Bezpodmínečná láska

Jako vojenský pilot ve výslužbě jsem shledal tento příběh hluboce dojímavým a chci se o něj podělit se čtenáři HT.

Americký voják se konečně vracel domů z války ve Vietnamu a zavolal rodičům ze San Franciska.

"Matko a otče, vracím se domů, ale chci vás požádat o laskavost. Mám přítele, kterého bych chtěl přivést s sebou."

"Jistě," odpověděli, "rádi se s ním setkáme."

"Měli byste ale něco vědět," pokračoval syn, "šlápl na minu a přišel o nohu a ruku. Nemá kam jít a chci, aby bydlel s námi."

"To je nám líto, synu. Možná mu můžeme pomoci najít nějaké místo, kde by mohl žít."

"Ne, matko a otče, chci, aby bydlel s námi."

"Synu," řekl otec, "nevíš, o co žádáš. Někdo s takovým handicapem by pro nás byl obrovským břemenem. Máme své životy a nemůžeme dovolit, aby do nich něco podobného zasahovalo. Myslím, že bys měl přijet domů a na toho chlápka zapomenout. On si už najde způsob jak žít." Právě tehdy syn zavěsil.

Rodiče od něho už nic neslyšeli. Po několika dnech jim však zavolala sanfranciská policie. Jejich syn se zabil skokem z budovy. Žalem přemožení rodiče přiletěli do San Franciska identifikovat jeho tělo. Ke svému zděšení zjistili, že měl pouze jednu ruku a nohu...

Rodiče v tomto příběhu jsou jako mnozí z nás. Je pro nás snadné milovat ty, kdo vypadají dobře nebo je s nimi zábava, ale nemáme rádi lidi, kteří nás uvádějí do rozpaků nebo na nás nepůsobí příjemně. Naštěstí je tu někdo, kdo nás miluje bezpodmínečnou láskou, která nás vítá do věčné rodiny bez ohledu na to, jak špatně na tom jsme: Bůh. Zkusme lidi milovat tímto způsobem, jako Boží rodinu.

Unconditional love
T L Bhardwaj
March 7, 2007

As a retired air force pilot, I found this story deeply touching and want to share it with HT readers.

An American soldier was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco. "Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favour to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me."

"Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."

"There's something you should know," the son continued, "he stepped on a land mine and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."

"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live." 

"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us."

"Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own." At that point, the son hung up the phone.

The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had killed himself jumping off a building. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco to identify his body. They found, to their horror, that he had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we do not like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, there's someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are: God. Let's try to love people that way as God's family.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1946251,00360004.htm

Queen Zubaiyda’s bargain
Saiyed Zaigham Murtaza
April 3, 2007
				
Religion is not about empty ritual but about faith. Nor can it be a compulsion on any one. But it’s curious how true devotion always seems to pay you back. One of my favourite stories about this concerns Bahlol of Baghdad, known as Bahlol Diwana (Dana), whom HT readers have encountered before in this column.

One day Bahlol was by the riverside making a sandcastle, like children do. Zubaiyda, wife of Caliph Haroon-al-Rashid happened to pass by. She was kind hearted enough to ask, "Bahlol! What are you doing?"

"Constructing a home for Paradise," replied Bahlol.

"Please would you sell this house to me?"

"Yes, I can, but for 100 dinars."

Since Zubaiyda wanted to help Bahlol in any way she could, she immediately paid him the amount.

Bahlol asked, "Don't you need a receipt?"

“Just write it up and send it to me later,” replied Zubaiyda.

When the Caliph came to know about it, he laughed at his wife. Meanwhile Bahlol distributed that money among the poor as he usually did.

That very night Zubaiyda had a dream. She saw a big garden, the like of which she had never seen before. In it was a splendid palace, rich with jewels and decorated sumptuously A river flowed by, its banks blooming with flowers. Zubaiyda was given a receipt, written in gold, and was told that this was the Garden that she had bought from Bahlol.

Zubaiyda woke up and told Haroon about it. Early in the morning, Haroon summoned Bahlol and asked to buy a house, too.

Bahlol laughed aloud. “Sorry, they are out of stock now. And even if I had one, I regret to say that I may not have given it to you, because Zubaiyda bought it without seeing (the reward). Whereas, you want to buy one now because you see gain in it.” Haroon felt ashamed but now it was too late.

It can be said that real rewards come through faith, not greed. God seems to best admire those services rendered without any motive but goodwill.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1963638,00360004.htm

The monk on the train
Bhartendu Sood
March 20, 2007
				
The other Saturday on the train, I read something by our President, Dr Kalam, in HT: "It is not Allah versus Ishwar. He is not to be looked for in mosque or a temple. He is not to be fought over and sought in martyrdom as protagonists of different religions do in our country."

