Perfectly Imperfect

In the course of my lifetime, I have managed to piss off a

number of people. Unfortunately, there isn’t any definitive

authority that measures this statistic to compare with, nor is

there a benchmark for people with this behavior pattern to

gauge against. Whenever I attend a large party, I can’t help but

look around and identify people who I am either at odds with or

I chose not to associate with due to some previous form of

altercation or argument. This disturbs me and in my journey of

healing my soul, I often introspect and find ways to understand

the root cause of the issue.

There are many afflictions in this world where one can relatively

easily understand if you are affected by it and perhaps some

concrete ways to address it! There are some interesting ones out

there. The Aboulomania for instance, it involves occasional

onset of crippling indecision, there is Boanthropy, a strange

delusional disorder whereby a person believes himself to be a

cow or an ox and then there is Mary Hart Syndrome, it turns

out that there are reported cases of people experiencing seizures

upon hearing Mary Hart’s voice on TV. I don’t know who she is

but it sounds frightening.

To my knowledge, pissing people off or being overly combative

has not been classified as a infliction, disorder or a syndrome so

far or at least to my knowledge. Jiddu Krishnamurti once wrote

“ I am born with a label. I see that, as a human being, I am the

result of innumerable influences, social compulsions, religious

impressions, and that if I try to find reality, truth, or God, that

very search will be based on the things I have been taught,

shaped by what I have known, conditioned by my education and

by the influences of the environment in which I live. So can I be

free of all that?” I am not invoking this paragraph as an

absolution for my past paroxysm’s but merely an attempt to

discover my conditioning as a child and as a youth. Invoking

Jiddu Krishnamurti once again, “ If I set about deliberately to

free myself from my conditioning, that desire creates its own

conditioning. Whereas, if there is an understanding of desire

itself, which includes the desire to be free, then that very

understanding destroys all conditioning”. I know, heavy stuff but

this is a crucial step towards freedom.

My development as a kid was normal, there were no

extraordinary circumstances surrounding my childhood. There

were occasional severe beatings meted out by my dad for inane

pranks or harmless mischiefs but I can’t say it was unusual for

that era. Looking back, I do sometimes think that some may

have been over the top but these alone could not be a

contributing factor to my aberrant behavior. What then could

cause this? Why am I so high strung? Why do trivial things set

me off? Why do I have a biological core related to

combativeness?

To understand this, one has to understand anger. Most folks

only associate anger with loss of control, which is true but at the

very core, anger is an emotion. It can result from a conspecific

threat, a perceived loss or a feeling of unjustness among many

other factors. A key component of anger involves ego. The loss

of an identity that you have created of your own, the beliefs

about your personalty, talents and abilities causes anger. This

type of loss could be perceived or real. Contrast this with a loss

of an object (inanimate or otherwise) which is dear to you, in

such a situation you feel an emotion of sadness. The difference

between anger and sadness is the existence of a “willful agent”,

someone who acts deliberately. Think death by natural cause vs Murder.

We as human beings are nothing but a collection of our past

experiences. I am unable to identify the reason for my

preferences other than the fact that we are all conditioned by

our environment. Questioning our beliefs, values, goals and

judgements is the right thing to do because these are things we

hold dearly and identify ourselves with and every time anyone

challenges these, we get angry. Who then needs to change? Our

impulse always tells us that it’s the other person who needs to

change, but ultimately it is us who needs to act to make the

change. We need to question the basis of our sense of justice.

Self esteem plays a big role in anger. Having a low self esteem or

a low sense of self worth can cause hypersensitivity to criticism or

disrespect. I clearly see where I vacillate on a daily basis from

weak and vulnerable to strong, capable and worthy. I think

therein lies my problem. Somewhere along the line, I developed

a sense of low self esteem. I am not going to blame anyone in

particular for this as it does me no good, in fact I can't say that I

even know how it developed. All I know is that it took years to

develop it and it will take years to overcome it. The book “I am

OK, you are OK” delves into this complex topic and has been

used for many years to address issues related to self worth.

