Source: via net
Source: via net
He had visited Nepal to have darshan at the holy Pashupathinath temple.
On return, he presented himself before the Paramacharya and respectfully offered the temple prasadam and a rare rudraksha maalai (string of rudraksha beads).
‘Did you have a good darshan?’ the old sage inquired.
‘Yes, Sir, by god’s grace and your blessings.’
The sage lifted the maalai in his frail hands.
‘What’re you going to do with this?’
‘If you may kindly permit, I intend wearing it around my neck…’
There was silence.
‘So, you’ll always speak the truth?’
He was startled. ‘Yes, Sir, I’ll henceforth always speak the truth,’ the words almost rolled off his tongue.
He knew it was not possible at all try as he might. In the presence of the sage he would dare to speak untruth.
Holding himself back, ‘No, Sir, it’s impossible for me to be speaking truth at all times.’
‘Sir, I work in a bank. The official records are never unmixed truth. Further, if my manager orders me, I would be compelled to…’
‘Take this, if and when you find someone who never speaks untruth, give it to him.’
The man was mighty happy to receive the maalai back from the sage.
Rushing back he said to his wife: ‘Let’s do as you had suggested. We even have His okay. And imagine we never saw we always had someone with us right here with us in this house who never spoke untruth!’
Since then the maalai adorned the sage’s portrait in the pooja room!
The incident was shared some days later by the sage with another man who had come to have darshan: Your relative…that fellow who works in the bank…he has aspects of Harishchandra in this age. He didn’t lie to me he never lies…’
A story from Paulo Coelho:
The devil was talking to his friends when they noticed a man walking along a road. They watched him pass and saw that he bent down to pick something up.
“What did he find?” asked one of the friends.
“A piece of Truth,” answered the devil.
The friends were very concerned. After all, a piece of Truth might save that man’s soul – one less in Hell. But the devil remained unmoved, gazing at the view.
“Aren’t you worried?” said one of his companions. “He found a piece of Truth!”
“I’m not worried,” answered the devil.
“Do you know what he’ll do with the piece?”
The devil replied, “as usual, he’ll create a new religion. And he’ll succeed in distancing even more people from the whole Truth.”
A fox who lived in the deep forest of long ago had lost its front legs. No one knew how, perhaps escaping from a trap. A man who lived on the edge of the forest , seeing the fox from time to time, wondered how in the world it managed to get its food. One day when the fox was not far from him he had to hide himself quickly because a tiger was approaching. The tiger had fresh game in its claws. Lying down on the ground, it ate its fill, leaving the rest for the fox.
Again the next day the great Provider of this world sent provisions to the fox by this same tiger. The man began to think: “If this fox is taken care of in this mysterious way, its food sent by some unseen Higher Power, why don’t I just rest in a corner and have my daily meal provided for me?”
Because he had a lot of faith, he let the days pass, waiting for food. Nothing happened. He just went on losing weight and strength until he was nearly a skeleton. Close to losing consciousness, he heard a Voice which said:
“O you, who have mistaken the way, see now the Truth! Instead of imitating the disabled fox, you should have followed the example of that tiger .”
Source: Massud Farzan from spiritual-short-stories.com
It was D-day – the boy had a test to give for earning a scholarship.
The grandma did what most grandma’s do – she taught him a simple Hayagreeva stotram (a mantra in praise of and seeking blessings from god of learning). It was sure to help him ace the test.
The boy quickly learnt the stotram. To grandma’s delight he could recite the Sanskrit stotram with great spashtam (fidelity).
It was time for them to leave for the school-bus.
As he boarded the bus, she reminded him to recite the stotram without fail just before taking the test.
The boy was in good spirits when he returned from the school in the afternoon. The family mobbed him immediately to know how he fared in the test.
The boy confirmed what was already evident – he had done quite well, he thought. Much better than he had expected.
Amidst the excitement all around, ‘I knew all along,’ beamed the grandma. ‘It had to be so and nothing else with the blessings of Hayagreeva.’
‘But, Paatti (grandma)…’
‘Am sorry…I did not recite the stotram.’
‘What? You didn’t? You forgot the lines?’
‘Wouldn’t be fair for me to benefit from the stotram. None of my friends has learnt it.’
Paatti’s explanations, arguments and theories that followed till-date have not won him over unreservedly.
