Dear friends,  

Hope you are all doing well, wherever you are. Please
do write when you could. 

Here in Washington, it feels like winter, at least for
the moment. The juniper tree is swaying in the
howling, driving wind, covered with the blowing snow,
the colorful lights energizing the white night. The
street-lights shining on the snow covered tree limbs
choreograph a ghostly dance. It is indeed a night for
hungry ghosts and wandering spirits. Having just
returned from the Hindu temple in Greenbelt, my being
is a bit immersed in the mystery of Indian spiritual
and occult life. I feel a bit like a wandering,
ghostly figure myself sometimes, in those few moments
when I forget we are all together in spirit. Do hope
every one of you is enjoying life, these precious
moments that are given to us to be together and do as
we wish. How often we forget what a gift each moment
is!  

It is the nature of the seeker's life that it has to
be a lonely one, at least periodically. When you start
wondering about the meaning of existence you feel like
a sailor in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but
the vast, lonely expanse of water all around. That is
something I have accepted and learnt to live with.
There are times when there is a deep yearning  to be
surrounded by friends and family, and the accompanying
cacophony of voices and machines. I do hope that will
happen more often. But I am also grateful for times of
introspection like these, because it teaches me the
value of life, of each person. My suffering is nothing
compared to that of most people, but there is enough
of it to keep me writing :-) I still don't know what
it is that I am seeking, or where my life is headed. 
All I can do is to try to live each moment so that I
bring happiness to at least one other living being.
That is my philosophy and raison d'etre. In that
spirit, I will try to make this as entertaining as
possible. As the incomparable William J. Clinton once
remarked, "Why do anything if you are not having fun?"

The past few weeks have been rather interesting, so I
thought I'd tell you about it. I couldn't come up with
an appropriately grandiose title, so had to settle for
"The Past Few Weeks." I think it pretty much sums up
the subject of this letter. But if you are itching to
know what this is about -- I will be talking about
cars, house painting, love, attachment, letting go and
belief in astrology in some random order. Of course as
Mr. Freud might point out, all of it is in some subtle
way connected to the women in my life every one of
whom I love deeply and passionately, like a devoted
gardener who cares about each flower. Is there a
flower in this world that anyone would say is not
exquisitely and uniquely beautiful?

Yours,
Sankar 

P.S: I am also attaching this as a Word file

The Past Few Weeks
11 Feb 2006

There is a proverb in Tamil that goes "Once you hurt a
leg you keep getting hurt in the same place." Or
something like that. There is also the more general
proverb "When it rains it pours." A few weeks ago my
mother told me that my star is aligned with Saturn, so
this is a bad time for me, and I had to go to the
temple every Saturday to propitiate the Saturn God, go
around the sanctuary with the nine idols representing
the nine planets (the planets according to Hindu
mythology) and offer a little bag of sesame seeds to
the Saturn God so that he will be pleased with me and
not interfere with my getting married soon. Of course
I said yes, that I would do as much as I can. I had
discovered the power of the words "Yes, Mother" some
time ago. So I took the metro to Greenbelt and then
the bus to NASA Goddard and trudged the half mile from
the bus stop to the temple. It was quite enjoyable,
actually, as the snow started coming down heavily
right about that time. I had forgotten the little bag
of sesame seeds but figured she would excuse me for
that, considering all the effort I was making. She is
annoyingly persistent but also quite forgiving and
flexible. The previous week I told her I hadn't gone
because it was raining and she said that was okay, she
had been to the temple herself on my behalf. As I went
around the planet idols nine times I told myself that
the only God I am really propitiating is she.  The
temple was quite empty considering that it was the
weekend - perhaps the snow kept people away - but the
tranquility was inspiring and brought me closer to the
spirit of the Gods represented by the idols.

It is also true that I have this feeling in my stomach
of things going awry. As someone who professes to be a
mathematician I am keenly aware of the law of averages
and it seems to me that this is a period of bad luck
for me. Perhaps when one starts looking for misfortune
one finds it, but nevertheless at this time I am
feeling the omnipotence of Murphy's law: "If something
can go wrong it will." I don't know if doing all these
things in the temple is going to eliminate my bad luck
but psychologically it is comforting to feel that I
have done something about it. Maybe that is the main
purpose - to help one to think positively amid
difficult circumstances.

