He is here. He is here. He is here.

There's a time in your life, where you feel like you're standing in front of a wall and your insides are just weeping but your face shall refuse to show it. There's a time in your life where you'll feel like the universe was made for everyone but you, for everything in your life felt out of place always. There's a time in your life, you'll find an enemy in Time itself. There will always be a time like that. How far will you run away from that? It's gonna find you, it's gonna make you experience it, for only in such moments are you truly alone, only in such times are you truly insulated from any external force and only in such moments are you truly Yourself. Last year, I made friendship with those times. I accepted my sorrow and found a way to peace. My own version of peace for when you're at peace the world around you pauses, doesn't it?

"In my heart, in this cold heart

I can live, or I can die,

I believe, if I just try,

You'll believe in You and I"

Every night I put myself to sleep thinking of these lines and imagining how life could've been if only I had my child in my arms instead of dusty hospital records. Every night I used to cry. It was pain, and in that pain I found myself staring at a wall in front of me, my insides weeping but my face refusing to show it. 

This was June. Last Year. The year I guess a God somewhere heard me, because deep within I felt a warm voice soothing me and telling me that good shall come to you if you've been good to the world. In that voice I found my peace. And you do know what happens when you've found your inner peace, don't you? The world around you changes, the doors start to open, you start seeing the good things in your life, the body settles down and your mind starts to heal. 

And so this year, I have my answer. What I thought I had lost forever, what I thought I could never get back, what I thought was that lost grain of sand, is right now in my arms, sleeping. Every dream I had when I was awaiting this moment, I see them right now in my arms, sleeping. My God has given me the answer to all my questions. In my arms today, is proof that he exists. A sweet little miracle with the tiniest arms and legs, his forearms the size of my little finger, his entire body fitting on my forearm; a sweet little miracle with tiniest fingers and tinier ears, sleeping. My heaven is right here with him sleeping in my arms and me watching him do nothing but sleep. I don't feel like doing anything else anymore. Food - meh, sleep - bah, earn- nah. Just watch my little boy sleeping at peace. This little moment, this sweet little moment where you don't care about the world and are holding your own miracle in your arms, my friends, this sweet little moment is Happiness.

My dear friends, in your lives if you ever have the misfortune of facing that endless wall, don't lose hope. Hang in there. Keep your dreams intact, don't let even the darkest moments affect the flame in those dreams. Live those dreams every day and every night, for they're the most powerful things in the world. No damn force, no damn emotion, no damn person can stop you if you spend your days and nights believing in those dreams. Hang in there, my dear friends, for in those dreams lies the power to change your time.

Today as I hold you, my little king, I go back to the same time last year when I had broken down typing my heart out as it marked one year since I lost you, my child. I go back to the nights I relived those dreams with tears in my eyes where I could see you the same way as today, sleeping in my arms. I go back to the nights I relived those dreams with tears in my eyes where I would sing you lullabies and you'd do just what you're doing right now - sleep in my arms. You're the emperor, my dear son, who came back from the dead for me. You're my Caesar, you're my Xerxes, you're my Leonidas, you're my Raja Raja Chola, my Alexander, my Jalaluddin Akbar, you're the King of my dreams. You're now the reason I have meaning in my life. You, my son, are my dream come true....

..and so on this day, that marks exactly 2 years since I lost you...with tears in my eyes..I name you, my dearest son, my Kanishka.

Letter to my unborn

Of all that I've written, this was perhaps the hardest. Please do read and if you think this can help someone who has been through pain, do share.

Letter to my unborn:

My dear dearest,

I've dreamt of you so many times. I've dreamt of holding you in my arms. I've dreamt of singing a wordless lullaby just for you to sleep on my bony shoulders. I've dreamt of making space for you to jump on my fatless belly. I've dreamt you brighter than the stars, but like dust floating in an abandoned room you've left me floating in an endless loop.

