Breakfast Guest (Short Story)

Breakfast Guest

“Subbulu, they’re all gone. The almost semi-ripe tomatoes, the tender stalks, and some of your wildflower plants. It has torn them all during the early morning. I thought we’ve changed its behavior, dissuaded it from encroaching into our vegetable and flower garden.” I almost felt like shrieking but what’s the point now? 

“What happened dear? Are the rose bushes ok?” 

“Luckily the roses seem alright. We have to put physical barrier for ‘em too. They are full of buds, so better watch out.” If any bark seems ripped from a bush, it is a sign of the deer from the nearby woods and local park (green space). If things close to the ground get munched, then it is due to the chipmunks, squirrels, or cottontails. Fortunately this season there is an abundance of walnuts, acorns, and maple seeds. So most of the squirrels are after chasing the nuts, gnawing at them, leaving half eaten nuts on the ground and playing with their mates. The chipmunks are rather strange – you never what catches their fancy. This year they are after the marigold buds and flowers. After a bit of head scratching, I installed some thorny branches in the marigold pots, just to give them slight discomfort while they are engrossed in their hearty meals of tender flowers. That saved the day and we are fortunate to have plenty of colorful fragrant fresh flowers for our daily puja and for the local Narayana temple. 

After a rather disappointing morning, I flowed through the daily routine and retired. Both of us thought about a permanent solution to the deer menace and the hungry rabbits especially during the spring. It happens in harsh winters too when the entire land is filled with several feet of snow; the hungry cervids nibble the tender rhododendron shoots and dormant flower buds, pull the bark of burning bushes and maple trees. As a rule you are not to go to sleep with a thought on your mind; that means the day’s homework is not completed, the books not properly balanced (closed). Otherwise the mind goes into an overdrive to finish the lingering thoughts and resolve the loose ends. Slowly I dozed off and fell into a trance.

“I see a slight discomposure on your face today. May I help, dear?”

I felt awkward, but the Guru knows everything. Yet he (He) tries to remain beyond the powerful maya. Like a gentle friend he would not intrude into our thoughts or house unnecessarily. 

“It is trifling really, I should’ve understood it, solved it, and done with it immediately”

“Yes, you are capable. You are well read, discriminating, I would even say a jnani.”

“It is just a pesky deer, so I thought in the beginning. But it is more than that as I see it now.”

“Yes, I know it all. Do you remember? Once you so desperately wanted to offer clean home made food to an orthodox Brahmin on a holy day; perhaps to mark your gratitude to the departed parents. But in this day and age, where would you find an observant Brahmin? If it were impossible for Umacharan in the nineteenth century in Kasi, would it be easy today in a remote Finger Lakes corner? I sensed your predicament and kindly watched the events. Some day your wish would be fulfilled promptly, so I thought. But even I got surprised by the turn of events today, that too in the wee hours.”

“To day morning I got a jolt looking at the ravaged hand grown tomato plants. It took a while to sooth my ruffled feelings.”

“Though you know many things, it is often very difficult to let go off the last vestiges of ego. I wouldn’t put it crudely as ego; it is more like this feeling of touch or pulse. Obviously it’s there for a purpose – it is to protect the physical body and mind from injury. But excessively limiting the ‘consciousness’ to the earthly body can work havoc.

So you are not angry for the loss of a few dollars worth of tomatoes. Now during the growing season, you can get them at the farmers market at a fair price. Nor are you upset about someone robbing your fruit without rightfully paying for it. After all, you’ve received countless acts of generosity from many humans, animals, and even plants. Your grandmother healed your childhood fevers with gunta-kalaraku. You must have benefited immensely from the village Ayurvedic doctors, teachers, and well-wishers. After all one cannot say all those do-gooders got compensated fully. So life is like that, you gain some and you give some. On a really philosophical plane, this observation is true: You are here on the earth only as limited rights tenant. You do not own anything, although you may have a bank account and other properties.  The sooner one absorbs this eternal truth, the better life will be. 

