God whispers in silence
I was born, grew up and did my primary schooling in a village by the name of Kallur. A remote and rustic village. In the native language of that village, "Kallu" means rock and "uru" means village. True it's name, the village is surrounded by rocky mountains with heat soaring to 45 degree C / 113 degree F in summers, resulting in heat and dust.
My father was a school teacher in that village and in India, in the sixties, the salary (compensation) for a teacher's work was very meager (not that it's any better now!). With a family of three children including me, my father struggled to meet both ends. Though my father owned a farm in the village, the farm depended solely on rain water and more often than not the rain gods didn't favor with rains, resulting in poor farm yield. Thus my father couldn't afford to get us good clothes or facilities.
Though my father was a very spiritual and a gentle person and never once scolded me, I as a young school boy, had always wished my father had a better job and we could afford more facilities. In addition to this wish, I also craved for more social recognition and always thought - if my father had a better and lucrative job, I would have been socially more respected.
I do not remember my father being part of the dignitaries on the stage in any local event and this compounded to my agony of thinking that 'I am just a son of an ordinary school teacher'. What I saw was that my father was constantly surrounded by students and he loved giving advise to them and constantly goading them to attend school and make a good career out of schooling in their life.He often brought poor students home and fed them.
Apart from his teaching, my father attended spiritual meetings and read spiritual books and hymns and wrote to many of his friends about real spirituality. So, the other group of people he mingled with were those who were spiritually inclined.
One day when I was walking with my father on the village road, a car sped by us spewing dust on us and stopped after few meters. The occupant of the car got down and came to my father and touched his feet as a mark of respect in the Indian tradition. My father was beaming at him and looked at me and told me that, as a young boy he was his student and had told him that he would be a proud teacher if he grew up successful and a drove a car past him spewing dust on him. Though i heard what my father said, i didn't give much thought to it and went into my reverie of driving a car myself one day when I grew up.
Therefore, as a young boy I always thought that I would make it big in life and make more money and afford better luxuries. I would sit with my sister and brother and talk to them that we should do well in life. The more I thought about it, the more it fueled my ambition to do well, get a good job and one day drive a car into my village and be recognized.
Since my village had only a school up to 10th grade, I went to a near by town for my pre-university education. Being a student coming from a village background and not knowing to speak or write good english language, coupled with my penchant to imitate town boys - spending more time loitering than studying, I did poorly in my pre-university education.
I would return to my village during college vacations and would go out with friends to a nearby hillock and talk endlessly about cricket, movies and movie songs. This didn't please my maternal grand father one bit and making no bones of it, he told my parents in my presence that I was not going to make good grades and would not be successful in making a good career.
This turned my ego upside down and I left the village determined to do well in my college and fortuitously I did well in my college landing two gold medals in my Bachelor's as well as in Masters degree. I landed up with a bank job, got married and settled down in a city far away from my village. Years rolled by and I would visit my parents in the village and nothing in the village changed and it looked as though time stood still in my village.
When I was in my thirties my father passed away and I went to my village to perform the last rites. When I went near my home. I was surprised to see a whole gathering of people paying their last respects to my deceased father. Every one of them had a story to tell about my father, about how he was compassionate to them and encouraged them to study and helped them with their school fee and how that led to their progress in their life and they owed their progress to my father's benevolence.
Listening to their stories about my father's contribution to their progresses in life and how he helped them in their times of difficulty made me realize that I was completely wrong about my perception of my father. I was amazed that an 'ordinary' school teacher could contribute to so many people and could make an extraordinary difference to so many lives positively. I was silently crying. It dawned on me that it is not necessary to be a dignitary on a stage or be wealthy or rich to make a difference in people's lives.
After I returned from my village, some how the image of my village kept constantly coming back to me. Some how the incidence of me walking with my father and the car incidence kept coming back to me. I couldn't stop thinking about the stories about my father's benevolence his students shared on the day of my father's funeral. I was looking for some meaning, some insight, some clue about that car incidence and the stories about my father.
About a few months ago a few people from my village had come to the city I live and my brother told me that they would like to meet me. We met in my office conference room and generally talked about the life in the village. In the general talk, some one in the group mentioned that a village trust has obtained a license to start a pre-university college in our village and that they were unable to put up the infrastructure and if they didn't start the construction of the college building by March 2012 they would lose the license. After the courtesies being exchanged, we bid good bye to each other and the people from my village left.
I sat with my brother and enquired about this college project. The investment to be done to put the infrastructure was huge. However, he told me that if initial construction of the college building started before the end of March 2012, the trust would get an extension of two years to complete the building.
Suddenly, I got this impulse as to why I should not Invest in the starting of the infrastructure before March 2012 which will give the trust two more years breather. We sent a message to the village that we will put up the initial structure of the building and work on fund raising to finish the college. We went ahead and have put up the initial structure. That meant that we have two more years to complete the project. The project is on....
Sitting alone and thinking about the college project, the car incidence and the stories about my father came back to me. Suddenly I realized that those were the silent whispers of God to me telling me that there is joy and fulfillment in contributing in some way to the community.
I heard the silent whispers of the God at last...
The college is being named after my father. What better tribute could we have given to him than to build a college to further the cause of education which was so dear to him. He spoke in silent whispers and I am lucky I heard it!
While you are reading this story, are you hearing the silent whispers of the God??? Listen in silence ... You will hear it.......
vdharmraj@ramaavenkatesh.com.
