A Day in Her Life

After my maternal grandmother passed away, I heard my mother say to a family member, “It is a blessing that we lived during her lifetime.” I have heard people say this when enlightened and beautiful souls leave the earth. What makes a person so special that their very presence becomes a blessing to those around them? That must probably make you curious to know about my grandmother, Smt. Thirumulu Natarajan, how she lived, won the hearts of people, and navigated the vicissitudes of life with righteousness and confidence.

Let me take you through a day in her life.

She was awake before the birds, and the first thing she did was light the lamps at the altar and at the entrance of the house. After brewing the first decoction and having her first cup of coffee, she sat down to cut vegetables for that day's lunch. Every piece was cut to the same size, with a precision that even a machine could not match. The murukkus she made were tasty, flavourful and remarkably uniform in shape. The clothes she had washed by hand hung on the line without a single wrinkle, a quiet showcase of her neat and meticulous nature.

It was beautiful to watch her get ready for the day. She held her hair in place with two hairpins. She applied sandalwood talc to her face, then a dab of wax the size of a 25-paisa coin on her forehead, and finished with kumkum. She was always dressed in a nine-yard saree, and her diamond earrings and nose stud added to her radiance. She looked like Vanadurga herself, walking among us. Her attire and disciplined lifestyle never changed even during her visit to the US.

Before stepping into the kitchen, she removed the old flowers from the altar and set them aside for composting. Nothing was wasted. She also read the panchangam for the day, noting the thithi, nakshatram, varam, karanam and yogam. While her hands were busy cooking lunch, her lips recited shlokas like a tape recorder. Her hospitality was as addictive as her coffee. She made half a dozen cups of coffee for the maid and other regular visitors. People visiting the local Vanadurga temple at Kadiramangalam made it a point to stop by for her coffee, her snacks and, above all, her conversation.

By 8 am, lunch would be ready. She would perform pooja to the Thulasi, offer neivedhyam to the house deity and then feed the crows. Only after completing these rituals would she head to the Vanadurga temple, carrying some ghee for the lamps and a few flowers. Along the way, she struck up conversations effortlessly with vendors, priests and visitors alike. She asked after their families and offered help wherever she could. To her, people were never strangers for long.

While she waited for my grandfather to come home for lunch, she journaled everything that had unfolded since morning. Besides her daily routine, she recorded important news from the immediate family, relatives and acquaintances. She maintained these journals for 65 years. Think about that for a moment. Sixty-five years of recording the little and big events of life, day after day. Relatives, friends and neighbours often came to her to trace the dates of deaths, childbirths, anniversaries and other important events. Her journals had become a living family archive, preserving memories that would otherwise have faded with time.

Once lunch was over, she washed the small dishes in the kitchen next to the well and left the larger ones for the maid, who came in the afternoon. By 11.30 am, the daily Thamizh newspaper would arrive, and she would spend 45 minutes going through the news and solving the crossword puzzle. She was deeply rooted in tradition, but she never stopped engaging with the world around her.

If she was tired, she took a 30-minute nap. If not, she used the time to write letters to us and to her relatives. When that was done, she recited the Durga Saptashati. Shankara TV and TTD were her favourite channels, and she did namaskaram to Kanchi Mahaperiava whenever he appeared on television. Her day moved seamlessly between family, the world and her spiritual pursuits.

By 1 pm, she would prepare snacks to go with the evening coffee, depending on what was available at home: thattai, murukku, mysorepak, rava laddu, coconut burfi or therattipaal. She never consumed anything from outside. Nothing processed, nothing store-bought. The turmeric, the sambar powder, the idli and dosa batter, everything was sun-dried, prepared and ground at home. Quality was never compromised, and self-reliance was a way of life.

She never sat idle for even a minute. No scrolling, unlike our generation! Every minute went into something useful: planning for the next day, tidying up, preparing something for the family or helping someone. She did not need productivity apps or time-management techniques. She had a rhythm to her life, and every activity had its place.

Around 4 pm, when the maid swept the entrance, she would draw a fresh kolam and feed the street dogs rice mixed with milk. Then she would freshen up, change into a six-yard saree and step out to chat with the neighbours, often visiting them with freshly made snacks. Her day was not confined to the four walls of her home. She made time for people, and people made time for her.

By 5.30 pm, she lit the lamps at the entrance and the pooja altar and cleaned up the kitchen. My grandparents had dinner by 6.30 pm, which is exactly what gut specialists advise today. After dinner, she updated her journal for the day and retired by 8 pm. At night, she always kept a Big Ben timepiece and a small torch beside her.

This was a regular day in her life. Imagine what happened on a festival day or when there was a function at home. She woke up even earlier and worked non-stop. For over 40 years, she hosted grand Navarathri celebrations, with more than 40 pandits having lunch at home during those nine days. Apart from this, she observed all the vrathams, including Chaturthi, Rishipanchami and Umamaheshwara Vratham, that were part of the scriptural traditions she followed. Her devotion was not confined to a few auspicious days or convenient moments. It was woven into the fabric of her everyday life.

Despite the hardships she faced in life, she never wavered from the path of dharma. She practised bhoota yagnam (care for other living beings), deva yagnam (reverence and offerings to the divine), pitru yagnam (gratitude and duties towards one's ancestors.) and manushya yagnam (Hospitality, generosity and service towards fellow human beings), all with devotion and love. Her faith was expressed not just through prayers and rituals, but also through the food she shared, the animals she fed, the people she helped and the relationships she nurtured. This spirit of hospitality and care continued even when she visited me in the US. My grandfather was a pillar of support to her in all her endeavours.

