The School in Kumaranalloor and a Few Lessons

 

 

Kumaranalloor is famous for its Temple. But not many people, barring locals, would know of the Government Upper Primary school in Kumaranalloor. I went there first time in 2018. I was there once again, invited to speak, on 02 Jun, 2025, as part of the “praveshanolsavam.” “Praveshanam” in Malayalam means admission, and “Ulsavam” means festival or celebration.  

Praveshanolsavam 

The function was organised to give the children, starting their education journey in government-run schools, a sense of festivity. It was done to initiate children into the schooling system and coincided with the commencement of the current academic year. The authorities could have used the event to take stock of the infrastructural adequacy of government-run schools. “Sarkar karyam mura pole”, is what Malayalees say. It only means that things that the government does will take their course when it does. The strategic aim of the event seemed to be optics and eyeballs. Public memory may be short-lived, but well-publicised events can eventually be milked for political returns. The irony of having to market free education against an alternative that robs parents of hefty sums as fees through fancy names was not lost on me. 

My primary audience was a bunch of kids, full of life and refusing to be geographically contained, whom the teachers worked hard to keep in place. I was focused on their parents and teachers. The audience occupied most of the small hall, a shed with no partitions that otherwise served as classrooms. I had no political compulsions. I had agreed to be there because I wanted to contribute my bit to the society that I live in. I had a stage and I had an audience. I commenced with a few words about the importance of the function and then went on to what I wanted to say. A few minutes into the speech, I realised the hall had fallen silent. I had the full attention of the audience.  

Later, I realised what I spoke at the event applies to all communities in the world irrespective of class, caste, colour, country, culture, cult, or creed. Let me share that with you also. 

Questioning Literacy 

All Keralites are literate. We boast about 100% literacy. 

Why is the menace of drug abuse in Kerala growing? 

Why is road rage increasing in Kerala? 

Why do youngsters leave Kerala or even the country to find jobs when others from across the country move into Kerala for the very jobs our youth vacated? Why are our social standards falling? 

Why do ‘educated’ well-to-do people stoop down in their behaviour in public?

Why is integrity as a virtue disappearing?

Why is breaking the law becoming fashionable?

Why do we fall easy prey to propaganda?

Are we, as literate people, failing to make considered decisions on our own? 

Are we celebrating literacy under the mistaken notion that it is education? 

If one or more questions above have occurred to us, as individuals who can read and write, there is something amiss in literacy. Literacy only means we can read and write. It does not mean we are educated.  

Education 

Education has three important aspects. It deals with acquisition, possession, and application. Individuals first acquire information through prescribed or self-devised media of instruction, process it and transform the acquisition into knowledge and skills. Knowledge is a possession inseparable from the individual. Knowledge acquisition can occur in formal settings, such as educational or training institutions, or informal environments, like the home or society. Conscientious application of acquired knowledge in a framework of commonly accepted right or wrong depends on the individual’s character. 

Education must improve the scientific temper, challenge the status quo, and enhance inquisitiveness. It should improve the power of reasoning, promote objective understanding of the cause and effect of individual or collective decisions and actions. Knowledge must eventually be applied for the good of mankind and result in collective upliftment and progress of society. Unfortunately, a system that promotes rote recall to decide on merit and success, with disregard to the means adopted, discards internalisation and useful application, eventually bringing little good to society. 

When deviant behaviour is a norm or when different yardsticks become the norm for dispensing laws for different people, it is a clear sign not of poor standards but the absence of education. Literacy does not guarantee rationale-driven decision-making; education does. 

Do we believe education comes from books? 

Wisdom and Books 

Books are a source of summarised information or codified norms of practice. It is the summary of someone’s experience, thoughts, etc. They merely provide a doorway through which one can access collated information. It is barely the means to give all that is required. Everything in a book is purely information. Only when the information given by a book is understood, accepted after adequate questioning, internalised enough to be adapted by an individual for application when and where required, would it become knowledge. Knowledge fosters personal development and sharpens the skill of rational, logical, and critical thinking. Otherwise, it remains just information. Knowledge is the result of educated experiences. Wisdom is unbiased knowledge. 

Educating Children 

A child is like a sponge.  If we put a piece of white sponge in a bowl of coloured liquid, two things happen. First, it absorbs the liquid. We may not be able to see the liquid because it has been internalised. Second, it absorbs the colour, and that is very visible. Similarly, education has two inputs. The first is the intrinsic, invisible part. The second is the behavioural manifestation. We can feel and experience a wet and heavy sponge. Squeeze it, and the liquid comes out. Likewise, education can be of use only if internalised. Similarly, appearances may not divulge how well-educated a person is, but their actions would speak aloud about the quality of their education. Adhering to the law even when not supervised is a very simple example of being educated. When a society accepts literacy as education, it is easy for the shallow to discriminate and justify any act. 

