The name brings to memory
A fort on a hillock;
As a boy climbed it
several times.
This is where
dad was working,
when I was born.
His diary records
the momentous event:
“A Red Letter Day :
Telegram from ANY
informing birth of my son”.
What Red-letter day?
My son snorts now!
My mom and me,
as a babe,
were taken to
my paternal uncle’s house –
“40, Society Street”.
Travelling by train
from mom’s place,
changing trains in between,
commences my association
with Railways
which continues.
They are live-characters
in my life-drama.
All that
we will see later.
During my uncle’s time,
40, Society Street
was a jolly-good place,
for a lot of children –
my cousins, me and
all the kids nearby.
That house is
associated with
many many events
of my life –
some memorable and
some better forgotten.
I was named after
this uncle –
“SIVASURIYANARAYANAN” .
‘Reminds me of a
goods train’ –
a friend commented
on my name.
Yes, what a long name!
But I can’t blame
my uncle.
He inherited it
from his grandpa
and dad chose it for me,
for uncle was more
a father to him.
(Dad lost his father
when he was 8.)
Hope, my son
will be more
imaginative and
comes up
with something better
for his son,
when he is born.
But I am
either
“Suri” or “Murugan“
to all near and dear.
The longer version
is for records only.
Murugan?
Oh, petname mother
chose for me.
Still many from
mother’s side
know me as ‘Murugan‘.
Later my siblings
took to calling me,
‘Mulla‘ –
a corrupt form of Muruga
or maybe after
Mulla Nazruddeen,
whose jokes
I used to crack often.
My namesake uncle was
Town Congress leader,
popular and soft-spoken gent,
respected and trusted by many.
A Municipal Councillor,
till his tragic death,
his ward,
Ward No.4 to be precise,
came to be known as
“Congress Fortress”.
Cut at the prime of life,
he fell like a
huge banyan tree,
leaving many branches
to dry and wither away.
Uncle gone,
40 society street gone,
all the glories gone, –
his children,
that is,
those that are left,
despair there,
facing calamity
after calamity.
On uncle’s death,
burden fell on Sethu –
my cousin and the
eldest son of uncle,
when he was hardly 20.
Crushed almost,
he still lives there.
Now, 40 years after,
Dindigul is
just another name,
with fragrant and painful
memories.
Avoid unpleasantness,
well, that is me.
Pressed down as I am
with worries and problems,
Relatives and friends mean solace to me;
When they turn unpleasant,
I hide my face and
run away.
Weakness of character?
Self-centredness?
I rue this flaw of character,
but what to do?
The name brings to memory
A fort on a hillock;
As a boy climbed it
several times.
This is where
dad was working,
when I was born.
His diary records
the momentous event:
“A Red Letter Day :
Telegram from ANY
informing birth of my son”.
What Red-letter day?
My son snorts now!
My mom and me,
as a babe,
were taken to
my paternal uncle’s house –
“40, Society Street”.
Travelling by train
from mom’s place,
changing trains in between,
commences my association
with Railways
which continues.
They are live-characters
in my life-drama.
All that
we will see later.
During my uncle’s time,
40, Society Street
was a jolly-good place,
for a lot of children –
my cousins, me and
all the kids nearby.
That house is
associated with
many many events
of my life –
some memorable and
some better forgotten.
I was named after
this uncle –
“SIVASURIYANARAYANAN” .
‘Reminds me of a
goods train’ –
a friend commented
on my name.
Yes, what a long name!
But I can’t blame
my uncle.
He inherited it
from his grandpa
and dad chose it for me,
for uncle was more
a father to him.
(Dad lost his father
when he was 8.)
Hope, my son
will be more
imaginative and
comes up
with something better
for his son,
when he is born.
But I am
either
“Suri” or “Murugan“
to all near and dear.
The longer version
is for records only.
Murugan?
Oh, petname mother
chose for me.
Still many from
mother’s side
know me as ‘Murugan‘.
Later my siblings
took to calling me,
‘Mulla‘ –
a corrupt form of Muruga
or maybe after
Mulla Nazruddeen,
whose jokes
I used to crack often.
My namesake uncle was
Town Congress leader,
popular and soft-spoken gent,
respected and trusted by many.
A Municipal Councillor,
till his tragic death,
his ward,
Ward No.4 to be precise,
came to be known as
“Congress Fortress”.
Cut at the prime of life,
he fell like a
huge banyan tree,
leaving many branches
to dry and wither away.
Uncle gone,
40 society street gone,
all the glories gone, –
his children,
that is,
those that are left,
despair there,
facing calamity
after calamity.