The Bhagavad Gita beautifully captures the spirit of such a life in Chapter 3, Verse 19:

तस्मादसक्तः सततं कार्यं कर्म समाचर।

असक्तो ह्याचरन्कर्म परमाप्नोति पूरुषः॥

Tasmād asaktaḥ satataṁ kāryaṁ karma samācara,

Asakto hy ācaran karma param āpnoti pūruṣaḥ.

“Therefore, without attachment, always perform the work that ought to be done. By performing action without attachment, one attains the Supreme.”

My grandmother may never have described her life in these terms, but she lived the essence of this teaching. She performed her duties consistently, without seeking recognition or applause. Whether she was cooking, praying, maintaining her journals, feeding animals or helping a neighbour, she brought the same sincerity to everything she did.

Living a clean and transparent life kept her healthy in body and mind till the end. But what made her truly remarkable was not simply her discipline, longevity or devotion. It was the way she brought all these qualities together with compassion, generosity and an extraordinary ability to connect with people across generations, cultures and communities. She forgave people then and there and never carried ill feelings towards anyone. There was no room for grudges in her heart.

She continues to be an inspiration to many of us. Even after she has left us, the routines she followed, the values she upheld and the relationships she built remain lessons worth remembering.

Looking back, I realise that a meaningful life need not be built around extraordinary achievements or grand gestures. Sometimes, it is built quietly, one day at a time, through the way we treat people, the responsibilities we honour, the traditions we preserve and the kindness we extend to those who cross our path.

We often look to the lives of realised souls to understand how to live and how to make our lives meaningful and purposeful, not just for ourselves but for others too. Perhaps their greatest lessons are not found in extraordinary moments, but in the everyday choices they make and the values they practise consistently.

Perhaps that is why my mother's words have stayed with me: “It is a blessing that we lived during her lifetime.”

And perhaps the greater question is this: Will the people who live during our lifetime feel the same way about us?

As you reflect on your own life, think of someone whose presence has made your world a better place. What did they teach you through their everyday actions? And what is one value or practice you can carry forward in your own life?

If this story reminds you of someone special, share it with your family and friends. Tell their stories while they can still be heard, preserve the memories that matter, and pass on the values that deserve to live beyond us.

That, perhaps, is one of the most meaningful ways to keep a beautiful life alive.

A Life of Love, Service, and Devotion

From children to elders, and from strangers to friends and family members, everyone has stories and anecdotes to share about my maternal grandmother, Smt. Thirumulu Natarajan.

Her nephew and my uncle, Dr. B. S. Sankararaman, said in his message of grief, “The embodiment of humanity and compassion is no more. The clock of boundless energy has stopped. The hands that fed thousands upon thousands of relatives, guests, and workers finally rest.”

My friend Anitha, who visited her on weekends and took her for car rides when we were away, said, “I never saw my maternal grandmother, and Paati filled that void for me in many ways, from ensuring I had my meals to oiling and plaiting my hair and putting flowers in it.”

Paati’s love for cooking, feeding, and caring for people became her life’s purpose. The endless cups of coffee, morsels of rice, plates of murukku, and dabbas of Therattipaal, Mysorepak, and rava laddu that she served to relatives and strangers, always with love, earned her a special place in their hearts.

She would be the first guest to arrive at a wedding or family function and the last to leave. Within seconds, she became part of the host family, made herself useful in many ways, and left an indelible mark on their hearts.

It would not be an overstatement to say that she was more active than a bee. Discipline was her hallmark. She would retire to bed by 8:00 p.m. and wake up at 3:30 a.m.; her routine was impeccable. In fact, she journaled for 65 years, and many relatives would call her to check the dates of important events such as childbirths, marriages, and the passing of loved ones. Her record of life and its events was remarkably accurate and meaningful.

Wherever she went, she won the hearts and admiration of people. She visited me in the U.S. in 1999 and stayed for three months. She visited her cousin in Orlando and went with her to Disneyland and enjoyed the rides like a teenager.

She respected all religions and treated everyone with warmth and love. That Navratri, she kept a small golu in my living room and, with the same fervor, decorated the Christmas tree after Thanksgiving. She made friends with squirrels and elderly women in the apartment complex despite not speaking fluent English. As a gesture of gratitude for her friendship, the elderly women hosted a lunch party before she left for India. A few of them kept in touch with her through emails and letters.

As we go about our lives, there is so much to learn from her playbook of life. Her zest for life and people always stood out.

Everything about her was admirable: the way she dressed, carried herself with dignity, reached out to people, and served as an exemplar in every facet of life. She was practical and benevolent. She never kept anything for herself and became a benchmark for affability, hospitality, generosity, thoughtfulness, and compassion.

She was an amazing planner, though life did not unfold according to her plans. It was filled with hardships, yet they never made her waver in her faith in the Almighty, her commitment to the path of righteousness, or her compassion for fellow humans. She was never cynical.

For her 65th birthday, we visited famous temples in Karnataka - Udupi, Kollur Mookambika, Kukke Subramanya, and Nanjangud - and received the blessings of the saints of Sringeri and Kanchi. Her devotion to Vittala was supreme, and I remember taking her to Pandharpur for her 75th birthday.

We had the blessing of serving her during her last six years in Chennai. At the ripe age of 89, she breathed her last at 7:00 a.m. on September 25, 2026 - Anantha Chaturdashi - and reached the lotus feet of Vittala. Anantha chaturdasi marks the hallmark of the noble souls merger into eternity.

Between Covers, Bricks, and Seats

 

There is a quiet joy in catching a movie in the cinema before reading the book or scrolling through critic reviews. It lets you form your own firsthand interpretation, untouched by anyone else's bias. I never judge a book by its cover, a home by its appearance, a family by its behavior, or a movie by the crowd it draws. There are so many untold stories tucked between covers, bricks, people, and empty seats.

