Authorship and Copyright Notice: Satya Sarada Kandula: All Rights Reserved

AFAN : As far as necessary!

I remember when I sent my little one to go live with my parents. I was in Bangalore and they were in Warangal. That was 12 hours by bus to Hyderabad. And another 5 hours from there to Warangal.

I used to complete this 34 hour journey,  to and fro, over 3 days, on alternate weekends. To make the alternate weekends 3 days long,  I used to work through the other weekends.

At that time I had already been diagnosed with Asthma and Spondilytis. Yet going to be with my child was all I cared about. That was the first time I had been separated from him.

I was always so excited and happy on the journey to Warangal amd would literally weep all the way back home. And as soon as I was in Warangal I would just look at him and fall into a deep,  tired,  peaceful sleep. Saturday evenings were very happy. We would go to the zoo or to a movie or to visit friends. The tears would start on Sunday morning,  because both of us knew I would have to start back soon.

After about a year of this,  my parents moved to Bangalore so that all of us could be together.

At that time I had a job change.  I used to travel back by auto everyday so that I could spend a little more time with him each day.

Then I had a 4 month U.S. assignment on my own in Detroit where I could only afford to call him once  a week. On my next assignment at Louisville I took him along. In the meantime my parents shifted to Vijayawada and then to Visakhapatnam.

Louisville worked out very badly for us.  But when we returned to Bangalore,  we could not get back his school and our old place to stay. So I was in Bangalore and he was in Vizag with my parents. This was a train journey to Madras and another one from there to Vizag. Travel time alone was 24 hours plus one way. Then there was the wait time in Madras and complications if the train connections were missed.
There were flights but I could afford those only when  the company paid and they had long layovers in Hyderabad.  Plus the Hyderabad to Bangalore flight was always a dozen hours late.

After about a year of this,  I quit my job to go live in Vizag and realized in about 6 months that there just was not enough money to do this.

I found a good job in Bangalore again. This time my son and I went and prayed with our whole hearts at Simhachalam that we should never,  ever be separated again.

Within a few months we found a good school where he got a seat and we found a nice rented house. The cumulative stress of a highly responsible job and my life events gifted me with three kinds of illnesses,  two of which were chronic – slip disc and diabetes.  With all this,  we still managed with loads of help from my parents. We also moved to Nashua,  N.H. in U.S.A. for a year or two. My parents visited us there also for a couple of months. My son missed them very much when they came back to India. And he missed the physical and social warmth of India too. So he moved to Vizag with my parents. I left my job a few months later to go live with him.

This time we had enough savings for a couple of years. And when I got a job in Bangalore again after that,  all of us moved back here together,  and my father built a house where we could all live together. And I worked for a few more years till my heart protested physically and emotionally. And I left my job.

Today I’m a blogger, freelance teacher of philosophy and a student of the Vedas. My health has improved,  worsened and improved again. My son has grown up and I live with my parents,  in the house my father built for us.

How far would we go for someone we love?  Hey! We are human. We will go AFAN!

I’ve been a fan of Dove soap since they were first introduced in India. It’s the moisturizing bit that drew me in. At that time I was a busy professional and didn’t have time for a long bath involving oils etc. It was my complete skin care solution.  So when they brought out their hair care range I had to try that too.

When we were kids,  moms and grandmoms oiled your hair and plaited it. You got to wash it once a week,  but otherwise it was always oily. Girls had two plaits and married women had a single plait or a little hair knot. You didn’t play with your hair. On special occasions your hair was 1 with beautiful flowers and you got gifts. That long hair,  those leisurely days and all that attention is all gone now.

Short hair is efficient and manageable. So today my hair is short and coloured off and on. And it’s rarely oiled because I don’t like the oily look and feel. I wash my hair at least once in two days.

I like hair blowing in the wind and all those hairstyles you see in the catalogues.

Perhaps what I lack is the confidence to carry off all those hairstyles.  It seems to be something for young people who belong to the happening crowd.

Maybe if I belonged to a different culture or social circle or if I lived somewhere else or some when else I would try playing with my hair. I would probably do it up differently everyday.

But now I have to do the practical thing. Have a nice and tough Kiran Bedi hair cut,  stand straight,  walk tall and look like I’m in control of things.

Maybe though,  one day I will grow my hair long again and wear it prettily with lovely dresses and let it blow about in the wind like a beautiful movie star about to win an Oscar!

This post is written for the Dove Go Play blogging drive on Indiblogger, in association with Dove.

The tree home



This big tree shelters parrots, crows, mynahs, squirrels, bees and I don’t know who else. Its a very story booky sort of tree.


These red berries are good to eat. The bats and parrots get the fruits high up. I have to compete with goats and children for the berries within my reach. The best time for me is early mornings before my competition has a chance to get at them.

Author : Satya Sarada Kandula : All Rights Reserved

Arranged marriages today.