Teachers and Parents 

Children learn by observing and copying. A child born to a Malayali settled in Germany or a child of Chinese descent would speak German just like any other person of German descent in the neighbourhood. Interestingly, such children can effortlessly converse in both languages and switch from one to the other as if the two languages are one. When it comes to behaviour and character, children copy the most from their parents, siblings, elders, and teachers.  Have you noticed that children pick up bad things faster than good things? Our role, therefore, is to become the best possible material to be copied by our children, easy to copy due to prolonged association. Telling a child that something is wrong while doing it ourselves not only sends confusing signals to the child but also promotes accepting the difference between preaching and practice as normal.  

How do we become the role models that we should be? 

I am a storyteller. I have authored three books. The characters in my works are all inspired by life. They emerge from the script as individuals through their actions and inactions in the given context, not from their physical description. I realise that the longevity of characters in my books comes from their behavioural traits.  

The first and foremost task before us is to draw the template that we want our children to replicate. Then we must abide by the template in full view of our children. If we obey traffic rules all the time, even when unsupervised, obeying traffic rules will come naturally to our children. If we are generous, kind, and considerate to people around our children will imbibe those qualities naturally. We can expect them to be considerate and kind to us, also. If we are crooks, hold double standards, speak with forked tongue, and demonstrate selfishness, expect a fiercer version staring at us soon. What we should aim at passing on is the ability to see everything objectively, analyse and evaluate it independently and then come to unbiased conclusions.  Creativity can also be passed on. That can be done by passing on the habit of reading fiction. 

Why fiction? Why not textbooks?  

Textbooks and manuals are prescriptions for a structured programme. That is a mandated reading. Reading textbooks or manuals provides information about a subject or an object. It rarely activates the imaginative part of our brains. Reading fiction improves the art of visualisation. 

But don't movies and television series give you instant visual inputs? Yes, but these inadvertently limit the recipient's scope of imagination. They coerce you into converging with the director’s vision. When it comes to visualising a text, in a work of fiction, the possibilities are enormous and endless. Creating visuals within one’s brain based on a textual input helps condition the brain to break pre-established moulds and promotes thinking beyond what is seen, thereby ‘redefining horizons’ of the reader. When people get used to the idea of pushing the envelope of their thoughts and continuously redefining their horizons, then it becomes second nature for them to dream limitlessly. Dreams lead to designing their future, developing the means to it, dedicating their efforts, and then reaping rich dividends. 

Read, and let your children see you reading. Over time, they will copy you and read on their own.

Operands and Operators in Our Life

 

Can mathematics help us understand Life? Yes.

Let me tell you how it works. 

Assumptions and Facts

“Why should I learn all these formulae if I can make do with addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division?  What is the use of algebraic equations?” I asked myself after a challenging quadratic equation class in school. It was a natural response from a student not so bright in mathematics. 

Learning mathematics was like walking into a minefield without knowing where one was headed and why. With every passing day, the lessons got more brutal. I think we started linear equations in the 9^th or 10^th standard, and with it, my association with the omnipresent yet ever-elusive ‘x’. Initially, we got equations with a single ‘x.’ We graduated to creating equations with one or more ‘x’ from a given problem statement. Interestingly, all the statements of problems revolved around silly situations in life. At times, we were determining someone’s age, height, weight, or the number of toffees Ram, Shyam or Geeta got. ‘X’ was universally the unknown! The only weapon that could handle any equation was ‘BODMAS.’ BODMAS demanded ruthless application. 

A few days after we first met ‘x’ and got used to handling uncertainties around it, our teacher introduced ‘y’ to us. “You need two equations to solve a problem with two variables,” he declared, suppressing his smile. Soon, we faithfully formulated equations from long narratives only to determine the values of the ‘x’ and ‘y’ we created.  A few days later, he declared that solving equations with three or more variables was complex and therefore beyond the scope of the class. It was a huge relief. It did not last long. He came up with “ax²+bx+c = 0”, an equation whose answers he called “roots.”  

“Roots can be real or imaginary,” he said.

“Imaginary solutions?” I asked myself.

I passed my certificate examinations with a lot of hard work and luck. Emboldened, I took chemistry, physics, and mathematics for graduation. There was no day without mathematics. While learning the art of solving problems, I internalised the phrase “roots of the problem” and realised even imaginary solutions worked. I also found that principles of mathematics apply to life equally well. Here are some for you.

Problems Always Come with Solutions. All issues, including complex ones, come with solutions. They will remain problems unless we solve them. Postponing is not solving. Unsolved issues worsen with time. Problems may look daunting, but they can be solved if our attempts are earnest. If solutions are not forthcoming, it only means we are not approaching the problem correctly.

