Deepavali and other musings…

It’s Deepavali today. The first day of it. There’s usually that lot of three days with the looming mystery of which of those three your company will choose to put on the holidays list. The approach when in school seemed better – it’d be the first and third always, Naraka Chaturdashi and then Balipadyami. The former was the main festival at home, the latter was the main festival in the city. The day in between didn’t see much activity. Of course all three evenings were noisy and cracker filled, but the first and the last days always won out. With the amount of fireworks we got, most would be done by Day 2, and we’d only watch with envy as people pulled out their main stuff on day 3, especially the ones who’d been completely silent the first 2 days.

It’s almost the 20th year now of going fireworks-free. I say almost as I am not entirely sure. I know there was some activity in ’95. Probably none ’96 onwards, although we did have a small cache left over for World Cup India-Pakistan matches. This year the company has been extra generous in awarding 2 days off – the Tuesday and the Wednesday. Considering the amount I telecommute, it does not feel too odd. I think I’ve gone into a cosy weekend routine which extends itself comfortably over any weekday holidays. Or in other words, am growing old.

Rambling again…

A recent conversation between two people on twitter, only one of whom I was following put an incident in my radar. It was something that had happened 4 years back, towards the fag end of 2011. A couple had apparently given up their jobs in the US, moved back to India, and then to Goa where they had worked for a few years, given that up, freelanced, kept traveling regularly during this time, eventually spent a month in a 5 star hotel in Goa itself, and then unceremoniously hung themselves to death after disposing off all their possessions. Details here.

Like most things, this was also serendipity. The topic under conversation was Sallekhana, the Jain custom of people fasting to death after a certain age or when they feel they are done with it. In this case it is understandable. Honestly, life really isn’t worth living after you reach a certain age. This ‘certain age’ varies from person to person. Some hit it at 60, some get there pretty late and even seem to be going good at 100. We sure are living longer with each generation, but the quality of life isn’t improving as much as one would need. At least in India it is becoming a ‘No country for old people’ where the goal is towards keeping people alive as against their well being.

But I digress. The thing that interested me was the case of Deepa and Anand Ranthidevan. They weren’t even into middle age. 39 and 36 is still the prime of your life. Yes, you’re now past the hill after 30 and it is going to be downhill in terms of biological processes, but still with enough care and exercise, you don’t really feel old age until 50. Or at least that’s what I reckon (and hope!).

Weekend ramblings

It’s a Sunday evening. And am not particularly chipper about it. Have never been. It has always signified the end of the weekend and the start of a new week (I’ve never lived in any of the Gulf countries). It does not help that the weekend was mostly cloudy and rainy all the time. Dark, and windy, and a whooshing sound bringing forth the rains for some time and then silence again. It isn’t exactly exciting weather.

A part of me wishes that every weekend is fun filled, full of activities, with lots of running around. But a bigger part of me just wants to sleep. It is almost the Yin and Yang, keeping the balance between activity and rest you could say. Sometimes, of course the Yin needs to be given in to, sometimes the Yang. I wonder if age also plays a role, as you grow older one asserts more than the other?

A rainy weekend is always a good time to just be at home. The traffic is always horrendous outside. And if it is not, the constant presence of puddles makes life difficult.