Thoughts

When you don’t have a Money is a Problem, problem

I turn 43 this December, but I don’t feel my age anymore. From when I remember, I have been battling emotional wounds from childhood. The scars of this battle are now taking a toll on my health. For a long time, not making it in life for the lack of money was a concern. That was until I realized that there are bigger curve balls which life can throw at you.

I’ve been dealing with severe brain fog for a while now. It actually started many years ago—around seven, if I were to put a number on it. However, due to my foggy memory, I can’t remember exactly when. Lately, it has gotten progressively worse, to the point where I’m now undergoing treatment—not for brain fog directly, but for gut dysbiosis. Because, as I’ve learned, when your gut isn’t functioning properly, your brain doesn’t either. This type of treatment is expensive; it’s a holistic approach, involving sessions with a nutritionist, a psychologist, and a gastroenterologist who specializes in functional medicine. I’ve also been learning a lot about my condition from online resources. Let me try to break down my experience with brain fog, and what I can attribute it to. I might end up all over the place. But bear with me, because it feels important.

First, let me explain what it’s like to live with brain fog.

You can’t recall things when you need to.
Your working memory suffers.
Everything feels like a cognitive burden.
Focusing and completing tasks becomes a struggle.
Your mood and motivation fluctuate.
You feel constantly tired.

I’m sure there are other symptoms I’ve missed, but let me assure you that these by themselves are pretty daunting. And yes, I have made a classic mistake of attributing this to laziness among other things (such as ADHD and depression).

So, what causes this? There can be a multitude of reasons. You can watch this video for an overview of potential causes. In my case, it appears to be a complex mix of stress, gut dysbiosis, lack of exercise, and childhood trauma. To be honest, I don’t know the exact cause, but through my research and conversations with mental health and alternative medicine experts, these seem like likely contributors.

The challenge in addressing these causes is that they’re deeply interconnected. But what led me here? Let me try to break that down in this post (this is where I attempt to tie the different threads together).

It all started with an unhappy childhood. I’ve always hesitated to use the word “trauma” because, to me, trauma implies extreme, distressing events. In my case, it was more about the emotional harm caused by caregivers with poor parenting skills. Ironically, none of it was done with ill intent, which made it difficult for me to talk about. But the adult me now recognizes patterns where my own emotions were ignored, and I was constantly judged, criticised, and compared to others. My childhood memories only have themes such as overprotection and control, excessive pressure and expectations, negligence of my emotional needs, lack of affirmation, projection of unresolved issues, and overemphasis of other people’s achievements. This might sound typical of an Indian middle-class household, and my parents likely weren’t better or worse than average. Life is such that every child, grows up in a unique environment. Generalisations are good only to make you appear intellectual in online posts. So, let’s not chalk it up to, “Oh, this is India, and parents just prepare their kids for a competitive world.”

When the “project” of life starts on the wrong foot, there’s a high chance of future complications. However, I can’t say my life was a disaster. On the surface, I coasted through childhood, youth and adulthood without revealing inner scars. I graduated, got a job and did what a son should to do to “settle down.” But all this was because I internalised my emotional wounds. And it took a toll on my body. But the body has an incredible capacity to heal—provided it’s in the right environment.

In my case, I was healing, but also hurting. Poor gut health has always plagued me. Various other life events affected me, though time was the healer for most of them. I will not get into the details here. But in the process of living, my awareness of life’s complexities grew. I did both direct and indirect inner work. There was acceptance. There was spiritual growth. And I developed my own ways of escaping from a reality I wasn’t ready to face. I somehow managed a delicate balance between hurting and healing. But the root trauma remained.

For the sake of brevity, let’s skip ahead to the final part of my story—by “final,” I mean closest to my current reality. In this reality, my body and mind desperately need healing. The sprint to my breaking point was accelerated because I deprived my body the right conditions to do the balancing act.

This neglecting of the body started when I moved to Udupi in 2022. There, I discovered a new kind of happiness. For the first time, I was living life on my terms. I felt free, empowered, fulfilled, and, above all, alive. But it all came at a cost—my health. Living alone, my diet was compromised. Udupi’s extreme climate—with intense heat, humidity, and rain—caught me unprepared. On the surface, I was coping, but my health suffered quietly.

I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep due to the heat. My meals did not have variety because I prioritised convenience over nutrition. I fell ill with dengue and later a viral infection. I developed joint problems. I was constantly drinking water straight from the well to combat dehydration. After the rains, mold was everywhere in my house. My life became a cycle of constant travel between Bangalore and Udupi. The body handles external stress less efficiently as you grow old. Maybe my younger self would have handled this better. But that time had passed. My brain started to feel extremely sluggish in Udupi itself. I felt unusual fatigue in my body. But I managed to chug along, till things started falling apart last year.

