A forward from T R Subramanian, edited for readability:
***
“There is a popular breakfast point near our factory, we often visit.
Many times, I have noticed that a person comes in, eats and sneakily leaves without paying. taking advantage of the crowd.
One day while he was eating, I wisened up the owner to what was about to happen, discreetly pointing to the stranger.
The owner smiled and said he was quite aware of it, but would let him go and that we will talk about it later.
As usual, the brother treated himself to a good breakfast, looked around and, mixing with the crowd, quietly slipped away.
After he had left, quite intrigued, I now went up to the owner and asked him why he had let the man go… was he related to him…from wife’s side? 🙂 Or, some old debts being discharged? But then why the sneakiness of an offender?
The answer given by the owner of the breakfast point left me open-mouthed.
He told me I wasn’t the first to tell him, many others as well have noticed the stranger and alerted him.
He said this man would stand across the road and when he observed the shop was sufficiently crowded, he would strike – sneak in and eat.
Then why in the world…may be his idea of doing day’s charity?
The owner continued:
“I always ignored it and never stopped him…never caught him nor ever tried to disrespect him.
Because I think the rush in my shop is due to the prayer – call it wishes if you prefer – of this brother… He would be standing in front of my shop wishing for a rush so he could…and sure enough a crowd always collected in quick time as if in answer…
I do not want to invite my misfortune by cutting my own leg in the matter of this prayer and its acceptance by the gods he was earnestly beseeching…I will always let him eat such food…will never disrespect or corner him in any manner!!!“
In fact I have seen the owner getting visibly restless if the stranger did not turn up at the appointed hour in a day!!
I witnessed the scene playing out unfailingly every time I went in for long as I worked at that factory.“
This anecdote – not sure if this happened for real – is very readable for its strong and never-truer message:
***
A certain company had a tradition of holding a party beginning with a lottery every Christmas Eve.
The rules of the lottery draw were: each employee pays ten dollars as a fund. There were three hundred people in the company. In other words, a total of three thousand dollars could be raised. The winner takes all the money home.
On the day of the lottery draw, the office was filled with a lively atmosphere. Everyone wrote their nomination on the slips of paper and put them in the lottery box.
However, a young man hesitated when he wrote – he thought of the company’s cleaning lady, her sickly son needed a surgical procedure soon after the dawn of New Year and she had not yet raised the required funds for the hospitalization.
He knew the chance of winning was slim, a miniscule 0.3% percent. Yet he couldn’t help but write the name of the cleaner lady on the note.
The tense moment came. The boss gave the lottery box a vigorous shake and finally drew out a note. The man also kept praying in his heart: hoping against hope the cleaning lady wins the prize…When the winner was announced, the miracle had happened!
Yes, the winner turned out to be the cleaning lady. Cheers broke out in the office, and she hurriedly rushed to the stage to accept the award, almost breaking down in tears.
As the party kicked off, while thinking about this “Christmas miracle”, the man paced to the lottery box. He took out a piece of paper and opened it casually. The name on it was the name of the Cleaning lady! The man was very surprised. He took out several pieces of paper one after another. Although the handwriting on them was different, the names were all the same – it was the lady’s! The man’s eyes were filled with tears with the thought there was indeed a Christmas miracle in the world, but *the miracle will not fall from the sky – the people were required to create it by themselves!
***
Curiously enough this is also the message carried in our Sanatana Dharma. Here it is said: in this Kali Yuga, in observance of the yuga dharma, divinity presents itself always through an agency, human or otherwise, never ever manifesting directly.
In the holy city of Kashi – the oldest inhabited in the world, it’s said – there lived a cloth merchant Shivendra with his family of wife and three sons: Vishwa, Shambu and Hara. In a city boasting a hoary history for weaving brocades of silk and gold and cotton, Shivendra thrived in his business; textiles were a passion for him – sourcing top quality material, engaging artisans who conceived both traditional and innovative new designs and wove magic…coupled with his business acumen. Over time, his products became iconic with people coming from far and near to buy from him.
While the going was great, the stress of doing business was slowly getting to him. The sons helping him out observed he was getting slower on his feet, going about with greater effort. He did not go out to meet his suppliers and major customers as often as he did before – it required him to be on his feet longer. His visual acuity also was not as good as before – he was often passing defective material both at input as well as output that merited outright rejection in line with the high standards they had set for themselves.
