The Perceptionist E-Book

Manish Vohra

• Herausgeber: V&S Publishers
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 143

Beschreibung

Story of a monk who ruled the stock market

Leseprobe

The

PERCEPTIONIST

Published by:

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© Copyright:ISBN 978-93-505745-5-3

DISCLAIMER

While every attempt has been made to provide accurate and timely information in this book, neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, unintended omissions or commissions detected therein. The author and publisher make no representation or warranty with respect to the comprehensiveness or completeness of the contents provided.

All matters included have been simplified under professional guidance for general information only without any warranty for applicability on an individual. Any mention of an organization or a website in the book by way of citation or as a source of additional information doesn't imply the endorsement of the content either by the author or the publisher. It is possible that websites cited may have changed or removed between the time of editing and publishing the book.

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Contents

Acknowledgements

The Background

The Decision

The MBA Classes Began

Dedication

I dedicate this book to all my readers.

Acknowledgements

Life has blessed me with many teachers and guiding influences who have, in their own ways, each contributed to the writing of this book. I would like to thank my parents Narindar and Indra whose unconditional love I am blessed with.

My special thanks to Sahil who trusted his instincts and made this endeavor possible and the editorial team from V& S Publishers for their valuable inputs.

My thanks to my wife Shilpa for her unsparing support and also to my children Gaurav and Aditi.

I express my deep sense of gratitude to my readers whose enthusiastic response and positive feedback made this book possible.

The Background....

Sudesh Kapoor had just appeared for his XII grade exams (junior college) and was dreading the day his results would be announced. It was not that he had fared badly in any subject but he knew he was average and his score would also be average. Nobody understood that he didn’t like to study. Sudesh was average in sports and really bad at music and painting and there was no way out but to study hard and do well in exams. Despite being average at everything, Sudesh had dreams of being very successful in life. He dreamt that one day he would do things never done before.

Well one shouldn’t bother about the future because it comes soon enough and very soon came the day when the results of the XIIth grade were to be announced. Sudesh had woken up at 3 a.m. because of tension, he didn’t want to disappoint his parents but there was nothing he could do. There was nothing in his control and he had done his best. Sudesh’s father Ravi Kapoor had also woken up early and was pacing up and down the large balcony attached to his room and his mother Divya Kapoor was pretending to be asleep but the truth was she hadn’t slept even a wink the whole night. Sudesh’s parents were doctors, and very successful at that. Sudesh’s father was a well established ENT surgeon who travelled all over the world presenting his case papers and his mother was a pediatrician. She dealt with very small children. Both his parents were very well known and Sudesh often wondered that when his parents were so brilliant how come he was very average.

At 9 a.m. that day Sudesh drove down to the junior college with his parents to see the results. He had wished his parents not accompany him. But his dad insisted on coming along. On the way to the notice board where the results were displayed Sudesh spotted all his friends dressed in their finest clothes. Sudesh stopped to chat with his friend Ramesh Tiwary while his parents made their way to the notice board.

The story begins....

Ramesh told me he had got 86% marks and that his parents were disappointed because they expected him to get over 92% at least. I told him if I got anywhere close to even 80% I would demand a new iPad and a new cell phone from my parents. Ramesh looked at me and nodded and said.

“I don’t think you even need to study or do anything in life. Your parents are loaded”.

I nodded back.

How could I tell my close friend Ramesh that I had dreams of being very successful? But there was nothing in particular I wanted to pursue because I was average at everything. Soon enough I felt my father’s hand on my shoulders and one look at his face told me that the news was not good. My mother whispered in my ears – “You’ve got 69%”.

She didn’t say anything more but her tone reassured me.

The ride back home was difficult. Dad was in his silent mood and mom didn’t have the courage to say anything in front of dad. When we had almost reached home, dad said - “we’ll discuss your future in the evening”.

But it was comforting because I knew the discussion would be in the living room and grandpa always had his drink in the evening in the living room. So the discussion would be in the presence of grandpa and mom, and both were always on my side. My grandpa was a famous writer and had done very well for himself. Although my grandma was no more, I always felt the romance in his books had kept her alive.

I had everything an 18 year old would want from doting parents, money to spend with my friends, yet at every result time I was humbled. I had to pretend I didn’t study hard enough before my friends. Often I repeated what grandpa always told me – ‘Marks don’t mean anything, a number will not decide whether you will succeed or fail in life.’ But the truth was in India a number decided your entrance into a medical or engineering college. So your percentage did decide your future. I wondered why grandpa could never see that.

I had about 6 hours to prepare for the meeting with my family and I thought it was best to prepare a defence strategy.

So I prepared a list of reasons why I didn’t do well.

The questions were out of the syllabus.

The examiners did not understand what I wrote.

May be there was a mistake and we should send the papers for re–evaluation. But I know in my heart the marks I had got were exactly what I had deserved, and that I was just average.

I spent the next few hours brooding about what I should do now and what the future would hold for me. I was sure I would pursue whatever my parents asked me to pursue as they had my best interests in their mind. I was a little spoilt because my parents always got me everything I wanted but I was not a rebel. I knew I would do exactly what my parents would want me to do.

Well, it was 7.30 p.m. and I knew I was expected to be in the living room. It was time for my future to be decided. I went to the living room and sat quietly not daring to look my dad in the face. I looked around and saw my grandpa, he didn’t care two hoots, he was too busy with his drink and enjoying the soft music on the stereo. Mom was not present and so I figured, whatever dad had to say to me had mom’s approval.

And then dad said, “There’s something you must know”.

I took a deep breath not knowing what would happen next.

“Your grandpa and I both were very average”.