But coming to the microscopic issue of tomatoes, the gardener can only take a part of the credit. Credit must also be given to the farmer who gifted you quality cow manure, the bees, the earthworms and microorganisms of the soil, and of course the most important of all – the benevolent Sun who tirelessly insolates this heavenly earth. No we cannot usurp others’ contribution. No, you know very well as a student of science we cannot take credit for our brains or body. They’re just handed down to us by our parents (ancestors). The ancestors tirelessly struggled through thick and thin, through draughts and downpours, and survived and bestowed us almost defect free genes. Who would do that in the modern world? Will any corporation do it for less? Will any test tube company sell you such excellent genes? Or, any government agency? No, period - as they say here.

Now, let us come to the finer points, the subtle lessons here. What’s the use of reading tomes of scriptural texts? That too, the reading gets muddied through and gets diluted and distorted through umpteen unfaithful translations from the (Sanskrit) originals. It is akin to wallowing in the murky muddy waters without ever smelling the nearby superbly fragrant lotus. People keep on talking endlessly about Vedas, Upanishads, and Jnana Yoga, etc. But practicing one single precept is enough: Speak truth – truth as enunciated in the original scriptures or elaborated by any guru like Sankara. Never hurt any being, tree, or part of nature. Always support and help life on the earth."

“Yes, Sir. You are so right. I never thought my Guru would come down to this level to instruct me so gently and so lovingly. I feel so lucky to deserve your benediction and protection. Now you’ve explained the gist of Isopanishad so succinctly. I simply bow in reverence and pay my gratitude in silence.” Copyright 2025 by the author

  

Pious Prayers (Poem)

Pious Prayers

Aren’t these pious prayers?
Not earnest enough?
The little sparrow
Had to crawl underneath the car
For a lick of freshly made cool water
Below the a/c compressor

Yesterday early morning
A thirsty crow was
Tapping the skylights,
The translucent convex domes
For cool condensed mist drops
A tiny few at most!

In desperation the neighborhood crows

Are nibbling the Staghorn sumac cone

Fruit drupes even in the summer -

Normally reserved for the hard winters

The stream, near the cataract
That too has dried up
Hardly there is a trickle

You see flow only after persistent drizzles
In the lean summer months
Now you see no current –
And
I miss the music of our
Backyard falls, its meditative murmurings
A soothing
Hushed lovers’ conversation in the night

My great grand father would
Have performed yagnas – on command he could 
Call the benevolent Indra – Prajnanya
My maternal grand father too 
Was a simple, self effacing reader of the
Vedas – that perennial fountain of dharma (धर्म)
No, not the misinterpreted phrase “dhamma/damma”
Found in modern dictionaries or eastern religious treatises 
Outlined in a foreign European tongue - English

Dharma as instructed in the three Vedas
The original mode of human conduct -
It is meant to uplift one and all beings (souls)
And gently guide them towards
Real enlightenment; that was
Way before the modern Maslow!

Now, with a few Sanskrit phrases
I can utter, say a bit haltingly
Prayers to the thirty three crores (of) gods
For a simple cool summer shower
I need them for my Gardenia flowers,
Lawn, sacred Basil (Tulasi),
And Okras

The local farmers too need them
For sweet corn and vegetable crops
The deer, birds, and playful squirrels
Rabbits too need them
A respite from the hot dry wind
Won’t you bless us with
A silky carpet of Jasmines and Dianthus
Govinda?
Your name itself is – Narayana
You seem to float on
A veritable ocean of fresh water

(Dedicated to all the weary drought stricken people walking miles for a pitcher of fresh water across continents. This poem was originally penned in northeast US during a long dry spell in summer. It resonates and finds relevance in the very dry arid regions of Rajasthan, south India, and even the coastal Andhra. And many other dry regions all over the world.) Copyright 2025 by the author

Shrunken Banana (Poem)

Shrunken Banana

I knew him barely

On the University Hill

He too started in physics

Our common friend – another physicist

In Radiology

Talked about him

Now, it’s too late

We do not know

The real cause

Was it all due to the 

Radiation, particle or photon

But he knew about the field

In depth -

Its regulations, the risks

He must have cured

Or at least given, supervised

The most appropriate dose

What they say: in micro-Curies

To numerous patients

But slogging for twelve years

With the underlying illness

Can you believe?

What it was like?