More  Variables or Higher Degrees Make the Equation More Complex. When the issue involves more than two individuals, proposed solutions must satisfy all. The more people involved, the more complex and intertwined the problem would be, and the more difficult finding a solution acceptable to all. With time everyone hardens their stand and makes solutions that much harder to find. Therefore, as soon as the problem is felt, attempt to address it.

There is At Least One Root for A Problem. Problems stem from their roots, real or imaginary. The real ones are easy to identify and implement. It takes patience and commitment to identify imagined or perceived causes and find their solutions. Unless one gets to the roots of the problem, the solution cannot be final. Festering problems make life hell-like.

Solutions, Both Real and Imaginary, Work. Life does not provide options without costs. Solutions to the problems in life translate less to material things and more to the realm of emotions (feel good). Material demands are symptoms of something else underlying. Emotions are intangible but real and will manifest in real actions and reactions. So, it is ‘real’ to feel good or bad in situations. It is also good to know that the feeling is fleeting and depends on how well we have conditioned our minds to it. Like us, others also have emotions.

Formulation Is the Key. How fast we reach solutions depends on how well we formulate the problem.  To do so, we need to consider all the operands and operators involved in the problem. Some of them might be hidden from our view. It is important to remember that the correct formulation of a problem depends a lot on flawlessly identifying the constituent operands and operators from life’s narrative, often overwhelmed with chaff. 

Operands Are Not as Formidable as They Seem.  

In mathematical equations, they come in the form of ‘ax² or ‘ax²bycx³,’ etc. In real life, they are individuals: parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours and even the strangers we come across anywhere. It could even be animals or natural phenomena like breeze, storm, rain etc.  

 

Irrespective of its absolute value, operands mean nothing individually. They matter only when placed in context. Operands need operators to be relevant or be counted in context. 

 

People are like operands, in absolute terms, non-entities, irrespective of their past or present. Put into context, they could be of consequence.  

 

Let me illustrate it. Someone, say a great, rich man, living on a distant continent, is an operand of no consequence to you. If he messages you that he got your account number, he could be of great relevance to you. A storm in the Arctic Sea means nothing to you until you know that your dear one is out in the very same area catching crabs!

Deadly Operators. 

 

Operators, {‘+,’ ‘-,’ ‘x,’ ‘/,’ or ‘()’} look harmless. Not all operators are visible. They remain invisible, holding operands together. Therefore, “abc” is the product of “a, b, and c” and not its sum (a+b+c). Ignoring invisible operators invites peril. 

Individual attributes like attitude, apprehension, anxiety, self-confidence, empathy, selflessness, selfishness, expectations associated with the specific transaction, earlier experiences, trust, jealousy, competitive spirit, motivation, and many other individual traits, as these are the operators that dictate how individuals come across as operands. 

 

Operators are deadly if not treated according to protocol. Mishandled, they can create havoc. Similarly, personal traits of the self and those we deal with play a significant role in interpersonal throughput and takeaways. Operands, despite their looks, exist at the mercy of operators. Operators without operands are dead entities. 

The Beauty of Brackets. 

 

‘Brackets’ in equations are like baskets, innocuous looking but carrying a lot of stuff inside. To finally solve an equation, dealing with each of its contents individually is inevitable. An error anywhere dooms all the efforts before and after.

 

In life, collectives like family, spouses, organisations driven by political or religious ideology, etc, are like brackets. Some elements within may appear to be welcoming, supportive or even benevolent, but the true nature of the collective may or may not be so.

 

Within groups, we can also find ‘tag-alongs.’ It is easy to identify them. They lack intellectual and emotional autonomy. They turn antagonistic because someone in the group has an axe to grind with you, and they like you because the group does. They add weight and number to a group. Positively, they add little, but on the negative side, they count cumulatively. 

 

It is important to find the controlling operator for each operand within the bracket and then deal with it accordingly. This must be at the back of our minds when we deal with collectives. The success of dealing with brackets in life depends on our ability to correctly identify or determine whether the person is truly positive or negative.  

Treatment Protocol.  

 

While a ‘+’ sign is often limited to being incremental, the ‘-’ sign is dangerous and can be disastrous if not correctly managed.  Similarly, dealing with people driven by negativity needs care and diligence. “Without mens rea there can be no actus reus; guilty mind first and guilty act later.” (Chacko, Jacob Tharakan. The Second Bullet). 

 

Adversaries and critics are not necessarily negative but the selfish, untrustworthy, scheming, elusive, habitual liars and such like people are. Beware of those whose words and deeds do not match.

 

There is another class even more dangerous. They may come across as suave, nice, polished and seemingly helpful, but could be bleeding you dry on the sly, knowing well that you have been taken in by their facade. They are like cloaked daggers behind the back. Their education, wealth, job, and social standing cloak the venom hidden within. Befriending them is akin to placing a leech on our inner thigh.

 

Those who feed on us as a right are also dangerous. They are operands with embedded ‘-’ or ‘/’ signs. They deplete our efforts and, through their sheer presence, make us feel inadequate. 