The stress of my job—the very thing that enabled me to leave Bangalore for Udupi became very real when my company was acquired in November 2023. This introduced job insecurity and the looming threat of being forced out of my little bubble of happiness. The worst part was having to return to two things I detested most—a chaotic, deteriorating city ,and close proximity to the person who had inflicted deep emotional wounds on me. So while none of these were stressors directly related to my job, they were because of it (and because of how I was conditioned to look at breadwinning from childhood).

From November 2023 to September 2024, my brain had a lot to handle. I’ve omitted some details for brevity, but these major events have greatly contributed to my body’s inability to heal in the backdrop of a larger, more continual trauma. I started the healing process in September 2024, but it seems like the journey is going to be a long one. I have just begun to understand the probable causes of my brain fog and the gut-brain axis. Treating gut dysbiosis involves altering food habits and making lifestyle changes.

Growing up, money seemed like the obstacle to a fulfilling life. We had enough to live comfortably as a middle-class Indian family, but my wide-ranging interests and zest for exploration often felt stifled by financial limitations. I tried to fix that by holding onto well paying jobs that I didn’t particularly enjoy, because I needed the financial stability. But today, looking back, I realize that money—whether you have it or not—means little without the essentials: healthy relationships, a support structure, a healthy body, and a functioning brain. All of these are so interconnected that if one piece falters, a larger breakdown becomes inevitable.

If you face similar issues, and the doctor has used the catch-all word, “Stress,” here are some videos that you can watch to understand what may be going on:

Once you watch a few videos on these topics, the YouTube algorithm will help you further.

Why House Hunting in Bangalore is Like Going to Battle

In April 2024, the company I worked for asked all its remote employees to return to the office (RTO). They gave us a deadline of two months for this. I had moved to a tier 2 city two years ago, because the same company said remote work is the future.

Moving out was one of the best decisions of my life. Having lived in Bangalore since 2003, I have witnessed the city deteriorate to a point where only a fat paycheck or a misplaced sense of regionalism can make you love what the once Garden City has now become. Locals blame outsiders. The current government blames the previous one. The left wing and right wing blame each other. But is this really the reason for the high rent, dug-up roads, lack of water, and unsolvable traffic jams? Let’s look deeper.

So where does one start when looking for a rental property in Bangalore? Let me list the options first. And then, in Part 2 of this blog post, talk about why each option is worse than the other.

House Hunting Options

You have the following ways of finding a house in Bangalore:

Approaching a broker
Approaching a rental management company
Browsing the plethora of Facebook groups
Signing up for a paid account on Magicbricks
Signing up for a paid account on NoBroker
Looking up free websites like 99Acres, Housing.com, or Makaan
Scanning your preferred neighborhood for To-Let boards
Looking for options on your company’s internal messaging groups

Having tried all of these options, I can safely say that there is not one guaranteed approach to land a house. You have to try multiple options and be prepared to go into battle. Why?

The Topology of the Battleground

In any battle, there are a minimum of two sides. Generally, battles are fought because one of the two parties has something to gain, but every battle has a facilitator. A cunning general or statesman who creates the necessary situation for two parties to fight (USA?).

In the landscape of the rental market, the house owner and house seeker are the two parties in the battle. The broker, the politician, and the gossiping neighborhood uncle/aunty are the scheming facilitators of this battle.

For a house owner, renting a house is a simple act of finding a tenant, fixing a price, the terms of tenancy, and sitting back to watch money come into the bank every month.

For a house seeker, renting a house is a simple act of finding a beautiful house in a preferred location and slogging away because house rent is the black hole into which a bulk of your salary disappears.

So who are these cunning people making this difficult?

The Broker

A broker (agent or dealer) makes money from a rental sale from two parties – the house owner and tenant. It is in the broker’s best interest to price the property 5-10% more than the going rate. After all, neither the land, nor the responsibility of owning it, is on the broker. All they have to do is connect two interested parties – and voila, they gets paid 1 months rental from two parties. Why would they make it better for anyone but themselves?

If you see insane house rents in Bangalore, blame it on these brokers. They have no ethics, professionalism, or love for you. They don’t even bother to share good photos/videos of the properties to save you a visit. In my own experience, I have been asked to come to a location by a broker, only to be ghosted. I have been yelled at for not mentioning my requirements clearly. I have watched the same property being priced higher by a broker than the owner on the same rental website. I have read stories how they take an advance and stop returning calls. They will do anything to make a killing.

