Secret Drawer Stories - The Transporter

Prologue

Many guests at the hotel have found the journal of the Secret Drawer Society. Some have left accounts of their experience with the paranormal; others, some humdrum notes. But the housekeeping staff have never been able to find the journal though the guests mention it to them. They are convinced that it is the handiwork of a ghost that haunts the hotel.

*** 

Rick

I had no idea how I ended up in the street in the early hours of the morning. That too in my night clothes and bedroom slippers. The last thing I remembered was walking down a spiral staircase. Well, not exactly. I also recalled hands grabbing me and - I’d better start from the beginning.

I was staying at the Golden Leaf Hotel. I had checked into my room that evening. I was there to check out  reports of a ghost that supposedly haunted the hotel, although the clerk at the desk had raised one eyebrow and just stopped himself from rolling his eyes when I questioned him about any reports of the hotel being haunted. I had received a few emails from people who had stayed at the hotel, recommending that I look into the haunting.

You see, I investigate and report on all sorts of unusual phenomena. If the claims don’t hold up, I brand them 'Debunked'. Most claims end up being debunked, but I write about them, and my 'SuSpence Files' (my name is Rick Spence by the way) have become quite popular online (I am hoping to take it to the next level, a TV show). There are a handful I label 'Maybe' which only means that while they are far from being 'bunked' they cannot readily be debunked either. I’m a skeptic when it comes to these matters and am not easily persuaded about paranormal occurrences but the public seemed more willing to believe.

I had requested—and received—Room 10, where the people who had emailed me had stayed. After dinner, I settled into the room and looked in the nightstand drawer. And there it was: the notebook with the words 'Secret Drawer Society' written on the cover, just as the emails had mentioned. This was a journal containing entries by previous guests who had stayed in the room. I thought it was an effective ruse designed to make people believe something strange was happening. It made for interesting reading. I wasn’t surprised that only some—perhaps the more suggestible guests—had experienced what they called visitations from Al, the ghost who apparently claimed to have stayed in the nonexistent Room 11. Ho hum. Still part of me was hoping for some adventure.

I decided to go to the hotel’s back garden and get some fresh air. I went downstairs and sat on a bench. It was a beautiful night. The air was crisp, and the sky was clear. There was very little light pollution, and the stars really seemed to sparkle. Some time passed before I realized I was no longer alone. Another guest was coming down the path. When he caught my eye, he nodded. He introduced himself as Charlie. We exchanged pleasantries and sat on the bench, drinking in the night air.

After a few minutes, I got up to leave. Then I paused and looked at Charlie. I had to ask him.

“Hey, have you heard that this hotel is haunted by a ghost?” 

***

Charlie

My, my, what a question? And why say haunted? I am merely visiting my old home. To be honest, my present home too. In any case, what's all the fuss about ghosts? We are just like people who have lost their limbs except we have lost our entire bodies. You think feeling ghost pain in your leg is bad? Try feeling everything - ghost thirst, hunger, etc. I don't really need to eat or drink but boy, a nice cup of coffee would be so nice! Some things never change, even in afterlife. You want things that you don't really need or can't have. Sigh.

I was tempted to tell Rick that I was the ghost that frequented the hotel premises. I had changed  my name to Charlie as the story of Al who died of a drug overdose in the hotel had been circulating and I wanted to be free of that negative image. But I merely said, 'Yes, I have heard that', and I was glad I did not reveal more because he then proceeded to tell me about his blog and how he investigated and busted many claims of haunting and other phenomena. I did not want to be subjected to a lot of questions. But I could lead him to discover things on his own. 

'That's interesting. I actually hear some noises in my room that I am sure are coming from below the floor', I said. I offered to take him to my room - actually one of the cottages that dotted the perimeter of the garden. It was not occupied and in fact seemed permanently so. I was surprised to see the safety latch was engaged inside though I had never seen the occupant. I took him inside the room (we have the power to make things move and so can open doors and such) and pointed to the corner of the bedroom where the noise seemed to be coming from. He tapped on the floor here and there and lifted the rug to reveal a trapdoor surprising me!

Under the door, a spiral staircase led down into a dark basement. He started climbing down and asked if I wanted to join him. I declined. Basements spook me (yeah, I am keenly aware of the irony of that) as do spiders. We could hear some whirring noises and faint voices now. Anyway I had to stay within the confines of the hotel. We have strict rules about this in the afterlife. 

Rick didn't hesitate and down the rabbit hole he went...