It sounded most sensible to me. After I finished reading, a Tibetan monk sitting opposite took that page. He liked it too and smilingly nodded to convey that to me. That made me ask his views on religion. These are the insightful and inspiring things he said:

"Well, to me, religion has meaning only if it improves the quality of our acts and makes us better human beings. But sadly, that is not happening.

"Religion is used excessively to impart identity right from when a child is born and our stress on identity is driving one person away from the other; with the result, today humanity is divided into ethnic groups.

"And it is religion that appears to be at the root of global conflict and violence, whereas, the right practice of religion should raise people above these barriers.

"To substantiate it, let me tell you a true story. I went recently to our monastery in Bhutan. An unexpected guest arrived, a monk from Tibet. We wanted to hear about his life under Chinese domination.

"He told us that when he was in a prison, initially his monk's robes made the Chinese jailers inflict excesses on him. But gradually, the Chinese officers actually started loving him and after a few months, he was freed. When asked how he felt to be free now, he replied that he empathised with his Chinese friends who missed him.

"Shocked and baffled we looked at each other and turned to the head monk to see his reaction. The head monk got up and embraced the visitor 'Amazing! Really amazing! We, staying in this monastery for so many years, could not become Buddhist, whereas you became one in prison.' This is religion!"

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1954623,00360004.htm

Plunkett is an evolved soul
Neela Sood
March 16, 2007
				
In the current excitement of the forthcoming World Cup, when all newspapers are bursting with stories and statistics about the players, English player Plunkett's offer of his kidney to his ailing father is amazing news. He is actually prepared to risk his glamorous cricket career and skip the World Cup, if his ailing father agrees to accept his kidney.

When I was a child, my father would say that though we Indians were far behind the western countries in scientific and material advancement, when it came to family bonds, rooted in sacrifice, we were far ahead of them. In our country, parents still make all sort of sacrifices for children and they don't mind slogging and foregoing their own comforts to bestow a promising future on their children.

Many a time, the eldest sibling sacrificed his or her own interests and happiness to take care of younger brothers and sisters. Children, when grown up, took care of their parents even if it was at the expense of their own comforts.

Today, forty years later, what my father told me seems fiction and fantasy. I see elderly people leading lonely lives, languishing in the absence of emotional support and medical aid, even when their children live in the same city. Children leaving their parents for greener pastures are the norm. My own brother surreptitiously left for the US about twelve years ago, leaving our old widowed mother all alone.

Today, when making money and buying things have taken precedence over other values, the family bonds which were our strength and which we were so proud of have, have taken a severe hit. We have to look to western countries for a lesson in this, also. At least, they are not ungrateful to their parents, as we have become.

Plunkett is not the only case. I have read of other foreign cricketers skipping their tour to attend to their ailing kin. How many of our 'blue billion' people would do that today? I think a person like Plunkett deserves to have his team win!

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1952117,00360004.htm

How much is this diamond worth?
Satyendra Garg
March 15, 2007

A diamond merchant who was an expert in his field died young. He left behind his wife and a very young son.

When the child came of age his mother told him that his father had left him an invaluable diamond and that he should go around and find out its worth. She also told him that he should not sell it off but only find out its value. The value given by each would be a reflection of the person's intellect and not the value of the diamond.

The boy began around his house. He went first to the woman selling vegetables and asked her how much she valued the diamond at. She told him that she did not have much use of it but she was prepared to give two carrots in exchange for the stone as a plaything for her child.

The boy next went to a petty shopkeeper and asked its value. The shopkeeper told that he was prepared to give few hundred rupees for it.

Then the boy went to the local goldsmith who was prepared to give five thousand rupees for the diamond. He went next to a jeweller who was prepared to give twenty thousand rupees for the diamond. A stop at the diamond merchant's shop drew an offer of a hundred thousand.

At last the boy went to an expert in rare and precious stones and he readily disclosed that the diamond was so precious that even millions of rupees were not enough for its exact value. In effect, he said that the diamond was invaluable.

If we think about it, so is the value of the human life we are blessed with. It is a different matter altogether that many of us do not realise its value and like the vegetable seller, put a very low price on it, squandering it on petty pursuits.

But if we realise that this life is given to us only in order to realise our best and highest selves, we appreciate that old phrase, 'ratan janam'.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1951413,00360004.htm

The uphill climb to God
Amitabh Shukla
March 14, 2007
				
Sometimes those who have surrendered their ego to God undergo penance and endure physical hardship to mark a fresh chapter of life.

