Do Without Doing
Rishi Durvasa lived on the south bank of the Yamuna River. His ashram was in a glade in a thick forest full of trees, herbs and animals. Villagers and Adivasis (aboriginese) from a large area often came to visit. Some brought gifts. The Rishi was not personally interested in either the visitors or the gifts, but he neither encouraged not discouraged them.
Once a group of peasant women came to visit from the north shore. On meeting the Rishi one woman spontaneously offered to bring a meal with rice pudding (khir) on the occasion of Makar-Sankranti (winter solstice) to occur two months later. On this festival people cook rice pudding in the evening, leave it exposed to the moon light all night and feast on it the following morning. Rishi Durvasa didn’t say no. The women took it as affirmation and decided to make it a joint project.
On the appointed day the women cooked an elaborate and generous meal, packed it neatly and set forth. But Yamuna was in spate. No ferry was plying. They were puzzled and wondered what to do? Young Krishna, whom they all loved dearly, lived in the nearby Vrindavan. They decided to consult him.
Krishna heard them and said, “No problem, ladies. You just go. When you reach the river pick up some water in your palms and say, mother Yamuna, if Krishna is a true yogi, please, in his name recede and let us pass.”
The women exchanged knowing glances, but their love for Krishna was strong and their faith unwavering. They believed Krishna’s word and did what they were told. To their utter amazement the river stopped flowing and let them go across on foot with their load.
They reached Rishi Durvasa’s ashram safely. A big feast was held. Two women were serving the Rishi with devotion; they filled his bowl with khir and he kept eating it with relish. This went on till 3/4th of the pudding was finished. The Rishi stopped only when the women stopped serving. The women shared the rest of the meal.
Party over, the ladies washed the utensils packed and took leave of the Rishi. The river was roaring and flowing at horrendous speed. No ferry, of course, was in sight. They decided to consult the Rishi.
The Rishi said, “This is not a big problem, ladies. When you reach the river pay mother Yamuna your respect and then with water in your palms say, ‘Mother Yamuna, if Rishi Durvasa has truly NOT eaten any khir, then, in his name, please let us pass. Yamuna will oblige, rest assured.’
The women were puzzled and to share this they exchanged knowing glances. Needless to say they were full of disbelief, especially the two who had served bowl after bowl to the Rishi. But they did what they were told; the river responded and let them pass unharmed.
They got home but their puzzlement did not leave them. In fact it increased to the point when they had to seek clarification. But they wondered whom to ask? As usual they decided to go to their beloved Krishna. They asked him, “Krishna, Mother Yamuna has confirmed that you are a true yogi. She has also confirmed that Rishi Durvasa did not eat any khir. But we are puzzled. We see every day that you flirt with us and carry on with all the activities of a man of the world. How then are you a yogi? And the case of Durvasa is even more puzzling. We served the Rishi with our own hands and he ate several bowls of pudding. How then did he not eat the pudding? Kindly explain.”
Krishna smiled in his inimitable, bewitching way and said, “The answer my dear ladies is simple. The key is the desire. If you are free of desire and engage in a right activity at the right time, you act in dharma and in tune with nature. You do not disturb anything by your action. There is neither friction nor action. Your karma is akarma (non action).”
“I have no desire for sex, company of women, butter, or any other so called attractions of the world of being. I need or seek nothing. Yet I flirt with young ladies to bring out the love in them. For love is the most valuable gift nature has given all beings. Love is the very foundation of life in the universe. So my action is non-action and I am a true yogi.”
“Durvasa too had no desire for khir or other food. To keep the body alive he eats what becomes available. When with love you offered him pudding, he ate it, or so you saw. But in fact he ate nothing.”
“After all what goes on around us is the play of energy. Desire and thought makes energy movements freeze in time and space. It is like putting skin on something and binding it down. I hope you understand my answer to your question.”
April 7, 2007
Teaching of Children Among the American Indians
Dear friends:
Reading and hearing about American Indian cultures—their beliefs and practices—never fails to amaze me. The following quotation is no exception. It seems like an appropriate guide for today when our education system is failing and no one seems to know where to turn for advice. It may seem impossible, but we can adopt much of the American Indian way of teaching children. We must let them learn what they wish and when they are ready. If we can let them participate in adult activities as assistants, they can learn better and faster of whatever skills society can use. We already know that schools are like prison to children and on entering them children’s natural learning process either stops or drastically slows down.
I stop here and let you draw your own conclusions.
Teaching of Children Among the American Indians
“It is commonly supposed that there was no systematic means of education for Indian children. Nothing could be further from the truth. All the customs of our people were held to be divinely instituted, and customs involving the training of children were scrupulously adhered to and transmitted from one generation to another.
It is true that we had no schoolrooms, no books, and no regular school hours. Our children were trained in the natural way – they kept in close contact with the natural world. In this way, they found themselves and became conscious of their relationship to all the life. The spiritual world was real to them, and the splendor of life stood above all else. And beyond all else, and in all, was seen to dwell the Great Mystery, unsolved and unsolvable, except in those things that it is good for one’s spirit to know.