My dear dearest I've wanted to cry, but somehow the Man in me didn't allow me to. My dear dearest I've wanted to cry, from extreme happiness the day your mother heard your heartbeat the first time. From extreme joy the day your mother realized you were making more space for yourself in her belly. From an unexplainable glee the day I saw you as a small blip in a black and white scan report. To feeling my heart crumble hearing from the doctor that your genes won't let you survive, I've wanted to cry. To seeing your mother breakdown on being told that you were not meant to be. To faking my strength as they took you and your mother into the operation theater knowing that only your mother would come back from there. To faking my courage as I stood there telling myself that it'd be alright. To cursing my fate to have been the 30000th in a genetic equation which had a 1/30000th chance. My dear dearest, I've wanted to cry. But the Father in me didn't allow me to.

There's a lot I wanted to tell you. From the glowing of the stars to the growling of the machines I've had stories to tell you. From the joy of holding a baby sheep to jumping in a pile of leaves I had moments to share with you. From the joy of mathematics to why your mother hated it there was so much I wanted to narrate to you. From the day I saw you to the day I'd close my eyes I had a life I wanted to share with you. And here I am now, staring into an endless void in my heart, not knowing what, where or who I am. I wish I could come with you to wherever they took you. I've dreamt of going for an early morning run with you, but today my dear dearest, I wish I could die with you.

Without you I am now just a 31 yr old software guy who struggles to make sense. Without you I am just a thin bearded husband spending weekends wondering about the purpose of time. Without you I am just a someone with nothing to look forward to. And yet I remember this week marks one year to the day they took you away from us and, before I could even tell you your name, filed you under a label and named you Trisomy-13. And yet I remember this was the week I called up everyone and told them with tears in my eyes that the 'Good News' I'd spoken of, is no more. This week marks one year to the darkest week in my life. My dear dearest, this week marks one year to the day I killed a part of my soul forever. The day I bled myself empty with fake courage on my face watching your mother cry her heart out.

I should've cried with her that day. I should've let it out that day, but I didn't. Somehow I decided to carry that pain and cover it with an expression of strength. Countless nights of sleeplessness and hours of staring at the man in the mirror, I've realized that pain is an after all an emotion which feels better when let out. You know, last week as I heard another little child cry for me as I left, I somehow heard you, my dear dearest. Every day after that, I've heard that cry resonating off the walls of my heart and every time I heard that cry I was back on the chair outside that operation theater where I couldn't even say goodbye, but this time, I felt my eyes let go those tears. I wanted you so bad, and by never letting anyone know I've realized I've only torn myself apart.

I know you'll come back. Some day, I know you'll come back and fill up that void yourself. Till then, my dear dearest, I promise you I won't cry because I lost you. I promise you I'll fill up that void with the stories, and tales I've wanted to tell you. I promise you I will fill that void with the best of everything I see everyday, for in those memories lies the beautiful world I wanted you to see. In those little frames of time lies the world I wanted you to share. In those little moments lies the life I wanted you to enjoy.

My dear dearest, I write this letter to you not to make you feel sad, but because I know you'll come back someday and read this yourself. I don't know if I'll ever be able to express myself the way I feel today, but I know you'll come back someday to my arms and fall asleep on my bony shoulders. I know some day I will make space for you to sit on my fatless belly. I know I will some day wake you up on a Sunday morning, go out for a run with you, and maybe jump into a pile of leaves on our way back. And on that day, my dear dearest, I'd know that you're not the 30000th but rather the 1 billionth in the ratio that's 'One in a Billion'.

Until then,

"In my heart, In this cold heart,

I can live, or I can die,

I believe if I just try,

you'll believe in you and I."

waiting for you,

with an empty heart full of silent dreams,

Your Father

Dear Vishnu - My Ice Breaker Speech

Sharing with you the full transcript of my Ice breaker speech at Zensar Toastmasters Club, Pune.

Speech Title: Dear Vishnu



Fellow Toastmasters, my name is Vishnu.

Last Sunday I got this letter in my mail. I thought I should read this for you all.


It says,

Dear Vishnu,

I write this letter to you today not because you "wanted" me to, but because deep within you know you "needed" me to. I write this letter not to tell the world who you are, but to tell YOU who you are.


I hope you do remember, dear Vishnu, that you were born some 40 yrs ago, no sorry 30 yrs ago, in a middle class south Indian family who already had a rock-star ideal son and were expecting a girl child. It took you time to realize, but I knew that you were born the same day as Dimple Kapadia and Shilpa Shetty. Maybe that's where you get your dimples and that figure. It may have been some consolation for your parents, dear Vishnu, but you were a lot more than just Shilpa Shetty.


