Lessons for Life-Remembering the every day life guru

Hey.

Today--Guru Purnima-- is an auspicious day for many of us. It is the day Hindus celebrate the birthday of Krishna-Dwaipayana-Vyasa, born to the rishi Parashara and the fisherwoman Satyavathi. The authorship of Mahabharatha is identified as Vyasa. He is also said to be the one who divided and gave the four Veda their names. So, 'Vyasa' (meaning 'to edit, to divide') gave clarity and thus, moved the reader towards Knowledge. Of course, Guru Purnima is celebrated by the Buddhists as the day to observe meditation, to understand the eight precepts of Buddha. It is said that Mahaveer after attaining Kaivalya, inducted Indrabhuti Gautama as his first disciple, becoming a Treenok Guha himself. Basically, it is a day commonly celebrated by many religions as a day to move towards Enlightenment or towards knowledge. The spiritual connotations are celebrated today widely. And we all take this time to remember and thank people who have led us towards 'light', and removed 'the darkness of ignorance' in us, albeit in a simple manner. 

          I too followed the tradition of thanking my 'gurus' on WhatsApp. Since I am in the 'teaching profession', some of my learners remembered me, especially on this day, and thanked me affectionately for whatever they have learned from me in the class or outside of it. Even as I am happy, at the back of my mind is the recognition of how easily the profession lends itself to ridicule. Little wonder that in this profession, it is easy to give up learning, to renew teaching skills; to feel dejected and/or start wondering if all the idealism one tries to stand is worth it. This is one profession that doesn't have perks- financially and/or otherwise too. It is not hyper-celebrated like say that of an actor or a doctor or an engineer; not a profession that would much fetch respect at home either. (The condescension --"It's teachers!! They have earned that laughter" and "They are not 'professionals' like an Engineer or a doctor or a Chartered Accountant or a Bank Manager!!" and, they don't even earn much money--badameshtru still holds good.) And adding insult to injury, we are at the receiving end of all kinds of ridiculous jokes-any number of cartoons, caricatures, jokes. The irony is, when the same teacher/s does do the job well, it is 'Oh! But, you are an exception. Many of them don't even know what they are teaching!!"  As if the whole world has copyrighted honesty, creativity and professionalism!! No wonder, even today, it is so difficult for people to understand why 'boys' especially do a post-graduation in English and 'want' to become a 'teacher'. (By the way, ever wondered why teaching is considered an 'ideal job' for girls?)  

           I have digressed. Even as I fuss and fume about this condition, I just want to thank the everyday life teachers who have made me a little bit different, giving me that understanding which is my strength.

    The first person who comes to my mind is Kempamma and her husband Boraiah. They were our milk providers in Mysore; they would come to my home with their buffalo, and milk them in front of my mother's ever-watchful eye (they should not retain water in their can as they milk the buffalo, you see!!). They would come promptly at 6.00 in the morning, milk the buffalo, measure the milk to my mother's requirement and go. All the 'wet waste' was given as food to their buffalo. This routine was kept up for more than a decade. For the couple, their buffalo was their source of livelihood; it was respected and taken care of as a living being, like a member of the family. It is from Kempamma especially I learnt what it means to respect. One day, after milking the buffalo, she began to drive the buffalo home. It had rained the previous night and the mud was wet. So the hoof print of the buffalo was visible on the wet mud. It made a curious puddle. I was attracted to it and I was about to put my feet into that puddle, the ever-gentle Kempamma shouted at me angrily,  'You children play somewhere else. Don't you dare put your foot into that? It will give my buffalo stomach pain'. She would mince no word if, even accidentally, anyone would stamp on a drop of milk spilt while she measured into the vessel that my mother or our neighbours held out. She would say in an irate voice" Are you people blind? You are stamping on milk, goddess Lakshmi herself. In addition, it will give my buffalo stomach pain'. And my mother would always caution me, 'Walk around carefully as long as Kempamma is here. Or, she will be angry.'  She spared no one when it came to the well-being of her buffalo. Yet, she would be chatting away with my mother and the neighbourhood women who came to take milk from her. This was also the time women spent together sharing their lives, their conversations had nothing to do with their caste or the other everyday life realities of their lives. This was one of my earliest life lessons--that respect should not be categorized; it was not dependent on caste/race/gender or even human vs animal. Respect was a way of life; not just an attitude. The husband, Boraiah passed away first and then Kempamma stopped as she was old and could not come to milk the buffalo. When I remember this, I am unable to understand how farmers can pour milk on the street as a form of protest against the poor price at which the milk is bought by the government or the dairy cooperative societies. 

            But, she kept our friendship with us beautifully. As a young girl, I used to tease her about why she did not get me Kajjaya after 'Maari Habba' (a local festival celebrating the goddess Mari, considered to be an avatar of Parvati. She was the protector against many diseases, including smallpox.) She would always return my query with 'as if you will eat', for which my answer always was ' you bring it to me and I will eat'. I remember distinctly her coming home to bless me before my marriage. When I was going to be a mother, she sent sweets--kajjaya--with my mother to be given to me. Of course, it has been more than two decades since she passed away. But some of these life lessons learnt from her in these situations are very precious and make me ever grateful for the people who taught me some very precious life lessons.   

         Even as I was reading about Guru Purnima today, I was quite excited to know its postcolonial history. I believe that Mahatma Gandhi revived this tradition to express his respect for the spiritual guru. Wonder if he had seen the Indigenous turn to spirituality!?   

   Dear reader, do remember to share your experiences and comments 👇

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