The Old Man And His God - Must Read

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Dear Devotees of TBP,

 

Love and Love alone....

 

You all must read this mail. i read it in another digest. I wanted to

share it with you all. It is lengthy and very touchy too that it may

bring tears to your eyes. So, take care of yourself and be prepared

to wipe a tear or two.

 

Love and Love alone....

 

P. Gopi Krishna

 

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The Old Man And His God

 

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

ofBengal, it was raining heavily. The roads were overflowing with

water and mydriver 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 somewherenearby rather than sit the car?'

 

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

bitworried. Nevertheless, I retrieved my umbrella and marched out

into the pelting rain. I started walking towards the tiny village,

whose name Icannot recall now. There was no electricity and it was a

trial walking inthe 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 myway

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

andthe 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 callingout to

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

thevoice. 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 ofabout

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. Itwas

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

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

in itsdecorations. The Shivalinga was bare except for a bilwa leaf on

top. Theonly 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 eveningmangalarati,

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, lookinguncomfortable.

Politely he said, 'Amma, I can make out that the note is notfor ten

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

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

havesaid that a devotee should give as much as he or she can afford

to. To meyou 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 theman'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'sviews. So I

sat down with them, and with the wind and rain whipping up a frenzy

outside, we talked aboutour 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 anychildren to

look after your everyday needs. In old age one requires moremedicines

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 Ithought,

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

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 orpost

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 upbrighter

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 kindpeople. 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

unknownperson? 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, Butwe 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

clearlysee the peace and happiness on their faces. They were the

first people I metwho 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 hadbrought him peace. Such an attitude may

not let you progress fast, but aftera 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 forgettablecorner of India.

 

-- cheersNarendra P. Sastry,