I came to learn about this aspect of faith while travelling in the Uttarakhand hills recently. The Garhwal Hills are called Devbhumi, since they enclose four of Hinduism's holiest shrines: Kedarnath, Badrinath, Yamunotri and Gangotri. They attract thousands of people from across the country when the doors of the temples after opened after the snow melted.

While going uphill from Rishikesh, I saw six different groups of pilgrims on foot. The taxi driver, a local, told me that several pilgrims trek more than 300 km during the pilgrim season.

Curiosity got the better of me and I stopped to talk to two men, bearded and wearing the gerua clothes of the ascetic.

"Baba, where to?" I asked.

The sanyasi (mendicant) replied, "On the Char Dham yatra."

"But the temple doors must be closed now and it is still two months away before it opens," I protested.

"I will go up to where nature allows me on the banks of the Bhagirathi," said the sanyasi, pointing to the holy river at a distance, "I will wait at the temple gate and be one of the first to offer flowers to the Lord."

"But why walk all the way when you can get a bus service for a small fee?" I insisted.

"The abode of God is so beautiful. God wants devotees to appreciate the mountains, the forests, the clouds and the snow and there is no better way of enjoying God's hospitality than by walking uphill," said the sanyasi. "People tell lies all year round and then go to God once a year for forgiveness. They repeat it every year until the body gives up and the soul finds a new body. We rush about in everyday life all the time. Is it not necessary to switch off and focus mind and body totally through pilgrimage, especially when you have good health?" asked the sanyasi.

He left me with something to think about.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1950842,00360004.htm

The gladness of gratitude
INNER VOICE || Rajendra Bist
December 18, 2006

My late father was a pious man. He lived life in a simple way and never tried to acquire wealth by foul means. In the end, as he lay on his deathbed, his last advice to me was that I should never be ungrateful to anyone who tried to help me. He said in a feeble voice that first of all we should thank God for having given us life and that we should try to make the best of it.

I tried to follow the lifestyle of my father in key postings as private secretary to Union ministers and in my capacity as deputy secretary in charge of a huge amount of government property. I never budged from the path of honesty taught by my late father. God rewarded me with a great career and the regard of my seniors and juniors.

I owe it all to my father’s example. He did his best to teach me good things, like treating all human beings regardless of their caste and creed as the noble creation of God.

One day something happened that really moved my heart. My father and I were passing by the Jama Masjid in Old Delhi. An old Maulana greeted my father with great respect and affection. I asked my father who he was. My father told me that he had been our neighbour in the pre-Partition days.

During Partition, when news of the Hindus’ suffering in Pakistan got here, it created a storm, as everyone knows. Consequently, the Hindus in Delhi were agitated and bent on taking revenge. In this process, each house was being searched by the furious mob for Muslims. The mob came to our house and asked my father where Ahmed next door had gone. My father convincingly declared his ignorance. He then managed to send Ahmed and his family to a safe place in the guise of Hindu pandits, giving them malas to wear. This incident from my father’s life continues to guide me in my dealings with fellow beings whatever be their community.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=85bffc53-3908-4fa6-bcfe-78bd0ed9578f

Wrought only by prayer
INNER VOICE || Anindita Banerjee
December 11, 2006

Faith is a simple word of five letters, yet very powerful when one has it. It is like how when the five fingers of each hand come together in prayer, the entire meaning of their existence changes.

I want to share a true story of faith and love, about my grandmother. She is not a divine being, just an ordinary person like you and I who, when confronted with adverse situations, either breaks down or turns towards the Supreme Being for strength.

When my aunt was doing her masters, she was suddenly stuck down by encephalitis. And before anyone could realise what had happened she took a turn for the worse, losing all control over her senses. She was taken to big hospitals where medicines were given to reduce the number of waking hours. My grandparents were devastated and did not know what to do, when my grandmother turned to God for solace.

With tears streaming down her eyes and a heavy heart, she visited each and every shrine, and performed all possible religious ceremonies. Then, suddenly, she took a bold decision to stop the sleep-inducing medicines given to my aunt, driven by a sudden feeling to perform the Shri Satyanarayan Puja on the upcoming full-moon day.

Though her family objected, she performed the ceremony with full devotion. Astonishingly the next morning my aunt got up from her bed, went up to my grandmother and asked why she had not been woken up. Everybody was too shocked to answer. She remembered everything before her illness but not her illness itself. Doctors, who had given up hope, could not believe that she was completely normal after such a prolonged illness.