***

Rick

I was excited. Even if there was no ghost, this seemed something new. 'Your loss', I said to Charlie but he seemed to have vanished. The trap door had closed too. In fact, I could not locate the door at all. It was pretty dark in the basement. I had a vague feeling of unease but I now had to go forward along a sort of narrow passage until I came to another door. 

As if on cue, the  door opened and someone appeared holding a flashlight. I was almost blinded by the light. 'Turn around', he said and I complied beginning to feel apprehensive.  He grabbed me by my shoulders when another man joined him. They then spun me around and led me through the open door. As I entered the large room they quickly blindfolded me but I managed to read the sign on the door at the other end which said, 'Transporter'. They tied  my hands behind my back.

I was beginning to wish I was dealing with ghosts. I had no idea who these people were and what they were up to. They peppered me with questions about who I was and what I was doing in the basement. I answered them truthfully. They were really puzzled at how I had gained access to the basement. I told them about Charlie and the cottage above ground. But the whole thing did not sound convincing even to me though that was the truth. They said the room was locked from the inside with a safety latch. How could Charlie open it? 

They were very worried about the breach of security. There was no way for anyone to have opened the door from above apparently. They started talking about what to do with me. They opened a door and  pushed me inside. I felt the door close softly behind me. I started working on untying my hands immediately. Who were these people? Would they let me walk after I had somehow broken through their security? I was now on the edge of panic. 

While they were puzzling over the whole situation, I managed to untie my hands and open my blindfold. I found myself in what looked like the inside of an elevator. There was a small light and I saw a panel on the wall with just one button. There must be just one floor above. I pushed that one and expected the elevator to go up.

There was a sudden hissing sound and things started whirring up. I heard shouting on the other side of the door but barely. Contrary to my expectation, the elevator did not move. A column of light flooded the room. Perhaps this  was a terrible mistake I thought suddenly remembering Star Trek and the teleporter. I was certain I was  being beamed up somewhere. The whirring sound got louder and then suddenly I felt incredibly light and then everything went dark. 

When I came to and managed to recover my bearings, I found myself on the street in front of the Postal Annex store which I remembered was just a door from my hotel. I was shaking and I had startled the town drunk who was resting on the bench outside. He was shrieking but his outburst drew little attention as people just assumed it was routine. He was genuinely shocked to see me materialize out of the blue. I managed to walk back to my hotel. Luckily I still had my key. I went straight to bed.

*** 

Nash

When I heard the transporter energizing, I was shocked. 'Hey Ed, was that supposed to happen? I thought this was just a storage room'.

'No, I was told it was a prototype that  had been disconnected. It seems to be still working. I didn't check since he was blindfolded and his hands were tied. He's smarter than he seems' said Ed. 'Can we abort the transfer?' I asked. 'How? It may be too dangerous', Ed replied adding, 'I think we should have just sat him down here instead of in the room. You went overboard with the blindfold and everything'.

We were now really scared and worried as to what had happened to the intruder. All we knew was that this was an experimental device. When the flashing light on the door went out, we quickly opened the door but there was no sign of the man. Ed said, 'I think it is better this way. He will no doubt find himself somewhere outside scared out of his wits. I am sure his relief will overcome any further desire to investigate'. I was not satisfied with his response. 'Maybe so but we have to determine how he gained access in the first place and why he was here at all. This project is supposed to be super secret and and this breach is really serious'.

We went back and checked the trap door and the room above. Everything looked fine. There was no sign of a break in confounding us even more. The alarm was yet to be installed on the door but the one the trap door had tripped and warned us when the man had opened it.

'I think we should quietly handle this incident. We don't need more attention on this until we can figure out what happened. What a bloody mess!' I said to Ed and he nodded. 'Who is Charlie? He mentioned that Charlie had let him into the room. That means he is a guest at the hotel too just like our guy. I think we should start our inquiry there. After all, we have a long term lease on the room. And we need to look discretely off the books for now into both Charlie and what did he say his name was? Rick?'. 

***

Charlie

I waited for Rick to come back but I feared he may have gotten into some trouble. Then I saw two men emerge from the  trapdoor. They were quite agitated. I was relieved to hear that Rick had managed to escape. But I realized that I might have started something and now Rick was in their crosshair. I wondered where he was. They were also talking about me but I am a ghost, he he!

Well, Rick certainly got more than he bargained for. I wondered about what went down in that basement. From the way these two behaved, I assumed he had surprised some top secret project. Maybe I  should stay away from this room from now on. 

