Power of a Boy’s Tears
This story comes to us from Iran. Jalaluddin Rumi recounted it in one of his works. I tell it in my far poorer style. Also, I take the liberty of giving imaginary names to places and people.
In the famous city of Shiraz there once lived a man named Sheikh Abbas. He belonged to a family of wealthy merchants, but he was totally different from other traders. He was unattached to money and his sight was fixed far beyond.
After his father died and Abbas became the head of the business he gave it a different turn. Whatever worthy cause came to his attention he gave it his energy and money. He set up several hospices to serve the ailing poor. In them he personally washed and bandaged festering sores, washed and dressed weak bodies, administered medicines to patients like a dutiful nurse. So devoted was he to this work that he never hesitated to spend whatever he had.
Soon all his wealth was gone, but his work continued. To carry on he began to borrow. But he was unable to repay and one day his creditors swarmed on him cursing, abusing, and demanding immediate repayment. Abbas sat in a corner of the room with his head covered with his shawl thinking, ‘I must take all this abuse without rancor. They are right in demanding their money back and there is no blame in their action.’
Suddenly Abbas heard the call of a halwa seller ‘Halwa, very good halwa, tastiest halwa in Shiraz.’ He thought a little sweet might cool the tempers of his angry creditors, so he sent his servant to buy and bring the whole lot.
The servant found that a young boy of about 15 carried about 3 kilograms of halwa in a tray. He quoted half a dinar and a bit for the entire lot. The servant haggled. The boys attracted by the chance to sell all the halwa in one go agreed to half a dinar for it.
The servant took the sweet inside the house and began distributing it to the irate creditors. The halwa was soon gone. The boy watched the scene and quickly realized what was going on. When it became clear to him that he too had become one of the gathered creditors, his grief became unbearable. He began to cry, “Oh, Allah, I am ruined. When I return empty handed my master will surely kill me. Oh, please God have mercy on me.” Big tears began to flow from his eyes as he sobbed uncontrollably.
Mysteriously, a man came carrying a covered silver tray. Everyone gaped when he took the cover off and revealed two bundles in silk cloth. The larger one contained a thousand dinars, exactly the amount owed by Abbas. The little packet contained half a dinar and a few dirhams. The boy was given his packet first; his face burst into a smile even though it was wet from crying.
The merchants were mystified. They went up to Abbas and apologized for abusing him. He answered, “You did nothing wrong. All creditors faced with your situation would behave like that, some even worse. We must thank the boy for what has happened. It is his tears that have brought God’s mercy to the melting pot.”
February 18, 2006
How the Jackfruit Turned a Bishop into an Archbishop
How the Jackfruit Turned a Bishop into an Archbishop
Jackfruit is God’s special gift to the human species. It was probably created in the midst of a famine when all crops had failed and there was little to eat. God needed to provide food for starving millions in a hurry and loaded the jackfruit tree with hundreds of heavy fruits. Even when all the branches were overloaded and bent God didn’t think it was enough; so he put more, much heavier fruits on the tree trunk.
Because of its mission the jackfruit was made very versatile; it could be cooked when green and eaten raw when ripe. Some fruits are a bit too sweet, but many are heavenly delicious. In tropical areas round the world jackfruit is the savior of the poor. However, there is one little problem; it has to be cut and handled with skill and care because of its very sticky sap. Sometimes when the jackfruit is cut open by an unskilled stranger it leads to funny scenes like the true incident described below.
Long time ago when the Mer Thoma church of Kerala was still controlled from Syria, a Bishop was sent to replace another who had died. He was lively and rather young looking for the post of bishop. He had come to the tropical climate for the first time and as everything was done differently in this new culture, he was full of curiosity. Because of his friendly, jovial disposition people were always ready to help him.
One day the new bishop noticed a huge jackfruit in the kitchen. Being where it was the Bishop had no difficulty imagining that it was a fruit or a vegetable, but he had never ever seen such a thing and his eyes opened to their widest limits in wonderment. His excitement attracted everyone into the kitchen. He wanted to know all that the others knew about the jackfruit and the people around him explained the best they could. The Bishop’s ignorance of a common fruit quickly turned the atmosphere in the kitchen rather merry.
Having heard and learned all about the jackfruit, as soon as the bishop was alone, he thought he should cut the funny looking fruit and look inside. With a big knife as he cut the jackfruit, the jackfruit began to pull him inside of itself. The flowing white sap covered his hands. The knife stuck to one to one of them. He tried to wipe the other on his beard and had great difficulty pulling it loose. He noticed a sack full of cotton lying nearby. Thinking that he might be able to wipe his hand and the beard with the cotton he pulled some out of the sack. In no time his face was covered with cotton and his beard was twice its size. He looked more like Santa Clause than the Bishop. After struggling for a few minutes he realized that he was in bigger trouble than he could handle. He shouted for help and on hearing him people began to come into the kitchen.
On seeing the sight of the bishop turned Santa Clause they began to laugh. Word spread fast and the entire community congregated in no time. All got wrapped in mirth.
Everyone was having a good time. One of them remarked; “We began with a Bishop, thanks to the jackfruit, we now have an Archbishop.”
The bishop was furious. He shouted curses including, “For this you will all suffer mental retardation”
Some people believe that incidence of schizophrenia in the community is still high due to the Bishop’s curse.
February 4, 2006
Jackfruit is God’s special gift to the human species. It was probably created in the midst of a famine when all crops had failed and there was little to eat. God needed to provide food for starving millions in a hurry and loaded the jackfruit tree with hundreds of heavy fruits. Even when all the branches were overloaded and bent God didn’t think it was enough; so he put more, much heavier fruits on the tree trunk.
Because of its mission the jackfruit was made very versatile; it could be cooked when green and eaten raw when ripe. Some fruits are a bit too sweet, but many are heavenly delicious. In tropical areas round the world jackfruit is the savior of the poor. However, there is one little problem; it has to be cut and handled with skill and care because of its very sticky sap. Sometimes when the jackfruit is cut open by an unskilled stranger it leads to funny scenes like the true incident described below.
Long time ago when the Mer Thoma church of Kerala was still controlled from Syria, a Bishop was sent to replace another who had died. He was lively and rather young looking for the post of bishop. He had come to the tropical climate for the first time and as everything was done differently in this new culture, he was full of curiosity. Because of his friendly, jovial disposition people were always ready to help him.
