Foundations of a Happy, Healthy Life
3
Each one of us will one day he judged by our standard of life, not by our standard of living; by our measure of giving, not by our measure of wealth; by our simple goodness, not by our seeming greatness.
—WILLIAM ARTHUR WARD
Righteous people eat the remains of sacrifice and are thereby freed from sin.
—BHAGAVAD GITA, 3:13
W hen I was in primary school, my mother told me a story about three men who, after they died, were interviewed at the gates of heaven and hell by Yama, the god of death. They all had to give an accounting of their lives, reporting the actions they had performed during their allotted time on earth.
The first man told Yama that he built a number of temples and installed images of God in them. He offered prayers, decorated the temples, tolled the bells in God's name. Hundreds and thousands of people thronged to the temples and offered their prayers.
The second man then gave his accounting, enumerating the
40 YOUR LIFE IS IN YOUR HANDS
good actions he had built up to his credit. He had constructed several schools and two hospitals, and all these institutions were named after him. With these works, he said, he had contributed to the education and well-being of the whole population.
Lord Yama knew that these two men had earned all their money by dishonest and corrupt means, fleecing thousands of innocent men and women. Even the so-called religious and philanthropic institutions they had built, which brought them name and fame, were being used for profit. Parents had to pay large sums of money to get their wards admitted to the schools, and huge profits were being taken in by the hospitals. They offered prayers for personal benefits, with their hearts full of greed, jealousy, and discontent.
Lord Yama knew all that, and directed that the two men be taken to hell for their nefarious activities while they were on earth.
The third man was a farmer. After he heard the two men speak and saw the judgment of Lord Yama about their destinies, he hung his head and silently began to follow them. Lord Yama shouted after him, "Stop! Where are you going? I have yet to hear you speak."
The poor man turned back and said quietly, "Sire, these two gentlemen did such good things. They built temples, hospitals, and schools, and sang God's glory, and that wasn't considered good enough for them to enter the gates of heaven. And I, who did nothing of the sort, how can I deserve to go to heaven?
"For all the days of my life I woke up very early and went to the fields to plow the land. I brought up my children with great difficulty, as the plot of land I had was small and the soil was rocky. We never had any reserves of wheat or rice, but my neighbor was kind, and we helped each other in times of difficulty. Lord, I had no time to offer prayers or to remember God. 1 did not know much about Him anyway.
"My sons have grown up. I managed to send them to the village school, and they were doing quite well when I left. That is all I have to say."
Yama replied to the man, "You have used your allotted time on earth well. You worked hard, did your duty, cared for your family. You never told lies, never cheated anyone or harmed anyone. Whatever small opportunity you had to be kind and to help your neighbor, you didn't hesitate." And he pointed the man toward the gates of heaven.
After completing the story my mother said, "Whether there is a heaven somewhere or not, I hope you now know what I understand by Dharma, your duty to yourself, to your family, and to your fellow beings. That should be our prayer and our religion. Just going to temple is not enough. It's not even necessary. Anything gained in this world, whether material wealth or even spiritual knowledge, while neglecting one's Dharma, is futile."
Growing up with Dharma
To me, my mother was an embodiment of Dharma. Her work and all her actions were free from desires and selfish motives. She only did what ought to be done. She sought no personal gain, had no obsession to be rewarded for her work. She had no love for money or jewelry. It seemed to me that all her work was undertaken with a perfect sense of non-attachment. She worked with a spirit of renunciation in action—but not o/action—as she was constantly engaged in caring for the household and the children. Her aim in life was to serve and work for work's sake, and she was in complete harmony with herself and with everyone around, her mind at rest.
Mother had a heart full of love, and her actions expressed the feeling that loving is giving oneself totally, without wanting anything in return. Her work for her children was all in love. There in the small kitchen of our modest house I saw love being poured out in abundance. The food she cooked for us had the fragrance of unlimited love that overflowed into whatever she did.
Even her reprimands were made with love. She was never upset or angry with anyone at any time, but when she observed someone doing something wrong she "scolded" him or her in
42 YOUR LIFE IS IN YOUR HANDS
her own special way. In a voice soft but firm, the tone expressing disapproval, she spoke the following sentence in Punjabi (she never completed school, but she could read and write Hindi and Gurmukhi): "Tera kadi kakh na jaye.” Translated into English this would read, "May you never lose anything, even a piece of straw, any time in your life." The person concerned got a blessing instead of a curse for doing something obviously wrong.
She recited verses from Guru Granth Sahib and the Bhagavad Gita, and taught us that the ancient wisdom contained in our scriptures tells every individual to speak the truth, not to hurt anyone by word or deed, to respect elders and teachers, and to follow the path of righteousness in every sphere of activity in our lives. One should hate no one, nor be jealous of anyone. We should strive to see God in all beings, as He alone dwells in the heart of all. I am certain that she herself saw the Lord in everyone.