The Gossiping Aunty/Uncle

These people, usually retired or nearing retirement, have the privileged responsibility of spreading information about who is receiving how much rent in the neighbourhood. Imagine this scenario – it is morning time in a local park. A bunch of senior citizens, who have supposed to have come for a walk – are sitting and talking.

One starts by saying how his property, which he bought for 3 lakhs in 1990, is now worth 3 crores. Another uncle, who is jealous, makes up a story of how he is receiving a rent of 40k per month for his house (which, by the way, has no woodwork, has no car park, and is facing seepage issues). Now it is the turn of another uncle. He has no property of his own. So he makes up a story of how these bachelors living in a house nearby are behaving in an uncivil manner. They party every night. Mixing of genders is common, he says. Uncle seeks pleasure in inducing fear in the mind of his park friends. Yet another uncle – whose kids are well settled abroad and who has no use for rental money – is feeling very left out. So he narrates a story of how his neighbour tenant’s dog is creating a menace in the neighbourhood. He speaks in a baritone about how it barked at a child the other day, and the child ended up with a fever. He, of course, does not brings up the small detail that the same child used a toy water gun to torment the poor dog.

If you think I am making up stuff – you are much out of touch with reality. Because these are situations from life – only rearranged to make it sound like it happened in a park the other day.

After this session of gossip, Uncle X wants to raise the rent of his house by 50%. Uncle Y wants to kick out his bachelor tenant. And Uncle Z vows never to rent to anyone who has a pet. And the other uncle who missed this morning gossip session would anyway only rent out his house to a pure vegetarian who is from one of the upper castes. He is btw, the president of the Apartment Welfare Association.

Don’t believe me? Try mentioning the word ‘Bachelor’ and ‘Pet’ in the same sentence when you speak to a potential house owner.

The Politician

These citizens of India are the most vile and cunning of the lot. The politician I am referring to is not a certain Modi – the default punching bag for all of India’s problems. No, I mean everybody from the local corporator to the BDA chief to the current government’s chief of chiefs – who, by the way, the media is so forgiving of.

These ‘public servants’ have the muscle power to drown the voice of a common citizen. The politician’s job is to prepare the battleground between ordinary Indians who have aspirations. All the controversies that politicians churn out, and which the media loves to cover, is just a decoy. Politicians are the ones who own prime property in the city. While you are busy supporting your favourite party in the upcoming elections, full time real estate businessmen are busy influencing MNCs to ask employees to return to office. They are the ones deciding on the going rate in the important areas. India has been, and will forever be, at the mercy of zamindars. Some just have a side gig as politicians these days.

Despite taxing the IT professionals and IT companies heavily, we get nothing in return. Politicians dole out freebies to other able bodied men and women in return for votes. Of course, this is not the face that they show you. They come with folded hands when seeking votes and promise to fix all your problems which you have been bringing up since the Hubble telescope went into space.

Imagine a city where these people did their job. Apartments would come up only in areas that are well planned. You would not have to drive through narrow roads while negotiating potholes and open drains. Potable water would be flowing through your taps. Yes, there would be traffic because of the sheer density of population, but signals would be synchronised to allow free movement for a longer distance. And, if you lived in ORR, you would not have to fear getting mugged when returning home after the late-night code check-in.

You, the honest tax-paying citizen, can enjoy monsoon weekends from the comfort of your balcony, without having to worry about the neighborhood lake, which your builder encroached upon, breaching. Imagine how beautiful this life could be! You can finally stop scrolling Instagram reels and enjoy reality.

How to Prepare for Battle

Now that we have identified the key elements in the battle ground, let us see how to prepare for war. In the next part, I will talk about the pros and cons of each of the previously mentioned options for house hunting in Bangalore. It is a war, remember? You need to be armed with knowledge to win it.

Till then, you can mull over who really destroyed the city – the locals or the outsiders.

A Relationship Which Needs the Most Hard Work

Everyone of us has a relationship with this one thing in our lives. And that relationship needs a lot of work. It is a complicated relationship which very few have learned how to deal with. It has ruined men, women, families, kingdoms, societies and right now it is ruining this planet.

The relationship I am talking about is the one we have with money. A person’s relationship with money is intimate, yet complicated. We are taught many things in our childhood, but no one really teaches us how to have a good relationship with money. We watch our parents, and other people and learn how to deal with money. Sometimes this learning is good, and sometimes it gets us nowhere. This post is about the complicated relationship I have with money, and how it started getting messy.

On the outside I am a professionally successful salaried individual. With the kind of money that hits the bank account at the end of every month, I cannot complain about my lower middle class upbringing. Maybe I have managed to move up the social hierarchy by an inch. Maybe I am now upper middle class. I honestly don’t know. Because, the truth is that on the inside, the pursuit of money has left me with a void that I don’t know how to fill. I have insecurities around my bank balance, and my interpersonal relationships have taken a hit due to misplaced priorities.

