BOOK RELEASED : 'BEING HEARING IMPAIRED'

Dear all, I am very happy to inform you all that the series of articles that I published in this blog, is now available as a book!! It was published on last month middle. A few chapters were not published here as a caution against theft or plagiarism. Those chapters, which are the most exciting ones, are included in the book.

Book is published by a Kerala based publishing firm named 'Tatvamasi Books'. This helped me to bring out my work very easily without much time delay. Had I been approached famous publishers my work would not have published in near future. So I am happy of the turn of events, though marketing remains a area of concern.

Anyway I had placed my book for sale in Amazon (Click here) via a seller named 'Puzha Books'. Book is also available with Indulekha.com (Click here) which will ship the book worldwide. Readers can purchase book from there. More sale options will be established within the coming one month period. Please bear with me till then.

Book cover:-

I thank everybody who read my posts here. I hope all of you will purchase a copy of the book and circulate the news among your friend circle. Feel free to contact me if you need any more information, at 'sunilmv@gmail.com' or just put a comment here. I am always here to assist you. Once again thanks to all.

CHAPTER 9: DOES HE KNOW A MOTHER'S HEART

Last year, I bought a copy of Arun shourie’s book named “Does he know a mother’s heart?” This book is a little bit different from his other works. In this, he narrates his personal life, but not in full. Shourie mainly seeks the ‘reason for suffering’ of people, as depicted in various religious scriptures. As one can expect, there arises many contradictions. So, the book exposes and attacks all the scriptures and the contradictions. Many books criticizing religion and beliefs are available in the market. But Shourie’s work concentrates on the inadequacy of the explanation for suffering, as given in various religious scriptures.

My belief in religion starts from my childhood days. From my grandparents it descended to me. Every evening I used to listen to mythological stories about the deities Siva, Krishna, etc narrated by them. Hindu mythologies are vast and deep like the ocean. Everything from nail to ‘Pushpaka Vimana’, from termite to elephant plays varied roles in these stories. Though such stories were showered in plentiful into my tender ears I did not consider myself as a hard devotee of any of these idols. Even when I believed, it was not blind belief. Even while disbelieving, there is no harsh heresy. I think rationality has always got a place in Hindu thoughts. Rationality – saving one from tilting to either of the extremes of blind belief or heresy - it is always felt as a pacifying factor.

Erosion in my religious beliefs started with the decline of my hearing ability. By the time I was 20, I became totally confused.  Why the medical treatments failed, making the ardent prayers of my relatives and mine ineffective? Why this disability fell on me rather than on a cruel man? The answers to these questions I got, pointed to and underlined the fact that the human life is purely mechanical - it is not controlled by any super natural agency. But because of the absence of first cause, I thought God might have created world - but He is not controlling his creation. I told this idea to many. But they only confined their opinions in a smile. As days passed, I understood personally that even this concept of God falls roughly in Yoga System, in a critical study. A deistic God; God created the world - but not running it. Then I came to realise - there are many more ways than what I thought before, to be a Hindu. Hinduism’s framework can contain even an atheist or a nihilist. From then on, I loved to be in the fold of Hinduism. But God remained as a mystery to me.

My parents and relatives are very religious minded people. But whenever I asked them why this misfortune fell on me, their reply was in resonance with the medical doctors, rather than with the priests. I had well planned to resist them, if they come up with replies like fate or Karma. Such arguments have no place here. We don’t have to read any particular book to wake up to this truth. Just need to keep a rational mind - that will do. My relatives have answered to my query - ‘nerve is weak’, ‘Vitamin deficiency’ - etc. No one told me that it is 'God's Will '. Thus I lost a chance to fight with the ‘believers’.

I know it is my severe mental suffering that drove me away from gods. What all I had in my mind for years, is beautifully narrated by the truly eminent writer, Mr Shourie. When my eyes ran through the pages of ‘Does he know a mother’s heart’, I was not overpowered by the ideas presented there, because they were not unfamiliar to me.