One day the new bishop noticed a huge jackfruit in the kitchen. Being where it was the Bishop had no difficulty imagining that it was a fruit or a vegetable, but he had never ever seen such a thing and his eyes opened to their widest limits in wonderment. His excitement attracted everyone into the kitchen. He wanted to know all that the others knew about the jackfruit and the people around him explained the best they could. The Bishop’s ignorance of a common fruit quickly turned the atmosphere in the kitchen rather merry.
Having heard and learned all about the jackfruit, as soon as the bishop was alone, he thought he should cut the funny looking fruit and look inside. With a big knife as he cut the jackfruit, the jackfruit began to pull him inside of itself. The flowing white sap covered his hands. The knife stuck to one to one of them. He tried to wipe the other on his beard and had great difficulty pulling it loose. He noticed a sack full of cotton lying nearby. Thinking that he might be able to wipe his hand and the beard with the cotton he pulled some out of the sack. In no time his face was covered with cotton and his beard was twice its size. He looked more like Santa Clause than the Bishop. After struggling for a few minutes he realized that he was in bigger trouble than he could handle. He shouted for help and on hearing him people began to come into the kitchen.
On seeing the sight of the bishop turned Santa Clause they began to laugh. Word spread fast and the entire community congregated in no time. All got wrapped in mirth.
Everyone was having a good time. One of them remarked; “We began with a Bishop, thanks to the jackfruit, we now have an Archbishop.”
The bishop was furious. He shouted curses including, “For this you will all suffer mental retardation”
Some people believe that incidence of schizophrenia in the community is still high due to the Bishop’s curse.
February 4, 2006
Sound of One Hand Clapping
Sound of One Hand Clapping
This riddle has been a popular teaching tool of Zen masters for centuries. Teachers told their disciples to meditate on the sound of one hand clapping and month after month, year on year they did what they were told. Very rarely did a disciple finally hear the sound.
A young boy came to learn from a teacher and was told to go and meditate on the sound of one hand clapping. The student went to his quiet room and meditated for several hours every day. After about a year, one day, he thought he had heard that sound and ran to the teacher to declare his success. He said to the teacher, “I heard the sound of a cuckoo way out in the distance, and that I think is the sound of one hand clapping.” The teacher listened with full attention, and then with his stick tapped the disciple lightly on the head. “No,” he said, “it is not. It is merely the music produced by air pushed through the bird’s vocal cords. Go back to your room and continue the meditation.”
Six months passed, the disciple returned to the Master and said, “Master, at last I have heard the sound of one hand clapping. In far distance a thin stream falls on a rock; that it seems to me is the sound of one hand clapping.” After hearing with rapt attention the Master picked up his stick and rapped the boy on the head. “No,” he said, “that is the sound produced by water falling on the rock. Go back and continue working.”
Then one, two, five, ten years passed. The master went over and he saw sparkle in the disciple’s eye. Subtle smile was on his lips and his face was aglow with indescribable joy.
The question about the one hand clapping had vanished; no answer was needed. He had heard the sound of life ticking and of the pulsing in the very core of the smallest particle of which the universe is made. The source of all sound, all knowledge and wisdom had been revealed to him. There was no more to be heard, learned or sought.
The Master knew what had happened. His stick fell from his hand; it was no longer needed.
The disciple recognized and welcomed the Master, but he could not describe what had happened. For it is beyond words. Words are limited in time and space. They cannot encompass what is boundless, timeless, and immeasurable. But he tried and said something like the following.
“I meditated on the meaning of every word in the mantra you gave me. Take for instance the word sound; there is more and more subtle meaning as you delve into its meanings. One goes on exploring; the search is long and arduous. It is something like peeling an onion. You take peel after peel and a new layer is revealed every time. On and on you go. Finally, nothing remains. You encounter nothingness. That is the sound of one hand clapping. You hear it; you are transformed, you are filled, but you cannot describe it; you are muted. The Rishis call it the anhat nad, the sound of silence. You hear the sound of total silence; the silence of a mountain peak or of the thick forest may possibly give a mild hint of it.”
The master understood. He could relate the disciple’s experience to his own. A rare sense of joy inundated him. The Master and the disciple embraced each other.
The disciple was now a Master ready to break his own path.
March 25, 2006
This riddle has been a popular teaching tool of Zen masters for centuries. Teachers told their disciples to meditate on the sound of one hand clapping and month after month, year on year they did what they were told. Very rarely did a disciple finally hear the sound.
A young boy came to learn from a teacher and was told to go and meditate on the sound of one hand clapping. The student went to his quiet room and meditated for several hours every day. After about a year, one day, he thought he had heard that sound and ran to the teacher to declare his success. He said to the teacher, “I heard the sound of a cuckoo way out in the distance, and that I think is the sound of one hand clapping.” The teacher listened with full attention, and then with his stick tapped the disciple lightly on the head. “No,” he said, “it is not. It is merely the music produced by air pushed through the bird’s vocal cords. Go back to your room and continue the meditation.”
Six months passed, the disciple returned to the Master and said, “Master, at last I have heard the sound of one hand clapping. In far distance a thin stream falls on a rock; that it seems to me is the sound of one hand clapping.” After hearing with rapt attention the Master picked up his stick and rapped the boy on the head. “No,” he said, “that is the sound produced by water falling on the rock. Go back and continue working.”
Then one, two, five, ten years passed. The master went over and he saw sparkle in the disciple’s eye. Subtle smile was on his lips and his face was aglow with indescribable joy.
The question about the one hand clapping had vanished; no answer was needed. He had heard the sound of life ticking and of the pulsing in the very core of the smallest particle of which the universe is made. The source of all sound, all knowledge and wisdom had been revealed to him. There was no more to be heard, learned or sought.
The Master knew what had happened. His stick fell from his hand; it was no longer needed.
The disciple recognized and welcomed the Master, but he could not describe what had happened. For it is beyond words. Words are limited in time and space. They cannot encompass what is boundless, timeless, and immeasurable. But he tried and said something like the following.