On a weekday noon, I found myself hurrying to the movie hall to catch Last Man in Tower. A week after its release, it had already begun to fade from the screens. Two shows each across four halls in its first week had shrunk to three shows across three halls by the second. When I settled in, there were hardly eight people in the theatre with me. So, don't judge the empty seats.

Last Man in Tower is a film adaptation of Arvind Adiga's 2011 novel, and its story unfolds like a slow ache. It follows the struggle between a builder and the residents of a housing society in Mumbai, a struggle that is really a mirror held up to greed, desire, memory, values, and ethics. What struck me most was how every character believed themselves justified. No one saw themselves as the villain of their own story. That, perhaps, is the quiet complexity of human nature.

These struggles are not new. They echo through generations, playing out between parents and children, between siblings, and between cousins who once shared the same courtyard. Families have sold ancestral homes, divided shares among themselves, and moved away in search of greener pastures and newer dreams. Behind every house that was sold, every wall that was demolished, and every home turned into apartments and later redeveloped to hold more people than it ever intended to, there is a story that no one ever tells.

If you listen closely to these stories, you will find the same threads running through many of our families: greed, desire, dreams, and memory.

In our own lives too, we are often confronted by the greed of others, pulled into their moral compass, made to act against our own instincts while we quietly justify ourselves and play the victim of circumstance and choice. And maybe that is the truest, saddest truth of all. Perhaps many of our dreams are meant to be shattered and memories erased before they become fossilized.

But some things resist erasure. The songs and the cast of Last Man in Tower will remain in my heart forever, tucked away like all those untold stories between covers, bricks, people, and empty seats.

A Charioteer’s Grace

(This is not an April Fool’s Day Joke)

Life unfolds in moments—some ordinary, some extraordinary, and then there are those where the divine reveals itself unmistakably. What happened to us on that highway was nothing short of a miracle.

We were driving as usual when, without warning, a bus veered into our lane. In an instant, we swerved sharply to the left, the tires losing grip. The car spun out of control, plunged into a ditch, and began to cartwheel. Once, twice, three times—glass shattering, metal twisting, the world spinning violently around us.

And then—stillness.

Shaken but conscious, upon coming to an halt, my brother and I checked on each other. The front doors were jammed, the windshield and rear glass lay in pieces, shards embedded in my brother’s face and hands. But we were alive. That alone felt unreal.

We were trapped until kind strangers stopped to help, forcing the doors open. And just like that, we stepped out—battered, but remarkably intact. Bruises and the seatbelt’s imprint across our bodies were the only marks of what should have been a catastrophic crash. It felt as though something unseen had cushioned the impact, shielding us from devastation.

As soon as I got out of the car, I reached for Tiruchendur Viboothi in my bag and smeared it on our foreheads.

At the hospital, doctors checked our vitals and conducted multiple scans for internal injuries. The airbags hadn’t even deployed, yet we had walked away from a wreck that should have left us broken. The doctors, staring at our scans, were baffled. Apart from soreness and minor wounds, we were unscathed. Their disbelief mirrored our own.

And then, the realization struck with overwhelming clarity—something greater had protected us. The Almighty had been our unseen airbag.

A shiver ran through me. Was this mere coincidence, or had we just witnessed the divine hand at work?

On the way home from the hospital, I checked the laptop bag that had been with me through the crash. Inside were two things: the Bhagavad Gita and an image of Krishna guiding Arjuna’s chariot. (I finished writing the 18th chapter of Gita  the day before). At the very moment the accident occurred, the Purusha Sooktham had been playing in the car.

I now know the answer in my heart. We had been held, shielded, and guided—just as Krishna had guided Arjuna through battle.

Sometimes you live to tell the tale. Today, my heart overflows with gratitude—not just for our lives, but for the undeniable reminder that when all seems lost, He is there, always.

The Unsung Hero of My Gut

This morning, I found myself on the porcelain throne, bracing for an unforgettable moment. It wasn’t just another visit—it was a full-fledged labor. The contractions came in waves, and I knew this one had been growing inside me for days, nurtured in the depths of my being. Some gestations last ten months, and we honor those with great reverence. But some, like this, last just a few excruciating days and deserve equal respect.

I sat there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions—elation, anticipation, and a touch of anxiety. Would this be a smooth delivery? Would I need assistance or epidural? Would I walk out of this bathroom a changed person?

Then, I remembered a famous Tamil movie dialogue that mocks a person:

“Did your mother give birth to you, or just eject you?”

There was no doubt—this one belonged to the latter category. It had been raised, nourished, and now, it was time for its grand exit. There was no need to pick up or name this one.

The moment arrived. A deep breath. A final push. And then… relief.

No gun salute was necessary, but I stood up out of sheer respect. With a triumphant smile, I bid farewell to my long-gestating creation.

Should this delivery be celebrated? Perhaps not with cake, but with a moment of silent gratitude—for the body, for the process, and for the simple joys of a successful conclusion.

Epilogue: I walked out of the bathroom feeling ten pounds lighter, with a renewed appreciation for life’s simplest victories.

Voyages of the self

We have to travel alone and outward to go within in and find our peace spot. This is my first solo trip in eight years and if you think it must have been tough to go solo, you’re mistaken. I was always alone in all my relationships, so there was no switch. 

When you travel to a place without a check list or not popularised by Insta reels, you have the opportunity to look at it with a fresh pair of eyes. Moreover, you’re not pressured to recreate a picture perfect vacation selfie or Instagram Reel.

