The Old Man and His GOD---Sudha Murthy(infosys first lady!)

[Guest guest]

A few years back, I was travelling in the Thanjavur district of

Tamil Nadu. It was getting dark, and due to a depression over the Bay of

Bengal, it was raining heavily. The roads were overflowing with water and my

driver stopped the car near a village. 'There is no way we proceed further

in this rain,' said the driver. 'Why don't you look for shelter somewhere

nearby rather than sit the car?'

 

Stranded in an unknown place among unknown people, I was a bit

worried. Nevertheless, I retrieved my umbrella and marched out into the

pelting rain. I started walking towards the tiny village, whose name I

cannot recall now. There was no electricity and it was a trial walking in

the darkness and the rain.

 

In the distance I could just make out the shape of a small

temple. I decided it would be an ideal place to take shelter, so I made my

way to it. Halfway there the rain started coming down even more fiercely and

the strong wind blew my umbrella away, leaving me completely drenched. I

reached the temple-soaking wet.

 

As soon as I entered, I heard an elderly person's voice calling

out to me. Though I cannot speak Tamil, I could make out the concern in the

voice. In the course of my travels, I have come to realize that voices from

the heart can be understood irrespective of the language they speak.

 

I peered into the darkness of the temple and saw an old man of

about eighty. Standing next to him was an equally old lady in a traditional

nine-yard cotton sari. She said something to him and then approached me with

a worn but clean towel in her hand.

 

As I wiped my face and head I noticed that the man was blind. It

was obvious from their surroundings that they were very poor. The Shiva

temple, where I now stood, was simple with the minimum of ostentation in its

decorations. The Shivalinga was bare except for a bilwa leaf on top. The

only light came from a single oil lamp. In that flickering light a sense of

calm overcame me and I felt myself closer to god than ever before.

 

In halting Tamil, I asked the man to perform the evening

mangalarati, which he did with love and dedication. When he finished, I

placed a hundred-rupee note as the dakshina.

 

He touched the note and pulled away his hand, looking

uncomfortable. Politely he said, 'Amma, I can make out that the note is not

for ten rupees, the most we usually receive. Whoever you may be, in a

temple, your devotion is important, not your money. Even our ancestors have

said that a devotee should give as much as he or she can afford to. To me

you are a devotee of Shiva, like everyone else who comes here. Please take

back this money.

 

I was taken aback. I did not know how to react. I looked at the

man's wife expecting her to argue with him and urge him to take the money,

but she just stood quietly.

 

Often, in many households, a wife encourages the man's

greediness. Here, it was the opposite. She was endorsing her husband's

views. So I sat down with them, and with

the wind and rain whipping up a frenzy outside, we talked about

our lives. I asked them about themselves, their life in the village temple

and whether they had anyone to look after them.

 

Finally I said, 'Both of you are old. You don't have any

children to look after your everyday needs. In old age one requires more

medicines than groceries. This village is far from any of the towns in the

district. Can I suggest something to you?'

 

At that time, we had started an old-age pension scheme and I

thought, looking at their worn-out but clean clothes, they would be the

ideal candidates for it.

 

This time the wife spoke up, 'Please do tell, child.'

 

'I will send you some money. Keep it in a nationalized bank or

post office. The interest on that can be used for your monthly needs. If

there is a medical emergency you can use the capital.'

 

The old man smiled on hearing my words and his face lit up

brighter than the lamp.

 

'You sound much younger than us. You are still foolish. Why do I

 

need money in this great old age? Lord Shiva is also known as Vaidyanathan.

He is the Mahavaidya, or Great doctor. This village we live in has many kind

people. I perform the pooja and they give me rice in return. If either of us

 

is unwell, the local doctor gives us medicines.

 

Our wants are very few. Why would I accept money from an unknown

person? If I keep this money in the bank, like you are telling me to,

someone will come to know and may harass us. Why should I take on these

worries? You are a kind person to offer help to two unknown old people, But

we are content; let us live as we always have. We don't need anything more.'

 

Just then the electricity came back and a bright light lit up

the temple. For the first time I saw the couple properly. I could clearly

see the peace and happiness on their faces. They were the first people I met

who refused help in spite of their obvious need. I did not agree with

everything he had just said, but it was clear to me that his contentment had

brought him peace. Such an attitude may not let you progress fast, but after

a certain period in life it is required. Perhaps this world with its many

stresses and strains has much to learn from an old couple in a forgettable

corner of India.

 

 

 

 

--

Krishna Prasad

 

.. Yad yad aacarati sreshtah, tad tad eva itaro janah. As the Gita puts it,

consistency of purpose and a spirit of dedication and, if necessary,

sacrifice, should characterize the new spirit.

We Must

THE CULTURED GIVES HAPPINESS WHEREVER THEY GO, THE UN-CULTURED WHENEVER THEY

GO!

- Swami Chinmayanada