On uncle’s death,
burden fell on Sethu –
my cousin and the
eldest son of uncle,
when he was hardly 20.
Crushed almost,
he still lives there.
Now, 40 years after,
Dindigul is
just another name,
with fragrant and painful
memories.
Avoid unpleasantness,
well, that is me.
Pressed down as I am
with worries and problems,
Relatives and friends mean solace to me;
When they turn unpleasant,
I hide my face and
run away.
Weakness of character?
Self-centredness?
I rue this flaw of character,
but what to do?
If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, Alas! say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle. In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.
Time is the raw material for everything. Without it nothing is possible. The supply of time is truly a daily miracle. No one can take it from you and nor receive either more or less than you receive. And you cannot waste it in advance.
You have to live on this twenty four hours a day; out of which you have to spin money, pleasure, content, health. It demands sacrifices and endless effort.
Now let us examine the budget of the day’s time. A typical man spends eight hours (from 9 am to 5 pm) in the office. During the remaining sixteen hours (from 9 am to 5 pm) he has nothing whatever to do but cultivate his body and soul and serve fellow men.
In examining the typical man’s method of employing the 16 hours that are entirely his, let him spend 30 minutes daily in the morning, and an hour and a half every other evening in cultivating the mind. He will still be left with 3 evenings for friends, family and gardening.
We do not reflect upon genuinely important things; upon the problem of our happiness, upon the main direction in which we are going, upon what life is giving to us, upon the share which reason has in determining our actions and upon the relation between our principles and our conduct.
In the formation of principles and the practice of conduct, much help can be derived from books. I suggest Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus. I may also mention Pascal, La Brayere and Emerson. But no reading of books will take the place of a daily, candid, honest examination of what one has recently done and what one is about to do – of a steady looking of one’s self in the face.
Many people remain idle in the evenings because they think there is no alternative to idleness but the study of literature; and they do not happen to have a taste for literature. This is a great mistake. There are enormous fields of knowledge quite outside literature which yield magnificent results to cultivators.
You need not be devoted to the arts, nor to literature in order to live fully. The whole field of daily habit and scene is waiting to satisfy that curiosity which means life and the satisfaction which means an understanding an understanding heart.
I now come to the case of the person, happily very common, who does like reading. I offer two general suggestions for self-improvement through reading. The first is to define the direction and scope of your efforts. Choose a limited period, or a limited subject, or a single author. And during a given period confine yourself to your choice. There is much pleasure to be derived from being a specialist. The second suggestion is to think as well as to read. To read the full book, click: http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext00/24hrs11.txt (Thank you very much, Project Gutenberg, thank you very much!)
Time is the raw material for everything. Without it nothing is possible. The supply of time is truly a daily miracle. No one can take it from you and nor receive either more or less than you receive. And you cannot waste it in advance.
You have to live on this twenty four hours a day; out of which you have to spin money, pleasure, content, health. It demands sacrifices and endless effort.
Now let us examine the budget of the day’s time. A typical man spends eight hours (from 9 am to 5 pm) in the office. During the remaining sixteen hours (from 9 am to 5 pm) he has nothing whatever to do but cultivate his body and soul and serve fellow men.
In examining the typical man’s method of employing the 16 hours that are entirely his, let him spend 30 minutes daily in the morning, and an hour and a half every other evening in cultivating the mind. He will still be left with 3 evenings for friends, family and gardening.
We do not reflect upon genuinely important things; upon the problem of our happiness, upon the main direction in which we are going, upon what life is giving to us, upon the share which reason has in determining our actions and upon the relation between our principles and our conduct.
In the formation of principles and the practice of conduct, much help can be derived from books. I suggest Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus. I may also mention Pascal, La Brayere and Emerson. But no reading of books will take the place of a daily, candid, honest examination of what one has recently done and what one is about to do – of a steady looking of one’s self in the face.
Many people remain idle in the evenings because they think there is no alternative to idleness but the study of literature; and they do not happen to have a taste for literature. This is a great mistake. There are enormous fields of knowledge quite outside literature which yield magnificent results to cultivators.
You need not be devoted to the arts, nor to literature in order to live fully. The whole field of daily habit and scene is waiting to satisfy that curiosity which means life and the satisfaction which means an understanding an understanding heart.
I now come to the case of the person, happily very common, who does like reading. I offer two general suggestions for self-improvement through reading. The first is to define the direction and scope of your efforts. Choose a limited period, or a limited subject, or a single author. And during a given period confine yourself to your choice. There is much pleasure to be derived from being a specialist. The second suggestion is to think as well as to read. To read the full book, click: http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext00/24hrs11.txt (Thank you very much, Project Gutenberg, thank you very much!)