We taught our children by both example and instruction, but with emphasis on example, because all learning is a dead language to one who gets it second-hand. Our physical training was thorough and intelligent, while as to the moral and spiritual side of our teaching, I am not afraid to compare it with that of any race.
We conceived the art of teaching as, first and foremost, the development of personality; and we considered the fundamentals of education to be love of the Great Mystery, love of nature, and love of people and country.”
(speaker’s name is not known)
Partap
March 03, 2007
Reading and hearing about American Indian cultures—their beliefs and practices—never fails to amaze me. The following quotation is no exception. It seems like an appropriate guide for today when our education system is failing and no one seems to know where to turn for advice. It may seem impossible, but we can adopt much of the American Indian way of teaching children. We must let them learn what they wish and when they are ready. If we can let them participate in adult activities as assistants, they can learn better and faster of whatever skills society can use. We already know that schools are like prison to children and on entering them children’s natural learning process either stops or drastically slows down.
I stop here and let you draw your own conclusions.
Teaching of Children Among the American Indians
“It is commonly supposed that there was no systematic means of education for Indian children. Nothing could be further from the truth. All the customs of our people were held to be divinely instituted, and customs involving the training of children were scrupulously adhered to and transmitted from one generation to another.
It is true that we had no schoolrooms, no books, and no regular school hours. Our children were trained in the natural way – they kept in close contact with the natural world. In this way, they found themselves and became conscious of their relationship to all the life. The spiritual world was real to them, and the splendor of life stood above all else. And beyond all else, and in all, was seen to dwell the Great Mystery, unsolved and unsolvable, except in those things that it is good for one’s spirit to know.
We taught our children by both example and instruction, but with emphasis on example, because all learning is a dead language to one who gets it second-hand. Our physical training was thorough and intelligent, while as to the moral and spiritual side of our teaching, I am not afraid to compare it with that of any race.
We conceived the art of teaching as, first and foremost, the development of personality; and we considered the fundamentals of education to be love of the Great Mystery, love of nature, and love of people and country.”
(speaker’s name is not known)
Partap
March 03, 2007
End of Night
Dear friends
My friend Ranjit sent me the following story on a post card. I cannot think of a better story for this week. Hence I send it to you. Here it is:
End of Night
A rabbi gathered his students and asked them: How do we know the exact moment when night ends and day begins?
One boy said: When it is light to tell a sheep from a dog.
Another said: When it is light enough to tell an olive from a fig tree.
No, these are not good definitions, said the Rabbi.
What then is the right answer? Asked the boys.
And the Rabbi said: When a stranger approaches and we think he is our brother, and all conflicts disappear, that is the moment when night ends and day begins.
Partap
March 10, 2007
My friend Ranjit sent me the following story on a post card. I cannot think of a better story for this week. Hence I send it to you. Here it is:
End of Night
A rabbi gathered his students and asked them: How do we know the exact moment when night ends and day begins?
One boy said: When it is light to tell a sheep from a dog.
Another said: When it is light enough to tell an olive from a fig tree.
No, these are not good definitions, said the Rabbi.
What then is the right answer? Asked the boys.
And the Rabbi said: When a stranger approaches and we think he is our brother, and all conflicts disappear, that is the moment when night ends and day begins.
Partap
March 10, 2007
World in God’s Hands
World in God’s Hands
I dreamed of our earth as a ball covered with a pattern of shapes. Half of them were dark and rest white. By habit I began to evaluate the pattern-- ugly, bad, good, perhaps so-so. But what is this, I thought? Nature is supposed always to be beautiful. Why is the drawing on the globe not like it is supposed to be?
Then rain came over the earth. Oh, what is going to happen, I wondered. Will the rain benefit the earth, or will it harm?
Ink of the black portion ran. Shapes began to distort as white areas were smudged. The entire globe looked ‘ugly’. What is going on here, I asked. Had nature gone berserk? My sleep was disturbed but luckily only for a few moments. I went back to sleep and to dreaming the same old dream.
More rain fell and washed away all the smudges. Soon all the black ink was washed away and the whole earth became sparkling white like the moon. It was beautiful.
Following morning I was thinking of the dream I had dreamt. Pattern in white and black on the globe just was-- not good, bad, beautiful or ugly. When the rain smudged it, it did not turn ugly, it still just was. And finally, when the smudges were washed off and the globe made sparkling white, it only just was.
Some great wise power is in control and all things are just right. Equilibrium prevails despite storms and collisions of celestial bodies.
Do we know what is right and what is wrong? We do not, and it is okay. We will never know and that is the way it is supposed to be. We do not run the world, and that frees us from the task. The one who knows this is really in the know.
March 17, 2007
I dreamed of our earth as a ball covered with a pattern of shapes. Half of them were dark and rest white. By habit I began to evaluate the pattern-- ugly, bad, good, perhaps so-so. But what is this, I thought? Nature is supposed always to be beautiful. Why is the drawing on the globe not like it is supposed to be?
Then rain came over the earth. Oh, what is going to happen, I wondered. Will the rain benefit the earth, or will it harm?