Worst of all, he was increasingly losing his cool with his family over trivial matters, with vendors and customers during negotiations thereby seriously hurting the business. The sons saw this was more due to his lack of adequate sleep in the nights, an ailment he suffered from as far back as they could remember, rather than an innate part of his makeup. All kinds of mantriks and tantriks were called in to no avail. Reconciled to his lot he gamely carried on. Was it a genetic disorder? His past karma as some observed? Only now, it was beginning to show in ways that perceptibly impacted family life and business too.
The sons were fond of Shivendra, still young in his early sixties. They put their heads together wanting to do something about it. Finally it was decided one of them by turn would go out seeking remedies that must exist in some part of the land while the other two would stay back to help their father and the family. The parents reluctantly agreed after they were convincingly reassured about his safe return within a month or two.
Thus one day Vishwa set out northwards on his horse, adequately equipped. Set to go for the Himalayas in search of holy men (sadhu’s, yogi’s) for a miracle cure, he rode for several days until he reached outskirts of Sitamarhi (about 150 kosh or some 500 kms away by today’s measure), said to be the birthplace of Sita. Still an hour away from the town and it was getting dark, he stopped for an overnight halt at a village, taking shelter in a mandapam (a four or more pillared stone structure) standing by itself in the middle with the shrine it had served disappearing long ago without a trace.
Secured his horse to a tree nearby and settled down to watch idly the happenings in the village. It was just a single street lined with squat houses, about a dozen of them. Men folks were returning home from farms and wherever, the women lighted up lamps in their houses and children back in their pen after play-time. After a while, a kind lady from one of those houses came to him inquiring if he wanted water. Soon another came to him with some roti and sabzi, followed by some fodder for his horse too! Villages in our land were known for their hospitality even to strangers!
In an hour things quietened down further with no one appearing on the street. That’s when he saw an old man – must be in his seventies – emerge from the farthest house on the street, accompanied by a young man. The man walked with firm footing in the failing light, refusing to hold the hand offered by the young man. They came down on the street and walked slowly looking down all the time not missing an inch as if they were searching for something. On inquiry, the young man informed him it was indeed so. Earlier in the evening, his wife had dropped somewhere while walking on the street her diamond nose-ring. So?? Well, the old man was the vaidya (medicine man) revered in the village and had the sharpest pair of eyes. So it was…and truly in a few minutes he found the ring lying partially hidden under a stone!
Vishwa was mightily impressed by what he saw. He requested some time from the old man.
On the following morning, he went up to the vaidya’s house and told him all about his father and family and the purpose of his visit. He wanted some medicine to improve his father’s eyesight so he could as before keep a hawk’s eye on the business.
The old man patiently heard him out, asked a few questions…he then went away to the back of his house and returned after a while with a bamboo canister in his hand containing an herbal potion to be given to his father first thing every morning for a week…no need to continue thereafter. More importantly, he was required to do a few activities without fail to go with the potion and even after, never to be discontinued. Results would begin to show in about four weeks. All this, not before teasing him about the inevitability of ageing.
Something about the old man made Vishwa believe in him. He respectfully thanked the old man for his help, offered him appropriate dakshina (fees) and took leave of him carrying the canister carefully.
All at home were quite happy to see him with his horse back safely – it had been only a month.
He explained his consultation with the vaidya. Happily for him everyone agreed on the new regimen he suggested to be put in place as early as the following morning.
The day began with Vishwa’s mother giving Shivendra the potion first thing in the morning.
It was not just with the potion. Shivendra reached the workplace before anyone else. He threaded every needle and loaded every loom ready for operation. When the workmen arrived at their workplace, they were surprised to see it was all set up ready to go. Shivendra waved them away when they fondly fussed about his straining his eyes needlessly, insisting on doing it again whenever needed during the day. All the same they were enthused and energized by their master ‘soiling his hands’ on the shop-floor like one of them in a new practice that had come to stay. It showed in the output at the end of the day.
Exactly what the vaidya had ordered!