 

Dealing with ‘negatives’ incrementally does not help. Bringing in positives, however large or huge, to offset them may help marginally, providing only degraded or depleted returns, much like adding a positive number to a negative number.  Multiplication of a negative number with anything positive, however big it may be, will yield only negativity.

 

Multiplying a negative entity, big or small, even with (-)1, makes it positive. In life situations that can be achieved by confronting, or isolating them, effectively insulating ourselves from them and their devious ways, making them insignificant to our desired outcomes. Ignore them at our peril. 

 

It is important to understand that most of our daily interactions with people go by understanding rather than a covenant. Relationships like spouses, parents, children, friends, etc, fall into this category. Inherent to all such equations are expectations often undeclared. Expectations become demands, and beneficiaries take benefactors for granted. The emotional wear and tear would continue until the benefactor revolts.

 

At the workplace, though we may function under hierarchical prescription, most interpersonal transactions fall in the realm of ‘unsaid’ understanding. 

 

All human relationships at the base level are interpersonal though transactions may be physical, emotional, or even subliminal. One will end up being the perpetual giver and the other the perpetual recipient, though the recipient also might lay claim to be the giver. 

 

If anyone feels aggrieved in an interpersonal transaction in any manner the effective operator linking the two operands is negative. If there is a case of exploitation and the person exploited does not realise it, the negative sign remains embedded but will reveal itself sometime, depending on how soon the exploited realises it.

 

The best way to handle relationships is to be frank, open, and truthful to the extend one should. In the long run, people will naturally associate us with positive operator.

 

14.         The Second but The Most Important Part of Life’s Equation. 

 

All equations have two equal sides. Only then it is called an equation. A mathematical equation could be equated to zero (5x+7x-12= 0, a zero-sum process), or have a positive outcome (5x+7x-12=24) or negative outcome (5x+7x -12= - 24.)  Life is also like that. Most of us forget that a life led ordinary ends up a zero-sum process. Many, after all that they do, end up with a negative return. Positive outcomes? We have to strive hard. 

 

If you noticed, we talked more about others being operands and operators! We took it for granted that we are constantly positive. Unfortunately, that is not true. To many around us we may not come across as positive as we think we are. They may be wrong but not always and not in all cases. It pays dividends to take a deep look at the operator we carry with us.

 

15.         Incubation Does not Always Breed Well. Looking at a problem for long does not solve it. It is procrastination. In mathematics, the equation does not change. But in life, procrastination worsens the problem, festering even simple linear equations into polynomials of higher degrees. With each passing day, the equation tends to add more variables and complexity. It is better to address problems as soon as we notice them. “A stitch in time saves nine,” may be our life too. 

 

 

 

Purpose of Life - Struggling to Define one?

Our daughters call up while travelling to work in the morning and on their journey home. It is a daily ritual. In the morning, I always ask, “Child, how is the day coming up?” In the evening, I ask, “How was the day?” Between the two questions and their answers, we quickly cover the essentials. My wife gets longer talk time with the girls. At times they call at the same time. Then, my wife and I either switch phones or use the conference facility. Technology has made staying connected easy. We catch up on each other’s day through our daily calls. Sometimes, the discussion can turn serious.

“Dad, is it because I was raised as an Army child or the nomadic imprint in my DNA, I feel restless staying in one place for long. I yearn to move places?” That kickstarted the day.

“Child, maybe both,” I replied. “Deep within us, there must be remnant imprints of early mankind’s nomadic DNA. Although Homo Sapiens emerged 300,000 years ago as nomads in Africa it has been just about 10,000 years since we gave up nomadism and opted for the sedentary way of life. I believe wheat and rice enslaved and tethered us to the fertile plains near the Great Rivers.” 

I gave her time to soak in what I was saying. I also wanted to collect and organise my thoughts. I was sure she had more questions lined up.

“I believe, it is the compelling presence of that nomadic trait in our DNA that keeps Tourism afloat. The same trait must be triggering us to move places for better avenues. Isn’t immigration an evolved form of nomadism?” she did not answer, but I knew she was listening. “You are an army child and grew up travelling, moving, and living in many places. Nomadism cannot be dormant in your case. It is okay to feel restless.” I gave her time to absorb what I had said and continued.

“Just like imbalance spurs continuity in a chemical equation, the uncertainty and restlessness we experience spur movement, growth, and progress. Consider your restlessness as an internal trigger. Keep adding knowledge, skill sets and competencies to expand the horizon that envelops you.” 

The silence at the other end now was louder than the sound of the autorickshaw she was travelling in and even the blaring horns of the vehicle passing by.  I knew something else was brewing. 

“Dad, what is the purpose of our lives? I just cannot figure out mine,” she said. “What was yours?” she asked. 