Ink of the black portion ran. Shapes began to distort as white areas were smudged. The entire globe looked ‘ugly’. What is going on here, I asked. Had nature gone berserk? My sleep was disturbed but luckily only for a few moments. I went back to sleep and to dreaming the same old dream.
More rain fell and washed away all the smudges. Soon all the black ink was washed away and the whole earth became sparkling white like the moon. It was beautiful.
Following morning I was thinking of the dream I had dreamt. Pattern in white and black on the globe just was-- not good, bad, beautiful or ugly. When the rain smudged it, it did not turn ugly, it still just was. And finally, when the smudges were washed off and the globe made sparkling white, it only just was.
Some great wise power is in control and all things are just right. Equilibrium prevails despite storms and collisions of celestial bodies.
Do we know what is right and what is wrong? We do not, and it is okay. We will never know and that is the way it is supposed to be. We do not run the world, and that frees us from the task. The one who knows this is really in the know.
March 17, 2007
Finding Water or the Truth
Finding Water or the Truth
One day the Buddha was walking on a lonely road together with a disciple. Noticing water some distance away he decided to stop. He sat down under a shady Pipal tree and said: “Bhrigu, let us rest under this tree for a while. I am very thirsty. Go bring me some water from that pond over there.”
Bhrigu went to the pond and saw that the water was muddy and unfit to drink. He guessed that some animal had entered and stirred the water. On returning to the Pipal tree he suggested to the Buddha that they walk further and drink from a cleaner source.
The Buddha heard attentively and said, “No Bhrigu, I would rather drink now. I am thirsty, and who knows how far the next well might be.”
Bhrigu obediently returned to the pond and quietly sat down. The water, of course, was still muddy. He sat like a statue and watched the water quietly with full attention. Over 30 minutes ticked by. He noticed that mud was settling down and the upper layer was becoming clear. He took some in his hand and found that it was drinkable.
Bhrigu became hopeful and waited a bit more. Soon the top layer of clean water in the pond was deep enough for him to fill the bowl. Very carefully he dipped the edge of the bowl and scraped the upper layer of clean water into it. He brought it to the Buddha and handed him the bowl. The guru had been waiting patiently. He smiled sweetly, took the bowl from the disciple, and drank the water.
Bhrigu’s face shone with a sense of wonder. He said, “Bhante Bhagwan, thanks for teaching me a priceless lesson.”
The Buddha asked, “What have you learned, Bhrigu?”
“I have learned sir, that when you dig for water you need to keep digging till you reach it. If you do that you will surely find water but if you are impatient and dig many shallow pits, you will never find water and die of thirst.”
The Buddha applauded his disciple’s brilliant insight and added, “and this rule applies to all human quests, especially to the most difficult spiritual aspiration.”
Partap
March 24, 2007
One day the Buddha was walking on a lonely road together with a disciple. Noticing water some distance away he decided to stop. He sat down under a shady Pipal tree and said: “Bhrigu, let us rest under this tree for a while. I am very thirsty. Go bring me some water from that pond over there.”
Bhrigu went to the pond and saw that the water was muddy and unfit to drink. He guessed that some animal had entered and stirred the water. On returning to the Pipal tree he suggested to the Buddha that they walk further and drink from a cleaner source.
The Buddha heard attentively and said, “No Bhrigu, I would rather drink now. I am thirsty, and who knows how far the next well might be.”
Bhrigu obediently returned to the pond and quietly sat down. The water, of course, was still muddy. He sat like a statue and watched the water quietly with full attention. Over 30 minutes ticked by. He noticed that mud was settling down and the upper layer was becoming clear. He took some in his hand and found that it was drinkable.
Bhrigu became hopeful and waited a bit more. Soon the top layer of clean water in the pond was deep enough for him to fill the bowl. Very carefully he dipped the edge of the bowl and scraped the upper layer of clean water into it. He brought it to the Buddha and handed him the bowl. The guru had been waiting patiently. He smiled sweetly, took the bowl from the disciple, and drank the water.
Bhrigu’s face shone with a sense of wonder. He said, “Bhante Bhagwan, thanks for teaching me a priceless lesson.”
The Buddha asked, “What have you learned, Bhrigu?”
“I have learned sir, that when you dig for water you need to keep digging till you reach it. If you do that you will surely find water but if you are impatient and dig many shallow pits, you will never find water and die of thirst.”
The Buddha applauded his disciple’s brilliant insight and added, “and this rule applies to all human quests, especially to the most difficult spiritual aspiration.”
Partap
March 24, 2007
Always in Want
Always in Want
Ramulu felt oppressed by his constant discontent. He had land, animals, good family and even modern gadgets most families of the village lacked. Yet he wanted newer things and more of them. He also wanted indulge his lust and other instincts.
He went to a learned sanyasi in a neighboring town, described his problem in detail and asked for help. The sanyasi listened with sympathy and asked a few questions. After deliberating for a long moment he said he understood the problem and would like Ramulu to return the following morning.
Next day Ramulu knocked at the sanyasi’s door quite early in the morning and found him ready and waiting with a bucket and a hank of thin but very strong rope in his hand. He appeared to be going to a well to fetch some water and asked Ramulu to come with him.