“I meditated on the meaning of every word in the mantra you gave me. Take for instance the word sound; there is more and more subtle meaning as you delve into its meanings. One goes on exploring; the search is long and arduous. It is something like peeling an onion. You take peel after peel and a new layer is revealed every time. On and on you go. Finally, nothing remains. You encounter nothingness. That is the sound of one hand clapping. You hear it; you are transformed, you are filled, but you cannot describe it; you are muted. The Rishis call it the anhat nad, the sound of silence. You hear the sound of total silence; the silence of a mountain peak or of the thick forest may possibly give a mild hint of it.”
The master understood. He could relate the disciple’s experience to his own. A rare sense of joy inundated him. The Master and the disciple embraced each other.
The disciple was now a Master ready to break his own path.
March 25, 2006
Awesome Strength of the Weak
Awesome Strength of the Weak
Once, speaking in the bamboo grove where he camped, Gautam the Buddha told the following story.
Deep in the forest a quail had built her nest in the grass and in it she had laid six beautiful eggs. One day she noticed an elephant herd marching toward her nest.
She went to the herd leader and with folded wings begged for the safety of her eggs. The kind mighty giant agreed and dutifully guarded the nest while the herd passed. But a lone rogue elephant was following right behind. On hearing the quail’s appeal he laughed with mischief in his heart, and going straight to the nest crushed the eggs into a paste.
The quail was sick with grief. After a while when she had recovered enough she decided to teach the cruel beast a lesson. She called her three best friends—a crow, a blue fly, and a frog—and requested them to plan a revenge.
The crow being the cleverest was assigned the responsibility of overall planning. Soon a detailed plan was ready. All the participants were told what each one was expected to do.
One day when the rogue elephant was fast asleep on the bank of a stream, the crow landed on its head and with deadly precision gouged out his left eye. Few days later, in another attack he destroyed the elephant’s right eye as well.
Now the rogue was stone blind and terribly unhappy. To make matters worse the blue fly laid eggs in the elephant’s empty eye sockets. They were soon infested with maggots, and the elephant’s suffering multiplied manifold.
Very thirsty one day, he groped about in search of water. The frog with his croaks misled him up a cliff and down a steep slope. He slipped, fell, and rolled all the way down breaking every bone in his body.
Thus the cruel beast that misused his body strength died a miserable death. In dying he taught us never ever to bother fellow creatures who may look completely helpless; for even the humblest among us have reserves of strength hidden from the eye but quite usable in times of need.
March 18, 2006
Once, speaking in the bamboo grove where he camped, Gautam the Buddha told the following story.
Deep in the forest a quail had built her nest in the grass and in it she had laid six beautiful eggs. One day she noticed an elephant herd marching toward her nest.
She went to the herd leader and with folded wings begged for the safety of her eggs. The kind mighty giant agreed and dutifully guarded the nest while the herd passed. But a lone rogue elephant was following right behind. On hearing the quail’s appeal he laughed with mischief in his heart, and going straight to the nest crushed the eggs into a paste.
The quail was sick with grief. After a while when she had recovered enough she decided to teach the cruel beast a lesson. She called her three best friends—a crow, a blue fly, and a frog—and requested them to plan a revenge.
The crow being the cleverest was assigned the responsibility of overall planning. Soon a detailed plan was ready. All the participants were told what each one was expected to do.
One day when the rogue elephant was fast asleep on the bank of a stream, the crow landed on its head and with deadly precision gouged out his left eye. Few days later, in another attack he destroyed the elephant’s right eye as well.
Now the rogue was stone blind and terribly unhappy. To make matters worse the blue fly laid eggs in the elephant’s empty eye sockets. They were soon infested with maggots, and the elephant’s suffering multiplied manifold.
Very thirsty one day, he groped about in search of water. The frog with his croaks misled him up a cliff and down a steep slope. He slipped, fell, and rolled all the way down breaking every bone in his body.
Thus the cruel beast that misused his body strength died a miserable death. In dying he taught us never ever to bother fellow creatures who may look completely helpless; for even the humblest among us have reserves of strength hidden from the eye but quite usable in times of need.
March 18, 2006
Down Side of Flush Latrines
Down Side of Flush Latrines
My nephew and dear friend Manoj came recently to Bangalore for three days and stayed with us. One day, during our chats and discussions we rambled on to the topic of flush latrines. Obviously, I had thought more on this subject than he but he was more interested than most people I know. When we parted, he asked that I should write it up as a weekly story. So here it is for what it is worth.
Origin
Many years ago I read about the origin of today’s ubiquitous flush latrines and a faint outline is still imprinted on my mind. I cannot say that the details are historically authentic, but for our purpose here it does not matter even if it is fiction. About the beginning of the 20th Century, somewhere in the American mid-west a young inventor brought a contraption to the manager of the local Sears, Roebuck store. Normally, such things are either ignored, or laughed over and forgotten. But this manager didn’t do either; he immediately saw the great potential of the simple looking device and after testing it in his own house drew the attention of his superiors.
His enthusiastic description of the innovation rubbed well on the State Manager and he promised to visit the following day to see it for himself. On carefully examining the new device he used it for a few days and felt even more enthusiastic than the local store manager. The inventor was given some money and asked to make a few more prototypes. In a short time the word spread and reached right to the top of the Sears organization which by that time had grown to be the world’s largest retail chain.
The device was named water closet. A manufacturer began to produce them and Sears sold them in their stores all over the United States. At that time industry was flourishing, cities were increasing in number and bursting in size. Dry latrines were a serious damper. Water closet came to the scene as a boon at an appropriate time. Naturally, therefore, it quickly became Sears’ fastest selling item. In just a few years every house in urban America had a flush toilet and soon afterward they spread even to the rural areas. Today, all over USA, it is illegal to defecate in a dry latrine. You cannot relieve yourself on the soil in the open, even if there is nobody around! That is what the law says, but I am sure some Americans disobey the law in dire circumstances or sometimes just for the heck of it! But the law is clear; you have to use a flush latrine that drains either into an urban sewage system or a septic tank built according to prescribed specifications. If you don’t, you can be put in jail.