You grew up in a town in central India amongst friends who knew not a single word of your mother tongue Malayalam. In fact, it took you 15 yrs to figure out how to write your own name in Malayalam and about half to know how to do it in Marathi. You do remember don't you, That you grew up only to be confused later whether you're a bad Malayalee or a bad Marathi. Nevertheless, whether you're a bad Malayalee or a bad Marathi doesn't matter because you do know, Vishnu, that you are one awesome hybrid Indian.

Although you went to a not so great school, got not so great grades yet successfully got into a not so great college. Although you got placed in a not so great company at a not so great package and in 2 yrs left it for obviously a not so great reason, you learnt the essential skill of how to learn what you want to learn. Always remember, dear Vishnu, it is that skill that helped you become a better than ever coder, a better than ever manager, a better than ever data scientist, the best possible son, although a not so great husband.


You've been through a lot dear Vishnu, you've shutdown Moody's Corporation's International network for an hour by not adding a semi colon to the end of a piece of code. You've recited squares of numbers from 1 to 61 correctly while you were drunk the first time. You've married the girl you fell in love with, you've designed the one and only machine learning based lender for rural farmers in India and you've also been through the sorrow of losing your first child to a rare genetic disorder. You've seen a lot Vishnu as you've grown from an annoying younger sibling who stole pocket money to being an independent earner for your family. You've seen the world change around you Vishnu. But both you and I know deep within that you're still that child who ran a razor blade across random scooters seats just to see how well it tore them, you're still that child who set a paper plane on fire to see it fly, the child who cried to get out of trouble and the same child who shamelessly blamed his brother for his mistakes. Remember, dear Vishnu, that no matter what you go through or see, you are who you are and not what the world wants you to be.


As I run out of space on this piece of paper let me conclude my dearest friend. I know you better than anyone ever can. I've known you so well that I know you'd be reading this out in front of an audience in Pune. But that's not why I wrote this letter to you, isn't it? I wrote this letter to you so that you know who you are. I reminded you of your past not because it affects you, but because you are a result of all your experiences.  You are who you are because of all the good that happened to you in spite of all the bad that you went through. You are who you are right now. Not what the past crashed you into.


And I think you've already understood that, because you may have realized it well by now that this letter, from Vishnu to Vishnu. This letter that Vishnu has written to his earnest self, this letter which is showing you your true self in front of the world...

...is, in fact....

.... just a BLANK piece of paper. 

Here's to my crazy ones

It's a typical Sunday morning, i scroll through some of the old folders in my computer and i stumble upon this old picture of mine which I'd thought I'd lost long back. I look at this foto of my college days and instantly i travel back to those days when wearing a sport shoe itself would've made me feel cool. As I leave my 20s and enter another decade of renewed desires and expectations i look back at those past classrooms and laboratories trying hard to change some of me, trying hard to change some of the outcomes, trying hard to change some of the moments knowing how it could change my future forever, yet failing nevertheless.

Growing up had changed long back from being an exciting journey to an unending tragedy of wilfull misery. I don't think anyone is born prepared for this nor can anyone teach you about this. You have to experience it first hand, feel how it feels, live through the endless days and sleepless nights, make those mistakes, yet survive nevertheless.

I've come a long way from where I started. Long away from the mist of my homely air cooler, long away from the shores of my mother's shadow, far away from the depths of my unkempt room into the unruly darkness of a corporate jungle. From a time when hours meeting friends went by in a jiffy, I've come far away into a time where every second in a meeting feels like a decade. From a time when an hour of Tom n Jerry was the definition of fun, I've come far away to a time where a long weekend is just a synonym for rest. Far away I've come not knowing where i am, not knowing where I'm on to, yet believe nevertheless.

In all these years i know I've lost a lot of friends. While I felt myself drifting away from my own self, i didnt realize I've pushed them too so far away from my life that i know it'll probably never be the same again. Most due to my own stupid misconceptions, misunderstandings and a whole lot of misguided overthinking. All I'm left with now is a bunch of timeless memories which i somehow preserve in the lockers of my unkempt mind and a whole set of ageless moments which i use to come back to life when i find myself emotionally dead. In an attempt to be independent in life I've made myself dependent on these bags of memories which I can control myself, yet surrender nevertheless.

