that overwhelms you.

That dose of positivity that resonates from within you with every heartbeat.

An unexplainable feeling that fuels inner strength and keeps your soul alive.

Something that tells you you’ve reached a dangerously high level of awesomeness.

How do you get there? A hard journey that’s worth every step.

Look at the good in everything….yes, everything. Even in the most darkest turn of events, there is something to be hopeful of. Something you can cling on to.
Appreciate everything. Start with the small stuff. Only then can you transition the sentiment to bigger achievements.
Practice mindfulness. Reflect on all the good in your life.
Resist the temptation of comparing yourself with other people. We all have our own journeys.
Appreciate what you have right now.
Apply an abundance mindset in your way of thinking – every action begins with the mind, after all.
Help other people and touch their lives meaningfully. There really is nothing more rewarding in this world than helping other people improve their lives.

“The more you are in a state of gratitude, the more you will attract things to be grateful for.”

“Try something different. Surrender.” – Rumi

Don’t delay the good deeds

I am guilty. Of not acting on my thoughts.

A year ago this young couple with a child and a very elderly and disabled father set up their iron shop opposite our house. It was interesting and at the same time sad watching the family conduct both their life and business under a tree with all the dust and traffic around. I admit they were loud and annoying at times. They treated the road as their kitchen, bathroom and resting place.

In particular, I was deeply saddened watching the elderly person who was clearly unwell live under such surroundings. He would simply sit still and quite for hours together. When he wanted to rest, he would throw the towel he carried on his shoulder to the ground and lie down. It was disturbing to watch him remain so still. Maybe he was blind. I don’t know.

In summer, when most of us reach for the AC remote the minute we reach home, this elderly person was out sitting still on the roadside at the same place every day under the scorching Chennai sun. Unable to watch him be that way, I used to selfishly close my balcony door.

One monsoon day when it started pouring quite suddenly, the kid and his parents took refuge under a branch while he simply sat still not knowing what to do. It was the first time I saw life in his eyes. And it was panic. I called him and asked him to come sit inside our watchman’s cabin. He did not understand. Then the little one grabbed his hand and led him into our compound. He was reluctant. It look a bit of coaxing to convince him. Although temporary, once he had a roof over his head, he looked much happier. It killed me to watch him there in his torn shirt and dirty dothi.

A few weeks before Diwali, I decided to buy new clothes for the entire family. A sari and shirt for the couple, T-shirt for the little one and most importantly a nice shirt and a new dothi for the elder. Diwali came and my thoughts remained as just thoughts. Work, travel and selfish expenses. I then vowed I will act on my thoughts during Christmas. Christmas too came and went — party, gifts and lavish spendings. New year, Pongal. Still the same. Just a fleeting thought around each festival. Regret. But not enough to act immediately.

Last week, the street was unusually quite — the hustle and bustle was missing. Three days ago the family was back. The couple and the child. The man had his head tonsured. Nothing struck me even then. I was so wrapped up in my world. Yesterday I came to know that the grandfather had fallen down, was injured and passed away.

My heart is filled with sadness and regret. Sad, because suffering of the young and old rips my heart apart. Regret, because of being selfish and wrapped up in my own world.

As I look under the tree, I continue to see him seated. Painfully still in his shabby clothes. His old, sad eyes. I am filled with guilt, more than I can imagine. Full of regret.

Greatest lesson learnt: You may delay, but time will not.

I will carry this in my heart forever.