As cliche as it may sound, personal growth is a journey not a

destination. We need to work on it cognitively every day and

forgive ourselves for relapses and be forgiving and respectful to

others. I am confident that I will be able to find peace and

harmony in this journey of mine. I am however, content in
knowing that I am perfectly, imperfect.

O Captain, My Captain.

In the late 70/s and early 80’s, the vast majority of immigrants to the USA from India were mostly divided into two categories. The highly educated and those who never saw sunrise at a college, much less a high school. Unlike today, where the Indian diaspora is comprised of all sorts of people, the mid 80’s was mostly segregated into two broad categories, the very affluent or the working class. I belonged to neither when I arrived on the shores of this great country in January, 1986 with suitcase full of dreams and a jar full of my mothers tears. I belonged in a category that didn't exist or perhaps I choose to think that it didn’t. I finished high school on a wing and a prayer and in college those wings had been clipped and god was ignoring my prayers as it had figured out that I was just a disingenuous jerk. 

My goal was to achieve success at any cost without putting the necessary effort to achieve it. The lure of the short cut was omni present. The pressure to prove myself to my parents and the desire to show myself that I was capable were paramount and enveloped me like the thick fog of San Fernando Valley where I spent my first 7 years in the USA. With no life jackets and little guidance, I dove into the deep end of the pool without knowing the perils that lay ahead of me. 

After myriads of gigs and plenty of sputtering, I found my path in technology. I signed up for a programming course in Cobol, Assembly and Basic. I have never been a good student. I may not have been clinically diagnosed with ADHD but keeping my attention on anything for more than 20 minutes has proven extremely hard to this day. Many ADHD patients tell me that I am lucky that I can hold my attention for that long which much to my dismay took away a convenient crutch. It’s odd but when life takes away one thing, it give you something else to compensate. My compensation has been persistence. I don't give up that easy. Quitting is not in my DNA and that has held to me to good stead to this day.

After meandering for years in technology, I found myself looking for more. No, this story is not going to lead you down a hackneyed “true calling” drama. That may happen to some and every time I hear about it, I feel jealous pangs. For those who were successful executives but found their “true calling” by running a taco truck, I am envious of you and at the same time extremely thrilled that you found it. Others, like me, tend to slog through and are either risk averse or are more worried about taking care of their families and tend to stay closer to their comfort zone. I don't think there is anything wrong with either approach. 

After having spent about 15 years at various programming roles, I found myself looking for a job at Cisco Systems. Don't ask my why, but every once in a while when I drove down Tasman in the late 90’s, Cisco was teeming with energy and I used to dream about working there. Share prices were going up like a rocket to the moon and fortunes were being made under my nose every day. There was a party going on and I was outside, wistfully looking in, wishing that I was invited. A few years later, as luck would have it, a dear friend who was in a very influential position at Cisco referred me and I found myself standing in the lobby of building 12 on none other than Tasman street waiting for the hiring manager to come get me for a lunch interview. 

What transpired after that, changed my life in ways that will be hard to describe but I will try. The door from the office building to the lobby opened and I saw a gentleman with long blond/white hair and a beard walking towards me. With an aura of a sage and face that personified composure that only belongs to people who are evolved, Henry D White approached me and asked me if I was Kartik? Indeed, I said and shook his hands. He took his left hand and put it on my right shoulder and with a gentle squeeze told me that he was very happy to see me. We waited for another manager to arrive who was going to be a part of the interview and proceeded for lunch. For various reasons, my hiring at Cisco took an inordinately long time but this period allowed me to interact with Henry prior to joining his team. My career which spans about 31 years has been filled with managers who have been extremely supportive of me and I consider myself lucky to have escaped for the most part, the dreadful managers who do nothing but further their own cause. I didn’t know this when I joined Cisco, but my tenure under Henry White changed me forever. Not just as a manager, but as a human being. 