Almost each one of those long lost friends is soon turning 30 just like me. To each one of you i thank you for being a part of my life. I would've drowned in my own stupid misconceptions, misunderstandings and a whole lot of misguided overthinking had i not had such good old pictures with ye all for me to come back to life. To each one of you who stayed behind, who helped me know my mistakes, who lent me a hand when i tripped myself into a well, who lifted me up, wiped my sorrows and helped me become what i am today, here's to another decade of hope, survival, belief and mindless surrender to memories. In my binary world of haves and have-nots, in my binary world of data full of zeroes, here's to my crazy ones.

...and promises to keep

This is what happens when you almost forget your wedding anniversary. You end up taking an unexpected half day at work, find a place to sit in the nearest bus stop, disconnect yourself from the noisy world outside, believe that you're no less than an Oscar Wilde, and try to work some magic to save yourself.

This is what I did this time. When written on an empty handmade card, it works like a charm. Saved my life (quite literally):



Let roses mock my cowardice,
Let vultures prey my fear,
Let the devil nail me upside down,
Let their arrows pierce my ear.
You stood by me when I needed you,
When I knew I was nothing,
You stood by me for who I am,
You made me kill my fear.

With you beside, I am myself,
Not a coward who doesn't care,
With you beside, I am myself,
The world I just don't care,
With you beside, I am myself,
No need for me to hide,
I'll nail the devil upside down, 
If you ever need me my dear.

Three years ago I took my vow,
That I'll be with you forever,
Three stanzas all I am right now,
my soul is yours to own.
Three years ago I made a promise,
A promise I will keep,
I'll stand by you for all years to come,
My dear dearest, my own.


-Vis

The Man in the Mirror

Almost 7 years have gone by since I wrote this (You might wanna read this first):

http://vishnu4ever.blogspot.in/2010/12/loved-once-loved-ones.html

A lot has changed in these 7 years: The world has seen more iPhones than Leaders, more Machine-Learning than Human, more Comedians than Comics, more Foes than Friends, more Servers than Servants, more priorities than realities, more Gun than Pen and more Children than Men. This isn’t the world I was born in, this isn’t the garden of life I was taught the world is, nor is this the society I once enjoyed growing up in. In the middle of all this, in these 7 years, I felt I’d lost myself in the labyrinth of a self-deprecating network of professionalism. In the middle of an air filled with hatred, terror and dismay where for every breath I took I felt myself exhaling a part of my soul , today, after a long time, the laughing man finally spoke to me…

Seven years ago I started on a journey to become what I wanted, a thorough professional, an expert in whatever it is that came in my way, a problem solver whom people could count on. I don’t know if I’ve become one now but I do know that a part of me doesn’t want to be that anymore. There is no fun in solving someone’s problems when my own problems have long remained unsolved. There is no satisfaction that any level of expertise can ever provide. By far the one thing I’ve known to be true is that being a professional entails being predictable, and if by being a thorough professional I’d become thoroughly predictable, what’s the point of being one? In seven years, I’d started to question my own intentions. In a short span of barely 84 months, I’d started to lose faith in my goals. In mere 2500 days, I’d started to lose my own self. But today, for once, after all these years, I heard the laughing man tell me about myself…

As I look back at the journey in these unknown waters I don’t see my family, I don’t see Home, I don’t see my friends. Instead I see distance, I see costly air tickets and I see whatsapp groups. It doesn’t feel good to see friends-since-childhood turn into just-childhood-friends, to see a family-of-four turn into three-families-of-two and to see yourself move from dependent-on-dad to dad-of-a-dependent. If this is what growing up meant, I’d started to feel I was better off never embarking on this journey at all. But this isn’t why I took up to writing today, for today is the day I found myself wandering in the same unseen garden of life - unattended. As I turn almost 30, today as I looked at the man in the mirror wondering where I was headed, I saw a strand of white hair on my beard. A strand of hair which I think stood there all along, hidden in the middle of all the sharp black ones, invisible to the focused eyes of a thorough professional but still there nevertheless. As I look closer I see a few more of them scattered around all over my beard. In the middle of all the chaos that life had drawn me into, I felt I had an epiphany.