I laughed aloud and said, “Terrible ways genes get passed on.” I knew I could not laugh her question away. My mind was fast at work. I had to come up with an answer. Even as children they asked many questions, even uncomfortable ones. I took pains to answer them. There were times when I sat with them and went through the encyclopaedia. My own life held the answer to her latest question.

I had grappled with the same question at various stages in my life. Each time I had come up with different answers. As a youngster who was, not doing very well at school, I wanted to be an achiever someday. Achievers had good jobs, were financially independent, owned cars and were respected. I secured a good job early in life but the euphoria vanished soon. Circumstances can be compelling if not overwhelming. I had willingly shouldered a lot of responsibilities. Ironically, my life’s sole purpose was to fulfil those first and thereafter live a carefree life and die with a song on my lips. Driven by the desire to be relevant I made a decision that landed me in serious trouble. In the gravest situation, I found myself disowned. When I rescued myself and found the will to live on, I changed course, married a lovely girl and promptly forgot about the purpose of life.

A medical emergency forced me to see life differently. As a young husband and father of two girls, I wrote down ten things to do before I die.  Most of them were to ensure a safe future for my wife and children. Over the next few years, I achieved nine out of those ten. I gave up on the tenth one. As time flew, I crossed fifty and rose in the hierarchy to become a one-star general. I wanted to leave behind “footprints on the sands of time” and worked hard towards it. I was officially chosen as the mentor for the department and I was convinced I had a strong trail of footprints behind me. People called up to know my views on professional matters when I was in service. Many called seeking my intervention in their private matters and I could help. It continued for a while even after I retired. Soon, the numbers fell and then stopped altogether. Some good-hearted folks still call up on my birthday or anniversary. The footprints I thought I had left had been washed away. I do not grudge contemporary footprints over mine, for that should be the norm. With plenty of time to stare at my empty nest, one day I sat down to restate my life’s purpose. Past 65, what should be the purpose of my life?

An honest evaluation of the situation revealed that my wife could, live well without me, once she gets the hang of the mundane things I now claim I do. My children, well placed, need neither my advice nor support. I found myself saddled with a sense of purposelessness. It dawned on me that all through my life, I had only been setting goals, and proudly calling the long-term ones, my life’s purpose. They helped me chart a course moored to the value systems I had internalised. It also ensured I retracted when I strayed. Yet they were merely the desired destinations in time. They also gave my existence a sense of exclusivity. It mattered only to me. No one else saw and felt the halo around me. It took me 65 years to realise that, shorn of that self-ordained exclusivity, life’s purpose had no meaning. 

Has anyone ever heard of the mighty lion setting goals, or living to fulfill his life’s purpose? Has anyone ever heard the Redwood tree (Sequoia sempervirens) or the Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) broadcasting, from the skies above, how much of their life’s purpose has been achieved? Imagine, left alone both the species easily live very long. There are known cases where some redwood trees reached the age of 2000 and some Douglas Firs lived more than 1000 years! 

We are just one of the billions of species on the earth. We have self-assigned a special place amongst other inhabitants and think we are at the top of the food chain. While that notion may provide a sense of superiority, we are hopelessly dependent on all the other species for survival. Pitted one-on-one against other species, we are utterly defenceless and fare badly in survival capabilities. Yes, our ability to fantasise, imagine, record them, and pursue our dreams to fulfilment sets us apart. Setting goals does help but evaluating one’s life on the number of goals achieved may turn detrimental to happiness. Focussed on destinations and committed to quantifying life’s journey we deprive ourselves of the beauty of the journey called life. We must set goals to pursue but not at the cost of living happily. 

Knowing that time is not on my side anymore, and with no pressure to prove anything to anyone including me, I try to make every moment full and happy. I have learned to be patient, and forgiving. Call it age-gifted wisdom, now I let things be and have trained myself to draw positives even from toxic people and situations. I have lived the last seven years without any purpose in life. Yet, I authored two books, wrote for newspapers, published many articles, trained corporate executives, spoke at events, and even became a director in a technology start-up. I love travelling. I deploy my savings and earnings to enjoy life. I stretch every minute and every penny to soak in the maximum. If I had to pen down my life's achievements, I could do it in one sentence. "My wife and I brought into this world, two children whom we groomed to be independent, capable, compassionate  and contributing members of the society." Everything else was incidental. I summed up my 65 years to her. 

“Dad, does that mean doing good, bad, and evil make no difference in life? If short-term gains define our happiness, what incentivises being good to others? Are we not back to the ways of the jungle?  What is life without a purpose?” 

She had been listening to every word I spoke. I wanted to ask her if something was wrong, but I desisted. She demanded an answer, and I had to give it, to the best of my abilities and without counterquestions.

“Child, we are getting mixed up between the means and the end. Imagine eating from a dirty plate with dirty hands when we have the option of eating with clean hands and from a clean plate. The choice rests with us.” 