I joined Cisco in 2005 and the company was doing well, the luster had started to peel but the culture was still great. There were more layers of management at Cisco than a Baklava and you could find all kinds of managers, directors and VP’s. There were those who only managed upwards and there were plenty who managed downward but there were few who were extremely effective. Henry was one of them who clearly stood apart from the rest of the crowd. He stood “head and shoulders” above others. That was a line he told me one day that I will never forget. “Look me in the eye” he said, “You need to stand head and shoulders above the others, because you are capable of it”. My eyes kept betraying me, but Henry leaned in from across the table and insisted that I comply. “You have the ability to make profound changes at Cisco”, he said. Never had I ever heard those words. That was the power Henry had. The power that came from doing nothing but paying attention to you when you met him. You were the most important person to him in his presence. I can safely say, I was not the only one who felt that way. Practically everyone who worked for him was treated much the same way. There was no discrimination based on your title. Equal treatment for everyone. I rarely left his room after our 1:1 without feeling great about myself and inspired to do the right thing for the company. 

I know some HR folks will cringe about this, but some of my best moments were when Henry would sneak into your cubicle behind your chair and put his arm on your shoulder and tell you how great you were and for no particular reason. His sense of humor was for the ages and many of his stories cannot be retold in a blog post but suffice to say, there was never a dull moment when Henry was around. If you happened to be in a meeting with Henry and there were big wigs, he would make sure you got more exposure than himself and he was quick to help you if you strayed off course. Who does that these days? 

Reorganization at Cisco was as common a phenomenon as breathing is with humans. The dreaded day arrived and Henry was re-assigned to another role and moved to another building. A grown man went home that day and bawled his eyes out in front of his wife who had no idea what had happened. I explained that I wasn't going to be reporting to Henry anymore. 

That reorganization didn’t stop Henry’s relationship with me. Like a true leader, he stayed in touch regularly and made sure I stayed on track. Who does that these days?

This world lost Henry to colon cancer almost two years ago and there isn't a week that goes by where he isn’t there with me. Maybe not physically but his guidance and coaching shaped me and as silly as it may sound, I find him sitting next to me in many of my meetings, silently telling me what to do and with his hand on my shoulder, he says “ you are doing terrific”. 

Putting your pet to sleep

If you are a pet lover, this topic is bound to be one that you either avoid talking about or one that you defer until a situation is thrust upon you without any warning. My wife and I recently had to make this decision for our dog and needless to say, it was one of the worst days of our life. Prior to making the decision, I scoured the Internet to find out more about this topic, but was surprised at either the dearth of detail or the articles were mostly an emotional expression of letting go. This post is an attempt to not only express but also a brief overview of what to expect and the options available to you when you have to make this extremely tough decision. For some it might be a bit disturbing. Please proceed with some discretion if you are not ready to hear the details. My aim is to help you prepare for that day and that moment.

We brought Dodger, our 6-week-old Golden Retriever pup to our home and he instantly became part of our family. His penchant for being naughty and cute at the same time had us all bowled over. Golden’s have a great demeanor and are extremely friendly around children. Our kids were instantly in love with this ball of fur.

Even though I had never grown up with pets, I became enamored with Dodger. We survived the potty training and the chewing stage and life went on. Dodger grew from a mere 3 lb. pup to over 100 lbs. Around age 4, Dodger started having hip issues which is common among Golden’s. The vet advised better diet and more exercise. Dodger seemed to manage well over the years with this condition and enjoyed good long walks and fair amount of exercise sans the occasional flare up. Around age eleven or so he started growing lumps around his abdomen. Our vet did a biopsy and declared the lumps non-cancerous and about a year later we made a decision to have them surgically removed. This procedure is described in one of my previous post titled “Surgery for an aging dog”. The decision to put him through surgery in hindsight was the best thing we could have done. It added several more years to his life and made his life more comfortable.

Shortly after Dodger turned 12, he started to slow down significantly. His hip started giving him more trouble and he started having difficulty going on walks and eventually the walks became a rarity. It broke my heart to pieces when I left the house with Dodger and his despondent eyes looking at me with dismay. Walks were, after all the highlight of his day.