Total acceptance
Not even a whimper was heard against the new toilet for many decades. The main reason for this was that it proved to be a great convenience for the urban dwellers and acquired the status of an indicator of modernity and progress. Also, with the coming of the chemical fertilizers the value of human excreta as organic manure began to slide downward. This happened even in countries like China and India where the merit of human excreta as highly valued manure was recognized for thousands of years. In India it was called son khad (gold manure); in China farmers expected their guests to defecate on their land. If they erred and went to the neighbor’s land, the neighbor had to send his guests to over to balance the account.
Awareness of Demerits
In the last two or three decades the downside of the flush latrine has begun to be noticed. In recent years it has become a major issue, and the downside is appearing to be much larger than the upside. Due to limitation of space we will talk only about a few major points and wait for the next opportunity to go into details.
First
Flushing human excrement requires a huge amount of water; roughly twenty to thirty times the weight and volume of the excreta. In a family of five, if on an average each person uses the lavatory 4 times a day, 400 liters of water is needed daily. If we calculate on this basis for a city of a million people, it would add up to 80m liters a day just for flushing the latrines. Other requirements such as bathing, laundry, cleaning, cooking, drinking etc. would consume an equal amount daily if not more. Even this very rough estimate shows that the total water requirements of our cities are becoming alarmingly huge.
At a time of water scarcity we can reduce our use of water for other needs but not our flush toilets. Imagine what would happen if a city’s water supply is stopped for some reason. People will cut down their water use, but from the second day onwards a panic will start to build up in their bathrooms. By the fourth day in many houses there will be no water for flushing and latrines will begin to get stinking full. By the fifth day some families will have to start evacuating the city. This is not just imaginary fear; such a thing can actually happen in all big cities. And this kind of movement is likely to turn into an exodus in a short time.
-2-
Second
Flush latrines present us a problem of handling a huge sea of liquid muck that grows larger every year. This muck is not dead and inactive; it is highly contaminated with pathogens and full of toxins.
Pathogens in our stomachs are under strict check of the immune systems of our bodies; but out in the open, and in a watery medium, they can multiply and spread very fast. Even in the most efficiently run cities constant underground flow of this dangerous material inevitably contaminates the earth and the drinking water. It is no wonder, therefore, that citizens of all modern cities (including London, Paris, and San Francisco) drink packaged water and their children cannot safely play with the mud.
If human excreta is mixed with dry organic matter and piled up for composting, it is not only harmless but in just 2 or 3 months it turns into valuable fertilizer and can be spread on the soil or even put in flower pots.
If, however, human excreta is mixed with water it becomes a perfect breeding medium for pathogens. Pathogens flourish and rapidly multiply in a watery medium.
Same applies to the toxins; residues of pesticides, fertilizers, detergents, lead, etc. are appearing in increasing quantities in our excrements, and in a watery medium they become very mobile. These hazardous materials spread under our feet, run parallel to our water supply lines and contaminate our drinking water just like the pathogens. In many cities tests have shown dangerously high presence of toxic chemicals in the tap water.
Alternatives
It is not at all necessary to mix our excreta with large quantities of water. For rural areas many simple dry latrine designs are in use. We should further improve them and encourage their spread. Many years ago at the Sewagram Ashram a museum of latrine designs was established to which many inventors contributed designs. One or the other of these designs has been used in most Gandhi Ashrams throughout the country. I have myself used one of them (the trench latrine) for many years and found it quite satisfactory. In recent years many people all over the world are making and testing new innovations. One that is getting a lot of praise is a Swedish design that I hear can be installed and used even in a multistory modern building. In this design together with the excreta all other organic household waste is composted for use in flower and vegetable beds or pots.
In the rural areas we can easily develop hygienic and decent ways of depositing our excreta directly on the ground. In good living soil it decomposes in a week or less and turns into rich safe compost loved by plants. I know this from personal experience. All my life while living in rural areas or visiting them I have avoided using indoor facilities. I cover the material with mud or cowdung if I can find some lying around. At times I use grass or dead leaves. A bonus one gets from this method is that by examining our own stool we can know if we are eating the right food in right amount. For instance if my stool stinks the food in my stomach is petrifying; I need to regulate my diet.
Twenty years ago I knew an American maverick who lived on a small homestead in Maine and used only his simple dry latrine where he used saw dust. The city came to know about it and tried to open the law book to him. He refused to obey the wrong law. The city backed out fearing adverse media publicity.
This man used to produce a monthly newsletter for limited circulation. I was one of his customers. In one of the issues he said to the effect that the flush latrine was one of the three most dangerous inventions of man; the other two being nuclear reactor and the automobile. Events of last 20 years are proving his prophetic words.
Let me end by saying that I am neither an expert nor a missionary. I am only sharing my experiences. Use your own judgment. If you think I exaggerate, press the erase button and forget it. But if you think there is truth in what I say then think and do what you can.
March 11, 2006
My nephew and dear friend Manoj came recently to Bangalore for three days and stayed with us. One day, during our chats and discussions we rambled on to the topic of flush latrines. Obviously, I had thought more on this subject than he but he was more interested than most people I know. When we parted, he asked that I should write it up as a weekly story. So here it is for what it is worth.
Origin
Many years ago I read about the origin of today’s ubiquitous flush latrines and a faint outline is still imprinted on my mind. I cannot say that the details are historically authentic, but for our purpose here it does not matter even if it is fiction. About the beginning of the 20th Century, somewhere in the American mid-west a young inventor brought a contraption to the manager of the local Sears, Roebuck store. Normally, such things are either ignored, or laughed over and forgotten. But this manager didn’t do either; he immediately saw the great potential of the simple looking device and after testing it in his own house drew the attention of his superiors.
His enthusiastic description of the innovation rubbed well on the State Manager and he promised to visit the following day to see it for himself. On carefully examining the new device he used it for a few days and felt even more enthusiastic than the local store manager. The inventor was given some money and asked to make a few more prototypes. In a short time the word spread and reached right to the top of the Sears organization which by that time had grown to be the world’s largest retail chain.
The device was named water closet. A manufacturer began to produce them and Sears sold them in their stores all over the United States. At that time industry was flourishing, cities were increasing in number and bursting in size. Dry latrines were a serious damper. Water closet came to the scene as a boon at an appropriate time. Naturally, therefore, it quickly became Sears’ fastest selling item. In just a few years every house in urban America had a flush toilet and soon afterward they spread even to the rural areas. Today, all over USA, it is illegal to defecate in a dry latrine. You cannot relieve yourself on the soil in the open, even if there is nobody around! That is what the law says, but I am sure some Americans disobey the law in dire circumstances or sometimes just for the heck of it! But the law is clear; you have to use a flush latrine that drains either into an urban sewage system or a septic tank built according to prescribed specifications. If you don’t, you can be put in jail.
