Ninaivugal...Thoughts

Quiet. How I'd like it to be sometimes. I went to the temple almost every day. I didn't have anyone asking me, “Appa, are we done?” I could just cement myself there, without hurry, for a few hours. I could recite the Rudram without somebody tugging at my sleeve. And yet, every now and then, I would think that it would have been nice to have the kids there too. I didn't have to worry about picking up Akhil or Sahana from somewhere. I didn't get messages from my wife asking me to make a pit stop at the Indian store or Costco. I didn't have to look at the clock and suddenly remember that someone had basketball or tennis. It was as though life had come to a standstill. And I liked it. In the middle of a normal workday, I could be in an important meeting when Akhil would come charging into the room. “Appa, please approve.” For a brief second, I wouldn't even understand what he was asking. Then I would realize that I had absentmi...

Kunnathur, rebuilt — familiar, and not. When I was growing up, I spent most summers with my grandparents and extended family. My maternal side was based in Pudukkottai, my paternal side in Gobichettipalayam—Gobi, for short—in Tamil Nadu. Like most families, ours has since scattered, pulled toward larger cities and better livelihoods. The structure is new. The pull is old. Back then, our visits were unremarkable in the best way. We stayed home. Visitors came and went through the day. When we were in Gobi, there was one outing we never missed: a visit to our kula deivam at Kunnathur, about twenty-five kilometers away. We would pile into a van or a bus, pack food, and set out like an informal family pilgrimage—grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, all together. My paati would make sweet pongal and offer it to Goddess Angala Parameswari, an avatar of Parvati. There were no restaurant...

Some years don’t leave fingerprints. For the last few years, time feels like it has quietly pressed fast-forward. I finished tenth grade in 1997. Twelfth grade in 1999. I exited my teens right as the new millennium arrived. And somewhere along the way, I crossed a strange milestone: I’ve now lived more of my life after 2000 than before it. Yet most of my vivid memories still belong to the pre-2000 world. Maybe childhood memories are denser. Or maybe adult life is just better at overwriting itself. Post-2000 is one thing—but post-2020 is another entirely. The last five years feel like I took a hand towel, wiped my face, and tossed it away. Gone. Just… blur. Nothing makes time’s passage more obvious than children. Akhil and Sahana are growing up fast, each carving out a personality that couldn’t be more different. Akhil’s fascination with basketball has only deepened—remarkably so, given his usual talent for boredom. Middle school is around the corner, and we’re all quie...

A desk overflowing with choices — the perfect metaphor for a modern mind. I’ve always wondered why stepping outside my comfort zone feels harder than it should. With so many ways to spend time, I keep circling the same question: am I choosing what matters, or am I just numbing myself with options? Choice overload might be the defining anxiety of our era. One moment I’m browsing an AI course on Coursera, convincing myself I’ll finally finish it. The next, I’m tempted to restart my Sanskrit lessons. And somewhere in that mental whirlpool, a random LLM video on YouTube quietly steals an hour I never intended to give away. It isn’t learning — it’s drifting. I think back to my first iPhone 4. One model. One color. No storage decisions. Apple had already stripped away the noise. Life felt simpler when constraints were built in. Today everything comes in infinite flavors — phones, courses, ideas, careers, spiritual paths, entertainment platforms. Abundance looks empowering,...

Keep running. The right people find you on the way. At different stages of life, you’re confronted with different challenges. And each time you cross a hurdle, you feel that familiar sense of accomplishment. It’s tempting to attribute that success to your own skill, tenacity, and willpower — to pat yourself on the back and feel proud of how you handled it. But when you zoom out and look at the moments where you somehow managed to trump the odds, a quieter realization sets in: It’s never just you. There is always an unseen army that shows up at the right time. It was 2005. I had decided to pursue my Master’s in the US. I picked a few schools in the Midwest where the expenses were manageable, and that’s how the University of Missouri–Rolla entered the picture. But funding was still a massive question mark. I hadn’t secured any assistantship, and we didn’t have the means to pay out of pocket. We went from bank to bank, hoping for an education loan. Each manager aske...