Furthermore, when you’re not time bound and not hounded by office calls and emails or the thought of going back to work, it feels more special and peaceful.

While I booked my onward journey, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, which made it all the more special and exciting. I went back to the same place for the 5th time and this is where my mind, body and soul rejoices.

Having retired from an active corporate career, I was not time bound and I traveled by local buses to enjoy sights of beautiful villages nestled in the woods along the river and strike a conversation with the locals and understand their life and aspirations. 

Interestingly, on the train and bus trips, I met two teenage boys (age of my nephew) who weren’t distracted by their mobiles wanted to have a conversation with me on my career and life journey. This felt surreal! How I wish we had technology to swap lives. 

Just because I was on my vacation, I didn’t change my daily routine: exercising, meditating and eating healthy food.

While the sunrise is a bit later in the west coast, I rose at 5.30 am listening to the pitter patter of the rains, thanks to the monsoon season. With bare feet and an umbrella over my head, I headed to the beach for my morning walk.

The gregarious or drunken sea, however you want to look at it, had incurred the shore, nevertheless, I managed to a negotiated a small stretch for my walk while the waves continuously washed my feet reminding me that they own of this place. I came as a visitor and not with an intention to conquer or usurp.

I crossed several boats that returned with a fresh catch from the seas and watched busy humans removed the entangled fishes from the nets and sort them by sizes. Dogs and birds waited by their side like goons to get their share from the catch. 

I walked a kilometre towards the southern end of the beach and settled on a lichen covered rock. There was no urge to read the newspaper or check X for any updates, instead I caught a glimpse of the horizon, filled my lungs with fresh air and I closed my eyes for a dozen rounds Pranayama followed by meditation. 

Thirty minutes later, I fished for iPods in my bag and selected Illayaraja songs that matched the beats of the waves and moods of the sea. What a healthy dose of endorphins instead of adrenaline rushed mornings.

At around 9.30 am my stomach growled and I headed home after a quick stop by the market looking for a ripe papaya and bananas for breakfast. On the way, I noticed these leaves dancing and waving in joy. Not sure if anyone notice their spirited smile, but I stopped by them, gave a peck on their cheeks and carried home their positive energy.

After the breakfast, like an old man, I took a nap on the lazy chair rejoicing my freedom. When we slow down, we get to appreciate life and be grateful.

Around noon, I forced myself to shower, hand washed my clothes and put them out in the balmy sun before heading to a nearby restaurant for a healthy vegan meal. As I was in no hurry, I let the chef cook at his own pace. In exchange, I got my share of local news and updates from the staff. 

Finally, I returned home at 3 pm, filled my water bottle and walked back to check on my gregarious friend. Now, she had retracted her emotions and may be it was her turn to mediate or sober? 

Again, I perched on the lichen covered stone, admiring the tall coconut trees, starring at the calm sea and playing another set of melodies to match the mood and beats of the waves. In between, if I got bored, I befriended the local dogs and shared some of my nuts in exchange for tricks. If they were tired resting after playing lifeguards at night, I invited the local boys to join me for game for frisbee by the sea. If they turned down my invite, I got philosophical watching the vegetation, sober waves and activity on the shore and watching the farm to plate of priced catches form the sea.

Here is a sample : “Be hard as a rock but allow lichens grow on you. Don’t mistake kindness for symbiotic intelligence.”

I’m not an artist, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy and appreciate artists and their creations. Nature is a Super artist and I patiently waited for twilight to set in and catch the magic in the sky that appeared with the rise of Moon and Venus. This happens like clockwork every evening, does someone turns on the dial every evening?

Feeling charged and grateful at the end of this sound and light show, I walked back home through the market reading the emotions on shopkeepers face to understand if their registers kept ringing or hibernating. As I retreat back into my den, I replay the images of the seashore in a loop before slipping another world. 

“There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.” - Jean-Paul Sartre

I traveled hundreds of Kilometres in these 50 years to finally reach this spot within filled peace, calmness and gratitude. I realised, there are journeys within a journey and these reflections help me identify and navigate them slowly.

They say life begins at the end of your comfort zone…and sometimes I want my life to end at this comfort zone.

Remember, our lives are a solo trip, people join us for some portions of the journey but no one travels the entire journey with us. 

What does your journey look like? Do you have a comfort zone and a peace spot that you keep going back to?

Srividya and Jayalalitha - Uncanny life resemblance

The two movie stars who I admired the most in Tamil film industry are Jayalalitha and Srividya. From boldness, beauty to being self made and trusting wrong people, both had many identical traits. While Jayalalitha was elder to Srividya by 5 years, both of them worked in the industry at the same time and acted in a dozen movies together. Sadly, they ended up living the life of characters they played on screen - Venniradai and Aboorvaragangal. 

Recently, I watched Srividya's brother's wife share the life journey and trials and tribulations faced by the actress and I realized not just people but their life stories  can bear uncanny resemblance. 

Here are some similarities I could spot

1. Their mothers were artists and sole breadwinners of the family
2. Both their fathers were irresponsible and lived off their wife
3. These women learnt Barathanatyam at an early age and were also great singers and came into movies due to family situation
4. They longed for love and care from parents who were too busy and unavailable 
5. Both of them were introverts, artistic, bold, beautiful, and adamant 
6. They had a sibling (brother) and a small circle of friends 
7. Both longed for a simple family life with children
8. They trusted the wrong men and got into relationships that brought them down
9. Both of them were conscious about their weight and explored treatments for weight loss
10. They built homes with their hard earned money that was usurped by someone they trusted
11. The characters they played in Aboorva Ragangal and Venniradai ended up being their life story 
12. Both of them disconnected with their families at some point and finally died as orphans  and were given State honors with a grand funeral

The popular belief about seven "doppelgangers" seems true and may be we could have 7 identical stories too? Let us explore the other 5...