***

Rick

I managed to fall asleep after some tossing and turning. Diffused sunlight was  streaming into the room when I woke up. As I lay in bed I wondered about all that happened in the night. Was that real or a dream? I leaned toward the latter. It seemed so improbable yet so vivid. I mean I had literally teleported from the basement to the street. I went downstairs for some breakfast and made some discrete inquiries about Charlie and the garden room but drew a blank. Only the host at the dining room mentioned that he had heard about Midnight Charlie from some guests over the years. 'But ghosts aren't real, right?' he said with a smile and a wink. 

The front desk said that particular room was in fact occupied and refused to share the name of the guest. When I asked about Charlie, I got the same raised eyebrow as before. I went back to my room and went over everything wondering what to make of it. Was Charlie real or a ghost? Did he conjure up the whole thing in the basement? I should probably file this one under 'Maybe'.

It was time to check out. As I gathered my clothes, a red bandanna fell out of the pajama pocket and I realized with a shudder that it was the blindfold from the night! 

***

Epilogue

Nash and Ed tried to find out more about Rick and Charlie but the hotel clerk refused to give them any details. They did learn about Midnight Charlie from one of the housekeeping staff and were left even more puzzled about the whole affair. 

The town drunk surprised his fellow citizens by entering rehab. He says he received a clear signal from God that night to clean up his life.

Rick has suspended his SusPence Files and is now working on a sci-fi novel involving spirits, space travel, and teleportation devices titled Bridge Across Realms. He is also consulting with psychics about his experience.

Charlie has reduced his interactions with the guests after the incident with Rick. He did not want to cause any harm unknowingly. He just makes his presence known now and then to maintain his reputation and takes care of the Secret Drawer Society journal.

*** 

 

Retirement - The Joy of Doing Nothing

As soon as I announced my intention to retire, people started asking me what I planned to do in retirement. This puzzled me because to me, the whole idea of retirement was not having to make plans. It made me vaguely uncomfortable as though I was entering some uncharted territory. Truth be told, I was already quite well-versed in the art of doing nothing and was looking forward to doing it full time. 

Jokes aside, I gave the question some thought. And I answered somewhat evasively that I had nothing specific planned but was thinking about a few things. I might start volunteering more, learn a new language, do more writing, etc. True, I have not really done much of these though I had every intention of doing them and still have. As you will have noticed, this blog itself has seen just a few new posts since my retirement.

The idea of suddenly finding a major part of your day suddenly becoming free may be unsettling. On an average work day, I must have dedicated around ten hours to my job. Wonder of wonders, I find that I am not exactly sitting twiddling my thumbs trying to decide what to do with all that free time. I seem to have seamlessly moved into retirement where the said hours have been swallowed up in my engaging in The Art of Doing Nothing. I am going to call this TADON. Nothing succeeds like acronyms, don't you agree? Or even better, Tadon which sounds like a legitimate philosophy. I should probably trademark this and start running seminars. It is a good plan but paradoxically it would mean doing something! 

Will doing nothing result in boredom?  Perhaps, but we should allow ourselves to be bored from time to time, argues Arthur C. Brooks, a professor at Harvard. We normally do not like to be bored because there is something uncomfortable about being alone with ourselves. We are forced to face difficult questions that we have carefully tucked away and we would rather choose electric shock over that (See https://vulcanpost.com/896837/you-need-to-get-bored-more-harvard-business-review/). But if we stick with it patiently, “You’ll start digging into the biggest questions in your life—purpose, meaning, coherence, and significance. And who knows? You might just get happier”, says Brooks.

Let me hasten to add that doing nothing is not the same as experiencing boredom. Nor is the goal of retiring, to experience boredom. Being bored is having nothing to do and being uncomfortable with that. The art of doing nothing is to be at peace with it. Doing nothing sounds like a waste of time but it serves an important purpose. In fact, everyone should be able to comfortably sit doing nothing every now and then. Ironically, if you try hard to do nothing, it can be exhausting. It requires letting go of control and allowing us to just experience the moment without any effort from our part, without the fear of missing out on something. Peace just slips in at such times. 

I do not want to give the impression that I am enjoying some newfound peace. I am just enjoying not having a fixed office routine. Otherwise not much has changed. Occasionally, I feel a little guilty about not engaging in something productive. But I refuse to force myself to be busy just for the sake of it. Apart from the job, many of the other things that I did before continue to engage me and I am slowly increasing my involvement in them. I also manage to travel a little.