A rotary phone – the slowest and somehow the most peaceful form of communication. This was the early nineties. Most homes didn’t have a landline. Mine didn’t either. And strangely, nobody thought it was a problem. If my father came home late from work, the family didn’t panic — we simply assumed: traffic, work, or he met a friend, in that order. My mother didn’t have a “Find My Kid” app. Her version was: divine trust and a loud voice. My brother and I would disappear into a gully or a friend’s apartment complex for hours. We walked to the library, roamed three streets away to play cricket, and trekked half a mile to Malleswaram 18th Cross ground — returning home at 6:30 or 7, covered in dust and joy. Parents assumed kids would eventually wander back home the way cows return at dusk. No drama. No helicopter parenting. Just life moving at its own calm pace. Postcards and inland letters — the original long-distance messaging apps. With no phone at home, the only wa...

Some bonds are formed not in conversation, but in quiet trust. Some companions never speak — they just walk beside you, through every chapter of life. Hanuman Temple As you grow older, simple things begin to hold deeper meanings. When I was a kid, I would visit the Hanuman temple near the Malleswaram Railway Station almost every day. I’d do my pradakshanams — the quiet circumambulations — and whisper to Lord Hanuman to help me do the right thing. Over time, the visits became less of a request and more of a rhythm — part of the everyday music of life. Just a short walk from home, the temple stood like a familiar friend. And yet, it became more than a place — it became a witness. Every important moment in my life was somehow tied to that small shrine. Before paying my exam fee, I would stop there. Before collecting my hall ticket for the tenth and twelfth board exams — it went straight to Hanuman’s feet first. Before campus placements. Befor...

I’ve been thinking lately about how I like to spend time with people. Sometimes we socialize just for the sake of it. Other times, it is because we truly enjoy the company. I find the former tiring, but the latter deeply fulfilling. There is something special about being with people who make you think, who listen with intent, and who help you see the world a little differently. Whether at work or in personal circles, there is always a balance between what you enjoy and what you feel obligated to do. When you reflect on it long enough, deeper questions begin to surface. Do I socialize to grow my network? What does that even mean? Am I looking for a favor somewhere down the line? Or am I just afraid of missing out if I am not part of the local chatter? These days, most of my new interactions happen through my children. Their friends’ parents are the people I end up spending the most time with. Some of them I genuinely enjoy talking to because we connect on familiar ground. With other...

On the way back from Kukke Subramanya As a child, you visit a place and remember it - for the right reason or the wrong one. If that place leaves no mark, it simply fades away. About 25 years ago, I embarked on a temple tour across the Western Ghats with my extended family, thanks to my mama and manni (mami) . All I knew then was that it would be a fun trip. Beyond that, I had no expectations. It was a week-long pilgrimage that took us through Shravanabelagola, Belur, Halebeedu, Udupi, Dharmasthala, Sringeri, Kollur, and Horanadu. Sringeri Sharadamba Temple I still recall the enchantment of those places. The lush, evergreen slopes of the Western Ghats, bathed in the dusky hues of evening and refreshed by intermittent rain, have stayed etched in my memory ever since. Every turn on those winding roads, with terraced hillsides, charming homes, and coffee and tea plantations blending into the scenery, held an aura that words could never capture. Each stop felt like stepping into a ...

Writing has always fascinated me. It’s such an interesting aspect of communication; you can pretty much convey anything you want, in any way you want. Even a grammatically incorrect sentence can carry its full meaning. Yet, somewhere along the way, we began mistaking good communication for intelligence. “Oh, he writes and speaks so well.  He must be smart.” Good communication can create a false sense of technical pride. I grew up believing that grammatical precision was the measure of knowledge. But in hindsight, that wasn’t entirely me; it was my teachers. They were absolutely particular that every sentence not only conveyed meaning, but also respected the sanctity of grammar. A misplaced article or preposition could invite the harshest of corrections. Yesterday, my wife and I were talking about writing and as all conversations these days eventually do, it veered toward our kids’ writing. We were laughing over Sahana’s recent schoolwork: a delightful mix of humor, dialogue, and im...

What exactly are the couple goals after a few years of marriage? In the early years of marriage, couple goals meant to hold hands together at the beach, staring deep into the sunset or watching a Netflix series together. Ten years later, it's remembering to soak the lentils and rice for the dosa batter, and paying your taxes on time.  A successful marriage is built on love and thrives on shared responsibilities. So, most of the conversations tend towards what's completed and what should tend towards completion.  "Praveen, did you have a chance to follow up with Akhil's coach on the practice schedule?" "Hema, did Akhil finish up this week's music homework? "Praveen, did you call the plumber? The kitchen sink is leaking. It can damage the wood below." "Hema, did you order the dishwasher liquid from Amazon?"  Obviously, if you have been in a relationship for a few years, and if the dishwasher loading duty doesn't fall on the husband, ...