And I always saw the presence of God in her. The reverence and respect I had for her was unbounded.
All my life I have cherished the unbounded love she showered on all her children, our friends, and, indeed, on everyone around. No visitor to our house, whether our school friends or a relative of our cleaning woman, could leave our house without being served with tea snacks or a meal. The hospitality accorded by her to all her visitors and guests was traditionally Indian, and left a deep impact on us children. She was a perfect example of the attitude of service, of doing one s duty without expecting anything in return.
The Rewards of Selflessness
This principle of sacrifice and service, of working with no expectation of reward, is deep in the Indian tradition. A. Parthasarthy says that the Hindu worship of the cow and the bull symbolizes esteem for this noble principle, and helps imbibe it into day-to-day living in India.
The bull toils all day in the hot sun, cultivating the fields of
DHARMA: the ancient path of righteous living 43
India. In return for his hard labor, he gets some dty grass and water. The bull embodies the principle of maximum work, no grumbling: no ego or craving for the fruits of its “action."
Likewise, the cow gives milk freely. Both the bull and the cow live for the benefit of others.
Lord Krishna refers to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita as a "bull among the Bharatas," perhaps because his life was dedicated to others. Unlike many people in modern times, who seem to believe in doing as little as possible with maximum gain, one who believes in maximum work with minimum personal gain is
a bull in society, living the lofty principles of life exemplified by the bull.
Mother conveyed to me time and again that what everyone seeks in life is happiness and peace. But if you look around, what most of us are actually doing is acting in this world for the fulfillment of our own wants, according to our own likes and dislikes. Man can never be successful in attaining peace this way. When he learns to act according to his duty and abides by the basic values of life, only then is he following the path of Dharma, the path of righteousness; then he will be as happy as a lark.
There are obvious disparities in the lives of human beings. Each one of us takes birth according to the actions we have performed in previous births. We have to adopt the path of Dharma and live a righteous life according to how we have been placed. We have to perform our duty for its own sake, because it's the right thing to do, not because it brings name and fame.
Mother would recite the story of the Ramayana and point out to us that Ravana led a life of sensuality, while Rama was an embodiment of Dharma. Ravana was a great and powerful king, who had all the comforts of life, but he did not have happiness. He may have conquered the three worlds, but he did not conquer himself. He was doing wrong—notably the abduction of Sita—and like everyone who does something wrong, he knew it and lived in fear. Rama, on the other hand, had no comforts while living in the forest, but he was in peace
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because he had conquered his mind and was living according to Dharma.
The epic of Ramayana portrays the character of people with contrasting values. For thousands of years it has shown millions of readers and listeners that there is a clear distinction between paths in life, and that we have the freedom to exercise choice as to which path we follow. By observing the characters and their choices, we can see that only the righteous way of life—Dharma —results in happiness.
What is Dharma?
R. S. Nathan of the Chinmaya Mission throws light on the word Dharma. He says (in The Progress of Indian Philosophical Thought) that the word Dharma has acquired such an all- comprehensive and complex significance that it is now almost impossible to bring it within the compass of a precise definition. Nor is it possible to find an exact equivalent for this word in other languages.
The word Dharma is derived from the Sanskrit root, dhri, to uphold or sustain. It stands for that which holds up or supports the existence of a thing. It can be said to be the "law of being, the essential property or characteristic of something. It is the luminosity of the sun, the heat of fire, the wetness of water, the sweetness of sugar, the whiteness of milk. It is also the divine spark of existence in man.
Dharma is on two levels. It has an individual level and a cosmic, universal level. At the individual level, one is an artist, a musician, a physician, a farmer. That is one's swadharma or individual, personal tendency. At the same time, it indicates the path and duties required to live up to, or completely unfold, that individual nature.
At the cosmic level, Dharma is common to all individuals at all times. It comprises the ideals, purposes, and right ways of life that should be followed both as an individual and as a member of society. It is the law of right living, the observance of which
DHARMA: THE ANCIENT PATH OF RIGHTEOUS LIVING 45
secures the double object of happiness in life and liberation from all bondage.
The essential nature of man is the power of realizing the divine. That distinguishes man from all other beings. This power is therefore manava dharma, man's dharma. Divinity is already within us, deep within our being. "Everything in creation is essentially divine," sing the Upanishads again and again. It is given only to human beings to fully manifest the divinity within us, and become divine. Once we do so, we enjoy unbounded freedom, bliss, and wisdom.