I saw that same laughing man I saw seven years ago. Only this time, he spoke to me. I saw in his eyes that as the time machine moves forward, while the beard of responsibilities blackens your face it is that one strand of white positivity, the one strand of being childlike, the one strand of determination, that multiplies and spreads till it becomes the only truth of your soul. I was growing older, no doubt, but I wasn’t losing myself. I was just starting to see the white strands of myself. The shining strands of my character which was behind all that I’d faced over these years. All these years where I fought with myself and my decisions to understand what I was and what I wanted had only made these strands shinier, sharper and stronger. I am not a function of my past, I am instead a result of my endurance, my skill, and my determination which have led my through what I’d experienced in my past. The white strands that only time can bring in your life is what they all call Wisdom.

In the mirror I saw the man I was, telling me that while growing up isn’t all fun, it isn’t something we can run away from, but it is the one thing that chisels out the blackness off your character and makes you who you are. It removes all the stone around you and reveals the piece of art that God created in you. And for that one reason, the laughing man in his sheer remorselessness said, “Growing up is worth it”. 

Maximum City, Minimum Eyes

My P-2 Speech at Mahindra Worli Toastmasters. Sharing with you the text: 

cheers!

Maximum City, Minimum Eyes:

I've often wondered how this humongous city lives on this tiny little piece of land. It was always something for which I never got the right answer, I've got answers - Yes, but never really knew if it was right. For that matter, I didn't even know if a right answer exists for this question. How can people suffer this much, this long? Why do people endure these over filled trains every damn day to their office? Why do they take the same train every day? Why don't they want to escape from here? Why are they here? 

Under this pressure, Under this weight,

Who are these people? What are they?

With all these questions in my mind, on a bright April evening, I took my train to Mumbai.

Early morning as the train entered Mumbai, I had started to get answers to some of those questions. Outside the window was garbage. Right next to the Garbage was someone's home with a whole bunch of people playing cards. A tiny little home on which was another tiny little home with even more people inside. What was most memorable was that moments later i was greeted by a beautiful view of 3 men sitting in a straight line near the garbage, two of them facing the train and 1 with his back towards it, trying to get their daily accounts with the nature cleared. I really don't know if there's a better way to say that here. That, my friends, was a sight! I will never forget that. By the time I reached my destination the smell of fish in some corner of the platform silently entered my lungs and as I started to sweat profusely for no reason, I realized I was finally in Mumbai.

The next day was the first time I took the train to Office. I never knew that the whole damn world would descend upon this small little platform i was standing on just to get to work. I skipped 3 trains expecting the world to run out of men for the next train. This, was my first mistake. Mumbai is never out of people for the next train. With my  heart in my mouth, I tried to enter the next train, my second mistake. I was pushed out by people getting down from the train. Somewhere inside I registered my first lesson for the day: You never TRY to enter the train, just let go and The Force will take you inside. 

When The Force took me inside finally, my hands were locked in someone else's arms while holding the overhead grip as I was still near the door. Standing next to me was a random guy in random formals with a bag over his shoulders and effortlessly hanging on the doors holding onto the grip as if like a curtain. The next station was Mulund, and as this station approached this guy looks at me, at the top of his voice, starts shouting GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA....

Shocked to the end my wits I looked at him and all he did was look me in the eye and continue with this GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..for a second i thought i had stepped on his feet. I hadn't, but he was still going on! I started looking elsewhere in an attempt to try to ignore and prayed that he wasn't a terrorist. 

As the platform approached, It was then that this guy finished what he had started with..."AAAAANNNNPATI BAPPPAA.." and the whole bogie erupted with "...MOOORYAAAAAA!!". Good god I was shocked, relieved, humbled, numb, bamboozled and awestruck..all at once. I had no idea where on earth had I suddenly landed. Somewhere inside I registered my first question that day : "WHY THE HELL AM I HERE?"

Days passed by as I continued to wonder how this city manages to survive, I got used to seeing these crowded platforms and crowded trains full of lonely people. All around me I saw chaos, randomness, sadness and tension on the faces of these people. Mumbai was after all a place full of people who didn't know each other, I thought. I wondered why it was even called the Maximum City. This land didn't care for people, It doesn't care about relations, it doesn't have love and for the sake of humanity, this land doesn't value life.