I will start with my car, even though that is not
where the misfortunes started. As some of you might
recall my 1991 Toyota Camry developed a mysterious
problem with its starter circuit and would refuse to
start at very inopportune times. After umpteen trips
to the mechanic the problem was still undiagnosed but
nevertheless cured by the installation of a parallel
starter circuit. That was last summer and I happily
drove around all summer, visiting the beach, camping
at Assateague, etc., The car was doing well until last
month and I was feeling somewhat confident that, given
the reputation of Camry, it might run for a long time
without any problem. 

Then two weeks ago I started noticing that I had to
push the brake pedal somewhat harder than I would like
to. It was a little disconcerting when the car
wouldn't stop when you wanted it to. The brakes had
been a little different since I got the pads replaced
last summer but it hadn't bothered me particularly,
until two weeks ago. It was also time for a regular
check-up and oil-change, so I thought I should take it
to the mechanic. I was hoping that he would adjust a
nut somewhere and it will be allright. But the
mechanic called to tell me that the brake cylinder was
leaking fluid, and replacing it would cost around
$700. He also found a major oil leak in the power
steering hose, which would cost another $500. This was
a big blow to me. I had to start thinking about
whether it was worth the gamble to spend another one
or two thousand, having spent almost two thousand last
summer.

I tend to get attached to things. Especially old
things.  My old bike, this old house, old letters and
mementos, pictures, old flames… I think it is human
nature to fall in love with anything once you spend
enough time with it. You start to notice its peculiar
characteristics, needs, wants, desires, and taking
care of them becomes part of your life. You may call
it love or you may call it attachment or you may call
it the comfort of familiarity.

Anyway, after some thought and calculation I decided
that it was not worth keeping the car. I told the
mechanic that I was planning to give it away to
charity. He told me there was someone in his shop who
badly needed a car. After intense negotiations we
agreed that I would sell it to him for $100.  I went
to the shop to turn in the title to this mechanic. One
look at him and I was convinced that he really
deserved the car. I felt like I didn't want even the
$100. I was very happy for him and for the car. "Hope
it works out for you," I said, as I signed it over to
him. At least now the car won't go to the junkyard.
After talking to him I was convinced that he was going
to try and make it run. It would be easy for him
because he is a mechanic, whereas for me it would be
unaffordable.

 The test of non-attachment lies in whether or not you
are capable of letting go of something that you care
deeply and passionately about. I don't think you are
capable of developing detachment if you are not
capable or willing to give your heart and soul to
something. You really let go if, having spent your
time, energy and enthusiasm and devoted all of your
love and good-will and emotion to something, when the
time comes to let go you are able to do it with a
smile and a loving heart. You let go not for your own
sake but because it is the right thing to do, because
you have done everything you can and now it is time
for someone else to take care of it in the way that it
deserves.

Being the highly imperfect human being that I am,
letting go is, at the same time, painful and
difficult. I keep wondering if I have tried
everything. Part of letting go is accepting one's
failure and inadequacy. Letting go is also difficult
because I am losing a part of my life, a part of me. I
keep thinking about all the things that happened in
that car. The time I got stuck in the mud near the
towpath. The time a wild horse popped its head inside
as I was sitting in the parking lot at Assateague. The
impulsive 3 am trip to Ocean city to watch the
sun-rise. The texture of the seats, the gear shift,
the hum of its engines, the way she groans on bumpy
roads…now someone else will be caressing those seats,
feeling the texture... I have to tell myself that we
are all one, and it doesn't matter if I drive it or
someone else does, as long as he takes care of her
well. She is probably better off with someone who
understands her inner workings better.

Meanwhile, a few weeks ago I was standing outside my
house when a guy who was passing by said I might have
to cut the tree down because its roots may rupture the
gas or water pipes. I told him I wasn't sure I wanted
to do that, but if he wanted to help me paint the
porch, the fence and the railings that will be nice.
He agreed. "I am Steve and I live just down the block.
Knock on my door when you are ready to start," he
said.