Total acceptance
Not even a whimper was heard against the new toilet for many decades. The main reason for this was that it proved to be a great convenience for the urban dwellers and acquired the status of an indicator of modernity and progress. Also, with the coming of the chemical fertilizers the value of human excreta as organic manure began to slide downward. This happened even in countries like China and India where the merit of human excreta as highly valued manure was recognized for thousands of years. In India it was called son khad (gold manure); in China farmers expected their guests to defecate on their land. If they erred and went to the neighbor’s land, the neighbor had to send his guests to over to balance the account.
Awareness of Demerits
In the last two or three decades the downside of the flush latrine has begun to be noticed. In recent years it has become a major issue, and the downside is appearing to be much larger than the upside. Due to limitation of space we will talk only about a few major points and wait for the next opportunity to go into details.
First
Flushing human excrement requires a huge amount of water; roughly twenty to thirty times the weight and volume of the excreta. In a family of five, if on an average each person uses the lavatory 4 times a day, 400 liters of water is needed daily. If we calculate on this basis for a city of a million people, it would add up to 80m liters a day just for flushing the latrines. Other requirements such as bathing, laundry, cleaning, cooking, drinking etc. would consume an equal amount daily if not more. Even this very rough estimate shows that the total water requirements of our cities are becoming alarmingly huge.
At a time of water scarcity we can reduce our use of water for other needs but not our flush toilets. Imagine what would happen if a city’s water supply is stopped for some reason. People will cut down their water use, but from the second day onwards a panic will start to build up in their bathrooms. By the fourth day in many houses there will be no water for flushing and latrines will begin to get stinking full. By the fifth day some families will have to start evacuating the city. This is not just imaginary fear; such a thing can actually happen in all big cities. And this kind of movement is likely to turn into an exodus in a short time.
-2-
Second
Flush latrines present us a problem of handling a huge sea of liquid muck that grows larger every year. This muck is not dead and inactive; it is highly contaminated with pathogens and full of toxins.
Pathogens in our stomachs are under strict check of the immune systems of our bodies; but out in the open, and in a watery medium, they can multiply and spread very fast. Even in the most efficiently run cities constant underground flow of this dangerous material inevitably contaminates the earth and the drinking water. It is no wonder, therefore, that citizens of all modern cities (including London, Paris, and San Francisco) drink packaged water and their children cannot safely play with the mud.
If human excreta is mixed with dry organic matter and piled up for composting, it is not only harmless but in just 2 or 3 months it turns into valuable fertilizer and can be spread on the soil or even put in flower pots.
If, however, human excreta is mixed with water it becomes a perfect breeding medium for pathogens. Pathogens flourish and rapidly multiply in a watery medium.
Same applies to the toxins; residues of pesticides, fertilizers, detergents, lead, etc. are appearing in increasing quantities in our excrements, and in a watery medium they become very mobile. These hazardous materials spread under our feet, run parallel to our water supply lines and contaminate our drinking water just like the pathogens. In many cities tests have shown dangerously high presence of toxic chemicals in the tap water.
Alternatives
It is not at all necessary to mix our excreta with large quantities of water. For rural areas many simple dry latrine designs are in use. We should further improve them and encourage their spread. Many years ago at the Sewagram Ashram a museum of latrine designs was established to which many inventors contributed designs. One or the other of these designs has been used in most Gandhi Ashrams throughout the country. I have myself used one of them (the trench latrine) for many years and found it quite satisfactory. In recent years many people all over the world are making and testing new innovations. One that is getting a lot of praise is a Swedish design that I hear can be installed and used even in a multistory modern building. In this design together with the excreta all other organic household waste is composted for use in flower and vegetable beds or pots.
In the rural areas we can easily develop hygienic and decent ways of depositing our excreta directly on the ground. In good living soil it decomposes in a week or less and turns into rich safe compost loved by plants. I know this from personal experience. All my life while living in rural areas or visiting them I have avoided using indoor facilities. I cover the material with mud or cowdung if I can find some lying around. At times I use grass or dead leaves. A bonus one gets from this method is that by examining our own stool we can know if we are eating the right food in right amount. For instance if my stool stinks the food in my stomach is petrifying; I need to regulate my diet.
Twenty years ago I knew an American maverick who lived on a small homestead in Maine and used only his simple dry latrine where he used saw dust. The city came to know about it and tried to open the law book to him. He refused to obey the wrong law. The city backed out fearing adverse media publicity.
This man used to produce a monthly newsletter for limited circulation. I was one of his customers. In one of the issues he said to the effect that the flush latrine was one of the three most dangerous inventions of man; the other two being nuclear reactor and the automobile. Events of last 20 years are proving his prophetic words.
Let me end by saying that I am neither an expert nor a missionary. I am only sharing my experiences. Use your own judgment. If you think I exaggerate, press the erase button and forget it. But if you think there is truth in what I say then think and do what you can.
March 11, 2006
Mira and Krishna
Mira and Krishna
Mira was so deeply in love with Krishna that, day and night, she thought of none else. Her parents married her to a Rajput prince hoping that she would change; but she refused to accept her wedded husband as her man. She openly admitted her love for Krishna and declared that she was as good as married to him.
All this was scandalous among her people in those times. But Mira was so firm in her resolve that no amount of opposition succeeded in bending her. After years of struggle she gradually became relieved of family resistance and was free to move around in pursuit of her goal.
Mira wanted so urgently to meet Krishna that she began traveling to places associated with his life mentioned in the epics (Brindavan, Dwarika, Mathura). A close friend once suggested a visit to Dwarika on the sea coast in Gujrat. In those days such journeys were not easy for one had to go in a caravan of bullock carts and horses and be prepared to face bandits and other hazards. So, after necessary preparations Mira set out to go to Dwarika, about a thousand kilometers away from her native Udaipur.