PS: Based on a real-life story. The youngster is growing up in UK away from the traditional Hindu eco-system (though the household is) and its influence and edicts.
Today, in Chennai, we were fortunate to have visited the house of the last living of a species on the occasion of his 90th birthday and received blessings from the couple.
Of course you want proof to substantiate my claims. Here you go:
An arts graduate from a family of agriculturalists, he works for years in Income Tax Department as part of its clerical staff.
Files of industry captains move through his expert hands. If you know, in these offices, the clerks are the ‘real’ officers. He is a regular recipient of ‘friendly’ hello’s from these big guns on their frequent visits to the Department.
His wife’s family wallowing in old money marries her off to this man seeing his ‘potential’. They see him worth his weight in gold. After all they have seen a guy back home with similar background owning a few villages. They might have as well pushed her in to the well in their village.
He brings the bride to live with him in a chawl – a one-room tenement in Mumbai sharing a toilet with a dozen neighbors.
They eat a frugal meal in the first half of the month while living on bread in the second half.
When the lady falls sick, he surrenders his railway-pass, gets the deposit refunded and buys medicines for her.
All this while he continues to work in the Department processing high-profile cases.
When he decides to go for a change, he turns down lucrative Reliance-like offers from the clients to take up a job with a share-broker. If you’re not aware, guys like him (the superannuated) hanging up their boots at the Department (and other public-sector undertakings) are much coveted prizes for companies to bag for their knowledge and more for their ability to get around in the Department corridors.
Years later he joins a largely-family-owned erstwhile industrial giant at their sanctum-sanctorum. Works for a pittance untangling tax mess for his employers saving tons of moola for them, all by legitimate means. Their family-jewels are safe in his trusted keeping. Does not accept concessions, discounts, no-interest loans. perks above his station and other expressions of gratitude for jobs well-done from time to time.
Gets caught in the cross-fire of palace intrigues and cronyism, resigns from service.
Even today, nudging ninety’s, he continues to render token service for one of the factions of the family for a small sum more to keep himself occupied. Though he may not for long, as commuting on city’s roads from central suburbs to the business district is taking its toll on him.
Life is kind to keep him clear off financial worries through investments in stocks.
He helps gratis many families who cannot afford professionals to sort out their tax wrangles. Often times he even pays for incidentals from his pocket in this endeavor.
And the lady stands by him as ever with no trace of bitterness or ‘If only he had…’, only chiding him mockingly at times over his immoderate munificence for the utility, transportation and other services he uses from time to time.
He is not a believer……in our Gods. Who then is his God? I’ve a job to find out.
I rest my case. Would you still grudge me my claim to anthropological fame?
The Sanyasi and his shishya were passing through under the Mango Tree.
That’s when a small stone fell barely missing the Sanyasi’s head. No damage done.
The shishya looked around and saw a scrawny looking man poised to have another go at a raw mango on the Tree.
‘Hey, pause for a couple of minutes, we’ll be gone. See, you almost hurt my Guruji with the stone.’
The man was unapologetic: ‘Do you guys know what it is to go without food? You appear well-fed. Move away. Else you might get hurt properly this time.’
Turning to the Sanyasi, the sishya mumbled: ‘What insolence…uncouth fellow…Let’s go from here, Guruji. No point in talking to him.’
The Sanyasi agreed with his assessment: ‘You’re right, we should go. An empty stomach never feeds on reason…give me a moment.’
Calling the man to his side the Sanyasi turned to his sishya: ‘Please present him the fruits we are carrying. That should ease his hunger until he finds his next meal.’
Disapproval writ on his face, the shishya did his Guru’s bidding.
The man grabbed the bag like it was his and walked off without even looking at them. No gesture or word of gratitude for them.
The Sanyasi calmly picked up the stone, held it to his eyes like it was something scared and stowed it in his habit.
As they continued their sancharam, he shared his thoughts with the puzzled sishya more as a self-reflection:
‘This stone is a great reminder to me. A sanyasi’s dharma is not to save food for the next meal – even fruits. Even otherwise, look at it this way: To a fellow throwing stones at it, if a tree can give away its fruits, shouldn’t we…mind you the one stone wasn’t thrown at me nor did it as much as graze me.’
The Mango Tree smiled.
Source: Inspired by a strip in Dina Thanthi