Then on the Friday of the weekend before the Superbowl
weekend Steve banged on my door and said he'd like to
start painting on Saturday, since the weather was so
nice. I said okay, and he took some money to buy paint
and left.  He started painting next morning, and by
the time it was evening he had finished part of the
railings and a half of the porch.
I don't know if it really took that long or if he was
working only part of that time because I wasn't home
most of the day. He seemed to be good at it, and he
seemed to be working with some care and planning.
Anyway, he said he'd finish it up on Sunday. I gave
half of the money I had promised him, because he said
he really needed the cash. 

Then it rained on Sunday and he came by to say he
wasn't going to paint because it was raining but
needed some cash desperately so I gave a little more
of what I had promised him. After that I didn't see
him. By Thursday I was somewhat anxious because of the
car and the half-finished painting. I went to his
house to talk to him and the first time a couple of
little boys answered the door and said he was not
around. I wasn't sure if they were his kids - he
didn't look like someone with a family. After a few
tries I finally managed to see him. He told me he had
been sick and also had to go to the union office to
make sure he'd be able to go back to his job as heavy
machine operator in the spring. He promised he'd
finish it up later that day. I told him I didn't want
him to get sick (which I really meant) and also that
if he gave me the paint I'd finish it myself (because
I wanted to get it over with on that day). He insisted
on doing it and finishing up on that day.

He did keep his word and finished the job by that
night and I gave him the rest of the money. He also
told me he was 44, had a grand total of eight kids,
four of whom lived in Virginia with his ex-wife and
four of whom lived with him. I felt bad about my
preconceptions about him and also kind of awe-struck
that someone who was only five years older than me
would have eight kids while I was still having trouble
finding a girlfriend. 

Thursday night it rained after midnight and washed off
a significant portion of the paint in the areas he had
painted that night. I also found that the newly
painted areas looked slightly lighter in hue. Maybe he
didn't buy the exact same color of paint or maybe the
paint had simply faded in the four days between the
two paintings. 

The next few days I was preoccupied with getting rid
of the car and by Wednesday of the next week I was
feeling a little frustrated with the state of affairs.
Maybe my frustrations were rooted in something else
but nevertheless I had to do something. So Wednesday
afternoon I decided I was going to finish the painting
job come hell or high water. I went back to the store
where I bought the paint, got a roller, and started
painting around 8 pm. First I touched up the patches
where the paint had come off a little bit. In the dark
I couldn't tell how it looked but I didn't care and
also I wanted to spend as little of the paint as
possible. Then I started painting the portions where
most of the paint had been washed off, with the
roller. After painting a part of it I realized I had
to paint the whole area because the color difference
was too stark. So I ran the roller all over the porch
like a madman. Though I realized that painting is not
as simple as I thought, and that one needs to do it
with care and planning, I simply didn't have the time
or patience to do it right. At times it looked like
the crazy paintings of Jackson Pollock, except that in
my case it was not creative insanity but rather plain
stupidity. 

Anyway, I managed to finish the job within two hours
and do the other work I had to do that night. It did
feel pretty good to have finished something that had
been pending for a long time. Before Steve forced me
to do it, I had been meaning to do it for several
months without getting around to it. A can of primer
and a can of paint had been sitting for months inside
the house, along with the little carpets I planned to
put on the porch after painting it. 

All of this activity was in fact quite energizing.
Sometimes one needs a little kick in the behind to get
out of the rut and inertia and get going. Having an
old house and an old car have helped me to get out of
the rut many times. They force me to do things that
are not within the capacity of my mental and physical
infrastructure, that take some effort and guts and
pushing of limits.

Getting rid of the car was also good because it forced
me to bike and walk more. I also found that having a
car was in fact a financially less viable option for
me because I live close to work and generally don't
drive much. I discovered this new service called
Zipcar which is going to save me hundreds of dollars a
month. 

More importantly it also helped me to meet a neighbour
and be of a little help to him in his hour of need. I
reckoned that despite the two hours I spent Wednesday
night, he probably saved me several hours and what I
paid him was not all that much. Thursday morning
dawned fresh and bright. Anxiously I opened the door,
expecting to find a porch that looked liked a little
kid's scrapbook. Instead I saw a block of concrete
looking smooth, solid,  and shining in lovebird blue.
Sure, the spots which I had just touched up on the
side of the steps looked patchy to the keen observer,
but I can live with that. As they say, things always
look better in the morning sunshine.