We live with the mistaken notion that having travelled far from the jungle, we have become civilised. Animals kill for the right to eat and mate and nothing more than that. The hierarchy within a pride or herd revolves around these two elements. Animals also kill to foreclose competition. Humans kill for different reasons and with far-reaching consequences. Most pogroms across the globe started as someone’s life’s purpose. The ‘by any means’ school of thought justifies means with the ends. I hold a different belief system. My happiness and growth have not been at the cost of someone else’s right to life or opportunity. I feel I am more content than many of my competitors.

Success and failures are part of life. Whatever we may accumulate or achieve accompanies us for a short time. The euphoria of success wears out very fast. Even our name and fame do not last long. In the long run, we all are dead and forgotten for sure. Public memory is infamously short and easily manipulated. When regimes change, history gets rewritten, heroes are branded villains and villains get glorified as heroes. Nothing is static. Absolutely nothing should be taken for granted. We must be led by our moral compass and how that compass adapts to our immediate surroundings is a choice we must make. Happiness is something we must find within us. We do it by the choices we make and choices differentiate people. 

“Something to ponder over,” she said.

“Yes; something for all of us to ponder over,” I replied.

 

 

 

 

The Regulation Holdall and a Lesson for Life

 

In the initial years of my army service, I travelled by train like all other army officers. When I travelled on duty, the regulation ‘holdall’ was my companion. It was a masterpiece of utility. It held my things together throughout the journey. It took on a small mattress, my military boots that could never find space elsewhere, and all the other unwieldy stuff required to be carried along. There was a way to pack it.

I first spread the mattress, put a blanket and two sheets folded to size, spread the mosquito net, flipped the covers over, and tied the laces through the three eyeholes provided. Unwieldy things were then shoved into the compartments at the two ends. The holdall was now ready for the makeover.  I rolled the holdall tight, into a cylindrical entity and tied it with the attached leather belt that went through a big leather handle. It was the strongest thing in leather I have ever seen other than the saddle. My orderly was a great help. Over time I learnt to reduce what I carried along and we became experts in compressing the holdall into a sleek cylindrical piece of luggage. It did not matter whether it was dragged, carried, or even dumped anywhere. Thieves did not want it because it was unwieldy to run away with and it was not worth being sold in a flea market.  It became my bed in railway waiting rooms and my sofa on the platform when I waited for the train that promised to arrive in ‘some time.’  Occasionally, I deposited my holdall in the railway cloakroom giving me time and freedom to explore places around the railway station.  Times have changed.  I retired from service. I do not know if the holdall is still a regulation supply item. I hardly see anyone with it.  

My holdall was neither classy nor good looking but it took on everything a bachelor possessed. Most modern suitcases would shudder to consider the stuff my holdall could accommodate. It handled the favourable and weathered the inclement equally well. It gathered a lot of scars but was still as useful as ever. It became more accommodative and flexible as it aged. Finally, it looked big or small depending on how well I rolled and bound it. The coolie, I hired at the station to carry my holdall, often complained that it weighed much more than it looked. Once I landed at a station at an unearthly hour and found no one to help me with my luggage.  I was not kind to my holdall, lifting, dropping, and dragging it.  I had a delicate suitcase to take care of. My holdall picked up a few tears but delivered my stuff safe and sound. My holdall carried a beautiful lesson. I recognise it only now. Wisdom comes with age! The wise say, “Better late than never.”  

The first bag I owned was an airbag. It carried my stuff, mostly snacks from home to the school hostel. The snacks did not last more than a day amidst growing boys. The bag found space in the dormitory cloakroom. It came out again only when I went home on vacation. I lugged a few textbooks that I did not read anyway. I wanted to show my father I was serious with my studies, though my report card said otherwise. Years later I became the proud owner of a classy wheeled moulded suitcase, the one I bought from the Army canteen with my first pay. I have vivid memories of both these pieces.  

They were both beautiful to look at but had limitations to what they could take in and carry. One day the zip of the airbag gave way. Those days we could repair bags. After repair, it looked good enough. Soon both the zip and the handle gave up. I think it gave up because it could not bear to carry meaningless loads anymore. I do not remember what happened to it.

The suitcase was a bit different. The wheels of my proud possession could not take the rough of the railway platform and gave up one day. It limped through the journey back to the unit. There I knocked the wheels off and continued to use it for a few more journeys. I could always find a Coolie at the station. Sleeker and better-looking suitcases were already in the market. One day the hinges gave way when I tried to push in things I thought, the suitcase could hold. I put it away in the attic of my quarters for some time. I do not recall where it vanished. 

Life is like that. We can choose to be a holdall, an airbag, or a suitcase! Our looks, connections, wealth, and social mobility do not matter. Some good-looking, stylish people you see around may not be as happy as they seem.  Many of those laughing in public necessarily may not be happy. They may be putting on that face, out of compulsions while breaking up within. Looks can be deceptive. They may be like bags with broken zippers or missing handles, or suitcases with broken wheels or cracking hinges or locks. We may not know. 