I grew up in a nuclear, middle class family in the 80s, in a big metro city down South. My dad was a hard working, salaried employee. His family was large. When he lost his job at the prime of his career, his siblings were there for him. He sailed though it emotionally, although it hit us financially. But me? It shook up my world and I had nobody to talk to about. Being the only child, I only had friends to share my life with. And the lack of money in the household meant that I was slowly distancing myself from friends. Thus began my complicated relationship with money.

If you look up what they say about Saggitarians, you’ll read that we free spirits without a care for material possessions. We don’t like money as much as we like the idea of what money can do for us. My life’s mantra has always been ‘experience more.’ So when I asked my parents pocket money, it wasn’t to go waste it on eating out or watching movies like my friends in school did. It was to see what it is that they enjoyed about eating out and watching movies. So once I knew what it was about, I could move on. Unfortunately I never got the pocket money to understand that. And thus, my experience about many things in life was stunted.

We never could afford a car for a very long time. When my dad finally got one in his new job, it was taken away in a few months by the people who had loaned money to the company he had just joined, because they had defaulted. I never did foreign trips. Never saw the inside of a plane till my first job (interview). Hardly hung out in malls. I had a huge fight with my parents for my first walkman. My dad constantly criticised me for buying audio tapes although music was my solace and escape from a world I couldn’t fit into. To top it all, my parents were forever tying good marks to money, and telling me that if I don’t do well in school, I would be a failure for life.

I was never keen on sports, but my parents forced me to attend tennis and swimming classes. As a teenager, I wanted to learn music, but my parents wanted me to take tuitions instead. Finally, I was forced into studying engineering in a college located in a remote village, because that was what my parents wanted for me. My professionally unsuccessful father was trying to dictate how I should live life based on his failures, which in my opinion was dumb.

Meanwhile, my friends from school were getting dropped to school in cars, eating samosas and chat in the evening after school and making merry on weekends hanging out in malls. They didn’t have to worry about good grades, because they knew their parents had money to send them abroad, or they would take up family businesses. By the time they graduated to college, they were driving their own cars, hanging out in pubs, playing pool, and generally doing everything which society deemed as cool. Why did I have such friends? It was because my parents put me in a school with wealthy kids. I had concluded as a young person that not having enough money was the root cause of all the unhappiness in the world.

When I got my first job, I was thrilled that I no longer had to ask my parents for money. I was excited that I could finally do what I wanted to do with MY own money. And I had a big backlog of experiences which I had missed out on, to explore with MY own money. Thus began the second phase of my difficult relationship with money.

What nobody tells you, and what you will only figure out if you are smart enough, is that a country’s economy can be kept running only if there is a critical mass of people in the rat race of earning a salary. You and I are part of that critical mass, and will stay there forever unless we take on some risks. Found a job after college? Time to gets started with EMIs to keep you tied to that job for long. Happy that you got a better job? Inflation will catch up in no time and your 20% hike will soon mean nothing. Kids settled down and one thing less to worry about? Medical bills will bring you back to reality. Basically, earning a salary = being a slave for life.

When I got my first salary, I was so happy that I could live life on MY own terms because I was finally earning MY own money. I couldn’t ream of trading that freedom for anything else. I didn’t have to listen to what my parents said anymore. After those pay checks starting hitting the bank account, I couldn’t look beyond them. The money I was earning was the only solid foundation I ever had in life. All the years before that were nothing but a nightmare with no beautiful memories. So, I played safe when it came to my career. Holding on to my job was the most important thing. By god’s grace and some luck, I managed to move from one good organisation to another. Playing safe meant that my skills, personal branding, and street smartness were all stunted. I lived in a cocoon whose walls were only as thick as my bank balance.

There is a phrase, which goes like this: “A Salary is the Drug They Give You to Forget Your Dreams.” I was on this drug too, and it was pretty potent because what I earned was disproportionate to my personal (not career) ambitions. All I ever wanted was to have enough money to experience things in life I never got a chance to experience as a child.

When my marriage failed, it meant that I didn’t have a child’s future to worry about. The more I earned, the more I managed to spend in spite of not having the regular responsibilities of people of my age. My priorities in life were totally messed up because the effects of the drug was pretty damaging.

But every drug addicted soon realises that he is only fooling himself and to the world, by hiding from the truth. By the time I had this realisation it was too late. It was too late for me to leave my job for higher education or upskilling. It was too late in my life to untangle myself from the corporate web. It was too late to go from earning a fixed amount at the end of the month to not drawing a salary (to start a business, or study further).