So long as our impure, agitated mind stands in the way, we do not perceive the divine nature, just as light cannot be seen through the smoke-coated chimney of an oil lamp. If we want light, we have to cleanse the chimney. If we want to bring out the divinity in us, we have to cleanse our mind. Lust, greed, anger, hatred, pride, all obscure the divinity and have to be dropped off once and for all. The measure of human life is man transcending himself," says Chaturvedi Badrinath. “This is ultimate Dharma."
The Mahabharata emphatically states that nobody has ever violated the principles of Dharma without courting disaster. Adharma (not following the path of Dharma) might carry a man to the heights of power and prosperity for a while, but it is all temporary. Heights gained through adharma, through wrong or unrighteous actions, will surely be a prelude to a certain fall. That which sustains is Dharma.
If you uphold the basic values of life, the code of conduct sacred to all societies, with perseverance and dedication, all stumbling blocks will turn into stepping stones to the attainment of peace and happiness, in this life and the life hereafter.
How important is it to live in accord with Dharma. Swami Vivekananda said, "Let people praise you or blame you; let fortune smile or frown upon you. Let your body fall today or after a yuga. But see that you do not deviate from the path of Dharma."
46 YOUR LIFE IS IN YOUR HANDS
The Right Path of Life
As I have emphasized throughout this book, man is endowed with the faculty of discrimination, which gives us freedom of choice. Since choice is available, we can and should choose the right action, in the right direction. It is our duty; that much, everyone is expected to do.
We can better perform the right action if we appreciate our role in the scheme of things. The whole universe is orderly. Stars, galaxies, rivers, plants, forests, animals—all follow the laws of nature. They cannot and do not violate these laws, and
Dharma and the Gita
There is no profession, no Dharma, which is demeaning in any way, provided you perform your work diligently, with devotion and dedication. Lord Krishna was a prince and represented divinity. Yet he offered himself for the job as Arjuna's charioteer for the duration of the Mahabharata war.
The job of a chariot driver was not considered dignified in those days, even though it required considerable skill to handle the reins of the chariot’s many horses at the same time. The direction in which the vehicle should turn or go was usually indicated by the master of the chariot, sitting at a higher level than the charioteer, not by an oral command but by his toes touching the charioteer's shoulder.
Lord Krishna took the assignment of being charioteer to Arjuna voluntarily, thus showing the eagerness of the Divine to be of service to his devotees. He declared and demonstrated that every action performed, every work undertaken in the right spirit is dignified. As part of his duty, Krishna, the Lord of the universe, scrubbed the back of his horses every evening after the battle and fed them with his own hands.
In his childhood Krishna demonstrated the power of divine love. Later he guided his friend and disciple Arjuna to victory in a war between good and evil, Dharma and adharma, and guided all mankind for all time by showing them the path of true victory and bliss in this life.
harmony prevails. Only man has choice over his actions. When his mind is calm, he is able to see the order and intelligence in the cosmos, the harmony of creation, and he will cultivate a proper attitude toward life and duty.
Strict discipline is initially required for observance of Dharma, but in course of time it becomes second nature. No intelligent person will allow himself to slip back into the ruts of his previous lifestyle after beginning to follow the path of Dharma.
We human beings are drawn both to good actions, which result in happiness, and to evil actions, which lead to suffering. We can attain happiness only if we choose virtuous living and follow the path of Dharma.
Man is an embodied soul, pure consciousness, the experi- encer underlying all experiences. This essential nature of all of us is happiness and bliss, pure joy, residing deep within at the quantum level in pure form. It bubbles to the surface only under the right conditions. All real happiness arises when we follow the path of Dharma, ultimately leading to Self-realization: directly knowing that pure joy.
In modem society money, physical beauty, and worldly success are equated with happiness. These transient pleasures cannot be compared with pure inner joy. But to be a man or woman of realization and be in a state of unbroken bliss and absolute freedom from all bondage and all worldly objects is not for everyone. It is open to all, but you have to recognize it as a worthwhile goal, and you have to persevere to achieve it.
Dharma and Religion
Although Dharma is often used to denote "religion," it has a much wider and deeper meaning. I always thought my mother was very religious; now when I recollect the various incidents in her life, I realize she walked the path of Dharma, the right way of living. That is why she lived such a happy, stress-free life and radiated such love and peace.
The code of such a life is inherently and instinctively present
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within our soul or consciousness. It is universally present in the heart of all human beings, whether they reside on a remote, isolated island, or in the so-called civilized, "advanced" countries. We need only look inside ourselves to rediscover the universal basic human values of life and Dharma.
Whether we follow one religion or another, or don't follow one at all, doesn't really matter. Swami Vivekananda said over a hundred years ago that he was ready to go to the mosque and say his prayers to Allah alongside a Muslim, enter the church of a Christian and kneel before the crucifix, enter a Buddhist temple or pagoda, or go to the forest and meditate with the Hindu, because he knew that the same light enlightens the heart of every human being.