Life is a journey that throws up the unexpected and at the most inappropriate time the unwanted. It will always be so. What matters is our ability to take in what life gives, organise it and pack those such that we are not held back in our journey.  The trick lies in separating the ones that we need, the ones that we are forced to carry, and the ones we can discard. When held within limits, time heals even the most terrible things. What we cannot discard has to find compartments so that they do not divest us of the freedom of movement.  The job becomes far easier if we can detach ourselves from what we do not want and discard those at the first instance. Often it is not as easy as it sounds.   

Some memories, especially of losses, heartbreaks, unmatched expectations, unkept promises, and treachery are so hard to forget, that we compulsively carry them even though the stench of the putrefied experience is unbearable. We forget that the putrid attracts maggots. It consumes us from within. Redemption lies in finding the strength to throw out garbage. In many cases, the requirement may be just a stitch or two. At times, it may be difficult to detach and discard on one's own. We can always find someone who can give a patient ear and suggest ways without being judgemental. Together, we can spread our holdall, and prepare for the journey ahead.  

Yes. The scars could be deep, but it is still better than being consumed by one’s sorrows.  

This article was spurred by a friend's response to my reel titled “Creating Memories.”  This is my answer.

My gratitude to one of my brothers in arms who posted this photo on the social media group.

 

Challenges, Adversity and Struggles - Elephants , Ants and Kunjel Mooppan

 Child Smoker 

The car was a beast from the outside but a cocoon from the inside. The unending leg space and silent air conditioning inside made it ideal for friends to travel and talk. The endless roads, devoid of traffic, encouraged the car to race with the winds. Whenever Jose, my friend, forgot to rein in the beast, Cini, his wife, lovingly reminded him of the brake pedal. Jose and I are childhood friends.  

“Do you know how we first met?” Jose asked my wife as we headed for Khor Fakkan from Al Dahaid. I tried hard to recollect but failed. “Something interesting about it?” she asked. Jose had already narrated many incidents of our childhood since we arrived in Sharjah two days ago. We had been laughing at ourselves and reconnecting. There were times when we laughed till our stomachs hurt.

“Like all houses in the locality, our houses were farmhouses and shared a common boundary, a high mud bund we call Kayyaala. It was one of the few kayyaalas in the locality without dispute. One day, I was sitting in my house and found smoke intermittently emanating from his side of the Kayyaala. Curious, I went to investigate. I found him sitting under a tree, smoking a cigarette. We must have been in our 7th or 8th grade. He had come home from the hostel for summer vacation. We have known each other ever since.  We became close during our college days. Search for a dignified livelihood took us on different roads away from each other. He joined the Military Academy after graduation to become an Army officer. We wrote letters to each other. Gradually, we got caught up in our own lives, and letter writing stopped. Whenever we happened to meet, we met as if we had never left each other's side,” Jose said.

Jose completed his Bachelor of Pharmacy course and opened a pharmacy in our area. He met Cini, a beautiful girl with bright eyes, and married her. Like many other Keralites, he landed in Sharjah, where he found a job in a pharmacy and Cini in a logistics company. Jose then moved into the shipping and logistics business. He worked hard for almost four decades and did well.   

What Next?

During their last trip to Kerala, Jose and Cini visited us and stayed overnight. The visit cemented the friendship between the two families. “Have you been to Dubai?” asked Jose. “No,” I replied.  “You land there and leave the rest to us. We have enough time,” Jose said.  “It will be nice to have you with us,” said Cini. We decided to fly to Sharjah. It was the third day of our visit, and Jose was driving us to Khor Fakkan. The four of us, with so much time together, bonded well. Like most couples inflicted with empty nest syndrome, our discussions somehow meandered into the question, “What next?” 

I am retired and spend time mostly reading and writing. I published my second book recently. I am also a director of a company. I am happy, gainfully occupied, and content with life. I come across many others who have settled down to retired life. Older or younger, many of them were in distress due to loneliness and lack of purpose. Uncertainty about ‘what next’ persistently tormented many of them. Contented, happy, and gainfully occupied, yet occasionally, the question, “What next?” gnaws me too. 

Jose is continuing with his business but plans to scale it down. Jose and Cini also grapple with the “what next” question. He has seen enough and surmounted adversities that can decimate lesser mortals. He is not one to be cowed down by challenges, but “What next” somehow cropped up in many of our discussions. Pensive silence inevitably followed. Jose invariably brought laughter back by saying, “Come what may, Kunjel Moopan[1] is happy.” 

Struggles 

In the highly connected contemporary world, social media is king and influencer. Many have found success and have become rich and famous through this platform. Some of them paint larger-than-life pictures of themselves. One easy way to do it is to share the real or make-believe struggles one overcame. Think about it. We all do it too.