I never had a high opinion about my parents because I never saw either of them achieve anything worthwhile. Yes, they did all they could to provide for me – but when they expected me to be someone I am not, why shouldn’t I have excepted the same form them? When I look at people around me, acting entitled because of their family wealth, I only wonder how different my life would have been if I had some financial security from my parents. I laugh at all those inspirational stories where kids praise their parents for making them what they are. For me, my parents were mediocre, clueless individuals. They neither accomplished anything in life, nor let me do what I wanted to.

Although I put my parents into the same bucket, they were both different individuals. And their shortcomings had a nuclear fusion like effect on me. My dad was hardworking , straightforward, and generally well liked in the family, but he had a terrible temper. My mom is an animated lady, who can never stop talking about how much someone else has, or what someone else is up to (even now). Unfortunately, in spite of all the talk, she has never had the courage to take up a job or lead from the front, in any sphere of life. To me, my dad’s temper and mom’s animated nature outshone anything positive about them.

At this point, you may have concluded that my complicated relationship is not with money, but with my parents. If my parents had told me, “son, these are your strengths. Focus on them, and you will achieve something in life,” I would have probably focused on what I have, instead of what I don’t. But instead, my parents always said, “Son, money is important and we don’t have enough of it. You better do what we say, because you are no good at x,y,z.” I am sure that like my parents, many other parents have said or done things based on the insecurity around money.

Thankfully, I have reached a stage in life where I theoretically know what options salaried people like me have to grow money (think equities). I also no longer feel like I have missed out on things in life because I have spent a lot of time following my passion of travel and photography. I still have a long way to go before money can start giving me a sense of security, and fulfilment. If it ever happens, I will truly believe that I have rearranged the equation I have with my bank balance.

What My Cats Taught Me About Life

I write this post in grief. A stray cat, Smokey, whom I nurtured from kitten hood, has been missing since January 20th 2022. She was last seen electrocuted at the transformer which is just outside my apartment gate. I did not know of this incident until 24 hours later. The night security guard, who saw it happen, told me that she got up and walked away after falling down from the transformer. This information was corroborated by the KEB personnel who came to restore power.

I don’t know if she is alive or dead, but having seen a small pool of blood at the accident spot, I fear the worst. I have been looking for her in the neighbourhood for the past three days. I can’t help but recall how much I have obsessed over Smokey, and her mother, for close to two years. I will tell you why.

The story of how Smokey entered my life is unconventional. Although I loved cats, living in an apartment complex meant that I couldn’t keep one at home. I never imagined that Smokey would become such a huge part of my every day routine. The cats and I where on our own paths which crossed unexpectedly. And eventually, they left the most lasting impression on me.

Smokey was born to a mangy, feral cat in my apartment basement circa March 2020. She had 5 siblings, none of which survived. It was lockdown time, and the mother cat found safe haven under parked cars in our small apartment which has around 30 houses. But disease, and maybe predators, resulted in all but Smokey passing away within a few weeks of being born.

I have always been a cat lover, so when I saw only Smokey surviving the litter, I decided to start feeding her and the mother cat. I named the mother Lucy, after Lucifer, because I was horrified at how she ate up one of her own kittens. I also intended to get Lucy and Smokey sterilised so they don’t go around reproducing and adding to the stray cat population. So, feeding them was the only way I could ensure that they stuck around in the basement. Unfortunately, this ended up becoming Smokey’s greatest weakness. She never learnt how to hunt, and was entirely dependent on me for food.

Flashback to May 2020, Lucy was an extremely skittish and shy cat. She was terrified of humans, but she was very much in need of food. She was very young, and this was probably her first litter. Initially, my feeding sessions were sporadic. I did not even know what to feed her. I wasn’t aware of the different types of cat food available in the market. But, Lucy used to follow me around in the basement. Since it was the lockdown, watching her and Smokey was a good way to pass time. I gently persuaded them to shift from under a neighbour’s car to my car, so nobody in the apartment would chase them away. From milk, to rice, to egg, to cat food, I gradually upgraded their meals. Smokey was growing up under the loving care of Lucy. She had the same temperament as her mother – she was scared of humans, albeit, a little less. She was never a lap cat and hated being held. She would do a funny act of coming near me, and suddenly running away when I bend down to hold her. I don’t know if she did it on purpose or because her feral genes. Despite that, I continued my feeding and play sessions.