The biggest impediment to a tranquil life has been the increasing time spent on an increasingly larger smartphone. But the aging joints in my hands keep reminding me that I should reduce this. The greatest joy has been in going for walks with my better half and with friends. I have also managed to read more. Watching mystery shows on TV is a guilty pleasure indulged in without the guilt! And there are periods when I do nothing. With all these, I have also been able to avoid the long neglected chores around the house! All this is not to say that there are no challenges but life is definitely less hectic.

Retirement can mean different things to people. As the trajectories of our careers vary, so will our retirement paths. For some it may mean that they are fully occupied with new things e.g. volunteering full time; for others, it’s a time of relaxation and travel, and spending time with children and grandchildren. Some will continue to enjoy working in their field, writing books, conducting seminars, etc. and not really leave their vocations. Some even say they are busier after retiring than ever before!

Whatever be the path, I think retirement need not be uncomfortable if one remembers that a job does not define a person. At least I believe it in my case. Retiring from a job is just that. It is not retiring from life.

Metamorphosis

I seem to have planted unknowingly a couple of bushes in my backyard which bloom profusely and humming birds and bees are constant visitors for their nectar. I do see some butterflies too in my backyard including the occasional monarchs in their migration which will now and then land on these blooms and go on with their journey after a fill. 

A few years ago when I saw a passion flower vine (passiflora vitifolia) at the local nursery, described as 'butterfly attractor', I had to get it and plant it in my backyard. For about four years it grew steadily putting out foliage but it did not bloom, testing my patience. Needless to say no butterflies approached it. And then finally one summer day, a brilliant scarlet flower about 4 inches across appeared. 
Almost simultaneously a pair of orange winged butterflies appeared out of nowhere. How did they know? 

After a few days I noticed a couple of caterpillars feeding on the leaves of the plant but that seemed to be it. I think that year we got maybe a two or three flowers and just a little activity from the butterflies. We probably missed the rest of the life cycle of the butterfly. The following year we had more flowers and more activity from the passion butterflies. These live just for a few weeks yet the descendants of the previous visitors somehow managed to find their way into our yard a year later! 

The orange butterflies (which I found out were known as Passion Butterflies) were new to the yard and they came specifically for the passion flower vine. While I was expecting that the passion flowers attracted the creatures for the nectar, I had no idea that the passiflora vine is the host plant for the Gulf Fritillary aka passion butterflies which means that they lay their eggs on the vine. Once the eggs hatch, the black and orange caterpillars that emerge feed exclusively on the leaves of the vine. So soon after the appearance of the butterflies a few caterpillars emerged and started nipping away at the leaves. They fed voraciously and decimated the plant. A few days later I started noticing that they were hanging upside down from the pergola and slowly entered the pupae. 

The pupae were unremarkable and easy to mistake as dried leaves. They looked small and fragile but they hung on even in strong winds. We became fascinated by them wondering when the mature butterflies would emerge. For days we waited but we invariably missed the actual moment when they emerged. It was a long wait but we finally managed to see one that was just half way out. This was very exciting indeed.

As you might know (or not - I did not and  had to look it up) when it emerges from the chrysalis the butterfly pumps fluid into its folded wings to expand and dry them before it can fly. It is this process that we managed to witness. The butterfly finally opened its wings and took its maiden flight. The colours were simply magnificent. What had entered the chrysalis was a somewhat scary looking hairy caterpillar. What emerged was an elegant beauty. What a transformation!

I had followed the whole process with thrill - the caterpillar consuming the leaves and rapidly growing, then entering a phase of quiet meditation as it were and finally emerging transformed into a beautiful and free being. Throughout this period, the butterflies would appear mid-mornings when the sun was just beginning to feel warm and stay till mid-afternoon. Unlike the other butterflies which briefly paused to feed on the flowers, these sometimes as many as four would fly around the bush constantly providing a visual delight. I wondered where they rested for the night as butterflies do not seem to build nests. Apparently they just find a safe place in a tree, bush or crevice and simply doze. They are solar powered and need the warmth of the sun to move around so they become inactive at night. Life does not get simpler than that!

So for a few days, the butterflies danced around in the yard hovering over the now leafless vine or settling for a drink on one of the other bushes. Then one day they just left I know not where to. Since the vine did not survive the onslaught of the caterpillars, I do not expect they will return this year. I may also have contributed to the demise of the plant by neglecting to check the water line. Sigh. 