For him or for anybody

He provided for his wife 

And children

Often helped the local

Immigrant community

Strange, his wife would only 

Say, say with teary eyes: “He

Did so much work around the

House, gardening. Now the plants

Like abandoned children feel it too”

We know anything, rather the value

Of any entity

When we lose it

The shrunken, dehydrated banana

Plant stands pitiably in shame murmuring

“More than anybody in the family

I knew him and his gentle touch” 

Copyright 2022 by the author

Lone Dove (Forlorn Dove)

Lone Dove (Forlorn Dove)

Lone Dove (Forlorn Dove) Where, Where are those days? Those yesteryear’s kisses, caresses, And tickling teasings Days, hours at a stretch You’re after me Once on the banyan tree Once on the electric transmission wire Once you gave poking rough kisses at My glistening gray coat You pestered me with forced romances And advances You never let me stay at one place (You) didn’t let me swing in the cool breeze In the shades of coconut tree Relaxing gracefully for a moment in The open sky Today, after so many years Now only memories and sweet symbols They all are … In this old age Who will look at me? (Who will look after me?) Who cares about me? The young ones won’t come Attracted by my feathery glimmer Their friends and struts - are different. The shops they frequent, Their living palaces, and Fifty-storied sky-high buildings are different The trees they perch too are different If I hurt my leg, I just have to limp Now No one looks at me No one does anything for me Forget about endearing calls Now there is not even cursory greeting My eyesight too has dulled No more sweetness in my cooing I’ve become a lonely bird My only companion Is Your beloved memory Won’t you forgive me? My only fault – That one time indifference, rather neglect That one infraction I did during the prime of youth’s arrogance Where ever you’re Won’t you come once? And embrace me? Won’t you kiss me – just once? My darling pigeon, my golden bird My handsome honey-candy, my harvest pumpkin Of romance.

ఒంటరి పావురము 

ఏవి?

ఏవి ఆ రోజులు?

నిరుడు ముద్దులు, మురిపాలు 

ఆ రసభరిత కేరింతలు 

రోజుల తరబడి, ఎన్నో గంటలు 

నువ్వు నా వెనకాల పరుగెత్తావు 

ఓ సారి మఱ్ఱి చెట్టుపైన 

ఇంకోసారి కరెంటు తీగపైన 

ఓ సారి గ్రుచ్చి గ్రుచ్చి ముద్దులెట్టావు 

నా బూడిద రంగు ఈకల కోటుపై 

విసికించావు నన్ను నీ ప్రేమ సలాపాలతో 

ఒక్క చోట నిలకడగా ఉండనివ్వలేదు (కదా)

నన్ను చల్ల గాలిలో ఉయ్యాలూగ నివ్వలేదు 

కొబ్బరి ఆకుల నీడలో 

విశ్రాంతిగా ఉండనివ్వలేదు 

విశాల ఆకాశంలో

ఇవాళ, ఇన్నేళ్ల తర్వాత 

జ్ఞాపకాలు, తీయటి గురుతులు మాత్రమే 

అవే ఉన్నాయి (మిగిలాయి)

ఈ ముసలితనంలో 

ఎవరు చూస్తారు నన్ను?

(ఎవరు చూస్తారు నా బాగోగులు?)  

నేనంటే ఎవరికీ లెఖ్ఖ?

నా కెవరూ ఏమి చెయ్యరు (ఇప్పుడు)

ప్రేమ పిలుపులు, కూతలు మాటే వదిలేసేయి 

ఇప్పుడు మాట వరసకు పలకరింపు కూడా లేదు 

నా చూపు కూడ మందలించింది 

కూతలో మునపటి తీయదనం లేదు 

ఒంటరి పక్షి నయ్యాను 

నీ అనురాగపు జ్ఞాపకాలు మాత్రమే నాకు తోడు 

నన్ను క్షమించావా?

నా ఒక్క తప్పు - ఆనాటి ఉపేక్ష 

ఆ యుక్త వయసు పొగరు 

రావా 

ఒక్కసారి రావా ఎక్కడున్నా 

కౌగలించుకోవా?

ఓ సారి ముద్దు ఇవ్వవా?