As time went by, his ability to get up from a resting position started becoming harder as well. Throughout his entire life, Dodger was a happy dog and had an extremely bright spirit. His zeal for food was one indication that kept us informed that Dodger was well and good. We knew something had to be really serious for him to turn down food, anytime of day or night. 

That day arrived in October of 2015. Dodger was unable to get up on his own and refused to eat. He was about 13 years and 3 months at this point. Worried, we took him to the vet and after a battery of tests and ultrasounds, it was determined that he had developed a tumor in his abdomen and it was pressing on his liver. There was a lot of fluid that had built up in his belly. The vet was raising the dreaded end of life questions. Distraught and completely disappointed, we brought Dodger home. By now, 3 days had passed and Dodger had not eaten or drank much if any at all.  On the night of 9th of October, 2015 we decided that the next day we would put Dodger to sleep. We could not see him suffering and both my wife and I were heartbroken about our decision but were convinced that this was best of our dog.

Next morning, we woke up to find Dodger up and about and staring at our bed as if nothing had ever happened. Perplexed, we followed him to the kitchen and much to our surprise, he starting eating his food, drank water and started moving around the house. Did we just watch a miracle? Indeed, Dodger survived a full 6 months after this episode. We received a gift of the extra time with him that I will never forget for as long as I live.

We all know the lifespan of a dog. I have heard tales of dog’s living 16-18 years. The truth is, 18 years is an outlier and if you are lucky enough to have your dog survive that long, thank your fortune and luck. It doesn’t happen often. Most dogs live 10 to 13 years depending upon its breed. We are told that a dog year is equivalent of 7 human years. If you had a loved one who lived for 98 years, you will no doubt miss them when they are gone but you would celebrate a life lived well. Somehow, when your dog lives the equivalent of 98 (human) years you don’t see it the same way. You still expect them to live the full 98 human years, which we all know is impossible. No one has been able to fight death, no one.

The dreaded day was upon us. There were no more mulligans to be had. No hall passes. No pardons left. The gut wrenching, cardiac infarction moment had arrived. Dodger had stopped eating again and was barely able to move. My wife had improvised a harness with sheets to lift him and take him out to the yard to pee and poop. Dodger lived a dignified life. I could count on my one hand the number of times he had “accidently” soiled inside the house. Even in his worst days, if he was able to get up and walk, he would obediently go stand at the door imploring us to let him out. During these days, I could see it in his eyes that he wanted to eat but he just couldn’t. He was alert though. He would raise his head in the same elegance we had seen him do all his life. Our baby still had plenty of dignity and courage but you just can’t overcome nature. Old age is in store for all of us. We simply choose to avoid thinking about it.

On Saturday April 9^th, 2016 we woke up and neither my wife nor I had the fortitude to call the vet. I just couldn’t bring myself to have that conversation. After mulling around for several hours and petting Dodger, I mustered up the courage to go speak with the Vet in person. With tears rolling down my face, I asked about pet euthanasia. I was given the option of bringing Dodger to the Vet hospital or use the services of a Vet who made house calls. I thanked the Vet at the VCA Mission San Jose Animal Hospital in Fremont, took the business card of the Vet who makes house calls. The Vets at the Fremont hospital were the most amazing folks we had dealt with. Compassionate, caring and honest.

Upon arriving home, I discussed the options and we both agreed that having the Vet come to our house was the best thing we could do for Dodger. He was lying down in his favorite place in the patio and this was his home. He was a homebody and that was where he was most comfortable.

I made the dreaded call and spoke with another amazing Vet. She asked several questions about Dodger and his condition and after being re-assured that nothing was awry, I was given a noon appointment. It was about 9 AM when this conversation ended. The next 3 hours were perhaps the longest of our lives. We called a few friends to come over and say their final goodbye’s to Dodger, texted our kids and informed them of our decision and hoped the clocks would stop and noon would never arrive. Time doesn’t wait for anyone. Not for Kings, President’s, Paupers or Golden Retrievers.