Arun Shourie portrayed the picture of many sufferers, who turned agnostic.

CHAPTER 7: EN-ROUTE TO BLOGOSPHERE

Certain minor decisions can, sometimes, altogether alter the entire course of our life. Such changes may be for good or bad - may become the cause for a positive or negative attitude towards life. The interesting thing to note here is that, we often take such decisions in the most light-hearted way and without giving much thought about the impacts they may have in our future life. The importance of that decision, we took, may dawn upon us only after years. Only time can judge. Time will select and determine which decision to emerge as the king maker. In my life too, Time has chosen a minor decision as a king maker. It was my decision to enter into the Malayalam Blogosphere. I decided to start an account in Blogger on 14th November, 2006 and began to blog. This decision I took, altogether changed the course of my life in the most positive way, I should say.

I really started writing from my early life itself; after my school education, to be precise. During my college days, I was all by myself everywhere. No one was ready to befriend me; so nobody to converse with. This was the situation not only at my college but, roughly, at my native place also. In those days, my immense desire to communicate with someone manifested in the form of scribbles in my diary; literally I was conversing with that piece of paper. I wrote about all the incidents in my life, especially the ones which pained me a lot. Slowly these writings shifted from the frame work of mere notes about such incidents or the daily chores. They began to attain the flavour of literature, a hue of narration as in a novel. I must say, the absolute silence, into which I was forced to plunge, was the single most factor which aroused the passion for writing in me. 

Apart from such diary scribbles, I wanted to write some quality literature. This idea dawned in me during my stay at Trivandrum. One day, I happened to see some writings on my friend’s personal diary, which he kept open over the table. It was all about his lady love at the college. What he wrote cannot be called a poem, or a story... those were just words - the sweetest words coming from the depth of the heart of a love-smitten person. There was no specific structure to those writings, yet so beautiful. I was moved; and it filled me with a strong desire to write something on my own. But somehow I could not put in the efforts for that, then.

Two years passed. Once again I came to Trivandrum for the work at Keltron. I got a friend named Raju, and he was the reader, appreciator and critic of my writings. He praised me a lot for some of my works; at the same time, he pleaded with me to 'stop writing for ever’ seeing some of the others. I took all his criticisms in the right sense and never allowed his opinion to affect me in a negative way.  I continued my writing; and it attained the full momentum after I started a blog in my mother tongue, Malayalam.

Entry into the Blogosphere brought many beneficial changes to me. I became more vigilant while interacting with people. I noticed their style and personality. I tried to see even their normal behavioural patterns in an entirely different perspective - that is, adding some kind of an abnormality - and sought for a thread of story in them. I realised that a story writer should be a good liar and his imagination should flare without any limits. All these changed my outlook on life considerably. Abilities which were hitherto unknown to me myself, suddenly sprang to life! Thanks to the Blogosphere, they are now being well nurtured and protected.

Sometimes, we may have to face continuous setbacks in life. But there are various ways to forget or ignore such failures and keep our spirit and morale high. Desisting from all activities and shutting yourself up in an isolated compartment is not at all a remedy. It will only worsen the situation. Inertia is not something that human mind relishes or finds pleasure with; what it craves for is work, work and work - something to be engaged in and demands all its time, attention, interest and devotion. An idle mind will wander aimlessly through an un-realistic world, where there is minimal interference or influence from the material world, we live.  The absence of such reins from the real world hypes our mind to an uncontrollable level which, in turn, causes sheer wastage of our time and capabilities. Do not let ourselves lie trapped in such conditions; rise up and find out a new arena that is more engaging and interesting. That will make us strong enough to withstand the mental stress. I kept my calm & cool and remained comfortable in Blogosphere, even while being thrashed by continuous setbacks like severe discrimination etc. in my profession in the IT field. 

I thank all the Malayalam bloggers for the great support and inspiration they provided to me so lavishly.

What is 'HOPE'? Hope can be defined as a positive state of mind - expecting the occurrence of something we covet the most, either in the near or distant future. This definition may be inadequate. A definition must bring out the precise meaning, significance, depth and implication of a word. Thus defining something is a tough task indeed.