As I ponder the fascinating life of the butterfly, I think we too have the ability to enter the cocoon of withdrawal and contemplation and the potential to transform ourselves. Our scriptures actually prescribe four stages of life - student, householder, retiree, and renunciate*. That is, acquire life skills, lead a productive life earning wealth and contributing to society, then withdraw from active life, and finally renounce everything to pursue enlightenment. The Buddha is probably the most well-known example of one who entered a prolonged state of meditation and then emerged enlightened but there are plenty of stories of kings and commoners who followed this. Judging by the lifestyle around us it would seem that most of us are still in the stage of consumption but each one of us has the power to take the leap to the next stages. Something for us to munch on?

(*bramhacharya, grihastha, vanaprastha, and sannyasa are the four stages of life)

It's A Snap!

Remember the 110 camera? Look it up if you have forgotten or you are too young to have seen one. That was the first camera that I bought. It was compact and easy to use, consisting of basically a point-and-shoot mechanism. It even had a telephoto option and a small sliding cover for the lens. If you forgot to open that and took a picture, the result may look as though you had used a filter. Come to think of it, I wonder if that was the intended use of it. The cartridge held 24 frames and could be loaded or unloaded with ease. I would just aim the thing in the general direction of the scene I wanted to capture, and if I liked what I saw through the viewfinder, I would click. 

There was no telling how the pictures would turn out. I had to wait for the film to be developed and prints made. Given that I was no expert photographer, if 3 or 4 pictures out of 10 looked alright, I would be happy. There were some surprisingly good ones too every now and then. I created albums by curating the best shots. After a few years, the prints faded or acquired this strange orange haze maybe because of the materials used in the album, exposure to UV light, and so on. 

After I graduated to a 35 mm camera, I was able to take better pictures (I think!) but the camera came with so many controls that befuddled me. Usually, I ended using the automatic option which meant that the camera decided most of the settings like exposure. The quality of printing meanwhile got better and at the same time less expensive as a result of stiff competition. 

And so, the collection of photographs grew steadily and in inverse proportion to that, the enthusiasm to curate them into albums. The photos simply ended up in envelopes and the envelopes in shoe boxes. The job just became harder and harder as the collection grew. Gone by the wayside was even the discipline of preserving the negatives in any sensible way. Now, I am not a prolific shooter by any measure. I can only imagine what someone who snaps away constantly must be facing. But then, such a person may be more motivated and disciplined. 

Sifting through the collection has become an exciting adventure because you sort of rediscover the moments that you had captured long ago. That nagging voice that says I must sort them out however, continues to be ignored. How about scanning them and making digital copies, you say? Ah, that would require a serious triage to select only those that are worthy of preserving. Plus a commitment to sit for hours scanning, editing, and saving, though ultimately I may have to do this to archive and preserve the pictures.   

Digital photography has certainly proved to be a boon. I don't have to spend money on film or processing. I can even feel good about not wasting resources in printing the bad pictures. Easy uploading to a computer means storage is not a problem.The smartphone has made taking pictures simpler by an order of magnitude. Everyone can now aspire to be a photographer. You don't have to buy a camera and you are always ready to shoot. 

It is estimated that there are nearly five billion smartphone users in the world. Just think about that for a moment. With such a staggering number of people walking around with these devices, and the cheap availability of storage, no moment is too insignificant to save. So we click away merrily. The photos often get uploaded to the cloud. They are shared on social media with friends and families and they keep getting shared to a wider and wider circle often without the original poster knowing. It is scary how these spread out with nary a thought given to privacy issues. Also, I just shudder to think about the enormous amount of cloud storage all the trivia must be taking up and the associated cost. Any savings on film, developing, and printing may be trivial compared to that. 

Don't get me wrong. I fully appreciate the ease of using the phone as a camera (a very good one at that) and the ability to take my 'collection' with me everywhere. It is literally available at my fingertips to browse. But the problem of curating the collection has predictably become much worse with digital photos. The task is simply too enormous. Consider this. In the old days, the wedding photographer usually came back with a printed album within a short time after the event. Today, a wedding may result in a few thousand pictures to sort through. Who has the time to make a hard copy album or even a digital one? If we cannot handle one event, we can forget about scouring through years of digital images. Until you are reminded that you are running out of storage, it is a problem that is easy to ignore. At that point, you simply buy more storage!

I think there is something to be said for a hard copy album of photographs. Sitting down on the couch and thumbing through the pictures is pleasant nostalgic journey. If you wanted to show them to others, it is so much more practical to hand over the printed album or even just the prints than handing over your phone. Call me old-fashioned but scrolling through the pictures on your phone is not quite the same thing. With digital photography, capturing the moments is a breeze but recalling them, not so easy. And having thousands of pictures as opposed to a few hundreds seems to have devalued the pictures somehow (is a picture still worth a thousand words?).