I was born, grew up and did my primary schooling in a village by the name of Kallur. A remote and rustic village. In the native language of that village, "Kallu" means rock and "uru" means village. True it's name, the village is surrounded by rocky mountains with heat soaring to 45 degree C / 113 degree F in summers, resulting in heat and dust.
My father was a school teacher in that village and in India, in the sixties, the salary (compensation) for a teacher's work was very meager (not that it's any better now!). With a family of three children including me, my father struggled to meet both ends. Though my father owned a farm in the village, the farm depended solely on rain water and more often than not the rain gods didn't favor with rains, resulting in poor farm yield. Thus my father couldn't afford to get us good clothes or facilities.
Though my father was a very spiritual and a gentle person and never once scolded me, I as a young school boy, had always wished my father had a better job and we could afford more facilities. In addition to this wish, I also craved for more social recognition and always thought - if my father had a better and lucrative job, I would have been socially more respected.
I do not remember my father being part of the dignitaries on the stage in any local event and this compounded to my agony of thinking that 'I am just a son of an ordinary school teacher'. What I saw was that my father was constantly surrounded by students and he loved giving advise to them and constantly goading them to attend school and make a good career out of schooling in their life.He often brought poor students home and fed them.
Apart from his teaching, my father attended spiritual meetings and read spiritual books and hymns and wrote to many of his friends about real spirituality. So, the other group of people he mingled with were those who were spiritually inclined.
One day when I was walking with my father on the village road, a car sped by us spewing dust on us and stopped after few meters. The occupant of the car got down and came to my father and touched his feet as a mark of respect in the Indian tradition. My father was beaming at him and looked at me and told me that, as a young boy he was his student and had told him that he would be a proud teacher if he grew up successful and a drove a car past him spewing dust on him. Though i heard what my father said, i didn't give much thought to it and went into my reverie of driving a car myself one day when I grew up.
Therefore, as a young boy I always thought that I would make it big in life and make more money and afford better luxuries. I would sit with my sister and brother and talk to them that we should do well in life. The more I thought about it, the more it fueled my ambition to do well, get a good job and one day drive a car into my village and be recognized.
Since my village had only a school up to 10th grade, I went to a near by town for my pre-university education. Being a student coming from a village background and not knowing to speak or write good english language, coupled with my penchant to imitate town boys - spending more time loitering than studying, I did poorly in my pre-university education.
I would return to my village during college vacations and would go out with friends to a nearby hillock and talk endlessly about cricket, movies and movie songs. This didn't please my maternal grand father one bit and making no bones of it, he told my parents in my presence that I was not going to make good grades and would not be successful in making a good career.
This turned my ego upside down and I left the village determined to do well in my college and fortuitously I did well in my college landing two gold medals in my Bachelor's as well as in Masters degree. I landed up with a bank job, got married and settled down in a city far away from my village. Years rolled by and I would visit my parents in the village and nothing in the village changed and it looked as though time stood still in my village.
When I was in my thirties my father passed away and I went to my village to perform the last rites. When I went near my home. I was surprised to see a whole gathering of people paying their last respects to my deceased father. Every one of them had a story to tell about my father, about how he was compassionate to them and encouraged them to study and helped them with their school fee and how that led to their progress in their life and they owed their progress to my father's benevolence.
Listening to their stories about my father's contribution to their progresses in life and how he helped them in their times of difficulty made me realize that I was completely wrong about my perception of my father. I was amazed that an 'ordinary' school teacher could contribute to so many people and could make an extraordinary difference to so many lives positively. I was silently crying. It dawned on me that it is not necessary to be a dignitary on a stage or be wealthy or rich to make a difference in people's lives.
After I returned from my village, some how the image of my village kept constantly coming back to me. Some how the incidence of me walking with my father and the car incidence kept coming back to me. I couldn't stop thinking about the stories about my father's benevolence his students shared on the day of my father's funeral. I was looking for some meaning, some insight, some clue about that car incidence and the stories about my father.
About a few months ago a few people from my village had come to the city I live and my brother told me that they would like to meet me. We met in my office conference room and generally talked about the life in the village. In the general talk, some one in the group mentioned that a village trust has obtained a license to start a pre-university college in our village and that they were unable to put up the infrastructure and if they didn't start the construction of the college building by March 2012 they would lose the license. After the courtesies being exchanged, we bid good bye to each other and the people from my village left.
I sat with my brother and enquired about this college project. The investment to be done to put the infrastructure was huge. However, he told me that if initial construction of the college building started before the end of March 2012, the trust would get an extension of two years to complete the building.
Suddenly, I got this impulse as to why I should not Invest in the starting of the infrastructure before March 2012 which will give the trust two more years breather. We sent a message to the village that we will put up the initial structure of the building and work on fund raising to finish the college. We went ahead and have put up the initial structure. That meant that we have two more years to complete the project. The project is on....
Sitting alone and thinking about the college project, the car incidence and the stories about my father came back to me. Suddenly I realized that those were the silent whispers of God to me telling me that there is joy and fulfillment in contributing in some way to the community.
I heard the silent whispers of the God at last...
The college is being named after my father. What better tribute could we have given to him than to build a college to further the cause of education which was so dear to him. He spoke in silent whispers and I am lucky I heard it!
While you are reading this story, are you hearing the silent whispers of the God??? Listen in silence ... You will hear it.......
vdharmraj@ramaavenkatesh.com.
Venkatesh dada,
ReplyDeleteSalute to you father. A great person. He would be proud that you are carrying on with his mission.
The article is inspiring & an eye opener to all of us who are blindly running in life without knowing as to why we are running.
All the best for your book.
- Shyam