Painful Parting

It was hard for me to leave home this time; I had been going home for brief stay over the past 25 years, each time spending just a few days to one full month, but have not felt so emotional and sentimental while leaving as during this time. I know there were more reasons for me to feel emotional this time. My sister had not been keeping too well two days before I left the place, and I felt sad about her situation; aging parents and her too young daughter. When she is sick, it is painful to see her, helplessness writ large on her face; this is a reality she has to get used to, and that has been affecting me.

It is of late that I have come close to my family, especially my sister, niece and my parents; the others - three families of brothers, all of them well settled, and earning fat salaries - had not been my concern. After the sudden death of my brother-in-law, I felt it part of my responsibility to stand by my sister and niece, and help her cope with life. What I could do to her is mighty little, however that had been bringing cheer in her and her daughter. I was happy to see that she is able to face life now fearlessly, and support parents in their old age too.

Over the past 25 years, ever since I left home, I have realized that the poor and the needy do not expect money or riches from us sannyasis, what they do look up to us is, our compassion, our love and time. On more than one occasion, my sister had made the same appeal to me, that I stand by her side, and she would be able to face life boldly. I may not be able to realize how hard it is to face life in real life situation; we live in artificial surroundings, where everything is taken care of; it is not so easy to battle with the odds of life and still retain one's sanity.

Though she knows for sure she has to put up with so much of inconvenience in order to bring up her daughter, and to support the aging parents, and adjusting to their idiosyncrasies, one thing is sure, she is not the one who would easily give up hope. The strong determination to keep striving has brought her up to this point, and I feel happy and proud for her. First it was the deadly cancer which bounced on her, some 10 years ago, and when she came out of it victorious, life could not bear her victory, and thus came a bigger shock, the loss of her husband. Now she has shown that she is a victor in every way.

My way of life does not permit me to keep close contact with her, or in that case with anyone else. However I know the little I do to support and stand by her side will not go in vain. I felt sad while leaving the house, because my presence at home could bring smile in her face, and she could rely on me for any kind of emergency. As an elder brother, this is my responsibility and privilege, and I feel I am not able to fulfill this, and that was bothering me. But deep within I know for sure that my invisible presence will help her to lean on me when needed, and gain that encouragement and support, which can keep her going.

Practising the Preaching

It is long since that I realized that what the poor people look up to from the people who have is not so much the material benefits, or money or favors, but a sympathetic, or better still, an empathetic, presence. In their struggles, pain and anxieties, they would like to lean on someone who may not let them down to die. As an educated person with degrees from some of the best known colleges in the country, and with knowledge of English which immediately puts me with the top 25 per cent of the population, I am quite different from the rest of the people of often deal with. The poor cannot even think of coming anywhere close to me, even if they have to struggle hard.

I am quite different from others, and so are many of my friends and companions; we are so very different from the people who work with and for; now there are people who know who we are, and look up to us as great social workers; some know we are people dedicated to God and the service of his people, and therefore treat us with due respect and reverance. But there are also people who would like to consider us as one of them; one of their family members, because of the fact we had left behind our family, parents and relatives. They would like to fill us with the love that we miss, and rejecting their simple love is rejecting the very people we wish to serve.

I had no intention of adopting a family, or allow myself to be adopted by a very poor family, a few kilometers out of the city. In fact, I did not even know that I wanted that way, and even before I could realize what was happening, I had become part of this family. Like Peter and John in the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles, who told he cripple they had neither silver nor gold, but had the power of the risen Lord. But I could not dare say even this, because I was not sure I had that power (or at least I was not aware the power was there all along!). All that I could do is to sit on the mud floor of their house, share their simple meal on a Sunday, and listen to their stories!

There is nothing I could share with them, except my time, and an empathetic heart, and they were more than happy with that. On festive occasions they desired me to share a meal with them, however simple it be, and I was more than happy to do that, because I knew that this is what I have been called to. Is this not part of my "preaching" the Good News? We did not discuss anything spiritual or about God, but the concern I had for my sisters and parents, showed itself through my simple acts of charity. They knew they could not depend on me for anything material, but considered me one of them, and that was a great pleasure for me!

A few days ago, when my sister dropped in to say hello to me here, she asked me if I could purchase an electric iron for her; if I am not mistaken, this is the first time that she asked me something, and I did not hesitate to say that I would. She earns about rupees 4,000 a month, and most of the money goes into maintaining the family, saving a little for the future. She is not a spendthrift, and I had been encouraging her to reduce the financial burden of the parents, and that is what she does. I know it is not the three hundred rupees worth iron which really matters, but that she feels accepted and supported. I feel part of my responsibility as a "preacher" is done!

Plateful of Rakhis

This is one ritual that my young friend does religiously every year… No, she would be offended if I were to say that it is a ritual; but rituals are expressed through symbols, and what she does is very symbolic, so I would still call it a ritual. Rituals also have the notion of sacred and secular embedded into their very nature, so let me still call it a ritual. Now, what is the ritual : before Rakhi Purnima, I am sure to get a hand-made rakhi from her, with a brief note, expressing her sentiments. As with Rakhi Purnima in the past years, this year too I received a rakhi by post. But she also sent me a few pictures of a plateful of Rakhis.

It is a delightful sight to see a plateful of rakhi, and I didn’t venture to count how many they were, but there were rakhi of different colors and shades. It was beautiful. From a long shot, moving closer each time, till we reach the close up of a rakhi, a green one. Now rakhi is a thread or band that women tie to the men they hope and believe will protect them in times of trouble or danger, and by accepting the band, the men commit morally to be their “brothers” and help them in need. But what is this young lady expecting me to do, by sending this rakhi all these years? I would sign off all my little email notes as her brother, and is it not proper then that she sends a rakhi to respect such a relationship?

Rakhi these days is highly politicized. On the next day of Rakhi Purnima, the day when this little ritual is to be performed, all the dailies have the habit of showing the bigwigs of the nation tying a rakhi in the hand of the underdogs, either a physically challenged, or a child living with AIDS, or daughter of a sex worker, or children living with cancer. But such rituals have a different connotation for sure. They are performed for the camera, and they would take pride in tying a rakhi to a underprivileged. This is basically to defeat the significance of Rakhi Purnima.

The plateful of rakhis. I wish every girl in our society has a plate full of rakhi, and make every other man her brother; if the rich and affluent girls take this plateful of Rakhi and tie them in the hands of the poor boys, new relationships will be built, which goes beyond the purely blood-related. This kind of relationship is what the world is crying for. If rich men accept the poor girls as their sisters, to stand by their side in every thick and thin, the world will be very different from what it is today. Is it not strange that even after celebrating this festival year after year, the attitude of a good many men in the country towards women has not changed.

If all the girls and women have men who would stand by them in all their difficulties, then the plight of women would not be there. We need plateful of rakhi for all our women; be they young or old, rich or poor, they all need plateful of rakhi, to make all the men their brothers. Let the band initiate new relationships, and every one become brother and sister! It is then that the society we live in can truly become a family of hearts, where each one cares for the other. I don’t need to wait for rakhi next year; all I need is to pass the plateful of rakhi, so that the chain of relationships does not stop at all.