నా ప్రియా పావురమా, నా బంగారు పిట్ట 

నా అందాల తేనల తుట్ట, నా వలపుల పంటల గుమ్మడి!  

Copyright 2021 by the author both Telugu original and English translation 

  

Meditations on Life - IV

Meditations on Life - IV (Grace)

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” - Soren Kierkegaard

My high school days and the buffer one year course (pre-university) in the college were mostly smooth sailing and uneventful. I was too busy with the studies to be distracted by any extraneous disturbances like cricket or movies. Our loving father looked after all my health, fees, and textbooks; a handsome scholarship helped me through the entire higher education (graduate studies). When I shifted to the coastal city for my bachelor degree I ran into two serious health issues. We were in a hostel with other engineering, polytechnic, and trade (welding, etc.) students. For some reason, father wanted me to be utterly self-sufficient during the formative years. He had his reasons and I came to appreciate his wisdom much later. The hostel food was not great, but enough to keep the students slim, trim, alert, and hungry. I do not know what caused the disturbances in my health. Was it severe malnutrition or some serious deficiency of vitamin D? Within a few months into the first year, I developed serious skin rashes and it later morphed into a severe case of psoriasis. Then, I had no idea about the skin problem – obviously it is an erratic (excited) case of rapid top layer growth and subsequent shedding of scales (dead skin). Though my native place was only about seventy miles away, I could not take a break from my college studies and visit the family. There were the laboratory classes (practicals) and the mandatory NCC (National Cadet Corps) drills. Any interruption of group (science) classes would only create further problems. 

I still remember vividly all the troubles I went through with this physical scourge.  You name it - I did not leave any stone unturned for a suitable cure. I used to stand in the morning sun, soaking up all the rays into the oily melanin. Must have made umpteen trips to the local teaching hospital, to its dermatology department. Sometimes the house surgeon (Intern) prescribed zinc oxide cream and Avil (an antihistamine) tablets. My sister’s physician gave me shots of oil penicillin – it only led to a subcutaneous infection. The local Ayurvedic doctor suggested a blood purifier jam but I could not afford the cost (~Rs.10). Our roommate (commerce student) gave the reference of a Homeopathic doctor. I got the first one week’s dose of pills for free. Again he wanted only ten Rupees for the treatment. Immediately after swallowing a few doses, my skin started healing and the natural tone and glow returned. All the rashes disappeared miraculously. It was a great relief because I could go out without shame, embarrassment, and enjoy social company without timidity. The skin problems put enormous strain on the laundry chores. For additional sanitization I had to utilize hot water and bleach for the clothes washing. Back then there were no washing machines, no geysers, and as ordinary students we used to hand wash most of the time. Dry cleaning was not affordable and anyway it would not have made economic sense – that would be like dry cleaning a one-dollar silk tie now!

Since I could not come up with the finances (what? the measly $ 1.50 back then), I did not keep up with the Homeopathist’s follow up appointment. [To this day, I do not understand how Homeopathy works. This from a person who knows intimately the meaning of Avogadro’s number!] And sure enough, the rashes and all the associated pain returned with vengeance. Obviously it is a serious autoimmune disease and needs proper care, management, and cure. But nothing seemed to work and there was no elderly supervision. My sister tried to help but she was busy with her own family and two little children. Though I had a good grounding in bhakti (due to mother), without a guru I was unmoored, like a boat without rudder. I remember visiting the local temple several times praying silently – though coupled a bit with skepticism and rationality. Then suddenly one day another hostel mate made a suggestion: “Why don’t you come to our village this Sunday? Our Ayurvedic doctor dispenses free medicine to the first hundred-fifty patients.” Immediately I borrowed a bicycle and went to Sarpavaram in search of the doctor, my savior. When I went there, already there were about sixty people ahead of me. I was anxious, thinking about my chances. Finally the doctor asked only one question: “What is troubling you?” As he glanced at my face, neck, and hands, he understood the ailment. Quickly he made little packets with brown medicinal powder and handed me the doses for a ten-day course, instructing me thus: “Take it twice a day with warm (boiled) water.” That was all the diagnosis, treatment, and cure. Absolutely free medicine dispensation with no consultation fee. 