On reaching a well the sanyasi lowered the bucket, jerked it to drown and fill. Then he pulled the rope over a pulley. Both men could hear water falling in the well from the bucket. But the bucket came up empty. The sanyasi said he will lower the bucket again. But as before, it came up empty. Ramulu tried to think of the mystery and soon discovered that the bucket had no bottom. Not wanting to embarrass the sanyasi he kept quiet. But when the bucket came up empty the twelfth time he could not hold his tongue.
Sir, the bucket is bottomless. Why do you keep putting it back in the well? You know it will come up empty.
I know, but I was doing it to answer your question. Do you have it?
No, said Ramulu.
Well, it is simple. Material desires and body wants are by nature bottomless. You can neither fill nor fight them. The only escape route is through cultivating higher desires like wanting to know our real self and quest of the Truth of life. Once they get rooted in us and become strong all our attention is occupied and baser desires automatically weaken.
Ramulu understood, thanked the sanyasi, and left.
Partap
February 21, 2007
Ramulu felt oppressed by his constant discontent. He had land, animals, good family and even modern gadgets most families of the village lacked. Yet he wanted newer things and more of them. He also wanted indulge his lust and other instincts.
He went to a learned sanyasi in a neighboring town, described his problem in detail and asked for help. The sanyasi listened with sympathy and asked a few questions. After deliberating for a long moment he said he understood the problem and would like Ramulu to return the following morning.
Next day Ramulu knocked at the sanyasi’s door quite early in the morning and found him ready and waiting with a bucket and a hank of thin but very strong rope in his hand. He appeared to be going to a well to fetch some water and asked Ramulu to come with him.
On reaching a well the sanyasi lowered the bucket, jerked it to drown and fill. Then he pulled the rope over a pulley. Both men could hear water falling in the well from the bucket. But the bucket came up empty. The sanyasi said he will lower the bucket again. But as before, it came up empty. Ramulu tried to think of the mystery and soon discovered that the bucket had no bottom. Not wanting to embarrass the sanyasi he kept quiet. But when the bucket came up empty the twelfth time he could not hold his tongue.
Sir, the bucket is bottomless. Why do you keep putting it back in the well? You know it will come up empty.
I know, but I was doing it to answer your question. Do you have it?
No, said Ramulu.
Well, it is simple. Material desires and body wants are by nature bottomless. You can neither fill nor fight them. The only escape route is through cultivating higher desires like wanting to know our real self and quest of the Truth of life. Once they get rooted in us and become strong all our attention is occupied and baser desires automatically weaken.
Ramulu understood, thanked the sanyasi, and left.
Partap
February 21, 2007
Rumi Talks of Seeing the Invisible
Rumi Talks of Seeing the Invisible
The five physical senses are all connected.
They’ve grown from one root.
As one grows strong, the others strengthen, too:
each one becomes a cupbearer to the rest.
Seeing with the eye influences speech;
speech increases discernment in the eye.
As sight deepens, it awakens every sense,
so that perception of the spiritual
becomes familiar to them all.
Hence, when one sense grows into freedom,
all the other senses change as well.
When one sense perceives the hidden,
the invisible world becomes apparent to the whole.
-Jalaluddin Rumi-
How true and how elegantly worded! Rumi always speaks like this. His words are so clear that comments of editors often hinder rather than help the reader’s understanding. This is so because the saint did not speculate, he spoke from direct experience. His words seem crafted not by him but by the Great Wisdom he was connected with. He did not speak to impress. He just shared what he saw and deeply understood.
I read the above, liked it, and felt a strong need to share it. Having done that, I stop.
Enjoy.
Partap
February 17, 2007
The five physical senses are all connected.
They’ve grown from one root.
As one grows strong, the others strengthen, too:
each one becomes a cupbearer to the rest.
Seeing with the eye influences speech;
speech increases discernment in the eye.
As sight deepens, it awakens every sense,
so that perception of the spiritual
becomes familiar to them all.
Hence, when one sense grows into freedom,
all the other senses change as well.
When one sense perceives the hidden,
the invisible world becomes apparent to the whole.
-Jalaluddin Rumi-
How true and how elegantly worded! Rumi always speaks like this. His words are so clear that comments of editors often hinder rather than help the reader’s understanding. This is so because the saint did not speculate, he spoke from direct experience. His words seem crafted not by him but by the Great Wisdom he was connected with. He did not speak to impress. He just shared what he saw and deeply understood.
I read the above, liked it, and felt a strong need to share it. Having done that, I stop.
Enjoy.
Partap
February 17, 2007
True Life Story of Murugesh-part1
True Life Story of Murugesh
My name is Murugesh. I was born to very poor parents in a village near Salem in Tamil Nadu. My parents had never owned any land; nor did they have enough work in the village. So they had joined a group of families who had specialized in stone breaking work and were moving from place to place where suitable work was available. So I was born near a stone quarry where my parents were working at that time. I hear that I was quite normal at birth, but at age three I was struck by a strange disease. Perhaps some form of arthritis. My joints began to hurt and turn rigid. Medical help was not available near our settlement. My parents were too poor even to consider looking afar.