Parents tell children, “We struggled a lot to reach here. How easy it is for you.” My parents told me of their “struggles.” I found most of them unbelievable. I told my children about my “struggles.” I am sure they would think I made it up. I can never bring myself to agree, however hard I may try, that my children had to struggle for anything. ‘Struggle’ is an element that can romanticise success, however small, and make it look spectacular. Struggle makes success an achievement. 

 

I vividly recall my grandmother's words; “aanekku thadi bharam; urumbinu ari bharam” a Malayalam phrase (ആനയ്ക്ക് തടി ഭാരം ഉറുമ്പിന് അരി ഭാരം). On the face of it, it meant “for the elephant, timber (log) a burden and for the ant a grain of rice (the burden).” Those content with its superficial meaning will miss the pearl within. The real meaning of this phrase was revealed to me when I grew up and started encountering challenges in life.

Elephant or Ant - The Choice

Adversities are opportunities to employ our potential. Challenges test our ability to apply our potential. There can be no progress in life unless adversities challenge our potential. When challenges become existential issues that call for persistent efforts, they become struggles. Adversity, challenges, and struggles exist everywhere. It is we who decide to make a challenge turn into an adversity and then create a situation of struggle. If we learn to address challenges individually, we prevent them from turning into adversities. When we adequately and timely handle adversities we do not create struggles to contend with.

Adversities do still turn into situations of struggle. Situations that demand struggle also call for reassessment. Some of the questions that we must ask ourselves about such situations are given below: -

What is the ‘struggle’ all about?

Is it the result of not shedding “baggage’ that we were to jettison?

Is it an amalgamation of several problems that we did not handle appropriately?

Is it a result of ‘too little - too late’ or seeking ‘too much - too soon’ or that got us here?

Can we isolate the ‘struggle’ into individual problems and handle them? 

Do we have the required competencies and how can we deploy them?

What are the external forces and what are internal obstacles? Can we separate them?

Are we seeing ghosts where none exists?

Are we making a log out of a grain (mountain out of a mole)?

Honest dissection of the situation through a set of questions, like the ones tailor-made for individuals, above can help us redefine the situation, reimagine solutions, and maybe tackle them as individual problems rather than seeing them as one gigantic existential struggle. If we still feel that we are in the struggle zone, then it is time to call for external help. There is a sense of inadequacy and helplessness attached to struggles. There should be no hesitation to seek help like the ants. The essence lies in identifying when we need to be elephant-like or need to be ant-like.

Despite all that we may do, results may or may not be to our liking. It is in handling results, especially unpalatable and suboptimal ones, that we need to learn from Kunjel Mooppan.

Kunjel Mooppan

Kunjel was one of the farm labourers in our area. His old face revealed the rugged and weather-beaten life he led.  Whether the crop yielded well or failed, India won or lost in a match, it did not affect him. He had seen so much of life nothing could shake that man; Not even personal losses like the death of his wife and son.  It was not that he had no feelings or emotions. He cried when he lost his wife. He cried when he lost his children. There were times he went to sleep empty stomach. There is so much to learn from him about accepting the inevitable. When the crop was good, he advised the farm owner to save a little for the rainy day and when the crop failed, he said the next one would certainly be a bumper crop.  When the day was bad, he said tomorrow would be good. Many of us could underplay his zen-like existence by attributing it to the minimal access he had to creature comforts. He smiled because nothing affected him permanently. Nobody makes poverty a wilful choice. Zen-like approach is a difficult choice very few can make.

Transformation

Dunes gave way to townships, and townships gave way to dunes. Along the way, many manmade greens stood out from the natural dunes. We then stopped at Masafi for a cup of tea and found the green coolant dripping from the engine. Jose opened the bonnet took a quick look inside and asked the stall owner, a Malayalee, where he could find a mechanic. As we drove towards the mechanic, he noticed that the temperature gauge did not show a climb. The mechanic was of no help. “We push on,” declared Jose. We drove into the series of tunnels and then into the magnificent sights of all, The Khor Fakkan beach.

We walked around the beach and admired the beauty around us.  “Houston, we have a problem,” I said sitting in the vehicle as Jose started the car. “We are heading back to Sharjah. Coolant level ok. Temperature ok. Here we come,” said Jose and turned the car onto the highway. “Switch off the air conditioning,” I said in a bid to lessen the engine load. Once we crossed the mountain range and the tunnels, we switched on the air conditioning. It was a big relief. We kept a close watch on the engine temperature lest we irreparably spoil it. Four hours later we were home.

“Kunjel is happy,” said Jose.

PS: The next day we took the car to the mechanic. We had to change the coolant pump. It had broken!

 

 

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[1] The name changed to conceal the identity of the person concerned.