The Vet’s car pulled into our driveway and the mere sighting of them triggered a sinking feeling in my stomach that is impossible to describe. I have been through plenty of adversity in my life and consider myself pretty strong but on that day, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I don’t know what it is about our life but we are extremely fortunate to have met the most amazing and kind folks throughout the tough stages we have encountered and this one was no different. The Vet and her assistant were just incredible. They saw Dodger and in my broken state, I asked them if we were doing the right thing. I was clearly not ready to let my Dodger go. Both of them assured me that we were doing the right thing. My wife who was closest to Dodger was torn to pieces but knew that this was the right thing to do. We could not see our baby suffer anymore. The time had come.

The vet explained the procedure to us. They were going to administer an IV and the first injection was going to relax Dodger and make him fall asleep within seconds and it would be painless. The first shot is a mild sedative. We then got a chance to hold or pet our baby and say our final goodbye’s before a second shot is administered, which essentially is a large dose of a sedative and it eventually (within a minute) makes the heart stop beating. While this shot was administered my wife held Dodger in her arms and I held my wife in a bear hug and then we let our tears flow like a torrential downpour during Monsoons. And just like that, 13 years and 9 months disappeared in our hands. All the memories and the good times were instantly dissolved in the plastic tube that carried the lethal dose. We used the services of Dr. Wessing and her website Heaven From Home provides great detail on what to expect and the services provided. I could not recommend anyone better than Dr. Wessing. Tons of empathy & professionalism. 

We were given the option to cremate Dodger privately and we chose that and yet again we were introduced to the most amazing Pet Crematorium in Northern California. Loved Pets is located in North Monterey County in Royal Oaks. The Vet took Dodger and transported him to the crematorium and we asked to get his ashes back. He was cremated privately and a week later we received his ashes in a scatter box.

The family planted a tree in Dodger’s memory. A Golden Delicious Apple tree, befitting a Golden Retriever. The tree overlooks our bedroom and we will watch it grow as time passes. Dodger will always live in our heart and we will miss him every day and hope to see him on the Rainbow Bridge.

A plaque next to the tree we planted

Eulogy for a friend

If you are one of the lucky ones to have had a blessed and a fortunate life, take a bow, thank the lord or count your blessings. Not everyone of course is blessed with good fortune. Some, struggle mightily and spend their entire life in search of the elusive “happiness”. I have the distinct misfortune of writing two eulogies in less than a month. This year has been a “teacher” in more ways than I could ever imagine. Unfortunately loss is eternal and thus most painful. You can never have someone who leaves this earth, back. Ever. It’s that permanency that tugs at you. You start to question yourself. Could you have done more? Could you have changed the outcome? Perhaps. It’s too late though and nothing that you can do now will bring that person back, ever. There are no do-overs when you lose someone to death. There are learnings though. Great deal of them. 

Shibani and I lost a friend over the weekend. She was murdered in cold blood by her husband a day ago and Shibani and I with two other friends were perhaps the last few people she interacted with before her life was taken away by a deranged man. We attended a concert together at the San Jose Event Center to see Shankar, Ehsan, Loy and said our goodbyes merely an hour before she met her untimely fate.

I met Sonia Nallan about 10 odd years ago. She was our dear friend Rekha’s neighbor in San Jose. As any desi (people of Indian heritage) will tell you, our world is small. Her husband, it turned out worked with me at 2Wire years before I met her. As time went by, we all discovered that Sonia didn’t have an ideal marriage. Like many women, she endured the abuse (please reserve your judgements) and stayed on for the sake of whatever it was important to her. We all tried to persuade her to leave. She didn’t budge. Her 2 sons were her life and her purpose for living and she was indulgent as no other mother could be. 