In about three weeks they saw Shivendra doing it in half the time he took to begin with! Things got better where it mattered – he was catching flaws easily in the finished product passed by others. Likewise with the input yarn going onto the looms. The final validation came in by way of fewer customer complaints. And not just at work, it showed in the house kitchen too – his wife was happy and impressed to see him help her in her daily chores by unerringly hand-picking stones and mud-balls clean off the rice that went into the cooking pot,
A couple of months passed. One day, Shambu came up to express his desire to go out for a while like Vishwa did, to do his bit for the family. Vishwa told him how the vaidya he had met, certainly not a day younger than seventy five, had walked effortlessly without any help – he was the man if anyone could help their father with his legs. And it was now in evidence he genuinely cured. So it was agreed Shambu would exactly follow his brother’s footsteps, reach the village and consult the vaidya. It was worth a try.
Part 2
On day 8, Shambu reached the vaidya’s house.
He was told by a young man, his attendant and household help, master was away on his morning routine to collect fresh herbs from up the hill nearby…he should be back anytime now. Did he hear right? Up the hill? Yes, he did it every day, Not once, but once in the morning and once in the evening – some herbs need picking only in the evening, the attendant told him. He sat down on the thinnai (porch) waiting for the vaidya’s return. In a little while, he saw a light drizzle sending towards the house an old man he rightly guessed to be the vaidya in a hurry without a stumble or slip, Muttering more to himself the ground would turn slushy in no time, he gave a perfunctory nod to Shambu and went in. Giving him a little time to dry himself and settle down, Shambu knocked and entered almost feeling sorry for imposing himself thus on the old man. .
When he identified himself, the old man did not appear to mind the intrusion. Recalling his meeting with Vishwa, he inquired about their father and was happy to learn his patient, unmet, was doing better. So why was Shambu here? If the potion given was exhausted, there was no need for more to be given, he already had said. Thereupon Shambu clarified he had come for a different purpose – it was his father’s problem with his legs and his curtailed movements. The vaidya heard him out patiently, threw a few questions and as before at the end he gave him a bamboo canister containing an herbal potion with same instructions – to be given to his father first thing every morning for a week…no need to continue thereafter. More importantly, he was required to do a few activities without fail to go with the potion and even after, never to be discontinued. And wait for four weeks for the results to show.
On his return, Shambu shared his consultation with the vaidya. With everyone in agreement, the new regimen was rolled out from the very next day.
Once again, the mother was entrusted with the job of giving Shivendra the potion every morning for the week it lasted. At lunch, he had porridge of crushed oats, horse gram and sprouts, sitting next to his horse also feeding on the same though prepared differently along with some green grass. This was to be his largely unchanging luncheon menu, minor tweaking permitted, for three days in a week henceforth. The horse seemed to love sharing the table with the master!
On two other days he went out and met his suppliers and major customers, collecting inputs directly from the field. They too were happy to meet him and be heard. With improved bonding, many irritants of little value were not allowed to get out of hand simply though talking it out, letting them focus their energies on more substantial issues they faced. On one occasion, a supplier in jest remarked Shivendra would do well to tell his wife to guard him against any ‘evil eye’; for he had heard from many in their circles say these days he went about like a young horse, defying his age.
Which his wife duly did, exorcising any evil spells, by performing the prescribed rites, when he carried the supplier’s tale back home.
So some more months passed. While things were a lot better Shivendra still had the occasional bouts of irritation, impatience and anger. The lack of adequate sleep in the nights was telling. Did cause some setbacks in business and loss of goodwill; though not irreparable, a lot of energy and effort went into retrieving the situation whenever it happened.
One day, the youngest son Hara came up to say it was time he also did what he could. This time both Vishwa and Shambu advised him strongly to go back to the same vaidya, citing the successes they have had with his cures. So he set about following the same route as the other two.
Part 3
It was the tenth day and he was standing in front of the vaidya giving him an update on his father and telling him about his father’s problem of insomnia and how it affected life at home and workplace. This time the vaidya asked Hara questions at length about his father, his personal and professional life. Asking him to wait, he went inside the house.
Half an hour had passed, still no sign of the vaidya. Hara inquired with the attendant. The attendant informed him his master was meditating in his room. Wrong timing, should have come a little later after he had finished his morning prayers, Hara thought to himself.
Another half an hour passed. Hara was pacing up and down impatiently now bordering on irritation. Again when he made inquiries, the attendant told him his master was scribing on palm leaves. Strange, they – his brothers – had never warned him to expect this. What was happening?