This closeness between mother and daughter continued for over a year. Usually, mother cats distance themselves from their kittens after about 6 – 8 months, but not in the case of SmoLu, as I call the duo. Meanwhile, I was becoming a better pet parent. I was feeding them healthy cat food. I made a small cat-house for them to sleep in, where they would spend all morning cuddled together. I could never figure out what they did at night or where they went, because they would not remain in the apartment basement after supper. We have a huge open area beside the apartment, so they probably spent the night there. I even installed a CCTV camera near my car, to watch over them and understand their behaviour. The CCTV had a limited coverage area. I learnt quite a lot from the recordings. For instance, there were several male cats that visited the basement.

2020 and 21 were like no other. Covid was ravaging India and the world. Everyone’s daily routine changed forever, with work from home becoming a permanent thing for IT employees. This also widened the gap between people who had cushy desk jobs and those who had to slog it out.

Since I could work from home, I spent a lot of time with SmoLu. In between meetings, I would go down and watch the two of them together. Smokey would ask me for treats or food every time she saw me. She was a mischievous and curious darling. She was extremely talkative, especially around meal times. Both of them would wait for me near the lift, in the mornings. They would come running towards me if they weren’t near the lift. When I would return home from outstation trips, they would come running towards me. Smokey would mewl loudly seeing me, demanding to be fed. She would inspect the car often, and the joke was that the car is hers, and not mine. Her curiosity never faded. Lucy on the other hand was very stoic. The only feelings she ever showed was towards Smokey, who was always by her side.

For close to two years, I have ensured that they were fed. This was not always easy, because if not me, it is my mother who would have had to go down twice a day to feed them.

I was obsessed with SmoLu, because that is how cats grow on you. They have immense character, and take no shit. They aren’t easy to please or fool. It took me almost a week to trap Lucy to get her neutered. With Smokey, it was relatively easy, and I was glad that she was neutered before she got into heat. Another time, I had to take Lucy to the vet, where she scratched me so badly that the scars on my hand haven’t gone.

A couple of incidents stand out in my brief association with SmoLu. About a year into Smokey’s life, a male cat started to trouble these two. One day he picked a fight with Lucy and chased her away. She was gone for a week. I assumed that she was dead, because the security guards, who are my eyes and ears where the CCTV cannot see, told me that they saw the male cat chase Lucy into a drain. I was terrified that the same would happen to Smokey, and I brought her home to keep her with me. She was not at all happy in her new (comfortable surrounding), and wanted to be left back downstairs. We spent several sleepless nights fostering her, much to her displeasure. She would incessantly cry all night.

Thanks to the CCTV footage, I got to know that Lucy was back in the basement after about a week. My joy knew no bounds, because I had presumed she was no more. Unfortunately, she was not the same cat after this incident. The trauma made her aloof towards Smokey, who was still a young kitten at heart. Smokey never understood why her dear momma was hissing and swiping at her. It was heartbreaking to watch Lucy grow colder than she already was. But until the very last day I saw her, Smokey’s behaviour towards Lucy remained the same. Lucy was her everything.

Smokey also had her share of disappearing. Once, she was not to be seen for almost 2 nights, and I was sick with grief. But she was back in the morning, her usual self, asking for food like nothing had happened. Of course, she was terribly, terribly hungry. In fact, Smokey’s disappearances became more frequent than Lucy’s. Especially around the full moon. New tom cats started to enter the basement, and Smokey was terrified of all of them. She never learnt how to fight, unlike Lucy, who can hold her ground. Smokey was extremely good at hiding from danger, because after all, she spent her childhood playing under cars and getting into the bonnet.

I like all animals a lot, but I have a special corner for cats. Unlike dogs, where everything is always lovey lovey, Lucy and Smokey’s temperament was closer to that of humans. Lucy had her mood swings, while Smokey was curious and mischievous. A human should be extremely lucky to earn a cat’s love. They can be selfish, and vile. Once they have eaten, they will walk away from you and look at you like you are a stranger. SmoLu were no different, although somewhere deep inside I like to believe that Smokey loved me back, but only did not know how to show it.

I wonder if I got so attached to them both because of my own emotional gaps. I grew up a single child, with no playmates. My relationship with my parents has always been troubled. I have only my mother now, and things haven’t changed. I always loved animals but could never keep a pet. I have no children of my own, and after my divorce, I never felt the need to experience parenthood. Having seen a parent’s death, a broken marriage, and several ups and downs in life, my emotional temperament is like Lucy’s – stoic. I keep my distance from humans. Only with these two animals, I gave my all.

So, in SmoLu, I found everything I felt lacking. The bond between mother and daughter was such a beautiful thing to witness. Smol Smokey was my companion, and I spent so much time downstairs in the basement playing with her. I was her pet parent, protecting her from Tom cats, and always on the lookout for tasty, healthy food. I rediscovered my childhood hobby of making electronic gadgets, thanks to them. I rigged up a CCTV system with a long range WiFi network and made them a water feeding station which really helped me keep busy during the second COVID-19 wave.