According to the time-span, we give, HOPE can be classified into two - Short term HOPE (which we expect to get realized within a short span of time) and Long term HOPE. For the former, we can fix a time-frame; these are less problematic. But the latter type is dangerous as we cannot always fix a comfortable time-frame for its realization. Such a long term HOPE, if not realized within the expected time, we will not give it up, instead, will allow more time for its realization. This process may continue endlessly such that in the end, HOPE shifts its domain from something that 'will happen’ to something that 'might happen’; i.e., from a Semi-Real state to the Non-Real state. In the former case, HOPE is something that holds a positive image while in the latter case HOPE may become the imagery of uncertainty. 

I made a major plan for my writing. A long term Hope was part of this plan. But I could not attach a flexible time frame to this due to the absence of a supporting system. Later, I made more plans with strict time frames, but all depending on the major plan. Thus, if the first plan collapses or gets postponed, the rest too will follow the suite. Matters progressed in that direction itself exactly as I feared. My first plan failed; so were the other plans too. 

I learned a good lesson from this experience. We should not devise such long term HOPEs because in that case, HOPE itself may become another hope in the course of time. Short term HOPEs are the best.

CHAPTER 4: HOLISTIC TREATMENT - III

Everything and everyone were the same at the polytechnic. One month's gap changed nothing, including me. At that time when I left the Polytechnic, a month ago, for my treatment, I was almost sure that I would return as a physically complete man. Such was the confidence instilled in me (by my teacher) about the holistic treatment. Those were the days when I realised how high one's expectations can soar up! Getting rid of the problem of my hearing disability had appeared an easy task then; a reality that was soon going to happen! 

But the world I dreamt about was a mere illusion. I clearly remember an incident happened just after the treatment. One day I happened to pick up a difficult word; the surroundings were noisy, yet I could recognize that word. Usually I used to miss such words. This made me very happy and I thought of this as a clear indication of the big improvement I attained as a result of undergoing the holistic treatment. I told about this to many with joy. But within a few days itself, I realised that it was a false impression. I lapsed into my old condition - I could not pick up or recognize other such words or even that word I picked up once, under such noisy circumstances.

I was absent from the class for one full month. But none of my classmates seemed to notice this! To be frank, I was painfully hurt by this. I, then, convinced myself that I was not one among them.  It was really a shock to me! 

Jijo alone enquired about my absence.

“Where were you last month?”

“I was ill; viral fever.”

 I lied to avoid further questions. I wished to do just as Wilson advised. Past is past. Do not remember or worry over it. Kill the memories.

At noon Vidhu teacher called me near. “How are you Sunil? Are you ok?”

I kept mum. 

How hard I was trying to escape from those Trivandrum memories! But they kept on coming back to me with even more power!

 I had to use the hearing aid again in the class room. It was in good working condition; it truthfully amplified all those sounds it could pick up. But even with its aid, I failed to understand the speeches.  My real problem was not being unable to perceive the sound (I could hear these sounds without the help of the hearing aid), but being unable to discriminate between the words in a speech or conversation and the general din of the surroundings, both of which the aid amplified equally. So even while wearing this aid my problem - problem of not being able to make out the words in a speech or conversation - persisted.   It seemed to me that the hearing aid I used somewhat mismatched with my ear assembly; they - my ear and the aid - never reached in a harmony with each other. Also, in the absence of the minimum input the hearing aid performed poorly. This often happened in the classrooms where the teachers spoke too softly. So I could not follow their lectures. 

While walking along the roads with my friends, the aid provided me no help at all to make me too participate actively in their interesting conversations. At the same time it amplified the blare and clamour of the vehicles passing uninterruptedly.  Thus the hearing aid I wore just became a mere 'question mark’ in my ear. One day I removed that 'question mark’ from my ear and threw it to the railway track near the polytechnic. And I walked away ... without looking back even once. Soon I heard the sound of a train rushing through the rails behind me.