Swami Vivekananda's master, Sri Ramakrishna Paramahansa, said it is like climbing a mountain: there are many paths, and you can reach the top by any of the paths, provided you walk up with dedication, faith, and perseverance, and don't hold the impression that the path you are following is the only one and the best one.
Swami Vivekananda clarified this teaching of Ramakrishna by reminding people of all religions, at the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago over one hundred years ago, that the human spirit is singular, regardless of the faith or religion of various men and women. The spirit, pure consciousness, is one, and if one follows the dictates of consciousness, the spiritual harmony of all mankind can be achieved. I feel that this is Dharma. And it is the lesson I learned as a young boy at the feet of my mother.
Everything I received from her, through the stories she told us or the manner in which she cooked and served our family and our visitors, became indelible and unalterable and has stayed with me all my life. Her life was like a breeze of fresh air, a breeze of purity, sincerity, and goodness.
She had many ways of teaching us. When I was a boy, we seldom discussed things with our father. He would simply decide the course of action for everyone. Everything had to be done his
way, otherwise he would get annoyed and reprimand us. And then there would be mother, taking our side and shielding us.
But not if we were wrong! When I was in high school, I wasn't allowed to step outside the house for a late-night movie with a friend, as my father was against our seeing movies, except when a religious film came to town. Then he would take the whole family, whether we were interested or not. I had made a new friend at school who was very fond of movies, and I started going out with him. I would leave the house after everyone was asleep, around 9:30 p.m., leaving the front door unlocked.
My mother somehow or other knew everything I did. She would lock the door from the inside and keep awake until midnight, and was at the door just at the right time. When I came home I would find the door locked, but I wouldn't knock or ring the bell, lest my father find out. I just waited silently, and very soon she opened the door and let me in.
This happened three times. Each time, she told me that what I was doing was not right. I was afraid that if my father found out, I would get hell! The fourth time, she warned me that the way things were going, she was afraid I might go astray with my new friend; if I went on like this and didn't listen to her, she would tell my father. And she did! I had to face his wrath in front of all the members of the family. I loved her all the more for that.
From then onward, whenever I could not make up my mind about something, I sat with her and sought her guidance. When the time came for me to go to medical college to become a doctor, my mind was in great conflict. Did I really want to do this?
Mother wanted me to be a doctor. "It will be a satisfying profession for you, I am sure," she told me. When she saw I was still undecided, she was not annoyed with me. Rather, she said, "Somehow or other I had suspected that you would not like to do it; the course is long, and one has to work hard to become a doctor." These words had a magical effect. In her subtle way she challenged me, and I took up medicine and have never regretted it.
50 YOUR LIFE IS IN YOUR HANDS
During the last few months of her life, my mother went to the home of my eldest brother in Lucknow. She had a special weakness and love for him. She loved all her children, but always lavished more care and affection on whichever one of us was not doing as well as the others, at school or later on in life. She firmly believed that if there was any vital force in the world it was unconditional love.
Pushpa and I were in Pune at that time. We got the news that my mother was in the hospital after sustaining a head injury in an accident. Her arms were paralyzed, and she had fallen into a coma. We rushed to Lucknow and, when we reached her room, the neurosurgeon and other attending physicians told me she was in critical condition, in a deep coma. Blood pressure could not be recorded for the past twenty-four hours. It appeared, they said, that she was waiting for me.
I went to her bed and leaned over her face. Immediately, her breathing became quicker. She opened her eyes, whispered my name, and lifting her paralyzed arm around my neck, pulled my face towards her and kissed me on the cheek. Then she fell back and stopped breathing.
The nurses, doctors, and all the onlookers couldn't believe their eyes. Neither could I. How could it have happened? Her will, so dynamic and strong, must have been operating from outside her individual consciousness, from what I could only think of as the cosmic level, directing the paralyzed limb of the pulseless body to lift and embrace me.
I kissed her face over and over again.
Ever since, she lives in the recesses of my heart. She has been and is directing me in my day-to-day life. If I have failed, as I surely have on a number of occasions, if the implementation was not always up to the mark, the right intentions and directions were always there.
And as I was fortunate to be given a direction in life by so pure a mother, so I have been equally blessed in marriage. In December 1995 Pushpa and I celebrated fifty years of marriage. She has stood firmly beside me in whatever little I
have done in my life. She is deeply religious, and has a tremendous faith in God. Her definition of religion has meant no love for material wealth.
She has a warm heart. If a neighbor's daughter is leaving her parents after her wedding, Pushpa cries as much as the girl's mother. Though she is veiy sattvic, there have been times when rajas has dominated, making her abrupt in her speech or actions (see pages 82-6). But ninety-nine times out of one hundred it has turned out that she had a good reason.