Slowly my knee joints stiffened and I could not even stand upright. Soon my elbows were also rigid. I was a cripple, able only to crawl. Life was miserable but I was helpless and continued somehow to live and grow. I felt terribly restless and depressed at times, but there was not much I could do. My parents were reasonably tolerant but I am sure they worried about my future. In any case I was only a burden and no help to them. This went on for years. One day when I was about 9 my father got angry with me over something. He scolded and then hit me. More than the physical blow his harsh cruel words stung me to the core. “You have been a burden on us from birth; a curse, no less. You will continue to make our life miserable as long as you live. I wish that you would die,” saying all this he hit me some more and pushed me into a ditch. I felt humiliated, miserable and angry.
I said, “Okay, I will leave you, go far, and never ever return to increase your miseries.” With all my strength I crawled to the nearby road. A bicycle rider stopped to my call and agreed to give me a lift to where I might find some other transport. Soon an auto-rickshaw man picked me up and dropped me at the rail station. He even gave me a huge sum (in those days) of 5 rupees to buy food. I managed to get on a train. The TTC took me for a beggar and let me be. I had no idea where I was headed. After many long hours of my first train ride I arrived at Bangalore City station. When I crawled out to a sidewalk near the Majestic bus station some rag pickers noticed me and took me under their wing. They told me to watch out, for if the police should catch hold of me I might end up in a home for juvenile beggars and never again come out. They had great fear of the place. I was kindly taken into the gang, looked over for what my cripple body was worth and given the task of sorting rags. My additional job was to assist the cook. These were the tasks I knew my funny body could perform. So I willingly accepted them.
Turning Point
One day I was sitting by the roadside and a lady came carrying three small bags. She needed assistance. She asked if I would help her. I said I gladly would but I cannot walk. She asked what was wrong and I told her I was crippled at a young age. “Would you like to be treated?” she asked. “Of course” I said, “I would give and do anything for it.” Apparently my answer spoke to her more than my few words. She thought for a moment and invited me to come to her home. I looked toward my companions. They easily understood and gave the nod of approval.
This kind lady already had a handicapped boy in her house. She introduced me to him. I stayed with her for about two months. She thought of various ways of helping me and consulted her friends, but none of them were within her power to implement. Finally, one day she took me to a place called APD (Association of People with Disability). This association was started by Hema-akka who then became my mentor and best friend.
(This story will continue in at least two more installments. It was narrated to me by Hema-akka herself.)
Partap
December 30, 2006
My name is Murugesh. I was born to very poor parents in a village near Salem in Tamil Nadu. My parents had never owned any land; nor did they have enough work in the village. So they had joined a group of families who had specialized in stone breaking work and were moving from place to place where suitable work was available. So I was born near a stone quarry where my parents were working at that time. I hear that I was quite normal at birth, but at age three I was struck by a strange disease. Perhaps some form of arthritis. My joints began to hurt and turn rigid. Medical help was not available near our settlement. My parents were too poor even to consider looking afar.
Slowly my knee joints stiffened and I could not even stand upright. Soon my elbows were also rigid. I was a cripple, able only to crawl. Life was miserable but I was helpless and continued somehow to live and grow. I felt terribly restless and depressed at times, but there was not much I could do. My parents were reasonably tolerant but I am sure they worried about my future. In any case I was only a burden and no help to them. This went on for years. One day when I was about 9 my father got angry with me over something. He scolded and then hit me. More than the physical blow his harsh cruel words stung me to the core. “You have been a burden on us from birth; a curse, no less. You will continue to make our life miserable as long as you live. I wish that you would die,” saying all this he hit me some more and pushed me into a ditch. I felt humiliated, miserable and angry.
I said, “Okay, I will leave you, go far, and never ever return to increase your miseries.” With all my strength I crawled to the nearby road. A bicycle rider stopped to my call and agreed to give me a lift to where I might find some other transport. Soon an auto-rickshaw man picked me up and dropped me at the rail station. He even gave me a huge sum (in those days) of 5 rupees to buy food. I managed to get on a train. The TTC took me for a beggar and let me be. I had no idea where I was headed. After many long hours of my first train ride I arrived at Bangalore City station. When I crawled out to a sidewalk near the Majestic bus station some rag pickers noticed me and took me under their wing. They told me to watch out, for if the police should catch hold of me I might end up in a home for juvenile beggars and never again come out. They had great fear of the place. I was kindly taken into the gang, looked over for what my cripple body was worth and given the task of sorting rags. My additional job was to assist the cook. These were the tasks I knew my funny body could perform. So I willingly accepted them.
Turning Point
One day I was sitting by the roadside and a lady came carrying three small bags. She needed assistance. She asked if I would help her. I said I gladly would but I cannot walk. She asked what was wrong and I told her I was crippled at a young age. “Would you like to be treated?” she asked. “Of course” I said, “I would give and do anything for it.” Apparently my answer spoke to her more than my few words. She thought for a moment and invited me to come to her home. I looked toward my companions. They easily understood and gave the nod of approval.