Being so closely involved with these two strays also meant that I became more aware of the the issues other stray animals in the city face. I was directly and indirectly involved in rescues of animals in need. I regularly donated money for animal welfare. I frequently read horror stories about how humans harm voiceless strays for no genuine reason. I read in the papers how over 50% of new COVID era pet parents abandoned their pets on the street, not realising what it takes to raise an animal. From my own experience, I can say that looking after animals, especially stray cats, is an emotional roller coaster.

I think all animals are more aware of their mortality than we humans are. They live life, one day at a time. It takes only a little love from our side to receive boundless joy from them. They show no malice, and carry 100% pure innocence which humans lack. Each animal has a different character, like us. Genes, upbringing, environment and individual temperament make each one of them unique. If you have a little bit of extra sensitivity to the world around, you will see what perfect creatures animals are, compared to us.

Every time I managed to catch Smokey before her feeding time, I would hold her and cradle her like a baby. She would mewl in protest, and I would give her soft kisses. Because after all, we have only this brief life to show and receive love. Maybe it was always in the back of my mind that this might not last long. I am grateful to her for entering my life.

UPDATE: SMOKEY CAME BACK ON HER OWN A WEEK LATER. SHE WAS SUFFERING FROM BURN WOUNDS ON HER PAWS AND FACE. I TOOK HER TO THE VET IMMEDIATELY AND GOT HER ADMITTED. SHE RECOVERED BEAUTIFULLY!

Popular OLX Scams and Why They Still Work

Olx is a website where you can put up new or used stuff on sale. I don’t think Olx really monitors the quality of the items you post, so you could claim anything in your ad. .

Scammers are always on the prowl on Olx. Whether you are a buyer or seller, it won’t be long before you come across someone trying to rob you of your money.

Olx Buying Scams

Here is how con-men start their conversation when you have something on sale:

The seemingly harmless message is start of a long scam where you are tricked into sending your item to an address outside your city before receiving payment. And the money for your item? It will never reach you. But the con-men will send you screenshots of fake bank transfers to show you that they have paid you. This is an old trick, and I generally just delete these messages.

Olx Selling Scams

Then there is the other type of scam – where you are the buyer and you come across a product and the price is tempting. In fact, it is too good to be true. For example, this camera and lens is selling at half the price of what it is supposed to be selling for:

Just to see how far this seller would go, to scam me, I chatted with him on WhatsApp. The conversation that ensued was full of inconsistencies. Of course, I knew this was a scam, but I was curious because the seller’s ad on Olx mentioned that the product is in my city.

In the first two screenshots, the seller tries to convince me that he is selling a genuine product. He says he can deliver it to my place. He even shows me the bill.

The items in the bill did not match the products he had advertised for, but let’s not kill the fun right here, shall we?

After a lot of insisting that I would like to inspect the product, the seller relented.

He very confidently asks me to come to Arunachal Pradesh to inspect/buy the camera. Maybe he thought I’d fall for the authenticity of his words. But I did not, because he had told me he can deliver the product from Arunachal Pradesh to Bangalore in one day. So I asked him.

I decided to let go at this point of time because clearly, he was being very stupid. The distance between the address he mentioned, and my house, is 3000 km. And there are no direct flights.

Why Are There So Many Scams?

There are so many scams on Olx because there are a LOT of very stupid people on the internet. When I sell stuff on Olx, I always come across such people. Some are ill-mannered, some can’t read, and some just have a lot of time on their hands.

Here are the types of buyers have come across on Olx.

The Ones Who Lack Manners

These types of people are the most popular ones on Olx. In the recent times, thanks to low-cost smartphones and cheap Internet, a lot of Indians have gone online. And the way we Indians behave online for everyone in the world to see. I think as a nation, we are by far the most ill-mannered people.

On Olx, you will find a lot of people who don’t believe in greeting, thanking, or closing discussions. Their messages are an example of how our education system has completely failed in teaching us about basic courtesy.

Not closing a discussion is very common on Olx.

The Ones Who Try to Act Smart

This is the second most popular category of Olx buyers. They think they are smarter than you, but their words and actions don’t really prove so.

The dumbest of this type goes to Amazon, types the name of the product you are selling, and tries to prove to you that your product is over priced. Until now, all the people who have behaved this way with me have either not looked for the correct product, or not included everything I am offering on sale when searching. And it is not like Amazon is the hallmark of safe buying. There are sellers on Amazon who ship from overseas, but don’t mention that clearly in the description.