She has always had intuitive insight into things. When the doorbell rings, she tells me who is at the door; when the telephone bell rings she tells me who is calling before I pick up the phone. She has almost always been right.
Whenever I have been at a crossroads in my life, standing still for a while, not knowing which road to take, I have always consulted Pushpa, taken her advice, let her make the decisions, and we have never regretted them. Her personality is reflected in Deepak and Sanjiv's life and way of living. The grandchildren are deeply in love with her. That is her Dharma.
4
Your children come through you but not from you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life does not go backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as arrows are sent forth.
—KAHLIL GIBRAN
L ate one afternoon, when our eldest son, Deepak, was just three years old, my wife Pushpa and I were walking with him towards the car parked outside the house. I had bought an Austin 8, a small car, and also had a government car for my use as a staff surgeon. Deepak said, "Daddy, which car are you taking? Sometimes you take the white car and other times the green car."
I said, "Deepak, these are both your cars. You select the one for us to use this evening."
Three-year-old Deepak stopped walking, looked straight into my eyes and said, "These are not my cars, they are yours,
Daddy. You drive the one you like. When I go to school, study,
and then grow up and earn a lot of money, I will buy a big car.
I will make you sit by my side and drive it and then I will call it my car."
Pushpa and I stood there for a long moment completely dazed before we climbed into the car, and once seated we did not talk for quite some time. We were struck by the clarity of Deepaks mind, and the future he could visualize at the age of three, even before we had mentioned the word "school" to him. The sense of dignity and the vision of the ultimate goal were already there. On some level of his being the future was planned; only the details had to be worked out.
When he was in high school, he was intent on becoming a writer. He was a voracious reader, devouring Shakespeare, Tagore, Kalidasa, Somerset Maugham, Thomas Hardy, Bernard Shaw, as well as Agatha Christie and one of his favorites, the humorist P.G. Wodehouse. He had a photographic memory and once, when asked to repeat a randomly chosen page from one of Wodehouse's books, he rattled off the contents verbatim, from the first word to the last.
Somehow or other I had a hidden desire that Deepak would become a doctor. I had come to love my profession over time, and like many if not most fathers, wanted my son to follow in my footsteps. But long ago I had decided it was best not to be an influencing factor in the children's decisions.
Parents through the ages have always had the notion that their children belong to them. The father tells his son, "When I was your age, I did such and such. I don't know what is the matter with you!" The result is that most children become imitators; they start behaving and even looking like their father or mother. As a parent, you tend to be happy and proud when your children resemble you, not realizing that you never gave them a chance to be free, to express their originality, to develop their own personalities and unfold and become better than you.
You cannot hasten the unfoldment and blossoming of a flower bud. If you try to force it, you will ruin the beauty and
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fragrance forever. The inner personality and potential of a child is a million times more delicate than an unopened flower. Therefore you should not try to enforce your opinions on children. You can guide them with tender love, and let them blossom into fine human beings on their own.
I know that my father, for instance, loved and cared for all his children, but he was a very disciplined and matter-of-fact man, strict in many ways. He insisted that everyone in the family eat, walk, talk, and even think as he did. That made me a rather timid and compromising individual as I grew up. My mother's unbounded love was my saving grace; it modified me and made my personality acceptable, but there was precious little original about me anyway. I had many inhibitions and had to gather courage to express myself and even to think as I truly wanted. I was okay as a doctor but was definitely not born to be a teacher or speaker, though I have learned.
Because of my background, Pushpa and I decided upon our course of action regarding our two children: we would not interfere with the growth of their minds and their potential. I never imposed myself upon them in any way. All we could give them was love. And in the course of time, both have reached the pinnacle of achievement in their chosen fields. But I am getting ahead of my story.
Deepak, Sanjiv (our second son), Pushpa, myself, and my mother were all fast friends. There were no secrets in the family; we shared everything, including otir thoughts. So when the time came for Deepak to choose a course of study, we decided to have a dialogue.
Despite my own preference, Deepak insisted that he did not want to become a doctor. He wanted to see people happy and laughing, and not see misery and helplessness on the faces of patients, as his Daddy saw all the time. He wanted to take English literature as his major in the university, and be a journalist and writer, the author of successful books that would make people happy.
He was (and remains) a terrific storyteller, and had already
started writing short stories. In light of his natural flare for literature and his own view of his future career, we all agreed not to discuss the subject further. But I wasn't quite ready to give up,
and decided to involve the principal and the senior teachers at his school.
They told me that Deepak wrote for the school magazine, that his articles were widely appreciated, and that he was an eloquent speaker in school debates. He also acted in school plays and had recently given an excellent mime performance. His decision to make journalism and writing his career rather than science and medicine, they told me, would take him in the right direction. What could I do in the face of all this, but let go of my personal desire?