This kind lady already had a handicapped boy in her house. She introduced me to him. I stayed with her for about two months. She thought of various ways of helping me and consulted her friends, but none of them were within her power to implement. Finally, one day she took me to a place called APD (Association of People with Disability). This association was started by Hema-akka who then became my mentor and best friend.
(This story will continue in at least two more installments. It was narrated to me by Hema-akka herself.)
Partap
December 30, 2006
True Life Story of Murugesh (Part 2)
True Life Story of Murugesh (Part 2)
APD was a new institution and Hema-akka was in over its charge. She heard my story from the lady, my rescuer, and then looked at me for a long moment. I could see that she was trying to assess me and think of best ways of helping me. From the conversation I quickly saw that I was considered curable and therefore acceptable. Hema-akka later told me that she had no doubt that with surgery and physiotherapy I could walk within six months. She had vast experience and was right in her assessment. She knew, however, that she would have to work hard to assemble a support package.
When we were alone Hema-akka told me “I think your problem is arthritis which has done a lot of damage due to neglect. It will be cured, but it will not be easy. You will have to bear a lot of pain and persevere with the long treatment. Several surgeries may be needed. I have to find the right doctor. All this will take a lot of effort and it will probably be two years before you can stand up and walk. You have to be ready.”
I very much liked her straight-forward, businesslike manner. There was enough sense in my head to know that I was in the right place and in right hands. I knew I wanted to walk more than anything in the world. So, I said “Amma, I want to walk. What good is life for me if I have to crawl all through it? I am ready to bear any amount of pain and I will not disappoint you in any way? Please help me.”
A friend of APD named Surendra Kaolagi had by chance come from Melcotte. He is a famous Gandhian social worker. Hema-akka said to him, “Dada, will you take this boy into your school and teach him to read and write Kannada. It may take me six months to line up help for his surgery. In this time I do not want this boy to be here; he should be with other children and studying. He will absolutely need basic literacy for whatever he does after treatment and recovery.”
Mr. Kaolagi agreed to take me if financial support could be found. Hema-akka promised to find a donor. She asked me when I was ready to leave my present refuge and go to a school. I said “I am willing to come tonight if you wish.” This answer impressed Hema-akka and I think, with it, I won a place in her kind and large heart.
I Enter School
Someone at APD helped me to collect my possessions and move to Mr. Kaolgi’s school. The teachers there were so caring they taught me lying on a bed. The other boys helped to move me from room to room as needed and assisted me in every way. All this spurred me to do my very best. I worked hard and in ten months I could write a letter to Hema-akka in Kannada. I spoke only Tamil when I came to APD and was stone illiterate. I was so impatient for medical treatment that I wrote a letter. “Hema-akka, I want to walk. When are you going to find me a doctor?”
This simple letter from someone like me worked as a spell on that angel, Hema-akka. She called me and took me to Dr. Srinivasan who did many surgeries for APD children. The doctor examined me and declared me curable. In my exuberance I blurted “Doctor, make me well. I want to walk, I want to walk.”
The doctor said, “You will walk, I assure you. But you will have to bear pain and discomfort; and not for a short time, but for months. I am wondering if you will be able to take it.”
“I will, doctor,” I said, “even if I die. I want to walk. For it I can do whatever is necessary. Please start treatment as soon as possible.”
Hema-akka still had to find money for the surgery and a place for me to stay. In her own physical condition she could not take care of me in her house. At APD there was nobody at night except the watchman, so she sent me to back to school to wait for some more time. I could not refuse to go but I was impatient. A few days later I could not bear it any longer. I somehow found someone to help and landed at Hema-akka’s door. “Akka, I cannot wait. I want to go for surgery now.” She replied, “Okay. I will arrange everything now and you stay in my house till a hospital bed is arranged.”
God knows how this lady managed things, but in a couple of days I was in the St. Philomina hospital lined up for surgery by Dr. Srinivas. I knew Hema-akka worried about my being alone at night. She thought I was her own child. The very thought made me cry. I said to her, “Amma, do not worry for me. You are my God; and with you caring for me, nothing can go wrong.” This was the best I could do and I think she was reassured.
Partap
January 6, 2007
APD was a new institution and Hema-akka was in over its charge. She heard my story from the lady, my rescuer, and then looked at me for a long moment. I could see that she was trying to assess me and think of best ways of helping me. From the conversation I quickly saw that I was considered curable and therefore acceptable. Hema-akka later told me that she had no doubt that with surgery and physiotherapy I could walk within six months. She had vast experience and was right in her assessment. She knew, however, that she would have to work hard to assemble a support package.
When we were alone Hema-akka told me “I think your problem is arthritis which has done a lot of damage due to neglect. It will be cured, but it will not be easy. You will have to bear a lot of pain and persevere with the long treatment. Several surgeries may be needed. I have to find the right doctor. All this will take a lot of effort and it will probably be two years before you can stand up and walk. You have to be ready.”