One late evening during this trip she arrived at a large city. Local people directed her to a Dharamshala (an inn) to spend the night. It was attached to a Krishna temple and the mahant (title of the local person in charge of a Dharamshala) was a highly respected elder of the city.
Mira wrote down a brief introduction and asked the doorman to seek the permission of the Mahant to stay in the inn as a guest for two or three nights. The gateman went inside and delivered the note. The Mahant asked and the gateman described the visitor as a young princess dressed like a saintly recluse. He gave other details about the entourage that he had learned or guessed.
Considering everything it appeared to the Mahant that he should avoid the mad sounding princess. He sent word that according to the prevailing policy of the establishment he could not entertain a single woman. To underline the excuse he said that since he himself was a single male resident in the premises it was improper to allow a single female visitor.
On hearing this Mira said: "but to my understanding there is only one male in the universe and that is Krishna. All of us, male or female, are gopis (Krishna's beloveds)… Our goal is to become one with Krishna; our lover. Physical male or femaleness is irrelevant…. Why then should your Mahant be concerned about such a trivial matter?"
The Mahant was hearing Mira's discourse from behind the closed door, and being an ardent devotee of Krishna he was able to comprehend the deeper meaning of what Mira was saying. As he heard her wise and knowing words he became curious about the strange visitor. The depth of Mira's devotion and the clear truth in her word made him speechless. He realized that he should not fritter away a rare opportunity to meet and serve a great saint. He opened the gate and personally escorted Mira and her companions into the Dharamshala.
March 4, 2006
Mira was so deeply in love with Krishna that, day and night, she thought of none else. Her parents married her to a Rajput prince hoping that she would change; but she refused to accept her wedded husband as her man. She openly admitted her love for Krishna and declared that she was as good as married to him.
All this was scandalous among her people in those times. But Mira was so firm in her resolve that no amount of opposition succeeded in bending her. After years of struggle she gradually became relieved of family resistance and was free to move around in pursuit of her goal.
Mira wanted so urgently to meet Krishna that she began traveling to places associated with his life mentioned in the epics (Brindavan, Dwarika, Mathura). A close friend once suggested a visit to Dwarika on the sea coast in Gujrat. In those days such journeys were not easy for one had to go in a caravan of bullock carts and horses and be prepared to face bandits and other hazards. So, after necessary preparations Mira set out to go to Dwarika, about a thousand kilometers away from her native Udaipur.
One late evening during this trip she arrived at a large city. Local people directed her to a Dharamshala (an inn) to spend the night. It was attached to a Krishna temple and the mahant (title of the local person in charge of a Dharamshala) was a highly respected elder of the city.
Mira wrote down a brief introduction and asked the doorman to seek the permission of the Mahant to stay in the inn as a guest for two or three nights. The gateman went inside and delivered the note. The Mahant asked and the gateman described the visitor as a young princess dressed like a saintly recluse. He gave other details about the entourage that he had learned or guessed.
Considering everything it appeared to the Mahant that he should avoid the mad sounding princess. He sent word that according to the prevailing policy of the establishment he could not entertain a single woman. To underline the excuse he said that since he himself was a single male resident in the premises it was improper to allow a single female visitor.
On hearing this Mira said: "but to my understanding there is only one male in the universe and that is Krishna. All of us, male or female, are gopis (Krishna's beloveds)… Our goal is to become one with Krishna; our lover. Physical male or femaleness is irrelevant…. Why then should your Mahant be concerned about such a trivial matter?"
The Mahant was hearing Mira's discourse from behind the closed door, and being an ardent devotee of Krishna he was able to comprehend the deeper meaning of what Mira was saying. As he heard her wise and knowing words he became curious about the strange visitor. The depth of Mira's devotion and the clear truth in her word made him speechless. He realized that he should not fritter away a rare opportunity to meet and serve a great saint. He opened the gate and personally escorted Mira and her companions into the Dharamshala.
March 4, 2006
GIVE MORE
GIVE MORE
A Native American child was constantly advised to give more, not less.
A young father is arranging a ceremony to honor his stepdaughter. He
consults his wife. She says, "All I know to say is that we should be
generous; more rather than less generous. But you should ask our old
father. He will give right advice. I will also consult our mother. We
should then do what they say."
He goes to his father and asks: "Father, how much and to whom should
we give by way of gifts?"
The father answers after a long moment of quiet thinking: "Son, give
the maximum you can afford. This is what we have always done. And give
to all the families in our community, ALL. We must also send gifts to
our close relatives in other communities. Main message of all our
celebrations is to strengthen the spirit of generosity. Remember, the
more people give the more everyone receives."
Nothing is Too Good to Give
A renowned priest is visiting a community to perform the naming rite
of an infant. Children go to visit him. A boy asks his grandfather:
"What gift should I take to the honored man?"
Grandpa advises: "He is a man of few needs and his tipi is almost
bare. But you must not go empty handed. You may take for him just one
small thing, but it should be something precious; the thing you most
cherish. Know that nothing is too good to give; even your beloved best
horse. Remember, what you give him will soon go to someone who needs
it more than you. This is what my father would have advised me to do.
From the beginning of time this is our tradition."
May 28, 2006
(Written and sent on May 30th)
--
A Native American child was constantly advised to give more, not less.
A young father is arranging a ceremony to honor his stepdaughter. He
consults his wife. She says, "All I know to say is that we should be
generous; more rather than less generous. But you should ask our old
father. He will give right advice. I will also consult our mother. We
should then do what they say."
He goes to his father and asks: "Father, how much and to whom should
we give by way of gifts?"
The father answers after a long moment of quiet thinking: "Son, give
the maximum you can afford. This is what we have always done. And give
to all the families in our community, ALL. We must also send gifts to
our close relatives in other communities. Main message of all our
celebrations is to strengthen the spirit of generosity. Remember, the
more people give the more everyone receives."
Nothing is Too Good to Give
A renowned priest is visiting a community to perform the naming rite
of an infant. Children go to visit him. A boy asks his grandfather:
"What gift should I take to the honored man?"
Grandpa advises: "He is a man of few needs and his tipi is almost
bare. But you must not go empty handed. You may take for him just one
small thing, but it should be something precious; the thing you most
cherish. Know that nothing is too good to give; even your beloved best
horse. Remember, what you give him will soon go to someone who needs
it more than you. This is what my father would have advised me to do.