But then—soon after his graduation from high school— Deepak came to me and said that he wanted to become a doctor at all costs! He was so determined that there was no room for discussion.
He jumped into it with all his energy and intelligence, got first position in the pre-medical examination in the university, and gained admission to the All-India Institute of Medical Sciences through a national-level competitive exam.
While in medical school, he won numerous awards, including winning the All-India students' debating competition for four consecutive years. He also worked as a part-time news reader and commentator for All-India Radio. After graduating from medical school he went to the USA for his postgraduate studies, and began a successful career in traditional medicine. Within a few years he held a distinguished position.
But Deepak was a rebel. He saw the flaws in mainstream medicine, and refused to compromise. Instead, he chose the groundbreaking path of combining mind-body medicine, human potentiality, and spirituality. He refused to confine himself within the traditional mold of modern medicine, and dared to innovate.
Now he is a prolific writer, an eloquent, inspirational speaker, and the bestselling author of more than twelve books that deal with revolutionary ideas linking ancient wisdom with
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modern science. His lectures and seminars are as popular as his books and tapes, all around the world. His work combines a deep knowledge and understanding of medicine (modern and ayurvedic), Vedanta and the philosophy of the Vedas, and spirituality in its true sense. Along with his own original ideas, an appreciation of the works of ancient sages, contemporary scientists, and poets and writers of all ages and parts of the world are reflected in his works.
How much of all this did that three-year-old boy know when he looked me in the eyes and told me that some day, after he went to school and studied and made a lot of money, he would buy his own big car?
Children Have Their Own Destiny
According to the law of karma, a child is born to particular parents and a particular environment because his karma—the accumulated impressions of all his past actions and experiences —requires him to acquire certain physical and mental characteristics and have certain opportunities in this lifetime. He does not get a good or bad environment because of his parents, but because his own karma places him in a situation in which he can, if he so desires, utilize his accumulated knowledge and capabilities and add to them.
Some children are gifted, or are even born as geniuses. In such cases, an atmosphere of warmth and love in the family is certainly helpful. Research suggests that gifted children are usually brought up in a varied environment with plenty of opportunities. The value of a supportive family atmosphere cannot be denied, but there are innumerable families with such an atmosphere from which geniuses do not emerge, so this alone could not be responsible for the flowering of these great personalities. I am convinced they must have brought a lot from their previous lives.
In May 1995, seventeen-year-old Balamurli Ainhati graduated from the Mount Sinai School of Medicine of New York University and created a world record as the youngest person
ever to become a doctor. The average age for medical school graduation in the USA is twenty-six or twenty-seven. The young doctor moved from India to the United States at age three, finished two elementaiy school grades each year, and graduated from high school at the age of eleven. He said that he knew by age four what his profession would be, and at age twelve declared that he wanted to break all records and be the youngest doctor ever. He was a gifted child who knew all through his childhood what his future plans were.
Perhaps the outstanding example of youthful genius in Indian history is Adi Shankarachaiya. That great sage and revitalizer of Vedanta wrote his first book at seven, and composed dozens of commentaries on the most important scriptures by the age of sixteen. He then spent the remaining sixteen years of his life traveling throughout India on foot, spreading the message of Vedanta and establishing maths (centers of learning) in the four corners of India. He completed his life's work by the age of thirty-two. Shankara could not possibly have learned all that he knew in his short lifespan, and his genes do not explain it either; his parents and grandparents were ordinary folk.
Whether our children are geniuses or not, to us, the parents, they are wonderful, and we feel very proud to have them. To an extent, this joy and pride are probably all right, so long as we remember what the poet Kahlil Gibran said: Our children come through us and not from us. “You are only the bows from which your children, as arrows, are sent forth," said Gibran. We can give them our love, but we must not try to influence them, as we might hamper their growth. They have their own destiny to fulfill. As a matter of fact, I must say that I have been striving now for the last many years to be like our children, knowing fully well that it cannot be so.
Children Have Much to Teach Us
Sanjiv, our second son, had started sucking his thumb as an infant, and as he was growing up I would occasionally tell him it
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was not a good habit. We realized that it was our fault, as we had given him a pacifier to suck when he was an infant so he wouldn't disturb us, but he was now two years old and the time had come for him to stop.
One day I had Sanjiv with me in the car. I noticed that he had put his thumb in his mouth, and I pointed to a truck that had suddenly come to a halt at the side of the road as we passed it. I said, "That truck suddenly stopped and is blocking the traffic because a little boy is sucking his thumb." Sanjiv abruptly pulled his thumb out of his mouth.
After a while the habit got the better of him and he put his thumb back in his mouth. I saw another vehicle parked on the roadside and I repeated the trick; he again pulled out his thumb. After a while I forgot all about it, and Sanjiv was merrily sucking his thumb. But while driving back home, I lit a cigarette (I had started smoking shortly after Sanjiv was born). Sanjiv noticed a vehicle parked on the roadside and he said, "Daddy, look at that bus. It has suddenly stopped because somebody is smoking a cigarette.” Embarrassed, I quickly put the cigarette out.