One final point. No matter how good the camera, the way the lens captures certain scenes cannot compare to the way our eyes do. I find that I have to put away the phone sometimes and just enjoy the scene in front of me. There is something in the way we are able to look near and afar simultaneously. As a result, what is simply breathtaking to our eyes can end up looking ordinary on the screen. Sometimes, you have to stop and smell the rose or in this case, stop and enjoy the scene. Or to borrow a phrase, we have to 'stand and stare'.

The Pursuit of Happiness

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness"  - Declaration of Independence

The authors of the declaration proclaim only our right to pursue happiness. They were perhaps skeptical whether happiness can actually be attained. I wonder also if they thought that the Creator who endowed us with this 'unalienable right' to pursue happiness, did not at the same time provide us with the means to attaining it. Is it left for individuals to discover the means since we differ in our temperaments and inclinations? Elusive or not, lasting happiness certainly seems to be our overarching goal. Anyone who is unhappy wants to be happy. One who is happy does not want that to change. The purpose of life then is to be happy. 

All of us expect to find our happiness in the world outside in objects, relationships, and so on. We go about this in our own different ways depending on our likes and dislikes. It is important to note that likes and dislikes, and not the world per se, determine whether we find the happiness we seek in the objects that we pursue. The world is the same but can seem different to each of us. We each have our own view of the objects and people surrounding us. We label them as desirable and undesirable and spend our life trying to accumulate the former and avoid the latter. Since the world is not under our control, and our tastes change over time, any happiness enjoyed is fleeting and our efforts generally fall short. Much of our life is spent working for a future attainment, struggling for sporadic occurrences of happiness. Pursuing happiness can thus be exhausting. 

There is another difficulty with finding happiness outside. If objects themselves are inherently capable of giving happiness, they must do so at all times and to all who acquire them. Neither of these is true as we can readily appreciate – one man’s meat is another man’s poison as the saying goes and an object may not even continue to produce happiness at all times to the person who desires it and acquires it. This is evident from the fact that we continue to pursue objects endlessly and find ourselves at the mercy of the world. 

Many years ago, I read 'The Conquest of Happiness' by Bertrand Russell. I was struck by the title. What does conquest mean here? And what do you do after you have conquered happiness? Is it an emotion like anger or fear to be overcome? Is it a trophy to be won? The book is mainly addressed to those who are free from problems like poverty and tries to make the case that in the absence of such privation, it should be possible to obtain happiness by expanding one's interests as wide as possible. Looking outward rather than inward seems to be the prescription, if I may be allowed some simplification. He also believes that the man of science is the happiest because he gets great intellectual satisfaction from his work. Russell states that scientists have no need of complex emotions as a result. They are not dependent on public opinion unlike artists and writers who are miserable because they are at the mercy of critics and the public. But he also adds, "Einstein is honoured while the best painters are left to starve in garrets, and Einstein is happy while the painters are unhappy" indicating that public approval is actually the measure of happiness. I think it is unfortunate to be at the mercy of something as fickle as public opinion for your happiness. 

Today it is the movie actors (or artists) and sports heroes that command public attention while scientists live in relative obscurity. But being the object of public adulation does not seem to bring happiness. It may even bring misery. Despite possessing great wealth or being highly accomplished, people can be unhappy inside. 

In 'The Art of Happiness' by the Dalai Lama and Howard Cutler, the focus is definitely inward. Training the mind is the key to happiness according to the Dalai Lama. Cultivating values such as compassion and affection are important to one's happiness. He says, "If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion". Material things can provide sensory pleasure but that is transitory and does little to allay fear and anxiety. On the other hand, joy that comes from inside sustains itself. (You can read more in this article:The purpose of life is to be happy)

Is trying to attain lasting happiness a realistic goal? We saw earlier that objects are not inherently possessed of happiness. Yet we seem to gain a measure of happiness when we acquire an object we desire. So where does this happiness originate? If the object is not the source, then by elimination, it stands to reason that we must be the source. How then do objects make us happy? 

It seems that contact with objects of our desire makes us happy. Conversely, when we desire something and do not possess it, we are unhappy. We are agitated and we put forth effort to obtain that object. Upon getting possession of the object, the agitations are quelled momentarily and we experience peace and joy which stem from inside us. But this is only fleeting because our minds are constantly running after objects – desires will always keep bubbling up, no matter how many are fulfilled and it seems that we are destined to be in a state of agitation forever. The intensity of agitations may rise and fall, but they are never absent. As long as the they continue, we will not experience lasting happiness. 