And then the vaidya emerged from inside. What, no bamboo canister in his hands? Instead, something wrapped in silk. Hara’s heart sank – may be the vaidya could not find in all this time a cure for the ailment in his books.
As if he read his mind, the old man said there was no easy cure for his father’s ailment. From all that Hara had told him and revealed by meditation, it appeared to be karmic in nature. There was no option but to live with it as he was doing presently. However it is fury could be somewhat mitigated thru medication…
Hara breathed easy.
The old man then asked him to take the package in silk to his father. In it was the medicine that would give him some relief from the ravages of the affliction. Must be handled carefully during the return journey, else the contents could crumble to pieces. This was as best as he could do.
Profusely thanking him and offering a generous dakshna Hara headed back home.
Part 4
They eagerly gathered around him, though a little disappointed he returned without the all too familiar bamboo canister. With the father’s permission, they opened the package taking great care not to damage the contents. In it there was no medicinal pudi (powder) or potion, but two palm leaves containing a prescription message from the vaidya.
They wondered if it would work. Nevertheless they decided to give it a try, beginning with once a week and stepping it up if it indeed worked. There must be something in what the vaidya said – he had not so far let them down.
It was the first day of their trial. A couple of hours before dinner Hara and his father set out to a neighboring village, much bigger than theirs, a kosh (about 3.5 kms) away. Prayed at the Amman koil (female deity). Came out and distributed food packets they had carried to the poor, handicapped, mentally deranged and destitute that usually collected outside, holding each one’s hands for a moment and possibly looking into his eyes – this part was specially emphasized on those palm leaves (social distancing was not in force then). They indeed felt they were giving out more than the food.
Armut in Indien
It wasn’t late for dinner when they returned after the good walk. The entire evening had been a wee bit tiring for Shivendra.
Next morning…
Hara found his father…a strange kind of peace on his face, more affable? …usually the first hour was the worst. May be he did catch some sleep after the rather busy evening.
In the evening, assessing the day, the family decided they should do it more often.
Sleep or not, one thing Shivendra certainly gained over the days was awareness and goodwill in the neighboring village with the inevitable rub-off on the business sure to follow.
Two months later with all the gains continuing through sustained efforts…the family was breathing easy and their business back on even keel thanks to the vaidya – he had been awesome, right for the third time and how!
Yes, joy ofgiving (charity) to the less fortunate seemed to be the antidote, satisfying to the soul, for ones inescapable karma…especially the touch and look – that was a brilliant stroke, pure magic.
(explanation would be needed about karma and soul)
Once in a village there was this farmer tilling his land from dawn to dusk.
His hard work was amply rewarded as the crops thrived and in time, laden with grains, ready for harvesting.
In the middle of the field a sparrow had built its nest. And by now with its brood of two little chicks.
One day when their mother was away, the little sparrows overheard the farmer telling his son: ‘We’ll begin the harvest from tomorrow early morning. I’ve called in our neighbours.’
When the mother returned in the evening, the alarmed chicks related the conversation and said they should move right away.
The mother becalmed the chicks: ‘Yes, we must move, but not yet, there’s time, I assure you.’
Next day morning,
Like the mother sparrow said the harvest did not begin.
During the day, once again, the little sparrows overheard the farmer telling his son: ‘Son, get ready, we’ll commence harvesting from tomorrow early morning. Our relatives have promised to help.’
In the evening when the mother heard from its chicks, she was unperturbed. ‘Not yet,’ she said.
The following morning,
There was no move to towards beginning the harvesting.
On this day, the farmer told his son: ‘Tomorrow, keep yourself free and ready. You and I – we’ll do it ourselves.’
In the evening, the mother and her chicks flew away to find a new home.
End
Source: moral stories and image from U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Paws)
About a decade ago on
his 37th birthday, after spending his entire adult life loosely dating
different women, he finally decided he was ready to settle down. He
wanted to find a real mate… a lover… a life partner—someone who could show him
what it meant to be in a deep, monogamous, trusting relationship.
So, he searched far
and wide. There were so many women to choose from, all with great
qualities, but none with everything he was looking for. And then,
finally, just when he thought he would never find her, he found her. And
she was perfect. She had everything he ever wanted in a woman. And
he rejoiced, for he knew how rare a find she was. “I’ve done my
research,” he told her. “You are the one for me.”