Thereafter, whenever I reminded him about stopping the thumb-sucking, he would tell me, "Daddy, you should stop smoking, it is not a good habit.” This conversation between the two of us went on for quite some weeks till finally Sanjiv gave up sucking his thumb and I gave up smoking.
In his innocent way, my son did me an enormous service. Who knows if I would still be here today if I had not quit smoking.
I encountered a similar example of a young child's wisdom in my practice. Eight-year-old Dinesh was my patient for a congenital heart defect. I had him operated on for it, and told the parents that if the child had any infection or even a sore throat, he must see his family doctor, as the infection could get into his circulation and damage the heart.
A few days later the parents brought Dinesh to my office, as he had developed a cough and fever. Before I could examine him, Dinesh said, "I don't want to be seen. Doctor, please treat my
father. He smokes a lot and drinks every evening. The smoke in the house caused my sore throat and cough. That apart, 1 am worried about my father. He is sick with alcoholism. If something happens to him, what will we do?"
The parents of Dinesh were stunned. They never expected their son to burst out with anything like that. But the father learned his lesson and changed his life from that very day.
When our granddaughter Priya graduated from her term of service with City Year (see Chapter 15), the chief speaker at the ceremony was Marian Wright Edelman, the American author, educator, and champion of children's welfare. "Parents," Mrs Edelman said, "should listen to their children instead of just talking. They should be patient instead of angry, should encourage and appreciate when their children do anything good, compliment instead of finding fault, point out their accomplishments rather than their weaknesses."
She reminded parents that "we demand and expect much from our children and try to mold them into our image, rather than discovering and nourishing them as they emerge and grow spontaneously into fine human beings. We forget that children have unpolluted brains and come out with wonderful ideas and constructive suggestions.”
Children can teach us a tremendous amount. In their openness to life they show us the path we adults sometimes cannot see. I was happy during the times I spent with Deepak and Sanjiv when they were little boys. It was great fun going places with them, and I learned a lot from their experiences at school. We laughed a lot together, sometimes for no obvious reason. Being with them put me in touch with my childhood, which had been buried under the unwanted, unnecessary worries of adulthood.
When they were older, sometimes when I came home from work at the hospital and found them playing cricket in the open ground outside our house, I would join them. They knew more about it than I did and were better than I was, but so what? We enjoyed playing together and that was the important thing. I would make silly strokes and gave easy catches. It gave them
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occasion to laugh aloud and gave me the opportunity to free the child within.
Somehow or other, we get convinced as we are growing up that we must look serious and behave in such a manner that people will take us seriously as adults. We learn to control our laughter so well that we forget how to laugh, until we reach a stage when we feel that if someone sees us laughing for no reason, he may think there's something wrong with us. We make an effort, put on many masks, and then gradually we lose the capacity to be open and straightforward. As a result, we also start doubting other people's intentions and end up not trusting people any longer.
Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
—JESUS
Being with my boys was like a mirror in which I saw these things, and I saw how much I had to learn from them.
Look at a child lying in his crib, looking at the ceiling, laughing blissfully. That is your real nature. You have forgotten it over the years. But if we could have such a silent and pure mind when we grow up, and such joy in merely being, there would be no problems in this world.
The Right Environment
As parents, the most important thing we can do is to set good examples for our children. Instead, we tell them lies, and they learn to tell lies. We smoke, they learn to smoke. We indulge in alcohol abuse and tell them, “This is an adult drink, it's not for you," and of course they start drinking stealthily. We preach to our children not to watch movies with violence and sex, but we produce them. We adults are hypocrites, and the children become the same as they grow up. We must do our best to be what we want them to become.
When my boys were growing up, Pushpa would recite to
them from Ramayana. It was a ritual they observed almost every day. Once when I entered the room, she was reciting the chapter in which Rama, Lakshman, and Sita were leaving Ayodhya to go to the forest for their fourteen-year period of exile. Rama had given up the throne, and the people of Ayodhya were very sad to see their beloved Rama going away. Deepak, Sanjiv, and their mommy were all crying, with tears rolling down their cheeks. Watching the scene, my mind flashed back to the days when I was their age, and I saw my own mother sitting in the kitchen; she too used to tell us children these same stories.
Ramayana depicts Rama as an ideal son, a loving husband, and later a great and just ruler of his kingdom. A model of Dharma or righteous living, he demonstrated in his life the importance of truth and basic human values. Sita, his wife, has been adored as the model of Dharma for countless generations of Indian women. Ramayana, as well as other scriptures filled with ancient wisdom, were often related to our children by their mother, and have profoundly influenced their lives, as they have influenced countless others for hundreds, if not thousands of years.