Some spiritual traditions hold that lasting happiness is to be found inside of us and only inside. Happiness is in fact our very nature. Being ignorant of this, we seek it outside. Instead, we must turn our gaze inside. Only by knowing 'our true selves', can we be free of the endless struggle to find happiness. 'One who knows the Self crosses over grief (tarati shokam aatmavit)', as the Chandogya Upanishad (7.1.3) declares. How does one come to 'know' the Self? That's a topic for another day! 

 

No Two Persons

"No two persons read the same book" (Edmund Wilson). This implies that each reader derives a unique experience from a book. And why not? Taste and temperament vary from one individual to another. Our life experiences further accentuate such differences. The book 'No Two Persons' by Erica Bauermeister, which I read recently, is a novel about the impact a particular book has on several individuals. It was very absorbing and left me with a desire to read the book which had a transformative effect on different individuals but in entirely different ways. No two persons read the same book after all. 

One can say that each of us perceives the world uniquely. When we say the sky is blue, does every one of us have the exact same image on the retina? Our biological bodies have enough in common that we have evolved a consensus regarding the world around us. The question of unique images or sounds would seem less important. 

What about our thoughts and emotions? How we react to stories, art, or music? How unique are we in these? I think it is easy to exaggerate the differences but the fact we have popular books, movies, music and art suggests that we are more alike than different at least within a geographical area or a cultural unit.  There is also our tendency to be influenced by trends. When we travel and interact with different cultures, the differences do surface. But with the world becoming increasingly connected, the boundaries are becoming blurred.

Our likes and dislikes and our opinions may be shaped by the culture or society where we live. There is also a lot that we learn as we grow up. We go through school and college and are exposed to diverse ideas. We are actually taught to think about things in specific ways. While this is undoubtedly useful, does this condition us and make us more predictable and less unique? Do we lose the spontaneity that we had as children? Why do I need courses on 'Literary Appreciation', 'Film Appreciation' and on  theories that are trying tell me how to think about art and literature? If a particular work does not make an impression on me does that mean I somehow lack the ability and therefore must strive to understand it? 

I read books, listen to music or watch movies for entertainment or information. Sometimes I am provoked to think about the subject. But then there are books and films that leave me wondering what they mean. I can look for reviews and such to learn their supposed import. While these may deepen my understanding and even add to my appreciation, I may not be motivated to try if the work does not have an impact on its own to start with. 

This brings me back to the quote I started with. One of the exercises many of us have gone through in school or college is to write a book report. There are sometimes questions regarding what the author meant by certain book or a poem. How are we to know the author's intent? If we accept that each person will have a unique take on the book or the poem, this question should really be about my opinions, never mind the author's. How should the response be evaluated? It strikes me that the instructor's own biases will heavily influence this. If I am unimpressed by a famous literary work (gasp!), the professor may not take kindly to that. I may even be considered a person with poor tastes. If I merely reproduce a scholarly opinion and state that I concur with it, I may get into trouble for plagiarizing. 

It would seem that once a book is published, it is really up to the readers to interpret it after that. The author cedes control of the narrative to some extent. Of course with promotional tours and appearances in talk shows, the authors can guide the process. But they cannot reveal too much at this stage so as to keep the readers interested. I wonder if authors receive reactions for their books entirely different from what they expected. And what role does the publisher play? After all they judge whether a given book will be successful. So how many books do not reach the readers because no editor liked it? All this makes me really appreciate the plight of those who produce original works. 

It must be gratifying to authors to have a book received exactly the way they intended. There are books that resonate particularly well with me. I would like to think that these are perhaps books where the author and I are of one mind. Is it possible to refine one's sensibilities to such an extent that one can mind meld with different authors in this manner? Be a true connoisseur and critic?

Personally, it is hard enough for me to churn out a few paragraphs every once in a while on my pet peeves let alone anything creative. I am very grateful for the friends and family who indulge me and encourage me in this. On the strength of that, I shall keep writing as time permits or ideas occur. I hope that my readers find my views resonating with theirs more often than not. In the meantime, I hope to keep reading and find more books to enjoy, more authors to resonate with. When I go to the library I don't try to borrow the latest bestseller. I browse the new books section and try to pick up works by authors I have not read before with some help from the jacket notes. This way I have found some that I really enjoyed but also some that I found boring or left me in a fog. Well, you can't judge a book by its cover after all! 