Outreach in the time of COVID -19

The COVID-19 is impacting humanity, economy, life and livelihood like we've nothing seen before. It has spared no countries and comes in multiple waves leaving millions scarred and scared. 

We all know of a friend, a colleague, a family member or a family who has been impacted by this lethal virus. Many of us freeze when we receive that call from a dear/near to informing us they tested positive and every minute following that turns anxious and nights become sleepless until the person recovers. 

I put together some notes based on my personal experience from when a family member and a few friends  tested positive. Here are some outreach tips.

Ensure you have the following supplies at home during this time. Please don’t hoard!

1. Pulse oximeter
2. Thermometer
3. Paracetamol tablets 1 strip
4. Cough syrup 1 bottle
5. Vitamins and Zincovit tablets
6. Steam inhaler and Karvol Plus capsules
7. N95 Masks and gloves
8. Hand sanitizer
9. Spirometer for breathing exercise
10. Face shield 
11. Mask for nebulizer
12. Dettol
13. Domex

Check if someone in your close circle has a nebuliser that you can borrow incase of emergency. Rest of the medicines will have to be prescribed by a registered medical professional.

Notes for those of you who wanna help your family member/friends who test positive.

1. Don’t out them on social media or to your friends unless it is absolutely needed.
2. Keep track of their treatment, consultation and medicines.
3. Check on them once or twice a day for any help.
4. You can order grocery, medicines, Dunzo home cooked meals (ask them what they would like to eat), schedule test and doctors appointments.
5. Don’t give advice or overload them with links and videos on what do to - they are best left to doctors.
6. Keep track of critical medicines, beds, oxygen, etc. in your city and how you can get hold in case there are in need.
7. Be patient and think calmly.

Some of my friends have tested positive, so some wisdom for you all.

1. Take a RT-PCR test if you have any COVID19 symptoms - fever, sore throat, conjunctivitis, headache, stomach issues, etc.
2. Check your SP02 (blood oxygen saturation) every two hours and write it down.
3. Consult a Covid doctor (Apollo, Narayana, Fortis, etc. have virtual consultations) when your RT-PCR turns positive. - You are not a super person to fight it without medical help.
4. Be responsible and inform people who’ve come in contact with and ask them to isolate and test.
5. Create a small network of friends who can keep tabs on you - order medicines, grocery, arrange home cooked meals and schedule your tests/doctor appointments.
6. Some workplaces have setup up Covid help desk- keep those numbers handy.
7. Inform your society and stay within the 4 walls unless you need to go out for CT Scan.

With media and social media highlighting suffering due to lack of beds, oxygen, etc. everyone is petrified of this virus and often end up panicking when they get it. Watch this video from a Doctor to Covid patients:

“One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you’re going through now and it will become part of someone’s survival guide”.

Yoga, the reset button

Have you every pondered over life and lifestyle being interconnected? For example: Some of us stay up late on weekends, party hard, eat late and as a result disturb our body and sleep rhythm. And next morning we wake up feeling tired, foggy in the mind and distracted and drowsy throughout the day. This continues to the next day and becomes a habit if we don't step in and take control of our schedule. I'm sure you must have experienced this on several occasions.

Unfortunately, most of the diseases today including diabetes, fatty liver, hypertension and stress are all related to our lifestyle. Yoga is a great way to keep these diseases at bay and helps you easily reset life and lifestyle.

Cleanse life and lifestyle

I've been practicing yoga since my school days and decided to make it a daily routine in the last 15 years. As yoga is practiced early in the morning, I'm forced to hit the bed early so that I wake up feeling well rested. Moreover, Yoga requires the practitioner to eat sattvic food so that one doesn't wake up feeling lethargic or with an upset tummy. In short, Yoga helps you nip bad habits and negative thoughts in the bud.

Detox body and mind

Our daily routine and what we consume has a bearing on our mind and body. The asanas in yoga not only corrects our posture, but also ensure various organs of the body function well and secrete right amount of hormones. The regulated breathing exercise, calms the mind, keeps it agile and negative thoughts at bay.

Personally, yoga has helped me stay fit and keep medicines away. It has also helped me stay mentally agile and perky and physically flexible and in shape. I always travel with my yoga mat and it has always been the best way to start my day wherever I am.

You too can discover the power of yoga and experience the benefits and the unlimited potential it holds! Take your first step with can do attitude, without self doubt and keep marching. Anyone can start learning yoga and there is no age restriction. 

Native Village and Kula Devata Worship

A particular god worshipped in our lineage for generations is referred to as "Kula Devata". Srirangam Ranaganatha is the kula devata of Ikshvaku Family, the dynasty in which Lord Rama was born.

Usually, Kula Devata can be either a male or a female god and is back in our native village. Most families have a single deity while some the have multiple deities as Kula Devatas.

Due migration from villages and passing away of elders at an early age, families loose connections with their native villages and kula devata. During difficult times they consult astrologers who point them to go back and worship their kula devata for peace, prosperity and good health.

When a women gets married they start to worship the Kula Devata in their in-laws place thereby taking the tradition to their next generation.

While many of us may have moved from our native villages and forgotten the responsibility towards those deities. This is similar to the responsibility we have towards elders in the family. Those of us who know our Kula Devata, should make it a point to visit and take their blessings at least once a year and definitely before major life events such as weddings, child birth, upananayam, etc.