But as the days and
weeks turned into months and years, he started to realize that she was far from
perfect. She had issues with trust and self-confidence, she liked to be
silly when he wanted to be serious, and she was much messier than he was.
And he started to have doubts … doubts about her, doubts about himself, doubts
about everything.
And to validate these
doubts, he subconsciously tested her. He constantly looked around their
apartment for things that weren’t clean just to prove that she was messy.
He decided to go out alone to parties with his single guy friends just to prove
that she had trust issues. He set her up and waited for her to do something
silly just to prove she couldn’t be serious. It went on like this for
awhile.
As the tests
continued—and as she, clearly shaken and confused, failed more and more
often—he became more and more convinced that she was not a perfect fit for him
after all. Because he had dated women in the past who were more mature,
more confident, and more willing to have serious conversations.
Inevitably, he found
himself at a crossroads. Should he continue to be in a relationship with
a woman who he once thought was perfect, but now realizes is lacking the
qualities that he already found in the other women that came before her?
Or should he return to the lifestyle he had come from, drifting from one empty
relationship to the next?
After he enrolled in
our Getting Back to Happy Course a few days ago, desperately looking for
answers, this is the gist of what Angel and I told him:
One of the greatest
lessons we learn in life is that we are often attracted to a bright light in
another person. Initially, this light is all we see. It’s so bright
and beautiful. But after a while, as our eyes adjust, we notice this
light is accompanied by a shadow… and oftentimes a fairly large one.
When we see this
shadow, we have two choices: we can either shine our own light on the shadow or
we can run from it and continue searching for a shadow-less light.
If we decide to run
from the shadow, we must also run from the light that created it. And we
soon find out that our light is the only light illuminating the space around
us. Then, at some point, as we look closer at our own light, we notice
something out of the ordinary. Our light is casting a shadow too.
And our shadow is bigger and darker than some of the other shadows we’ve seen.
If, on the other hand,
instead of running from the shadow, we decide to walk towards it, something
amazing happens. We inadvertently cast our own light on the shadow, and
likewise, the light that created this shadow casts its light on ours.
Gradually, both shadows begin to disappear. Not completely, of course,
but every part of the two shadows that are touched by the other person’s light
illuminate and disappear.
And, as a result, we
each find more of that bright beautiful light in the other person.
Which is precisely what we have been searching for all along.
unfortunately, remains unwritten. If only Lt Gen Krishnaswami Balaram (1927 – 2010) had put his pen to paper in his life time. Then as an army officer given to action and a practitioner, perhaps writing a book was not appealing to him.
I heard about him only a few days ago in my evening gup-shup session – an hour-long chit chat about this and that – in the park with a small group of seniors presently in US like me spending a couple of months with their sons and daughters. My source among them is S, a gentleman long retired from employment in the estate maintenance department at Kurukshetra University in Haryana. The anecdotes he shared with us about KB who was then the vice-chancellor of the university piqued my interest I decided to look him up on the net. What I got was quite scanty. Not unusual – after all officers in the defense remain largely anonymous to the world outside their circles. The one source I located was a shraddhanjali (eulogy) appearing on his death where his peers, students and others who had occasion to interact with him shared their experiences – accounts narrated with sincerity that came through, I thought, and not a merely routine flattery of the departed. Here under are some extracts that reveal the man he was:
In times where a man is forgotten days after he vacates seat of power, these tributes flowed in unsolicited, about eight years after his tenure as vice-chancellor (VC) of Kurukshetra University (89-92).
As a man who defied the heighty-mighty:
“The Fauji Balaram was the VC who denied access to university auditorium to the then Prime Minister late Chander Shekhar who was to address a workers rally in the presence of the then Haryana CM Om Prakash Chautala. Although the District Magistrate used his special powers and acquisited the auditorium. The hand-over and take-over was done by the junior officers of the university and the district administration. Unlike today’s vice chancellors in the country, Lt. General Balaram made his way to Delhi to attend a meeting and did not bother even to receive the PM at the helipad in the university sports grounds itself.”
As a man of integrity:
“…He never availed any free medicines from the University Health Centre, rather he was the VC who paid a cheque of five thousand rupees to the university in lieu of the reimbursement of medical bills despite the repeated requests to the contrary from the then SMO…Balaram used to walk to his office and back on Thursdays during the Iran-Iraq war to save petrol, a call given by the union ministry those days.”