Another way of trying to act smart includes comparing products purchased in India with Indian warranty with prices abroad. For example, if you are selling a product which was purchased in India and has local, country specific warranty, it is not fair to compare the price of the same product in the international market where the price might be lower, but there is no warranty available in India. So it is never an apples to apples comparison.

The Desperate Ones

I feel sorry for these guys. Because they very badly want what you are selling, but don’t want to pay for it. So they first lowball, and then try to justify their price.

These guys all have some theory that if it is a second hand product, the cost automatically drops to half or lesser, even if it is a day old.

The Ones Who Cannot Read

Even after you take great pains to put up all the details about your item in the Olx description, there will be people asking you very basic questions. I wonder if these people have a language problem, or reading problem. Here are a few examples.

Does it Have to be so Taxing?

The reason why I created this blog post is to show how a useful platform where buyers and sellers can meet to mutually benefit from each other’s needs (of selling and buying) has turned into a complex and dark place where Sigmund Freud would have loved to hang out.

When a seller puts something on sale, all they expect is to find someone who matches his expected price. If he doesn’t find such a buyer, it is up to the seller to lower the offer price or decide not to sell the product.

Thanks to the kind of people I have come across, online selling is a mentally draining activity. One must be prepared to get cheated, offended, abused and trolled by people who just don’t understand basic decent behavior and courtesy. All this only ends up sucking you of your energy and time.

But this is the direction in which all social media networks are headed, right?

I Lost Access to My Instagram Account

Instagram can be addictive. What happens if you are locked out and you cannot get your daily dose of the gram? It happened to me over a weekend. It was my own doing, but I also realised that Instagram has an unconventional way of verifying an account to restore access to it.

Before continuing, here is my Instagram handle. Follow me for photos from the beautiful outdoors of India. https://www.instagram.com/pixelshooter/

So here is what happened.

Instagram Two-Factor Authentication

I turned on two-factor authentication for my instagram account a month ago. I access my account from multiple devices (home, work, phone etc). Sometimes Instagram goes overboard with anti-spam protection and prevents me from performing legitimate actions. I even got shadow-banned for accessing Instagram from my desktop, but I fixed that problem. If you are interested in knowing how, drop a comment down in this article.

So with two-factor authentication, I not only wanted Instagram to secure my account, but I also wanted those silly “Action Blocked” messages to go away.

Instagram’s two-factor authentication requires you to enter a code in the authentication screen, after you log in using your password. This code can either be sent to you via text message, or is generated in an app such as Google Authenticator.

At first, I choose SMS based two-factor authentication. But due to delays in receiving the SMS, I turned on Google Authenticator based two-factor authentication. When I did this, Instagram sent me backup codes. Backup codes are to be used when you don’t have access to the authenticator app. And I did not save the backup codes. This proved to be a grave oversight on my part!

I had to reset my iPhone which is the primary device where I have the Instagram app installed. All data, including the Instagram and Google Authenticator app was wiped out when I reset my phone. After reinstalling Google Authenticator I could not complete the setup process because I did not have access to the Instagram app. This meant that I was effectively locked out of the app!

Instagram Support Interaction

I contacted Instagram via the login screen on the app. I promptly got an email which had an amusing set of instructions.

They wanted to see my selfie! And if my Instagram account had no pictures that showed my face, I would never be able to access my instagram account!

Now, this is a really strange way for a company to offer support to its users. What if you are a photographer who posts all sorts of photos except one of yourself? Or what if you were handling the account of a popular brand? How do you prove to Instagram that you are asking for legitimate help? From this email it was clear that Instagram expects you to have photos of yourself in your account. Who would have thought so!

Luckily for me, my feed had 2 photos where my face was clearly seen. So I emailed them a selfie with a piece of paper that had the information they wanted.

I immediately got another email asking for more information. This included details which I had to recall from memory.

At this point, I had many questions.

How will non-technical users of Instagram know details such as whice Operating System they used to sign up for their account?
Does Instagram actually expect us to remember such details?
If Instagram is meant for selfies, why are they so big on security? After all, their own two-factor authentication scenario did not take into consideration what happened to me.
Why can’t they just send a code via SMS to complete the authentication process in a situation where the user does not have access to Google Authenticator?

Actually, I don’t remember when I signed up for Instagram. I certainly don’t remember what OS or device I was on. So I provided them with information on how I currently access Instagram. As of now I am waiting for a reply to my support query. I may never be able to access my account. I will update the outcome here.

UPDATE:

So after another email where Instagram said some idiotic stuff, I got access to my account. I would like to believe they relented because I questioned their logic – what’s the use of protecting the privacy an account that may never be accessed ever again?