From the beginning of time this is our tradition."
May 28, 2006
(Written and sent on May 30th)
--
Difference Between Two Musicians
Difference Between Two Musicians
King Akbar kept nine distinguished men in his court; they were
referred to as 'the nine gems'. One of them was a musician named
Tansen. In his time, had no equal in the entire world. It is said
that by playing deepak raaga (i.e. the lamp song) he could put out all
lamps in the city of Agra, and by another variant of the song light
them again.
One evening after an inspiring performance Akbar asked Tansen if he
knew anyone anywhere who played better music. "Yes," said Tansen.
Akbar was surprised and wanted to know who he could be. Tansen
replied. " My guru Haridas, of course."
"Invite him to our court; we would like to hear his music." Tansen was
quiet for a long moment and then said, "But that is impossible. He
will not come. To hear him we will have to go to him." Akbar agreed.
So, one day, disguised as a peasant he accompanied Tansen to Guru
Haridas's humble hut outside a small village.
Tansen asked Akbar to sit under a tree while he went inside the hut.
The guru was taking a siesta. Tansen went quietly to the veena and
deliberately struck a wrong note. The guru opened his eyes and seeing
Tansen on the musical instrument shouted a strong complaint: "Tansen,
you fool, all your training has gone to waste."
Tansen folded his hands and fell at the guru's feet. "Guruji, I have
come to hear you sing so that Ma Saraswati will again smile on me."
Smiling, Guru Haridas said, 'You rascal,' and picked up the veena. As
he played, whole universe became still. Birds in the sky lost their
sense of direction and trees began to sway. Animals, insects, plants,
human beings, air and water listened with rapt attention. It was a
rare feast for all. Akbar was in a trance.
After the guru stopped playing, the spell he had caused lingered for a
bit and then all returned to normal again. Tansen returned to Akbar
and found him in rapture. When he came to, he said, "This is sublime
music. Why can't you sing like that? Will the time ever come when you
too can play like your guru?"
"No, I am afraid, sir, never."
"Why not Tansen? You are the world's best musician. What is the
difference between you and your guru?
"The difference, sir, is this. My guru sings to the master of the
universe and I to a mere Emperor."
May 20, 2006
--
King Akbar kept nine distinguished men in his court; they were
referred to as 'the nine gems'. One of them was a musician named
Tansen. In his time, had no equal in the entire world. It is said
that by playing deepak raaga (i.e. the lamp song) he could put out all
lamps in the city of Agra, and by another variant of the song light
them again.
One evening after an inspiring performance Akbar asked Tansen if he
knew anyone anywhere who played better music. "Yes," said Tansen.
Akbar was surprised and wanted to know who he could be. Tansen
replied. " My guru Haridas, of course."
"Invite him to our court; we would like to hear his music." Tansen was
quiet for a long moment and then said, "But that is impossible. He
will not come. To hear him we will have to go to him." Akbar agreed.
So, one day, disguised as a peasant he accompanied Tansen to Guru
Haridas's humble hut outside a small village.
Tansen asked Akbar to sit under a tree while he went inside the hut.
The guru was taking a siesta. Tansen went quietly to the veena and
deliberately struck a wrong note. The guru opened his eyes and seeing
Tansen on the musical instrument shouted a strong complaint: "Tansen,
you fool, all your training has gone to waste."
Tansen folded his hands and fell at the guru's feet. "Guruji, I have
come to hear you sing so that Ma Saraswati will again smile on me."
Smiling, Guru Haridas said, 'You rascal,' and picked up the veena. As
he played, whole universe became still. Birds in the sky lost their
sense of direction and trees began to sway. Animals, insects, plants,
human beings, air and water listened with rapt attention. It was a
rare feast for all. Akbar was in a trance.
After the guru stopped playing, the spell he had caused lingered for a
bit and then all returned to normal again. Tansen returned to Akbar
and found him in rapture. When he came to, he said, "This is sublime
music. Why can't you sing like that? Will the time ever come when you
too can play like your guru?"
"No, I am afraid, sir, never."
"Why not Tansen? You are the world's best musician. What is the
difference between you and your guru?
"The difference, sir, is this. My guru sings to the master of the
universe and I to a mere Emperor."
May 20, 2006
--
Palace on Fire
Palace on Fire
Siddharth Gautam wakes up at 2:00 am. Yashodara and little Rahul are fast asleep. He looks at them lovingly and wants to say proper farewell. But for fear that his resolve might weaken, he decides to tiptoe out of the room. Down the stairs and out of the palace he goes.
Sumant is waiting with the chariot. Siddharth gets aboard and they race toward the river long distance from Kapilvastu. No one is up and about at that hour of night. The guards at the city gate dare not halt the royal carriage driven by Sumant.
The chariot reaches the river and over the bridge it goes. On the other side of the river Sumant pulls the reins to stops the horses. The prince is still in the chariot. With folded hands and tears in his eyes the chariot driver speaks.
"Dear prince, think again. Look back. Even from this distance the palace looks magnificent. Its golden domes glow beautifully. Inside it, as we know, every comfort and luxury is provided. I cannot imagine anyone not wanting what is already yours. But here you are, turning your back on it. Do you realize that all this is due to your good fortune? Such luck is very rare in this world. Once you throw it away, you may never get it back again. Think, prince, I beseech you."
Siddharth answers, "Sumant, if your house were on fire, would you stay put and burn, or would you go out to a safe place?"
Sumant, "Seek a safe place, of course; but why do you ask, prince? Your palace is not on fire. Why do you run?"
Siddharth, "I see what you don't see. I see that palace engulfed in red-hot flames. They burn me from inside and cause insufferable misery. The invisible fire in the palace is fed by greed, lust for power, a million desires, and fear. If I live there, I will roast till the end of my life. The palace is on fire; it is clear as day to me."
"I, therefore, seek liberation from this manmade inferno. I cannot run away from life but I can find peace and joy through enlightenment. That is what I seek, and not just for myself. I seek it for all humanity."
So saying, Siddharth abruptly gets down from the chariot, turns, and begins to walk away as fast as his legs can carry him. Sumant keeps looking. Siddharth does not turn to look back even once. He is gone."
One wonders if the flame of greed is stronger today than it was then.