I very much liked her straight-forward, businesslike manner. There was enough sense in my head to know that I was in the right place and in right hands. I knew I wanted to walk more than anything in the world. So, I said “Amma, I want to walk. What good is life for me if I have to crawl all through it? I am ready to bear any amount of pain and I will not disappoint you in any way? Please help me.”
A friend of APD named Surendra Kaolagi had by chance come from Melcotte. He is a famous Gandhian social worker. Hema-akka said to him, “Dada, will you take this boy into your school and teach him to read and write Kannada. It may take me six months to line up help for his surgery. In this time I do not want this boy to be here; he should be with other children and studying. He will absolutely need basic literacy for whatever he does after treatment and recovery.”
Mr. Kaolagi agreed to take me if financial support could be found. Hema-akka promised to find a donor. She asked me when I was ready to leave my present refuge and go to a school. I said “I am willing to come tonight if you wish.” This answer impressed Hema-akka and I think, with it, I won a place in her kind and large heart.
I Enter School
Someone at APD helped me to collect my possessions and move to Mr. Kaolgi’s school. The teachers there were so caring they taught me lying on a bed. The other boys helped to move me from room to room as needed and assisted me in every way. All this spurred me to do my very best. I worked hard and in ten months I could write a letter to Hema-akka in Kannada. I spoke only Tamil when I came to APD and was stone illiterate. I was so impatient for medical treatment that I wrote a letter. “Hema-akka, I want to walk. When are you going to find me a doctor?”
This simple letter from someone like me worked as a spell on that angel, Hema-akka. She called me and took me to Dr. Srinivasan who did many surgeries for APD children. The doctor examined me and declared me curable. In my exuberance I blurted “Doctor, make me well. I want to walk, I want to walk.”
The doctor said, “You will walk, I assure you. But you will have to bear pain and discomfort; and not for a short time, but for months. I am wondering if you will be able to take it.”
“I will, doctor,” I said, “even if I die. I want to walk. For it I can do whatever is necessary. Please start treatment as soon as possible.”
Hema-akka still had to find money for the surgery and a place for me to stay. In her own physical condition she could not take care of me in her house. At APD there was nobody at night except the watchman, so she sent me to back to school to wait for some more time. I could not refuse to go but I was impatient. A few days later I could not bear it any longer. I somehow found someone to help and landed at Hema-akka’s door. “Akka, I cannot wait. I want to go for surgery now.” She replied, “Okay. I will arrange everything now and you stay in my house till a hospital bed is arranged.”
God knows how this lady managed things, but in a couple of days I was in the St. Philomina hospital lined up for surgery by Dr. Srinivas. I knew Hema-akka worried about my being alone at night. She thought I was her own child. The very thought made me cry. I said to her, “Amma, do not worry for me. You are my God; and with you caring for me, nothing can go wrong.” This was the best I could do and I think she was reassured.
Partap
January 6, 2007
True Life Story of Murugesh (Part 3)
True Life Story of Murugesh (Part 3)
I knew very well that by arriving suddenly at Hema-akka’s house and demanding surgery immediately I was putting a lot of strain on her. Having no personal wealth to apply to cases like mine she had to find donors, and that can take time. But I also knew that in addition to being an unbelievably kind person she was a person of iron will and the ability to get things done. She said to me “So be it. If you want surgery now, you will have it.” Only God knows how, but she quickly arranged my admission into the St. Philomina Hospital and a date with Dr. Srinivasan. She knew that the nurses at Philomina are very kind, but still she was worried who will look after ‘a mere child’ especially when I suffered pain at night. I would need instant attention. I told her “Do not worry, Amma. I am ready for the worst.” But Akka was thinking ‘what would she have done if I were her son!’ Finally, the way was cleared when she found a lady who had volunteered at the APD School and was willing to help me.
I was in the hospital for one month and Dr. Srinivasan poured on me all his knowledge and skill. I also cooperated fully by bearing the pain without crying or complaining. Hema-amma was very impressed by my fortitude. Major part of the repair work was done and the doctor said I should be taken out of the hospital for a while. The only easily available place Akka could think of for me was APD but it was deserted at night. I told her “Do not worry. I will sleep on one of the benches in the veranda and I am not afraid of darkness, snakes or hooligans. I only need assistance to go to toilet in the morning.” Yet she found a young student to be with me at night and she also made a room available for the two of us to sleep in. But she told me “Murugesh I want you to start going to classes and prepare for 7th grade exam in two years, for I would be 12 then and should be at par with my age group.” Everybody thought Hema-akka was overly confident of my ability but in my mind I had decided to prove her right. And I did.”
I was going through stints of surgery and very painful physio-therapy. But I continued to study hard in order mainly to please akka and show everyone that her trust in me was not ill founded. During these two years I learned to walk, of course, with calipers on my legs and crutches under both arms. In the beginning it was quite painful. But the important thing was that I walked, which made me ecstatic At long, long last I am walking. I thought I was the luckiest of boys; handicapped or normal!
