|
When we hear the word ‘sanyasi’
or ‘sanyasini’, we perceive in our minds a monk
in crimson robes; an individual and a loner who has renounced the world and
one who has given up material life. But, should only an individual who has
relinquished the everyday life of an ordinary individual - going to work,
earning money, taking care of a family - be a sanyasi?
Even the Hindu scriptures and philosophers differ on
the definition of a sanyasi. A few define a sanyasi as a person engaged in mediation to eventually
unite with his personal God. Others (e.g. Advaita)
define a sanyasi as an individual who has freed
himself from ignorance and abides by the universal reality. The Bhagavad Gita, on the
contrary, describes a sanyasi in more liberal
terms. The Gita declares that by merely giving up
material life or activities, one would not become a sanyasi.
A true sanyasi must also be a ‘karmayogi’ - one who believes that the goal of life is
caring for fellow beings with unconditional love and extending such care
without expecting rewards, recognition, or appreciation.
When we look around, we will find several such karmayogis in today’s material world. Here are the
stories of three karmayogis who live(d) on two different continents; but, like the rest
of us, are also part of the everyday world.
Janaki is a middle-aged
woman. She and her husband of nearly four decades are materially
well-placed in life. Janaki is very religious and
strongly believes that meditation and prayers will make one surmount the
most adverse of circumstances. One weekend, as always, Janaki
was ready to leave for the temple when her husband turned to her and asked
sarcastically, “You are going to the temple again? I thought that you just
finished with your several weeks of upavasam and
108 pradakshinam of your favourite
Anjaneya? What now?”
Janaki replied, “Yes, I
have completed that vow and I am sure Anjaneya
will answer my prayers.”
“What did you pray to Anjaneya
for?”
“Well, several weeks ago, I met this woman at the temple. I do not know who
she is or where she lives. She was sitting near the outer prakaram and looked really sad and depressed. I went
and introduced myself and began talking to her and she told me that a few
months ago, her daughter, who was only 35, had
been diagnosed with cancer. I can’t imagine the pain she must have felt but
I reassured her that her daughter would come out of this well and live a
long and healthy life. I took a vow then and there to do 40 days of fasting
and 108 pradakshinam of Anjaneya
every week. I just completed it. Anjaneya won’t
let me down; he will take care of this woman’s daughter.”
Janaki’s husband shook his
head in disbelief. “What is this young woman’s name, the one diagnosed with
cancer?”
Janaki, “I don’t know; I
did not see her mother at the temple after that day.” But, to Janaki, a stranger without a name is no stranger at
all. She is one more creation of God and, therefore, it is Janaki’s duty, as a fellow human being, to pray for her
health and welfare. A true karmayogi indeed.
Seventy-five years old Vijaya
was born and raised in a very orthodox family. Vijaya
was a little ahead of her generation in her views and practices. She was
passionate about helping physically handicapped people. For over 30 years, jer mission in life was to help sight-impaired young
people get a good education so that they can be self-supporting and develop
the confidence to navigate a tough world. She lived in an apartment near
one of the Chennai’s bus terminals and every Pallavan
bus conductor knew her home. When a blind young person got down at the
terminal, the conductor automatically assumed that he/she was visiting Vijaya’s apartment. The conductor would then hold the
blind person by hand and led him/her to Vijaya’s
place. Vijaya then spent hours helping the
sight-impaired individual with school or college work and prepared the
person for the approaching exams. She would often talk glowingly about the
young blind people, who she always referred to as her “grandchildren”. Two
of them eventually got their Ph.Ds and are
currently employed as faculty in colleges near Chennai. Another two
successfully run their own businesses. Never once
did Vijaya claim, “I made this possible.”
Vijaya also rose above
caste and religion in her good deeds. A case in point. A 20-year-old
cobbler named Govindan, who while riding his
bicycle near Vijaya’s home, was hit by a Pallavan bus. The bicycle was mangled and Govindan was seriously injured and was bleeding. A few
passersby advised Govindan to tie his knee with a
cloth, go to a doctor or apply medicine. But, Vijaya,
no passive passerby, ran to Govindan’s side, sat
on the sidewalk, placed Govindan’s injured leg on
her lap, tore her silk saree and tied it around Govindan’s knee to prevent blood loss. She then called
an auto and took him to the nearest hospital.
When Vijaya returned home,
four of her neighbours confronted her. “Mami, you are not acting like an orthodox elder lady.
Do you know Govindan is a cobbler? How can you
sit in the middle of the road and rest his knee on you. Have you no shame
or respect for traditions?” The no-nonsense woman that she was, Vijaya retored, “Look. God
created all of us. Govindan is as much a creation
of God as I am. Neither our religion nor our traditions ask us to
discriminate or claim superiority over others. It is about time you all
learnt about our values and traditions properly.” She walked back to her
apartment to bring food for a stray dog wagging its tail and standing
behind her.
A couple of years before she passed away, Vijaya was awarded the Meritorius
Social Service Award for her dedication to blind people by the then (and
the current) Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. A true
karmayogi indeed.
John and I have been close friends for the last 15
years. John is the CEO of a mid-size firm that manufactures mother boards
for computers. John and I have never had any secrets between us. Well, at
least I thought so.
John and his wife, Susan, never attended social
gatherings or other functions if it was held on a Sunday. John never gave
me an explanation but I assumed it was because John and Susan, as true
Christians, went to church on Sundays.
One Sunday morning, driving near downtown, I made a
traffic stop at an intersection near a very poor neighbourhood.
Peering out of my car window, I noticed about 100 poor people waiting
outside a nearby homeless shelter for it to open. On Sundays, the shelter
gives these people a hot meal and a place to stay for the night. As I
stared at these less fortunate people than I with guilt, I noticed a
familiar figure leaning on the closed front door of the shelter. What is
John, the rich CEO of a reputed company doing outside a homeless shelter on
an early Sunday morning?
When I met John the next time, I told him that I saw
him outside a homeless shelter, standing with several other poor people.
Susan, his wife replied on his behalf. “You know, God has been very kind to
us and John and I strongly believe that God expects us to reciprocate his
kindness by taking care of people less fortunate. We volunteer at this
shelter every Sunday, cooking, washing dishes and serving food to the poor.
We donate 10 per cent of our income to this shelter. That is the least we
can do. We don’t attend church on Sundays; but volunteering at the shelter
is our only religious ritual.” True karmayogis
indeed.
True karmayogis: they go to
work, take care of their families and live comfortable lives. They don’t
renounce the material world. What makes them a karmayogi is an unflinching kindness and the belief
that it is one’s God-given duty to show concern and to serve others. They
are just ordinary people who rise to the occasion and slip quietly away.
Ram S. Sriram (Atlanta)
sriramgsu@gmail.com
|