"Let them learn first," said St. Paul, "to show piety at home." Religion, and the higher values of right living, should begin in the family. As someone said, "the holiest sanctuary is the home, and the family altar is more valuable than that of the temple. The education for eternity should begin and be carried on at the fireplace.”
Parents must foster a warm and friendly relationship with their children, and encourage them to develop diverse interests. It is also very important to make them feel contented with what they have. Provide them with the basic needs, but giving children too many things creates the illusion that acquisition is a valid source of happiness. They must know that if their happiness depends on acquiring a particular thing, especially something they don't really need, then they are on shaky ground.
The environment and family atmosphere play a major role in a child's development and future achievements in life, but as we
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were saying, every child has inherent potentials that he brings with him. We only have to offer opportunities. However, if these opportunities are scanty, the child's development may well be retarded.
The educational innovator Maria Montessori pointed out that the laws of nature inherent in a child flow like streams. If there is a block the flow does not stop, but continues in another direction. There are “sensitive" or critical periods during which a child's energies are naturally absorbed by one or another life process or area of development. For instance, at around three years of age the sense of order is heightened and the child needs many opportunities to create order in his environment. If this is not provided, the child's energies will flow elsewhere, but something vital in his development will be missing.
In school, the children must learn to participate, and should have the opportunity to exercise choice. They should be constantly guided with love and affection by their teachers, as they are very impressionable and can be easily influenced. One wrong turn at an early stage can change the course of a child's whole life and lead to great unhappiness.
At home, children should not be excluded from any decisions. Parents are the ultimate decision makers, but they must find ways by which their children can participate. These decisions should include such questions as when their friends may come to the house for play or meals, and so on. Also any change of residence, or questions about education and career, should be discussed openly together. Unless the child is taken into confidence, he may start having a feeling of powerlessness, and this feeling can make both his childhood and his later life unhappy.
I have already mentioned how our family met together to discuss Deepak's future, when he was determined not to enter medicine. I tried to learn from this when a few years later it was time for Sanjiv to make similar decisions. He had distinguished himself in English literature in high school, and I suggested to him to take it seriously in college. But he was determined to be a doctor!
He gained admission to all the medical schools he applied to, including the one in Pune where I was teaching medicine at the time. But he preferred to be in the All-India Institute of Medical Sciences. At his final interview the president of the selection board asked him, “Why don't you go to the medical college where your father is teaching?"
Sanjiv has always been precise, to the point, and confident in his speech. He replied, “My father is in the service and was given this assignment. He did not have the choice of being a professor in this particular school. I have a choice, and I want to attend the All-India Institute of Medical Sciences." He always had his eye on the finest institutions, and was fond of quoting the author and poet Henry Thoreau: “You can build castles in the air, provided you know how to put pillars underneath them."
Sanjiv built the pillars quickly. Soon after reaching the USA he was on the Harvard faculty and ultimately became an Associate Professor of Medicine at Harvard University School of Medicine. He has written a number of books on modern medicine, and has won numerous awards. Unlike many prestigious faculty members who look upon their teaching as a chore, Sanjiv is an outstanding educator. He won the George W. Thorn Award for Outstanding Contributions to Clinical Medicine, and the Excellence in Teaching Award of Harvard Medical School, which read: “Outstanding clinician, devoted teacher and mentor. We thank you for your outstanding dedication to excellence in teaching."
Just recently, Sanjiv was honored with the most prestigious Harvard Medical School award, the S. Robert Stone Award for Excellence in Teaching, which praised his “uncanny way of distilling a great body of information into a well-organized, coherent exposition which brings to life his subject matter and leaves his listeners not only well informed but eagerly awaiting the next teaching encounter." Sanjiv's students regard him with great affection as well as respect. They say his knowledge is not confined to his own branch of medicine, but that he is “a walking encyclopedia” with a vast storehouse of knowledge about
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medical history and discoveries. He is loved by his students, colleagues, and patients alike. It is certainly a good thing he didn't follow my advice and pursue English literature!
Both Deepak and Sanjiv were gifted children. My learning from them began when they started walking and talking, and has been a continuous process. It has gone on unabated ever since they emigrated to the USA more than two decades ago, through their books, through my grandchildren, and also whenever we meet, which is quite often. They both have given me tremendous insight into my day-to-day life as well as the dignity of my profession as a physician.
Sanjiv, for instance, always had a "beyond the textbook" approach. He always insisted that learning and memorizing facts and figures was okay, but not the ultimate, and believes that time spent in sports and in reading literature other than medicine is essential for real knowledge. I have come to regard his insistence on balance as very important not just for being a better doctor, but for living a full life.