With spirits high I peddled swiftly to our hostel through the highway covered with tamarind and cashew trees. Now in a hostel that caters to seventy, eighty students and their two meals a day, who has the time for a glass of warm water for one individual? (Of course, it was different at the Institute. There, our kind mess server would bring to the room a glass of hot milk and toast for the sick inmates.) I had to beg the cook and boil a glass of water on the wooden stove – as a side periphery experiment. But I wanted to obey the doctor’s strict guidelines and follow them to the letter. And then the miracle did happen; within a week the psoriasis disappeared totally. There was no trace left on my body and it never relapsed. To this day my gratitude to my roommates, the village doctor (and even the kind Homeopath) knows no bounds. Whenever I look at abundant water in Varanasi, Godavari, or at the great Niagara Falls, whenever I imbibe the beauty of coastal Andhra with its bountiful crops and coconut plantations – often my mind wonders thus: “All this enormous wealthy nature, the crops, technological advances, and abundant water filled rivers – all this must be due to the goodness of many gentle people, it must be due to their generous sacrifices.”

In the second year (sophomore) in college, I again ran into another predicament; it too sapped my energies and joyful spirits. To this day I cannot determine the origin or the real cause. Was it just due to the high humidity or poorly ventilated hostel dorms? I developed a serious itch with rash, suddenly out of nowhere. Very rarely I used to see movies in theaters, at the most two or three in the entire year. But somebody gave it to me, the itch or the mite. Again lots of trips to the OPD and applying smelly (aromatic) lotions. Luckily my roommates were very understanding; nobody would trouble me, as I was very reserved and focused on my studies. I used to shudder the weekly NCC drills. The sailor white uniform only exasperated my delicate situation; every small skin imperfection was a big billboard advertising my rash or blister. The exposed bare lower legs and open arms during Navy exercises only accentuated my troubles. Certainly a resident physician at the college could have helped me, but there was no clinic. Out of nowhere suddenly the cure came to me when I went home on a long weekend. Before I could broach the subject with father, he noticed my disfigured hands. Within twenty-four hours, father approached an elderly gentleman with the issue. The gentleman (Mr. P. S.) had a Khadi store in the front and on the side he free lanced in herbal medicine. 

So, again the following morning I went to Jinnuru for my medicine, taking a leisurely ride along the canal road. I had go through the dense farms and coconut orchards to reach my benefactor’s (doctor’s) residence. He handed me a 4 oz. small bottle with cream-colored powder, with the instruction: “Apply the powder with castor oil and stand in sunlight. Entire body should be covered except eyes.” Thus I got relief from the pesty mite problem – thanks to a generous neighborhood doctor. Now I also fondly remember my father’s resourcefulness. Tyagaraja says in one of his compositions thus: “Rama, you are my great father. కన్న తల్లియు, ఘన తండ్రియు” Good affectionate fathers are rare, but there are such great fathers in this world. Again, in this instance also I received the medicine free of charge. There is much to learn in science, medicine, and life. Copyright 2021 by the author

Meditations on Life

Meditations on Life (Grace Contd.) 

Those were the days of carefree play and stress-free studies. Luckily I developed a longing for studies early on. Yet in the elementary school itself I ran into major setbacks due to lackadaisical schooling or lax discipline. And on top of that we moved from a charter (sort of one room school) parochial school to a village school administered by a rich agrarian district (Zilla-Parishad). Our parents were very well organized with all the routine paper work like TC (Transfer Certificate) and other documents. But when I was taken to the village middle school, the new Head Master refused to admit me into 5th grade as per the TC! I had to take a spot evaluation test – a surprise hurdle. It was very brief; I had to take dictation of fifteen or twenty Telugu words with paper and pencil. I flunked the test. I made a common mistake – the word is “కత్తి పీట” ( త్తి not తై) (A cutting knife with attached wooden plank). I messed up the double consonant sign. I do not remember whether I took any math test. That trouble would come later towards the yearend. So, the Head Master demoted me to one class lower and I was placed in 4th grade. I had to bear this upset for three or four months, till the final (summer) exams in April (A lesson well learnt in hindsight!).