It took me 4 months to realize how wrong I was.

August 2015, a usual day in office and as always I had to rush to take my train back home. As I rushed past hundreds of random lonely faces to reach my train's door, I didn't realize that my shoe's laces had fallen in love with each other. In the middle of this crowded Thursday they had managed to fall into each others arms and had already tied a knot. As I took my leap of faith to enter the train's door, by God's grace or what I don't know, I tripped. As my knees hit the platform I felt as if the whole world had paused. I could hear my heart beat but I knew it was about to stop. I wanted to move but I couldn't. Paralyzed by sheer fear I just looked at my feet and saw that the laces were now stuck on the door's corner and then I saw the mighty remorseless train had started to move. I was right there, on the platform with one leg on the edge, eyes shocked and wide open, my right hand still on the platform as I watched my feet being rubbed and dragged by a train which was slowly picking up speed. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see a thing, for a moment i had resigned from life for I knew that within moments I might just be under the next bogie's wheels. In a fraction of a second my whole life seemed to be played in front of my eyes, my parents, my friends, my love. The next bogie was mercilessly coming too soon as I felt my left foot dragged under the train force now. I tried to reach out to an unknown force out there with my left hand but deep within myself, for the first time in my life, I registered how it felt when you know you're about to die.

It was then that in the middle of those family pictures in my mind that I saw a hand. A random hazy hand which had come to me from out of nowhere. All my teared up eyes could see was that the hand was from someone inside the train. I did not realize that the hand had gripped my stretched left hand and in a jerk picked me up with the moving train's force. I felt my legs back up and as that random hand jerked once more I was pulled inside the train. It took me a few seconds to realize what had just happened for the last i remembered, I was almost dead. As I came back to my senses I saw that this random hand had a random face, one of those millions of faces I had ignored all these days. One of those faces whom I had labelled lonely in this crowded world. Little did I know that this random face had just saved my life. Within moments this random guy, whom I couldn't even thank, got down at the next station. I tried to watch him as he went, and as my teary eyes recorded each moment, within me, there was something which knew that this random guy had given me all my answers. As I was tracing the random guy silently walk past the crowd, I heard this voice inside me which said I had my answers for I saw this guy walk past the same crowds that I used to in the same lonely way that I used to. For the first time in my life, inside my head, inside my mind, from the deepest corners of my heart, I knew these answers were right. That random guy who'd saved my life was the soul of this beautiful city. That random guy who saved my life was Mumbai.

That horrifying experience left me with something I'd cherish forever. It gave me beautiful set of new eyes to look at the world around me. Through these eyes I realized that what I saw outside was always a reflection of what I had within me. All that chaos, all that randomness, all that loneliness was never Mumbai, it was always me! Through these new eyes I now started seeing a mother's love for her kid when I saw her smile at a phone call from "Son" on her phone. I started seeing peace inside the person who in the middle of a hyper crowded train found time to sleep. The same eyes which saw Garbage now saw how much life was valued in this city, for even Garbage wouldn't stop them from living a happy life. People didn't suffer here, for them this is home. Through these eyes I saw that the reason people travel in the same train is just to get to meet and speak to the same people every day. People always live here, in spite of the pressure, on this tiny little piece of land, not because they're fools but because behind every breeze of fresh air that blows in this city it brings with it that one glue which makes you live one more day, the glue of life called Hope.

 From Garbage to Loneliness, it wasn't Mumbai, it was all me. For Mumbai was just that random guy who tells you the time, who asks you to take the next left turn, who tells you that it's a one way, who tells you about the next station, and for all those who need, Mumbai is the guy who'd lend you a hand to lift you out of trouble. It didn't take me long to realize, that in reality, that for once and for ever, i had fallen in love with Mumbai. Somewhere deep within, I registered my answer:

"Under this pressure,

Under this weight,

They are diamonds,

taking shape..."

The next morning, with a much lighter mind, a much clearer view, I took that same train, went to that same spot near the door, put my bag over my shoulders, and as Mulund station arrived, with utmost peace inside me, held the grip like a curtain, to the sheer dismay of another young boy standing next to me, I screamed at the top of my voice....GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNPAATTIIIII BAPPPPAAAAAA...MORRRYAAAA