I still used calipers and crutches and hobbled around with difficulty when the time for the 7th grade exam came. Hema-akka told me to take the exam. Nobody thought I would pass. But I wrote the exams with total attention thinking as if my life and my honor depended on it. To everyone’s delight and Hema-amma’s more any anyone else’s I passed. As you can imagine, I was on top of the world. I looked toward the sky and said to God, “Thank you God, thank you more times than I know to count.” God’s face shone in my mind’s eyes and I said to Her, “Amma thank you for your faith and for the encouragement. Without them I could not have passed. All credit goes to you, not me.”
Hema-akka talked to the head of a Christian School and got me admitted in the 8th class so that in 3 years I could clear the high school diploma. A sponsor was found to pay for the hostel and food and I was walking and feeling normal among young men of my age. In this predominantly Christian setting new things began to happen. One of them quite upset Amma. One day she came to visit me and called from a distance, ‘Murugesh.’ Someone told her that I was no longer Murugesh; my new name was Moses because I had been converted to Christianity. Hema-amma was shocked and saddened. She asked me, “Why didn’t you tell me of this conversion? What should I call you?” I told her, “Amma, for you I will be Murugesh as long as I live. I do not understand conversion and how it happened. Forgive me.” I later realized that she did not care if one converted by convincement. What hurt her was the dishonest deviousness of the way it had been done in my case. She said “Those zealots want just the numbers and care not about the spirit of what they do.” To unburden her mind she spoke to her colleagues at APD (many of them Christian). “I respect and honor Christ, but I cannot say the same for the Churchian bigots,” she said.
Partap
January 13, 2007
I knew very well that by arriving suddenly at Hema-akka’s house and demanding surgery immediately I was putting a lot of strain on her. Having no personal wealth to apply to cases like mine she had to find donors, and that can take time. But I also knew that in addition to being an unbelievably kind person she was a person of iron will and the ability to get things done. She said to me “So be it. If you want surgery now, you will have it.” Only God knows how, but she quickly arranged my admission into the St. Philomina Hospital and a date with Dr. Srinivasan. She knew that the nurses at Philomina are very kind, but still she was worried who will look after ‘a mere child’ especially when I suffered pain at night. I would need instant attention. I told her “Do not worry, Amma. I am ready for the worst.” But Akka was thinking ‘what would she have done if I were her son!’ Finally, the way was cleared when she found a lady who had volunteered at the APD School and was willing to help me.
I was in the hospital for one month and Dr. Srinivasan poured on me all his knowledge and skill. I also cooperated fully by bearing the pain without crying or complaining. Hema-amma was very impressed by my fortitude. Major part of the repair work was done and the doctor said I should be taken out of the hospital for a while. The only easily available place Akka could think of for me was APD but it was deserted at night. I told her “Do not worry. I will sleep on one of the benches in the veranda and I am not afraid of darkness, snakes or hooligans. I only need assistance to go to toilet in the morning.” Yet she found a young student to be with me at night and she also made a room available for the two of us to sleep in. But she told me “Murugesh I want you to start going to classes and prepare for 7th grade exam in two years, for I would be 12 then and should be at par with my age group.” Everybody thought Hema-akka was overly confident of my ability but in my mind I had decided to prove her right. And I did.”
I was going through stints of surgery and very painful physio-therapy. But I continued to study hard in order mainly to please akka and show everyone that her trust in me was not ill founded. During these two years I learned to walk, of course, with calipers on my legs and crutches under both arms. In the beginning it was quite painful. But the important thing was that I walked, which made me ecstatic At long, long last I am walking. I thought I was the luckiest of boys; handicapped or normal!
I still used calipers and crutches and hobbled around with difficulty when the time for the 7th grade exam came. Hema-akka told me to take the exam. Nobody thought I would pass. But I wrote the exams with total attention thinking as if my life and my honor depended on it. To everyone’s delight and Hema-amma’s more any anyone else’s I passed. As you can imagine, I was on top of the world. I looked toward the sky and said to God, “Thank you God, thank you more times than I know to count.” God’s face shone in my mind’s eyes and I said to Her, “Amma thank you for your faith and for the encouragement. Without them I could not have passed. All credit goes to you, not me.”
Hema-akka talked to the head of a Christian School and got me admitted in the 8th class so that in 3 years I could clear the high school diploma. A sponsor was found to pay for the hostel and food and I was walking and feeling normal among young men of my age. In this predominantly Christian setting new things began to happen. One of them quite upset Amma. One day she came to visit me and called from a distance, ‘Murugesh.’ Someone told her that I was no longer Murugesh; my new name was Moses because I had been converted to Christianity. Hema-amma was shocked and saddened. She asked me, “Why didn’t you tell me of this conversion? What should I call you?” I told her, “Amma, for you I will be Murugesh as long as I live. I do not understand conversion and how it happened. Forgive me.” I later realized that she did not care if one converted by convincement. What hurt her was the dishonest deviousness of the way it had been done in my case. She said “Those zealots want just the numbers and care not about the spirit of what they do.” To unburden her mind she spoke to her colleagues at APD (many of them Christian). “I respect and honor Christ, but I cannot say the same for the Churchian bigots,” she said.
Partap
January 13, 2007
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