Spam, Sham and Scams

I have a confession to make: I miss junk mail sometimes. I have previously written about how the mail is generally filled with unwanted stuff - offers for credit cards or loans, marketing flyers, etc. There is the occasional gem that provides some entertainment. I refer you to my post on this: Free and Pre-Paid. But over the last few years, I guess businesses have come to realize that mailers offer ever diminishing returns in today's digital world. Even spamming us via email is not very effective as smart filters can keep the unwanted stuff away. Newer ways to target us keep coming up as a result. Social media, anyone? 

In the midst of all this, I have noticed a steady decline in the volume of printed flyers and such reaching my mailbox. While not exactly unhappy about this, I still trek to the curbside mailbox every day to fetch the mail with a trace of anticipation. More out of ingrained habit, I think. Having signed up for electronic delivery of all documents with utility companies, banks and others, the task is pretty much just to pick up whatever is there and deposit it in the trash. But now that I am retired and have some time on my hands, I occasionally peruse the mail. And occasionally something or the other catches my eye. Sometimes the mail does deliver.

The other day, 'Digital Coupon Event', announced one colourful flyer. If it is a digital coupon, why are they sending it by snail mail? I moved to the next one and on a whim, decided to open the envelope. The letter inside had a Post-It stuck on it with this message (I am not making this up!): 'This is from my manager. He wants your vehicle'. I was puzzled. Is this some kind of a shake down? What could explain this peremptory demand? I read the actual letter and it turned out that the car dealership wanted to purchase my car. And would like to sell me a new car. The whole thing had shades of a mob deal ('An offer you cannot refuse').

Spam comes to you in many ways including mail and door-to-door. Door-to-door salesmen may be the original spammers. To be fair, I should not call them spammers as they are not trying to defraud people. Sales reps used to knock on doors trying to sell say, encyclopaedia or vacuum cleaners (As an aside, here's a hilarious account of a salesman who got the two mixed up). For major services and products like solar panels, companies still employ people to canvass the neighbourhood. I do feel somewhat sorry for these people as they have to face a lot of rejection, sometimes rude. But they are very persistent. If you do let them in, be prepared to forgo an hour or more of your time with potential follow up visits. 

Phone campaigns used to be big too but with land lines becoming obsolete, they may not offer good returns. I remember the time when so many calls turned out to be from telemarketers. You can put your number on a Do Not Call registry but some organizations are exempt from this. There are political and other organizations seeking contributions that continue to employ phone campaigns. I once picked up such a call (this was many many years ago) and was surprised  to hear the caller say, "Howdy, I am calling from the sheriff's department'. This was a call asking for a donation for the Policemen's Welfare Fund or something like that. Slightly alarmed at being contacted by the police, I ended up donating to the fund. One must not antagonize the local police after all. Looking back though, I think he must have said 'for the Sheriff's department'. I learned later that fund raising is delegated to professionals who receive a percentage of the collection as compensation for their efforts. Some of these callers are, how shall I put it, more enthusiastic than others.

Moving on, as I said before, the volume of mailers has reduced to a trickle now. The action has moved online and to text messages. Since we are more or less inseparable from our phones, we are subject to all sorts of nuisance calls and texts. There is this compulsion to check the message and emails as soon as they arrive since the phone is now pretty much an extension of your body. It takes a lot of discipline to resist the urge. 

While emails can be filtered for spam fairly effectively, text messages manage to get through. The US Postal Service is waiting to deliver my package and needs a confirmation of details if one text is to be believed. Or it is a job offer stating that my skills and experience are a perfect match for an unspecified job. Or asking me to sell a house I do not own. Other messages merely say 'Hey' or 'Hello'. Still others maintain that somehow the sender has you in their contact list but they cannot remember who you are. One even demanded to know why I hadn't called! 

These messages may seem harmless and are easy to ignore. Others set off alarm bells claiming that your PayPal account has been charged for something or that you are facing imminent arrest, for example. But replying to them or clicking on suggested links or calling the number given can take you for a long ride down a rabbit hole. Typically, those who fall victims to these end up in long tortuous phone calls that play on their fears. The callers seem to have the amazing ability to make the victim turn over all sorts of data and actually hand over tidy amounts of cash in some instances. 

There is only one response to all unwanted texts. Delete and report junk. Don't entertain any curiosity, not even for a split second! Be ruthless. Ceaseless vigilance must be exercised. Perhaps now you can understand my longing for the good old days when the spam was politely and unobtrusively left in your mailbox waiting for you to pick up at your leisure.