I’ve often confessed how musically incompetent I am. I have no idea about  thālams  or  ragams , nor even the basics of whether a singer is off  shruti . And yet, music, especially the music of M. S. Subbulakshmi has been a constant companion throughout my life. Every morning and evening of my childhood, MS’s voice filled our home with the  Vishnu Sahasranamam ,  Hanuman Chalisa , or  Suprabhatam . Those slokams reverberating through the walls became part of my everyday rhythm. For my mother, who was deeply religious, devotional music was inseparable from life itself. And though I never grasped the nuances of Carnatic music, devotion seeped into me through those sounds. MS had a unique quality in her renderings. She didn’t just sing, she seemed to be standing in the presence of divinity. When people say a true musician never dies, I understand it. Their body may pass, but their music becomes immortal. For years, I kept a respectful distance from Carnat...

I was in my second year of Engineering, and my parents decided to conduct my Upanayanam ceremony. Upanayanam, as I have referred in my earlier posts, is a sacred rite of passage that marks a boy's passage into spiritual learning. Anyway, the Upanayanam was done. After that, I had to begin the trikaala (three times a day) Sandyavandanam - morning, noon and evening. Sandhyavandanam is done by chanting the Gayathri Mantra to foster spritual growth and well-being. It's a way to connect with the divine energy. If you ChatGPT the significance of Sandhyavandanam, I am sure there will be a detailed explanataion of what it means inspite of whatever hallucination you see ChatGPT spitting out.   I was 20. After the Upanayanam, you are expected to do Sandhyavandanam by learning from the elders at home. My father, I have never seen him do Sandhyavandanam. How do I get started? The vaadhyar (priest) who conducted my Upanayanam came on the first day, performed the Sandhyavandanam wit...

I have been meaning to write for quite some time, but I never found the patience to find a subject.  Trivial happenings make for good discussion, and sometimes, the serious topics fizzle out.  And then I thought, I never think when writing a blog post.  It just happens.  In any case, the writing sucks.  So, I thought, at least, let me continue the habit of writing something and worry later about the wherewithals of submitting the post for a Booker or Pulitzer. We saw a bunch of shows last year.  Newsroom was fantastic.  I liked the idealistic portrayal of the newsroom characters.  Aaron Sorkin brings the idealistic nerve in his characters to the fore with panache.  It makes for good viewing.  My wife tells me not to drool incessantly as soon as Olivia Munn comes on screen.  But then, she is awesome.  Yeah, even Olivia Munn is awesome. Then, my wife queued up The Wire from the library.  When you get past the first few ...

In what can be described as the most boring part of the "once in a while" chore, I have no doubt that cleaning, organizing and de-cluttering rank as the most mundane.  It is not something that one gets to do on a daily basis, but it is such a mind numbing task that you secretly wish you are somehow over with it even before you have started.  A dull everyday routine is usually offset by doing something out of the way once in a while.  But, when your once in a while task gets boring, you end up looking forward to the routine stuff. So, we decided that we would clean up the house today, freeing all the crammed up spaces from the world of unwanted information.  When you talk of unwanted information, I really mean it, because there is such a big pile load of trash accumulated, knowingly or unknowingly.  It is utterly painful to sort your way through the accumulated mess, but some time or the other, which occurs, rather, painfully periodically, you are left with no ...

It is a fact of life that it is never easy to draw the line when it comes to a myriad of things.  Even if there is a thick line between contentment and greed, it is amusing to find that certain individuals find ways to be on the wrong side of the line.  Now, what's the wrong side? The Indian Premier League (IPL) has thrown open a can of worms bringing to the forefront the involvement of politicians, financiers, famous personalities, and almost every biggie directly or indirectly.  The final entity of the IPL happens to be the sportsperson himself, when he actually should have been the primary, speaks a lot about the way the tournament is designed.  I, personally, have nothing against the IPL.  It is a dream tournament for every cricket fan, who longs to see stars from various countries share the same dressing room in this city based format.  It is an English Premiere League like concept, where the best of footballers from all parts of the world represent ...