It would be inappropriate for me to divulge personal details that she shared with us but suffice to say, she lived a life of extreme struggle and yet was giving and had a heart the size of the outdoors. With meager income and constrained finances, she would bring the largest and most exorbitant cheese platters to our house for parties. Never to even flinch when it came to sharing, she personified her largesse by doing the best she could, given her means. I know plenty of people in my circle of friends who have been bestowed with wealth that is perhaps a 100 times in magnitude but unfortunately live a life of a miser. This post isn’t meant to disparage anyone but merely highlight the generosity of Sonia and her character. She was a friend who you could count on anytime of day or night. I truly pity the folks who saw her from a shallow lens. Shibani and I will miss her and I hope she finally finds peace and doesn’t have to struggle anymore. I am still in disbelief and perhaps will come to terms with her demise in due time. This world needs to have more empathy for the people who need love and caring and I will try to start with myself and hope to make a difference. Thank you for being a part of our life and teaching us a valuable lesson Sonia. You will be missed. Here is a photo of her, all smiles at our house with Javed Akthar. I want to remember you with this smile. I truly truly hope you didn’t suffer in your last moments and more than anything else, I hope you are not one of thousands of women who died at the hands of the one person who took a vow to protect you for the rest of your life, in vain. Even if there is one woman out there who can learn from your experience and get out of a toxic relationship, your life would have served a purpose. 

“Maana Ki Is Zindagi Ko Na Gulzar Kar Sake, Kuch Khaar Kam Kar Gaye, Guzre Jidhar Se Ham”

Day 2

So now what? I wait for the predictable stages of grief to kick in. Never knew how accurate a few of them could be. I take a heavy dose of Ambien at night to quiesce my mind that has been racing all day. First in anticipation of the dreaded moment when the nurse arrives to put Dodger to sleep and then just a deluge of memories all day long. The sedative helps fatuously. You can’t be sedated forever. If only it was that easy. There are things to do and hours to endure. I lie in bed and wait to hear the rustle of his feet or the noise his chain made when he tried to scratch his head with his paw. Silence. First stage has taken complete hold of me. I look for the nightstand clock whose face I had turned away, somehow chimerically thinking that time somehow will cease. It hadn’t. The dimly lit numbers show 3:27 AM. Damn these pharmaceutical pigs. I pop one more tablet and the pharmaceutical pig made a quick comeback.

The morning brings more dilemmas. There are no noises to be heard. There is constant chatter of messages via whatsapp or Facebook. Dodger touched many lives. Yesterday, I had fecklessly tried to remove everything that would remind Shibani of Dodger and stowed in our garage. Worried that anything that belonged to Dodger would trigger an emotional outburst. But the whole house belonged to him. His “things” may not be visible but his presence is everywhere. His body may have egressed but his presence is everywhere. I am an avowed atheist, a complete non-believer but I am shamefully taking a line from the Upanishads for my convenience and an attempt to gain some equanimity. We are told “ The adorable one is seated in the heart and rules the breath of life. All the senses pay homage to him. When he breaks out of the body in freedom from flesh, what else remains?” I would like to think what remains are his memories, in our heart, to cherish forever.

It’s weird but my brain starts playing songs at odd times of the day and they have never had any relevance to my day-to-day life. Since yesterday though, this song from 3 Idiots has been playing non-stop and boy the lines are relevant. Here are a few words with English translation.

“Behti Hawa Saa Thaa Voh,

 Udati Patang Saa Thaa Voh,

 Kahan Gaya Usey Dhoondo.

 Humko to Rahen Thi Chalaati,

 Voh Khud Upni Raah Banaata,

 Girata Sambhalta,

 Masti Se Chalta Thaa Voh.

Humko Kal Ki Fikar Sataati,

Voh Bas Aaj Ka Jashn Manata,

Har Lamhe Ko Khulake Jita Thaa Voh”

English Translation

“He was like a flowing wind,

He was like a soaring kite,

Where he had vanished, let's find him.

While the paths always lead us

He always made his own path

Sometimes fell, sometimes balance but always went ahead cheerfully

We were always worried about tomorrow

He always celebrated today

He lived every minute fully”