But later in my life, too, I had to wear such hearing aids due to the compulsion of dear and near ones. Hearing aids of various brands! But nothing did me good or solved my problem. Many times I went in search of rail tracks - an ideal place to dispose off that useless question mark-like gadget. Always there were trains to run over them. Each time, tears gushed out from my eyes.

  

My silence flourished equally well both in the empty class rooms or in the noisy verandas. Only Jijo was willing to talk to me unconditionally. In the mornings he sat with me in the car porch of the polytechnic. 

“Better to remain silent than simply babbling and blabbering - talking about worthless matters", Jijo consoled me.  

This seemed logical enough, at first. Yes, Jijo was right. To listen to or to engage in idle talk is bad. But there is another side to this. 

We human beings, in general, always like to mingle with others, to engage in chit - chat with the friends around, to enter into conversations on light matters, to joke, to tease etc. The truth is that we cannot ignore the great role such interactions and involvements play in our lives. They often help us to be light-hearted; help us to keep a normal and healthy state of the mind. More than that, such interactions can also create a sense of belonging, a very comforting feeling that we are with a set of people who love to be with us.    

Normally, it is not in us to like to engage always in serious discussions on sober subjects only. Such discussions may satiate our desire for knowledge. At the same time they may cause or increase our mental tension.

The final few months at the polytechnic were joyful. Many of my classmates, who did not show any interest in befriending me up to that time, now began to put their hands around my shoulders. They considered me as a close friend. I was included as member in the team of car-porch-singers. I performed with them in the car porch at the noon interval. In the volley ball court, the lift position was always reserved for me. Many such changes - all for good. 

As far as I was concerned, I felt that the polytechnic life had just begun only and was beginning to enjoy it. But for others it was the end of the most beautiful period in life; end of all enjoyment. After writing the last examination, one by one said goodbye to each other and the institution. I was not sure what to do. I wanted to remain in that car porch. I wanted to be a student of that institution for one more year. I wanted to enjoy the student life for another year. I wanted to request my friends not to leave me alone. I knew I was helpless. Yet....

At last, Jijo also rose up from the steps of the car porch.

While walking together to the bus stop, he asked me, “Are you satisfied?”

I had no answer to that question.

At Trivandrum, I had to act in two episodes; one was that Holistic Clinic episode. At that time I was all alone - there was no body with me to share the joys or the sorrows and the apprehensions. Life at that time was real hell to me. I hated even those memories. But I was destined to act in another episode too at the very same place. When I came to know of this I hesitated a lot.  But this time, He, the God Almighty bestowed me with the true friendship of a very nice person. A colleague by name Raju was that God-sent person.

CHAPTER 1 : FLASHBACK

Memories about my childhood are almost vague. Some appear to be distinct, but on a closer look they too are really vague. My memories are rich with numerous 'faceless' people; they come and go randomly and in utter confusion. Then I ask few questions like Who are you? When and where did we meet? Did we communicate each other then? etc. I get answers too, but they are full of contradictions! Some are questions back to me!  So I am unable to derive a clear-cut picture, of all the incidents, happened in my childhood days. (“There are two radically different things, both of which are commonly called MEMORY. The past survives under two distinct forms: first, in motor organisms; secondly, in independent recollections. For example, a man is said to remember a poem if he can repeat it by heart, that is to say, if he has acquired a certain ‘habit or mechanism’ enabling him to repeat a former action. But he might, at least theoretically, be able to repeat the poem without any recollection of the previous occasions on which he has read it; thus there is no consciousness of past events involved in this sort of memory. The second sort, which alone really deserves to be called memory, is exhibited in recollections of separate occasions when he has read the poem, each unique and with a date. Here can be no question of ‘habit’, since each event only occurred once, and had to make its impression immediately.”— ‘Matter and Memory’, Henri Bergson).