As a self-helping man:
“…He could venture sliding beneath his official car to repair it during the lunch break and then board it after stretching his safari suit which could be seen with torn stitches under the cockpits…’
As an educationist:
‘Gen Balram…was a visionary and a man of action who took the bold decision to revise the syllabi of all postgraduate courses in tune with modern curriculum of UGC. Following up his plans to revise the syllabus, he took another major academic decision, asking all chairpersons to prepare lesson plans of the revised syllabi of a semester and put it in the library so that students could know in advance about the schedule of classes…”
As an administrator:
“…The university was in deficit when Gen Balram joined as its VC, but he took bold fiscal decisions and covered the deficit…There was a serious problem of power failure in the hostels. The then VC solved it by getting the worn-out wirings changed, besides ensuring the installation of separate transformers…”
Finally, how many can claim to have received a farewell like this from civilians?
“…He was so popular amongst teaching fraternity and also amongst non-teaching employees that on his retirement, a ceremonial departure was performed by pulling the ropes tied to his car and a send-off was given at the Oasis at Karnal after which his convoy was escorted up to Delhi by the representatives of teachers and employees…”
Earlier, as Maj Gen he functioned as the Commandant at the prestigious Defense Services Staff College (DSSC), Wellington in 1982. His predecessors/followers included among others Gen P.P. Kumaramanglam and Gen. V.P. Malik who finally ended up as Chief’s of the Indian Armed Forces. I include just one anecdote from this period that showed him as a stickler for rules while remaining sensitive to his wards:
“Reading Cdr Arun Saigal’s nostalgic report on late Gen. K Balaram, brought a tear into my eyes. I was in the same 38th Staff Course as Cdr Arun Saigal and I had a very touching experience of Gen Balaram’s fatherly posture. Just prior to the mid-course ‘Bharat Darshan’ (an all-India educational tour) on a special train, my father-in-law was seriously ill in Mumbai and my wife had to rush off, leaving my 4 year old daughter with me. I was a predicament as to how to take care of my daughter without missing the trip. I took courage and put up a “service request” to allow my daughter to travel with me in the train from Mettupalayam to Mumbai as it was the first halt of the train…to the Commandant. I was called by the Commandant, who heard me patiently, but informed me that he could not create a precedent of allowing my daughter to travel by the Wellington special train, but would grant me three days leave so that I could travel to Mumbai with my daughter on my own and join the train there. He even said that he would ensure my rail booking for the same. It was indeed a great relief for me……The matter did not end there. Three days before the scheduled departure of the train I was waiting at the Wellington Bus stop to catch a bus to Mettupalayam and thence to Coimbatore, when the General’s car drove past us. After going a short distance the car stopped and was reversed towards me. When the car stopped, I came to attention and saluted the General. He immediately asked me, “aren’t you going to Bombay (Mumbai) with your daughter?” I replied in the affirmative. He asked me to enter the car with my daughter. To be frank I was “shell-shocked” as I had never had such a ‘close encounter’ with an Army General. During the drive to Coimbatore, while I maintained a respectful silence, my little daughter was “jabbering” away with the General. Arriving at Coimbatore the General went straight to the Sulur airport and directed his Staff Officer to drop us at the railway station and to ensure that we had our rail booking confirmed. The rail booking was indeed confirmed and we travelled to Mumbai and I caught up days later with the special train at VT (Mumbai) station. On completion of the Bharat Darshan, I did write a note of thanks to the General who without fail acknowledged the same. This incident has had an indelible mark on me as I had always pictured Army Generals to be tough task masters, keeping a straight face requiring a junior officer to keep a safe distance – Cdr Hector Poppen.”
Well, so this was Lt Gen Balaram Krishnaswami decorated with Param Visishta Seva Medal and, obviously, much more. A pin-hole view of an illustrious career, but enough to provide a glimpse of the man for you to agree with my opening observation?
End
PS: Incidentally, he was a MTech in Telecommunication Engineering and MSc in Defense Science from UK and Madras respectively, an engineer of high technical acumen, who had mastered the intricacies of signal communications. He designed the famous Balaram Aerial for increasing the range of VHF radio communications which came so handy during 1965 War.
Sanmargam 