Also, every 12 years when temple consecration is held all natives should make it a point to fund the expenses and reconnect with deity and people of the village. Let’s not give up on our ancestry, identity and ensure we pass it on to next generation.

My mother maintains a file on all temples and has prepared a calendar of worship and marked down temples where the family has the responsibility to offer prayers on select auspicious days. We have the responsibility to offer prayers on the 3th and 4th Friday in Aadi (Kataka masam) at the Shiva temple at Kunniyur and 3rd and 4th Friday in Thai (Makara Masam) at Kamakshi temple, Kunniyur.

See a short video that documents our native village (Kunniyur, Thiruvarur District), native deity (Anandeshwara and Ambiramavalli) and kula devata (Kamakshi Amman).

Mourning a Big Loss!

On June 29, 2020, one generation lost their youngest sibling and another generation lost their eldest sibling. Though she was my dad’s youngest sibling and we addressed her aunt, she was hardly 8-10 years older than the next generation which made her dear to us.

I remember her almost in every scene of my growing up years. As a child, I crawled into her music class and listened to her sing. When I started kindergarten, she dropped me and my brother at school on her way to college and picked us up on the way back. And one time, when she had to undergo an eye surgery for squint correction, we threatened to jump off the car and made the driver take us to the hospital on the way to our school. Then every night after dinner, she told us stories from Bhagavadam and instilled faith and values in us and this went on till she got married in 1983.

Me standing in front of her

The house wasn’t the same after she got married and left. Those were days when phones were used only for emergency purposes and we would crowd around the phone every time she called and longed to hear her voice. Rather than elbow each other for a chance to speak, I found another way to keep in touch with her, through letters. I was 8 years and I started writing to her and she would promptly respond and I remember this ritual went on till I finished college and moved overseas.

We kids would impatiently wait for the summer holidays and I remember going to the train station to receive her each year. That’s the excitement she brought into our lives. She visited almost every year without fail and spent two months with us. When she left to her home at the end of summer we all cried and felt sad. And couple of years when she couldn’t come down for a visit, I visited and spent my summer with her. What fond memories growing up with her!

Many years ago we visited her place to participate in function; she gave us a grand welcome. And when we had to depart she broke down and we decided to stay for an extra day to make her happy. That’s kind of bond and affection we shared with my dad’s youngest sister.

Whenever someone in the family was unwell or sick, she performed special prayers for their recovery. When she fell sick a few years ago, I prayed to the same gods in the stories she told us as kids, but none of them helped her recover completely. When she had to stay back in the hospital for the day, I remember leaving my lunch for her. There was so much care and reciprocity in our relationship.

And today, a week ahead of her 37th wedding anniversary, she breathed her last. How could she leave without saying us good bye? Sadly, none of us could threaten anyone to get there and pay our respects and tell her the never ending love and joy she gave us. Though we may be 15 years apart, she was my elder sibling. No one can take her place in our hearts and she will continue to live in ourmemories. 

Hope her 2.5 year old grandson will one day read this blog and understand how special her grandmother was to us. 

Wake up now - There is no Second Chance!

Mother Nature has a unique way of making us realize our mistakes and only those who introspect and observe minutely will be able to decipher the message. And the lockdown gave me an opportunity to reflect on my behavior and human behavior in general.

While the Coronavirus is judged as ruthless by scientist and medical professionals, it hasn’t been partial. It infected the famous like Tom Hanks, Boris Johnson, Kanika Kapoor, Chris Coumo, etc. and lesser known mortals including healthcare workers, policemen, cab drivers, vegetable vendors, etc. 3 months into the pandemic; it continues to affect infants, kids, and middle-aged people, frail and elderly and has taken away two hundred thousand plus lives globally.

While the scientists are busy working on vaccines, and economists are busy putting together plans to revive global economy, I was busy questioning my actions and our collective actions. Do we deserve this harsh sentence? Let’s introspect together.

Before this tragedy struck, we were all living a hectic, monotonous and meaningless life chasing all the wrong ambitions and non-essentials. In order achieve our dream career, we left home at day break, ignored our family and health, and outsourced our children with day care and nannies. We spent hours in traffic getting to and back from work. And on the weekend, in the name of unwinding we engaged in binge buying, binge eating and binge drinking. We kept borrowing money to outdo each other on luxury, class and standard of living.

Greedy CEOs, CMOs and CHROs exploited our misplaced ambition and priorities. They sold products and services that were unsustainable, enamored with meaningless careers and fooled shareholders with peanuts called dividends. Despite knowing this lifestyle isn’t sustainable, we all ignored our inner voice and went around like hamster in a wheel.

It is true that nature fulfills our basic needs and not greed. And this was evidently visible during the pandemic. None of us can complain that we never got produce and food during this time, while toilet paper is luxury. Organizations and governments started to focus on the basic and essentials. For examples, car manufactures went on to produce ventilators; fashion brands produced masks, etc.

Globally stock markets saw a correction after inflated indices. The overpaid CEOs were forced to take 25% cut in their salaries to keep their businesses afloat. Some of the sinister industries were made to shut their shops and announced thousands of layoffs. Governments that earned revenue by indiscriminately converting forests into IT parks, and residential areas, sand mining and polluting rivers, selling liquor, and endangering wildlife were almost bankrupt and forced to end wars focus on the welfare of people – food and health. Those farmers who got greedy and poisoned the soil and atmosphere with chemicals saw their produce sent back to earth.