Finally I decided not to look back to escape from contradicting stuffs. A sea of worthless memories - I thought. If I keep looking back, I may hate the memories about my childhood; or even the very concept known as 'Memory'. It is better to keep my brain clean from the cob webs of vague and troublesome memories. I have to keep my brain healthy so that it can make wise decisions when time comes. Brain can be like a villain, too, when its decisions fail, and so needs careful handling. So I let my brain entertain only those clear and colourful recollections. I got a few such memories. I wanted to gain a better turnout. But not all our wishes are destined to realize. Some will, of course, fall short of realization and then they become our ‘expectations’. Such expectations can strengthen us to strive hard for a better life.

All incidents which I clearly memorize about my childhood have a remarkable feature. In all of them, I am a complete man without any physical drawback or limitations due to that. I had every opportunity possible and I enjoyed equal considerations everywhere. I communicated and quarreled with my friends just as normally. I heard songs in Radio; heard sirens from factories in exact volume. I enjoyed stories told by my grand-mother. Yes, the external world was accessible to me in all possible ways. I enjoyed all those to the maximum extend. This is the picture I have of my early boyhood. A ‘lost paradise’, we can say, now.

Then my hearing capacity began to erode. The memories from that point in time are blurred.  Hearing loss was gradual and everyone, including me, failed to detect it on time. At first, whenever I tried to listen carefully to something, I could hear a peculiar noise inside my ears - a noise, very unclear and indescribable. That sound was so unfamiliar to me that I could only say that it was not the sound of any beasts, not the sound of howling wind or not that generated by any musical instrument. In short, this noise seemed to be generated from nowhere in this world; but it is being heard myself, whenever listening deep into my ears. I could only experience it, but could not explain its nature to others.

This mysterious sound settled in my ears, permanently. This was the beginning of my hearing impairment. Unfortunately I failed to notice the gradual diminishing of my hearing ability. Classmates whispered each other - 'Sunil's hearing ability is weak. He is becoming deaf'. But I turned a deaf ear to all those remarks. I quarreled with them whenever I happened to hear them say such things. I relentlessly tried to convince my friends that I am very normal in all respect, just like them. But nobody paid any attention. Then more and more people started muttering about my disability. At first, I stared at them; then I stared at my own body. I began to doubt myself. Is something unusual with me? I couldn’t find an answer to this question and so again I attempted to correct my friends, thinking they were getting me wrong. But all my attempts in this respect went futile. My friends hesitate to believe my words. This caused utter disappointment to the thirteen year old boy. It was about this time that the outside world shrank around me. I could no longer enjoy the radio songs clearly... no longer hear the siren in exact amplitude as before... Everything changed for me. 

This is where my story begins. A cold start indeed!

  

I had gone through a number of transitions in my life. I grew from boyhood to youth; went from school life to college life; shifted from the old home to a new home; then left the native land to live & work in Bangalore. All these changes in my life were accompanied by emotional transitions too. The toughest of all these was the transition from the ‘Non-disabled State’ to ‘Disabled State’! It was terrible. It happened when I was just 12 year old. At that tender age, my heart was not ready to accept the bitter truth; it constantly tried to resist the fact with all its might.

Finally everyone accepted my loss of hearing; they started considering me as a person with hearing impairment. Yet, I lived in another world, where I was a ‘perfectly normal person’, all the time hoping them to change their approach and attitude towards me. I waited for that to happen. Months passed by. But nothing happened as I expected. I was desperate and was in sheer confusion. What should I do? Should I behave like a deaf person or a normal being? If yes, for what? For whom? Is this curse going to be a permanent one? I really don’t know how to convey all those apprehensions I went through at that time.

It took me a couple of years to accept the truth. Yes, I am a man with hearing impairment. I matured enough to become fully aware of my predicament; to become fully conscious of the implications. It hurt a lot! 