I thought okay; thank God they are in a mood to ignore my poor performance. The most famous writer of his time and a very famous surgeon were average. Well thank God they love me so much that they will lie to me on my face.

My father smiled as if he had read my thoughts and said.

“You don’t understand. There’s something we’ve hidden from you. There’s something you must know.”

I wondered what the family could have hidden from me.

“Well”, my dad continued – “your grandpa was a struggling writer for a long time until he met Swami Sutradev”.

“I know that” I said – “grandpa reveres Swami Sutradev”.

“Well” dad said – “what you don’t know is that grandpa became a monk for one year and spent one year at the Jan Bhumi monastery under Swami Sutradev”. What, I almost felt knocked out; my own grandpa was a monk?

And dad continued - “I continued his legacy and spent one year as a monk at the same monastery under Swami Sutradev”.

I felt completely smashed, my own grandpa and dad were monks for one year and I didn’t know.

My dad explained – “Under some traditions it is possible to become a monk for only one or two years but you have to keep absolute secrecy, you have to take a vow that you will never reveal the secrets, which is why you don’t know anything about that one year of my life”.

The question now is – “Will you continue the family legacy?”

I didn’t know what to say. I had thought my dad would send me abroad for schooling. That was the worst case scenario but this was a blow I was not ready for. Was I willing to leave behind everything and become a monk for one year?

What crap I thought – I had just started making friends with girls and also started getting attention from girls. If Sushma or Rita found out I was headed for a monastery what would they think? What would all my friends think? Thank God where I would go for one year would be a secret.

There’s no way I could afford to have any of my friends know I was headed for a monastery. I decided I would tell my friends I’m taking a vacation. I was not sure what dad would be telling my friends.

I asked my dad for some time to think things over.

“It’s your life and your decision; you will not be forced into anything. You can choose to pursue anything you want”. – Dad replied.

I knew he meant it. I would have the freedom to do anything with my life. I felt I didn’t want freedom, I wanted direction. I wanted to succeed and I wanted someone to show me how.

As I paced up and down in my room avoiding all calls from my friends, I decided to study the facts. Both grandpa and dad were extremely successful and both of them had become monks for one year. Grandpa and dad both claimed to me in private to be average. There was something in that monastery and I could not put my finger on it. There was something they learnt in that monastery which resulted in this transformation. I had met Swami Sutradev and he had always been very kind and gentle with me.

I thought this was because of the large donations dad and my grandpa gave to the monastery. I never thought the monks could have given my dad and grandpa anything. Evidently the truth was the other way around. Those poor monks had given my family the formula for success. I felt very small indeed. The world is a very funny place and everything is not as it seems. Everything I had perceived to be true was suddenly not as true as I had earlier believed.

‘What would the monks teach me in one year?’ I wondered. I knew all the funny breathing exercises called pranayama and had been compulsorily doing them for the last five years, if I missed a day my pocket money would be deducted. I could not afford any deduction in my pocket money as I loved to treat my friends and my friends doted on me. My world revolved around my friends, playing with my friends was the only thing I found pleasurable. And now I must leave behind all my friends for one year for what?

If those monks try to teach me breathing exercises I would tell them to compress the course from one year to six months because I already knew all the breathing exercises. I knew a little bit about meditation also but didn’t practice it.

So I decided this was the best course of action – I would land up in the monastery, and after some time I would question all the monks about what they knew and whether the syllabus could be compressed from one year to one month. Then I would convince them to let me go home in one month instead of one year. I decided I would convince the abbot Swami Sutradev that an 18 year old should not be in a monastery. If this failed I had plan B, I would tell the abbot that I would come to the monastery for one month every year for 12 years thus completing my one year in the monastery. If this failed I had plan C, I would convince them that I was indisciplined and should not spend time in the monastery because others might also become indisciplined.

I figured there was no way I could have my parent’s love, comforts of home, my friends and enjoy success at the same time. I could have them all but spread over different time periods. I understood sacrifices had to be made for success and my grandpa and dad had made those sacrifices. So even though I had plans to escape from the monastery within 1 month there was a part in me which told me I should give it my best shot. This could be the one year which will define my entire future. But there was another part in me which told me, who the hell goes to a monastery? I figured only losers. Life is beautiful. Do these monks ever notice it? Every sun rise is more spectacular than the previous one. You only need to look at the clouds in the sky to know for sure God is an artist. I often wondered how come everybody has a different face. The artist does not have much to play around with two eyes, one nose, two ears and hair and he keeps churning up infinite possibilities and it’s not as if he cannot repeat the face he does so in the case of twins.

I was not dead sure I wanted to go to the monastery, but this, was the first time I experienced ‘peer pressure’, my dad and grandpa had done it, why couldn’t I? Although they did not say it I knew my dad and grandpa would be disappointed if I didn’t go. These are the two people who love me most and if they feel an uncomfortable life of one year in a monastery is good for me then it must be so. But I did feel that they are nuts. Who goes to a monastery at the age of 18? May be successful people are nuts, at least the sacrifices they make are abnormal I thought.

So I thought I would consider the pros and cons and come at an appropriate decision.

The monks were all nice and gentle people so I decided to give them one mark. The food at the monastery is awful so that’s minus one and to add to that no cell phones are allowed in the monastery, there are no I phones or I pad allowed, there’s no cable TV, no friends and worst of all no girls to speak to. So as you can see for every plus one mark for the monastery there were at least 10 marks minus. I knew I had total freedom in deciding my destiny and a part of me told me it had already been decided and the next one year I would be a monk at the Jan Bhumi monastery under Swami Sutradev. Life never fails to surprise; it always renders blows you can never expect. By the time you have the answers ready, life changes the questions. I would never have believed the road to success in the material world would lie inside a monastery.