By working from home, attending to our daily chores and ignored family members, we were able to temporarily step out of meaningless and monotonous routine. Finally, we spent more time at home for which toil 20 years of our precious life to pay mortgages, engaged with our parents, spouses and children, picked up phones to check on our friends and loved ones. We realized it is possible to live without domestic help, cook, etc. and by sharing work among members the family became more responsible and cohesive. Also, we realized a life without visiting bars, malls, gyms, cinema halls, sports, concerts, cruises, vacations, entertainment was possible and meaningful. Lavish weddings and mournful demises have become a private affair. Those expensive Benzes, Porches, Bentleys became useless objects in our garages and driveways. We must be thankful to nature for accepting “Internet and mobile phones” as a basic need.

Flora and fauna used this break to rejuvenate themselves. Rivers across the globe saw a drop in pollution and aquatic life thrived again. Wild animals came into cities to reclaim their lost territory. Also, we've seen improvement in air quality since the lockdown. 

Sadly, when we humans wanted to report our plight and ask for forgiveness, all gods shut their doors on us. Churches were shut for Easter; Mosques were shut for Ramadan prayers, and Hindus temples cancelled their summer festivals.

Stop blaming China, Wuhan, Wet markets, Tabliqi and even Donald Trump for the current Pandemic. 

The Cornonavirus offers a moment to reflect on our priorities, lifestyle and ambitions. It is shown us it is possible to live a sustainable life without luxury. Let’s use this opportunity to learn from our mistakes and build sustainable habits because there is no second chance from Mother Nature.

My moments with COVID-19

March 17 - 3 weeks ago and 2 days after I landed in Chennai from Bangalore I developed sore throat without any cold or runny nose. We all know sore throat is not a life-threatening disease and has simple home remedies such as salt water gargling, Rhinothermy aka steam inhalation and sipping of hot water with honey. But for an asthmatic with super sensitive lungs, sore throat could be the first indication of flu. I’ve gone through some nasty episodes of flu that eventually led to Bronchiectasis and I even coughed up some blood in 2017.

After this episode, the Pulmonologist made me take a vaccine for pneumonia and put me on flu vaccines each year without fail. Also, she put together a detailed list of first, second and third-line remedies for my symptoms and recommended me to carry medicines whenever I traveled (within or outside the country).

That morning before I boarded the train, my brother who rarely calls or texts sent me a reminder message to wear a 3M mask, not touch any surface and keep washing my hands frequently. On the train, I had also looked up the symptoms for Corona Virus that resembled a common flu.

I followed the first-line remedy that involved no Allopathic medicines and only home remedies. I felt a bit tired during the day and I mostly isolated myself from my parents who are in their 70s. On the second night, I experienced spells of chill and sweat nevertheless I slept for 11 hours. When I woke up, the sore throat had almost vanished, but I started to feel breathless and tightness in my left chest. None of these are new to me and I experience it whenever I came down with flu or viral attack. Also, that made me feel confident to try all the remedies.

By March 23 the number of COVID-19 cases in India started to multiply rapidly and we went through “Janata Curfew” and quickly moved into a 21-day lock down. Media channels were creating hysteria instead of awareness and there was only panic in the nation. Five days after I completed the first dose of antibiotics, I self-medicated myself with the stronger dose (Azithromycin) for next 5-days. But it didn’t seem to make any difference.

Without waiting any further, I explored my second-line of treatment by calling the hospital and seeking an appointment with the pulmonologist. And to my dismay the hospital they said all private consultations were closed in lieu of Corona Virus and I needed to visit ER to consult one.

I had two options, either brave up and go into ER or text the doctor directly. I took the latter option. But before I texted the Pulmonologist, I wrote a detailed day by day account of my whereabouts and medicines I’ve taken.I was lying in bed recounting my actions from the last 7 days and symptoms of Corona Virus. From sore throat, chills and sweat and breathlessness I was checking every box. Alongside, my appetite also plummeted and I was eating like a 3-year old – a few spoons for every meal.

Screen shot 1 from text exchange with the doctor. (Click and zoom to read)

On March 29, breathlessness got worse and I was about to collapse from respiratory distress at home. I asked my brother to call the emergency. He rushed to my room with Pulse-oximeter and slipped it in my index finger. My heart rate was elevated (85 beats per minute) and oxygen saturation was still good at 96%.

It didn’t look like I was having respiratory distress. Did I come down with a cardiac issue? That evening, I pushed myself to walk for 60 minutes and climbed two flights of stairs. Was it due to this exertion?

Immediately, my brother dialed his close friend who is a Pulmonologist and described my symptoms. I was curled up in the bed holding my mom’s hand expecting to say goodbye to this world. I put my phone on silent and told my mom the password for my phone incase she needs to access it.

The doctor advised against going to emergency and asked me to come to the hospital the following morning. I had no choice but to go back to my bed and stay curled up for the night. 

I survived the night and woke up feeling a tad better the next morning. So many thoughts crossed my mind as my brother drove me to the hospital. The hospital which was always welcoming the sick now looked like an immigration desk. We were made to fill out forms about recent travel and asked if we had cold and fever before let into the hospital.

I walked into the emergency and explained my symptoms to the nurse. She slipped the Pulse-Oximeter in my finger and continued to chat with me. The monitor show 90 beats per minute and oxygen saturation of 97%. The doctor was on his way to the emergency from the ICU. And when he arrived I couldn’t barely recognize him as he was covered from head to toe in PPE.

In the next 5 minutes, I again explained the last 15 days ordeal with the symptoms and remedies I tried out. He put the stethoscope on my chest and made breathe a few times. Finally, he confirmed that I had no wheeze and scribbled a few tests to check for viral load and possible lung infection including pneumonia.

I was escorted to the X-ray room to film my chest and then to the pulmonary ward to evaluate of my lung condition. I faintly heard the doctor discuss the reports with my brother as I put my arm out to the nurse to draw two vials of blood to check the CDC count, C-Reactive Protein and Eosinophil.  