Speaking only in the urban context, but it is considered hard to find “good girls” today, much the same way mncs complain that its hard to get good hires and iits complain that its hard to get good guys for masters programs.

Girls today are raised to pass exams  – as are the boys. And everyone knows that passing exams only qualifies you for a job interview or masters degree interview. It is not a life skill.

Boys and girls receive education about life from movies television books and each other. Hardly anything from adults of the species – who tell the kids to – go study!

One fine day, a “good girl” is married to a “good guy”.   Till yesterday she thought chaste, dressed chaste and was respected and praised for being a 20+ year old virgin. Till yesterday, the boy was a pure, studious 25+ year old boy, raised to regard women as sisters and mothers.

Suddenly he has a woman of his own, but she wants to continue to be a chaste virgin, her brain cannot make the switch. Nature isn’t kicking in. Nurture and socialisation dominate. She views married life as unholy.

She wants to fall in love with her husband before the marriage is consummated. But he is no Ravi Teja and she is no Anushka. Both fall short of each others expectations.

One thing I’ve learned about falling in love is that the heart does not pick the “ideal” match.
The heart might pick a curly haired, honey eyed, dulcet voiced penniless artist or rake. Which parents won’t approve of.

So people say that “love matches” end in a divorce because attractive people may not make responsible life partners.

And responsible life partners like Surinder Sawney of Rab ne bana di jodi, hold no appeal for the new bride who possibly wishes to be swept off her feet by a dashing Clark Gable!

In the days gone by, ppl wd have stuck with it, no one expected much. One provided, the other served and like  a pair of dutiful Jodu Eddulu They dragged the cart of their responsibilities to children, parents, relatives and society. And if nature granted mutual attraction, the couples were fortunate.

But now we all have expectations of fun and excitement, adventure and something wonderful. We all wish to live first for ourselves. To such an extent that someone like Sri Sri has to teach us the Art of Living!

Sri Rama’s mother Kaus’alya was unhappy that Dasaratha not only married the young and beautiful Kaikeyi but also spent all his time with her.

Unhappy marriages are as old as humanity. It does not matter on what basis the spouse is selected or by whom.

I guess the question is are u going to make the marriage that you have work? Or are you going to keep looking for the right spouse through life? Do “right spouses” exist?

Author : Satya Sarada Kandula : All Rights Reserved

Death is a system failure of the human body organisation.

Even the brain and heart dont die at the same time.

My body cells have been dying and being born every day. Im not even aware. When I die, different cells will die at different times. The little bacteria atmas and little cell atmas dont leave their bodies at the same time the human atma does. They have their own life span and karma.

In fact my eyes might live longer in another host body.

 Lots of old appliances at home have been quietly failing and refusing to start or run. No fuss. No noise. Just stop running. One fine day this body will also, just stop. Most of the apps have lasted way longer than their peers. So maybe I’ll last till I am 120 OR 400 or something. But someday, it will stop. Just like that. And I wont know it. I may know dying, but I will not know death.

A series of happy moments make a long happy life. Thats all it takes.

I won’t know being dead. All I will ever know is being alive. Yay!

Our lives are long enough for our purpose. I think the purpose could be the same for all humans as it is for all red blood corpuscles.

I think that though my red blood cells are a vital part of me, they can serve their fynction whether they are aware of me or identify with me or not.

A benign virAT puruSa, might take care of his health as a good human being might make sure of eating greens and exercising. A person who tortures their own body willingly can’t be its God?

I have no thought or clue to myriad components. If one cell chanted my thousand names, it would be no dearer to me than another that merely served its function.

A blood cell drawn out of my body by a syringe for a test or a mosquito for its baby is no longer me. Even though it has my dna, it does not have my consciousness.

If it had any consciousness, it would know that its body would disintegrate and feed whatever feeds on it. I may avenge it by killing the mosquito or sacrifice it by paying the lab guy willingly, or donate it to another human body to save it’s life.

My clone, my twin or my child do not have my consciousness.

They only have my dna.

I may not value all the cold germs I host and might try eating chemicals that will kill them. I am not God of all the bits I contain. I may actually swallow probiotics.

I continually exchange material with my surroundings. Food, air, energy…

I dont think red blood cells have virtue and sin.

I can’t think that humans have punyam papam either – from a divine perspective. It is entirely related to society.

Good and bad and taboos are rules that bind humans into an organised society that can face its predators and environment better.

It guarantees that we eat and have protection.

Thief of Time!

This is a wonderful novel by Terry Pratchett.

It is the sort of novel that made me stop after I read it and enjoy a moment all by myself with myself.

A self which delights in the self….

A small slum child fights his way into the education system with spirit, dedication and hardwork.. awesome movie..!

Jackie Schroff who is known for his kindness to slum children played a key role in the movie.

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