 

I was determined to make up for my deficiencies through regular homework exercises, i.e., hitting the books right after coming home. I was not bad in Telugu language but for many years I used to trip up or stumble on the nasal consonants: ఙ,ఞ. Whenever the teacher asked me to recite the whole Telugu alphabet, I would utter all the letters both vowels and consonants without any mistake. But suddenly I would get stuck at those nasal consonants – they would act as speed breakers (I got even punishment - the teacher made me stand on the bench). Yet I knew them intuitively and could read whole passages in prose and poetry without a hitch. In math, I had trouble with long divisions by hand - the long computations (iterative operations) with divisor, dividend, remainder, and quotient (ex: 10,756 ÷ 13). And then we just started learning decimal numbers (ex: 31.25 ÷ 23). India was entering the decimal (metric units) era – gone were those archaic foot, pound, and seer units. Division is nothing but repeated subtraction, now I know this elegant fact. Then, I was alone at home with no maths help. I was too timid in the new village environment with no elderly friends (brothers, friends, or uncles) and my parents never received formal education. They were proficient with mother tongue, bits of English, and basic math, enough for grocery shopping. Interest (particularly compound interest) calculations, algebra, or trigonometry was beyond them. Then in the fourth grade annual exam I again failed, this time in math. Already I was getting behind by a year and now this crisis for an innocent elementary school kid. That was when our parents (mother was the prime moving force) took charge of my studies. I was urgently put in a free remedial course (tuition) down the street a few houses away, under the wings of a smart high school senior. Within two summer months I learnt the necessary basic math – enough to secure admission into sixth grade at the local high school. That was a real miracle. Though I took many advanced math courses later I never needed any extra external help. The Mother always helps Her ward, though at times in Her own inscrutable ways. The path could be circuitous at times; but that is Her prerogative or play. May we say: "She has her own plans".

 

        This writer had numerous childhood problems and afflictions. They always came in rapid succession, giving no respite to my busy loving mother. There was no break; it could be a viral hepatitis (A), boils, stomach upsets, or prolonged fevers. Always crisis after crisis. There were no routine pediatric vaccine shots (or oral drops) back then and we were left to our own devices. Once I contracted a debilitating whopping cough. It sapped all my reserve energies and I started losing weight. Mother would make some tasty dish (like coconut chutney or cucumber dal) but I could not enjoy even few grains of it. Entire throat got irritated and nothing could soothe it. She went around looking for a cure. Finally we got some herbal medicine from a local Ayurvedic doctor. Of course, money was tight and mother did not want me admitted to any government or private hospital. Two capsules of erythromycin would cost an arm and leg in those days. Then she hit upon a potent solution: “Let me tie a talisman around this child’s neck to ward off all evil diseases.” She really took it seriously and purchased a silver coin with Pavana-putra (ఆంజనేయులు)  for me. One morning she did all her routine prayers and made me sit on a wooden pedestal. After lighting oil lamps around me she tied the talisman while chanting a sacred mantra. That did wonders for my health. For many years I had the amulet and it really boosted my spirits. I became confident about my physical prowess; sure occasionally there would be a minor cold or stomach upset but I never lost sleep over them. Her affectionate watch protected me from a distance and no evil thought/gaze could trouble me in the least. Of course, with the amulet necklace I looked a bit queer to my classmates but I just shrugged it off.

        Just through pure luck (I'd call it a benediction) I met many (more than I can count on a hand) holy persons in my life. I think it happened due to my parents' devotion; and also due to the extraordinary "penance" of my grand and great grand parents. Many times I wandered aimlessly when faced with difficult and desperate insurmountable situations. I patiently bore the burdens and waited for the "karma" to wear itself out. But once a sincere knowledgeable palmist examined my hand and commented: "Sir, why are you feeling bad? Why are you depressed? There is nothing to worry. You've bright future ahead and better prospects await you. Your current troubles are very minor. Do not lose your heart." I can never forget his soothing words. I never paid a penny for his prediction; a payment would be an affront to the affable elderly gentleman. (To be Continued) Copyright 2020 by the author

 

Remembering Mahatma Gandhi

Remembering Mahatma Gandhi on October 2, 2019

(150^th Birth Anniversary)

On this glorious anniversary day of Gandhiji, here are a few stories and aphorisms:

            In his school days, he succumbed to the influence of his friends to pick up the habit of meat eating.  In the American context, such influences and adolescent hiccups are euphemistically termed as "peer pressure".  The teenager Gandhi, after gathering considerable courage tasted goat meat.  His friend bandied the usual argument like this: "Indians are weak people, because they do not eat meat.  Try eating meat, it will give strength.  The Britishers are strong because they eat meat."  On that first day of meat eating, in the sleep Gandhi had nightmares.  He felt that he saw a bleating goat inside the stomach.  That is a fertile imagination of a young boy.  Due to his sensitive nature, and due to the great respect for his parents, he gave up meat eating.  He thought that lying to his parents about meat eating would be a greater sin.  In a similar vein, the young Gandhi was saved from smoking, stealing, etc. by his inner strength and sincerity; by the care provided by his parents and nurse.

            In South Africa, as a brown barrister, Gandhi could not get a haircut.  In those apartheid days, the barber would cut the hair of only white people.  Gandhi bought a clipper, he could cut the front locks with the clipper, but back hair was difficult to cut.  So he went to the court with a shabby hair cut.  His friends ridiculed; but Gandhi just told the truth.  How many of us have the guts to walk in the street with a ragged haircut nonchalantly?  One can already gleam traces of extraordinary courage of a would-be Mahatma; also we can see his total disregard to unnecessary superficial social customs.

            Although Gandhiji's "Satyagraha" - is often termed as non-violence, non-cooperation movement - such words do not connote the true meaning, nor do they convey the true purport of "Satyagraha".  Tracing its origins to Samskrit (Sanskrit), Satyagraha¹ means, "true firmness or true anger" i.e., believing in ones righteous cause and rejecting oppression.  A number of second and third-rate imitations of Gandhiji's non-violent movements earned Nobel peace prize. The Nobel peace committee still regrets its omission of peace prize for Gandhi.  But who cares?  His own people had showered on Gandhi a number of titles to show their love and respect:  Bapuji, Father of the Nation, and Mahatma.

            Before adult literacy became a fashion and decades before Paulo Freire (the Brazilian educationist in 1970s), Gandhiji initiated a drive for educating the illiterate masses of Indian villages - this was way back in 1934.  Pundits and elites may quibble about his personality, queer habits such as embalming with mudpacks, hydrotherapy, or drinking goat’s milk.  But no one can dispute that he trail blazed a number of revolutions against colonialism, racism, and violence.  Now people go gaga over alternate therapy but the Mahatma tried naturotherapy on himself and others long ago! Be it public sanitation, personal hygiene, frugality, or sustainable living, Gandhiji was way ahead of the time.

Selected Aphorisms

Politics without principles, Gandhi said, is a deadly sin that contributes to violence.

                       

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism, or the holy name of liberty, or democracy?

Ends never justify the means

Freedom is not worth having if it does not connote the freedom to err.

The woes of the Mahatmas are known only to the Mahatmas.

Sarojini Naidu" if only Bapu knows the cost of setting him up in poverty" (This remark came after totaling all the expenses incurred on behalf of Mahatma’s travel in a third class railway compartment. It included things like putting a mat, a spinning wheel, etc.)

The Swedish economist, Gunnar Myrdal called Gandhi "Enlightened Liberal".

Let me conclude with a quotation by Albert Einstein on hearing his death:

"Generations to come, it may be, will scarcely believe that such a one as this ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth".

1. (aagraha = attack, persistence, force, courage, seizing)

(A version of this article was originally posted at Sulekha. It received sizeable readership and a small reward. My friend and I were lucky to see Gandhi’s historical documents, personal effects, his spinning wheel, and reading glasses via a traveling exhibition at Kakinada Port station. Later I visited his memorial in Delhi and spent a day in Wardha ashram. Wearing a simple khadi shirt on a hot sultry day, adhering to truth even in the most humiliating situation, or taking a mud bath in a stream may teach us much more about the Mahatma than simply reading volumes of second hand biographical accounts. In the entire world there was only one Mahatma, who could mobilize thousands instantaneously for a just cause. India was lucky to have such a gifted son in its most trying circumstances.)

Copyright by the author 2019