When I came out the doctor announced that my lungs were in great shape and there were no signs of distress. I smiled for the first time in two weeks and immediately excused myself to text my anxious parents for whom every passing minute felt like a year.

I quizzed the doctor about what was causing breathlessness and lack of appetite. Quickly, he threw in the probability of GERD and I confirmed his finding and shared more information on the earlier diagnosis – duodenal ulcer. He quickly prescribed me some medicines and asked me to leave the hospital immediately as he didn’t want me to catch any other infection. He promised to call me in evening with the blood report.

I endured almost all the symptoms of Corona and suffered for 15 days in home quarantine and self-isolation for 15 days. When I stepped out of the hospital I was unhappy that didn’t get the same welcome that Corona patients got from their doctors and nurses.

On the way back home, I confessed to my brother that I should have visited the doctor much earlier and not stayed in isolation for 15-days and let the symptoms get worse.

I came home popped in the first pill and waited for 30-minutes to have my meal. In the evening I got a call from the doctor. Not sure if it was the medical evaluation or the pill, I started to feel better both mentally and physically. In the evening, doctor confirmed my blood results were normal and I had no signs of any infection.

First peace and sleep returned followed by appetite. Within 24 hours breathlessness vanished.I resumed my work and exercise routine that includes 60 mins of yoga in the morning and 60 mins of walk in the evening.

In the last week, I’ve read article about the mutating Corna Virus and it becoming asymptomatic. Also, I read accounts from several people who’ve endured it without knowing about it. Here is an account - https://medium.com/morozko-method/im-convinced-that-my-family-already-had-covid-19-85ac51008946

A simple virus can invade our head and body in minutes and make this world go crazy. 

Not sure if I my body already endured Corona Virus, but I’ve seemed to have developed the mental immunity to fight it. When the antibody test kits arrive in Chennai, I’ll definitely get myself checked.

In the meanwhile, stay safe and practice social distancing. 

I’m Lakshmi and this is my story...

Hello Peeps,

I’m Lakshmi, and today I’m in a mood to chew cud and share my story with you. Are you ready to listen? 

I was born 15 years ago and my owner says I look very much like my mother. Yes, both mom and I have a white patch on our forehead. My daughter looks Identical to us. We’ve been with our owner for two generations. My mother and her sister lived in this farm before us. 

My mother was called “Shenbagam” and her sister was called “Saraswathi”. This family we live with are devout Hindus and they named us after their gods. Sometimes, I wish for a fancy English names like Elizabeth, Valarie or Stephanie. May be the Hindu names saved us from being sent to an abattoir? So, let me thank the Hindu gods. 

When we were young, we lived on mom’s milk and slowly transitioned to eating hay, fresh grass and fodder. On festival days like Pongal, we were garlanded, horns were painted in bright colours and fed “Sakkaraipongal” (sweet rice) and fruits. 

As a calf, I used to be afraid of night and stayed closer to my mother after sun down. As I grew older, I made friends with moon and stars and developed confidence to be on my own. Also, I took additional responsibilities to watch out for my siblings, nieces and nephews. 

The male ones in our farm were sent to the farm for work. While mom, my sister and I stayed at home enjoyed each other’s company and raised young calves with love and care.  

A few years ago my mom fell sick. Though the vet regularly came to check on her, but could do nothing to make her better. And, when we realised she wasn’t going to be around for long, we all felt sad. Despite her frailty, she spent her last days with her grandchildren and they loved being around her. 

Luckily, my owner cared for mom in her old age too. He didn’t sell her to a slaughterhouse and gave her a tearful send-off when she died. My mom was buried behind the two hay stacks in the picture.

Even today, the owner and his family remembers her and every time they introduce us to their grand kids they talk about our family and I feel so proud.

After her time it was my sister and I in the farm. We got busy with our lives, but often thought of her - mighty presence, kind and magnanimous nature. As a cow, our job was to yield milk and deliver calves. My sister and I took turns and delivered calves 12 calves. I’m 15 years old and I’ve had 7 offsprings. I’ve met several bulls in the farm, but never had an opportunity to get intimate with them.

While humans chose their partner, fall in love, get married and have kids, we are rarely allowed that kind of life and intimacy. My sister and I delivered all our offsprings through artificial insemination. And, every time our children ask about their fathers we tell them that they are busy working in the farm and sending us all the hay.

Days and years rolled by and our owners were also getting older with us and couldn’t care for the 6 of us. They retained me and my daughter and sold my younger sister, her daughter and my son to another family to farm owner across from us. I get to see them on festival days and sometimes they raise their voice to share updates at their farm. 

Off late, I’ve not been able to chew much food and get tired very easily. The vet examined my health and specially my teeth and told the owner that I was ageing fast and recommend I be fed with soft food and fresh grass. 

I got anxious after hearing the Vet, but my owner is kind enough to treat me with special care. He has stopped milking me and has put me on a special diet with high protein, easily chewable food and less fibre. 

My family and I had a happy life on this farm and none of them were sent to the abattoir. I’ll happily say goodbye to them when my time comes and I know my owner will give me a good farewell.

These days I spend my time watching my daughter “Durga” who was named after my grand mother and being around my grand children Tulsi (below) and Maruthi (behind Tulsi).

Sometimes at night, I hear my mom from behind the hay stack. She tells me to accept my old age and get prepared to join her someday.

I hope I can get to see all those who read my story and appeal to them to be kind to us and not consume us. Also, I would like to appeal to politicians and WhatsApp University graduates to not spread rumours about the curative power of our urine and dung.

Thanks,

Lakshmi