INTRODUCTION - PART 1

When we want to record the events happened at various junctures of our life, we have two options - record them in a passive medium like the 'paper', or in an active medium like our 'brain'. Both these recording media have advantages and disadvantages. Brain, a vital biological organ, will not perish during our life time, unless it meets with serious medical mishap. But with the passage of time it can deteriorate, there by considerably reducing its efficiency for storing, restoring or retrieving the data it accumulated through the sense organs. Our brain may fail in recollecting the place or time of incidents of past or the names of people we met. It may be holding all these information intact, but it fails to bring them to our realm of consciousness with absolute clarity; thus to us, those become vague memories. That the brain can store and hold information, is a positive feature, whilst its failure to bring them back (retrieve them) whenever required, is a negative aspect. Papers, on the other hand, are trusted companions of anyone who are eager to preserve data in a secure way. Consider a writer. He uses brain to formulate story threads, and then writes it onto a paper. Papers are the best to keep data in vivid forms. The writer can record anything on a paper, the trustworthiness of which depending on the honesty of the writer, the beauty and versatility depending on his writing talent. Risk lies in the form of accidental damages, theft, degradation or decay due to environmental factors etc. If we can see to all these, undoubtedly papers present a better storage medium than the human brain for recording anything for future use. Clarity, reliability, accuracy are all well preserved by paper documents.

I always had a firm belief in the reliability of written words. I used to write diary to record good and bad incidents of my childhood, a habit which I cherish even now. Thus my personal diary is a record of many incidents that I faced in my life. But if anyone asks:  ‘Did you mention every incident that you faced so far?’, then I really have to admit that my answer would be a plain 'No'. 

I had a past, when conversation and mingling with others was minimal. Then I spent much of my time in solitude, often weeping over my fate. I started scribbling on my diary on those days. I wished to yell to the world about the hardships faced/facing by a boy with the disability of hearing impairment. To me, diary writing was the only activity that I could conjure up, to achieve my goal. I wanted to tell about the mindset of a boy who could speak to his ‘friends’ and others  just for about 4 or 5 minutes a day.  I wanted to tell about the despair looming large in his heart, which I thought, would be beyond anybody's imagination. I lived in such hell for more than five years. Even then, I never allowed myself succumb to total mental depression. My diary writing helped me a lot in this. So now I value the effort I took for that. 

Every action has a purpose. Every performance demands a reason. If so, what is the purpose of this writing? The answer is that I wish to present the neglect and partiality I faced in my life. Almost all may have faced these at one time or another of their lives; they may feel smitten by these but for a short while or to a shorter degree. But with the disabled persons it is a different matter - they may feel and suffer from it to a greater extend. Surmounting their drawbacks, these people may have acquired some expertise in some fields; or by birth itself, they may possess an above average talent in some area. But when it comes to employment, the employers always seem to be sceptical about their abilities/capabilities; to their eyes the disabilities are much more pronounced than what they actually are. They don't see what these persons can do; instead they worry over what they can't do. This attitude of the employers forces them to post these unfortunate people, much against their wishes, in jobs or areas that need much less skill and expertise than they really possess. This demeaning may make them lose their heart. There are two options for them - either manage to jump over these hurdles to reach the finishing point successfully or remain resigned to the fate. I chose the first one; that is, to engage in an endless fight with the resisting and oppressing forces.  I wished to win. At the beginning, these fights manifested themselves as eagerness in writing. I wrote down every single detail of day to day events and experiences. At first, it was me only in this process - I am the writer, I am the reader and I am the appreciator. But later I realized that this self- publication and self- appreciation will not do. My writings will be absolutely useless unless they are read by others. I decided to expand my realm of writing, then. Pen is everyone’s last resort, whenever life goes hard.

I started a project named ‘Some Unknown Tales’. But I was under constant stress thinking how to convey all what was in my mind, with my limited language skills. Conceiving ideas may be easy; but expressing them effectively or putting them down in so many words without losing the intensity of our feelings and emotions, is not that simple. It really needs good vocabulary, language skill and experience to narrate the subtle ideas of our mind in a vivid style. At first I thought of hiring a person who would write for me, if I convey my ideas to him. But later it came to me that narrating every single detail to him, disclosing even my personal feelings, may create further problems in conveyance. So I decided to write myself.