Partap
June 24, 2006
--
Siddharth Gautam wakes up at 2:00 am. Yashodara and little Rahul are fast asleep. He looks at them lovingly and wants to say proper farewell. But for fear that his resolve might weaken, he decides to tiptoe out of the room. Down the stairs and out of the palace he goes.
Sumant is waiting with the chariot. Siddharth gets aboard and they race toward the river long distance from Kapilvastu. No one is up and about at that hour of night. The guards at the city gate dare not halt the royal carriage driven by Sumant.
The chariot reaches the river and over the bridge it goes. On the other side of the river Sumant pulls the reins to stops the horses. The prince is still in the chariot. With folded hands and tears in his eyes the chariot driver speaks.
"Dear prince, think again. Look back. Even from this distance the palace looks magnificent. Its golden domes glow beautifully. Inside it, as we know, every comfort and luxury is provided. I cannot imagine anyone not wanting what is already yours. But here you are, turning your back on it. Do you realize that all this is due to your good fortune? Such luck is very rare in this world. Once you throw it away, you may never get it back again. Think, prince, I beseech you."
Siddharth answers, "Sumant, if your house were on fire, would you stay put and burn, or would you go out to a safe place?"
Sumant, "Seek a safe place, of course; but why do you ask, prince? Your palace is not on fire. Why do you run?"
Siddharth, "I see what you don't see. I see that palace engulfed in red-hot flames. They burn me from inside and cause insufferable misery. The invisible fire in the palace is fed by greed, lust for power, a million desires, and fear. If I live there, I will roast till the end of my life. The palace is on fire; it is clear as day to me."
"I, therefore, seek liberation from this manmade inferno. I cannot run away from life but I can find peace and joy through enlightenment. That is what I seek, and not just for myself. I seek it for all humanity."
So saying, Siddharth abruptly gets down from the chariot, turns, and begins to walk away as fast as his legs can carry him. Sumant keeps looking. Siddharth does not turn to look back even once. He is gone."
One wonders if the flame of greed is stronger today than it was then.
Partap
June 24, 2006
--
Last Survivor of a Native American Tribe
Last Survivor of a Native American Tribe
Ishi was born in 1961in the Yahi tribe, in northern California. By the time when he was ten years old European gold seekers arrived in the area and soon killed all the Indians. A few, like Ishi, escaped and hid
in a protected shelf of a canyon. They set up a village and lived by the old, very successful, way of the Yahi. In 1908 some power company workers discovered them and they were disbanded and scattered. Ishi
wandered off and survived as a rabbit in the civilized world until he was found in a slaughterhouse in a nearby town in 1911. They found him in a corral that he had entered in panic together with the cattle.
Anthropologist Alfred Kroeber arranged to adopt him as member of his family. Ishi lived with the Kroebers until his death in 1916 leaving an indelible imprint on all of them.
Kroeber arranged to obtain a workplace for Ishi in the University of California museum. In the five years of his association with the museum researchers recorded a wealth of information stored in Ishi's head. Added to all this there was much unique information that Theodora Kroeber wrote down in her diary from direct observation of her amazing guest. She published it in her book, Ishi: Last of His Tribe. I have obtained a copy and you might hear more about what is in it.
Here, I quote two people who had close contact with Ishi.
Alfred Kroeber: "He had mastered the philosophy of patience, without trace either of self-pity, or of bitterness to dull the purity of his cheerful enduringness."
Saxton T. Pope: "He looked upon us as sophisticated children—smart, but not wise. We knew many things, and much that is false. He knew nature, which is always true. His were the qualities of character that
last for ever. He was kind; he had courage and self-restraint, and though all had been taken from him, there was no bitterness in his heart. His soul was that of a child, his mind that of a philosopher."
Ishi died at age 55 peacefully and with joy in his heart; also, in the manner of the Yahi, with all death rites, just as he would have wished. His friends were near him and they had heard and learned the
tribal rituals from him. All details of the death ritual were meticulously performed and Ishi was given a loving farewell. His bow and arrows, some corn meal, and his cow pin were buried with his body.
Bye, till we meet next Saturday!
Partap
June 17, 2006
--
Partap
A-7 Whitefield Ville
Bangalore-560066
Ishi was born in 1961in the Yahi tribe, in northern California. By the time when he was ten years old European gold seekers arrived in the area and soon killed all the Indians. A few, like Ishi, escaped and hid
in a protected shelf of a canyon. They set up a village and lived by the old, very successful, way of the Yahi. In 1908 some power company workers discovered them and they were disbanded and scattered. Ishi
wandered off and survived as a rabbit in the civilized world until he was found in a slaughterhouse in a nearby town in 1911. They found him in a corral that he had entered in panic together with the cattle.
Anthropologist Alfred Kroeber arranged to adopt him as member of his family. Ishi lived with the Kroebers until his death in 1916 leaving an indelible imprint on all of them.
Kroeber arranged to obtain a workplace for Ishi in the University of California museum. In the five years of his association with the museum researchers recorded a wealth of information stored in Ishi's head. Added to all this there was much unique information that Theodora Kroeber wrote down in her diary from direct observation of her amazing guest. She published it in her book, Ishi: Last of His Tribe. I have obtained a copy and you might hear more about what is in it.
Here, I quote two people who had close contact with Ishi.
Alfred Kroeber: "He had mastered the philosophy of patience, without trace either of self-pity, or of bitterness to dull the purity of his cheerful enduringness."
Saxton T. Pope: "He looked upon us as sophisticated children—smart, but not wise. We knew many things, and much that is false. He knew nature, which is always true. His were the qualities of character that
last for ever. He was kind; he had courage and self-restraint, and though all had been taken from him, there was no bitterness in his heart. His soul was that of a child, his mind that of a philosopher."
Ishi died at age 55 peacefully and with joy in his heart; also, in the manner of the Yahi, with all death rites, just as he would have wished. His friends were near him and they had heard and learned the
tribal rituals from him. All details of the death ritual were meticulously performed and Ishi was given a loving farewell. His bow and arrows, some corn meal, and his cow pin were buried with his body.
Bye, till we meet next Saturday!
Partap
June 17, 2006
--
Partap
A-7 Whitefield Ville
Bangalore-560066
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