My grandmother’s sincere faith in God made her hope and she never gave up. Her prayers were not left unanswered, though non-believers might contend otherwise. Today, my aunt is happily married since thirty years and has also been blessed with an able child, which is a miracle in itself. Prayers can sometimes work even the most impossible things. What we need is faith.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=ee5162ca-9138-4cf2-8c80-f20e1f91645e

So where is God?
Darshit Raval
March 9, 2007
				
It is normal for the rational mind to doubt the existence of God. But here's a beautiful story I found, for both doubters and believers.

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair and beard trimmed. As the barber set to work, they began to chat. Eventually, they touched on the subject of God.

The barber said, "I don't believe that God exists."

"Why do you say that?" asked the customer.

"Well, you just have to go out into the street to realise that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things."

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to get into an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop.

Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, unwashed hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt. The customer turned right back and went into the barber shop. He said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."

"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber "I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"

"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside."

"Ah, but barbers DO exist! That's what happens when people do not come to me."

"Exactly!" affirmed the customer "That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! That's what happens when people do not go to Him and don't look to Him for help. That's why there's so much pain and suffering."

I understand this story to mean that God is not found in temples and rituals. If we surrender ourselves to GOD and kill our ego completely, we will find God within us.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://hindustantimes.in/news/181_1947728,00360004.htm

Cow whisperers of Kumaon
INNER VOICE || Rajshekhar Pant
December 08, 2006
		
It is a typical Kumaoni house in the far-off village of Kulsari in Chamoli district, Uttaranchal. Over a score of cattle, mainly cows and bulls, most of them physically impaired and infirm, mill about in front of the house.

Some are tethered to peach and plum trees nearby while others are in the flagstone-paved courtyard.

A septuagenarian man places bales of fresh fodder for the animals while a grizzled old lady cleans the place. As they look upon the cattle, their tired old faces glow with childlike joy.

The gentleman, weak but dauntless, is Ghanand Purohit, a retired schoolteacher.

For over 25 years he has maintained, entirely on his own a shelter for physically infirm and impaired cattle abandoned by their owners.

The number of such "unproductive" cows and bulls is now over 30 in the 'gaushala' that he runs with the sole help of his aging wife in his ancestral home.

"She cleans the shed every morning and even brings fodder from the jungle around for the cattle," says Purohit. "It all began at Gopeshwar, a small settlement on way to the last border village called Mana."

Serving as a schoolteacher there he once came across a newborn calf abandoned by migrant herdsman from Mana, simply because its mother had died in delivery and keeping such an ill-omened calf was not acceptable to its master.

"I brought that calf home and along came the idea of a shelter."

The practice of disowning such unproductive cattle is common in the hills, so there were many homeless animals: "When I retired, I went home with 22 such animals in a truck," says Purohit.

The former teacher gets a pension of Rs 3,987 while maintaining the herd could not be less than Rs 5,000 per month.

With no help save from their only son, the principal of a public school in Solan, these unassuming elders manage as best as they can, eating just the evening meal, which they feel is enough at this age.

"It is our kind of worship," they both declare staunchly.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=ae75a5fc-4df6-4136-be64-b6b2526d5043

The true goal of life
INNER VOICE || Gayatri Reddy
New Delhi, November 27, 2006

Just a few days back, my daughter asked me what her goal in life should be. I was too dumbfounded to answer, for I had never thought about it! I was leading my life, doing my job, raising my kids, looking after my family. But, were these my goals in life? Getting a cushy job, owning a house and car, getting a hefty bank balance — suddenly these seemed to pale away. That wasn’t my goal in life.

Then what was?

I had to find out for myself, before I could answer my child. I set out on a journey to figure it out and stumbled upon some words of Swami Vivekananda that seemed addressed to me.

“The goal of mankind is knowledge and that is one ideal placed before us in Eastern philosophy. Pleasure is not the goal in life, pleasure and happiness both come to an end. Men foolishly think that happiness is the goal to strive for and that leads to greater misery.

The ideal is knowledge, knowledge that will set us free. Freedom is the basis for all the struggles in life.

The saint is oppressed with the knowledge of his condition of bondage and wants to get rid of it by worshipping God.

The thief is oppressed with the idea that he doesn’t possess certain things and he tries to get rid of that want. To obtain freedom from it, he steals. The freedom loved by the saint leads him to bliss, but that which the robber has set his heart on, forges greater bondage.” Only knowledge and devotion bestow peace on the soul. This does not mean that we won’t work, won’t earn or live well: we will. But that is only a means to sustain ourselves in our pursuit of calming spiritual knowledge.

Otherwise, we will never be free from vacillating between sadness and joy. Lastly, Swamiji says that if every mother could tell this to her child as the goal of life, all the miseries of the world would come to an end.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=0900de4a-4782-400f-b3cd-36cb2b7d3c9c

Sanyas is a state of mind
INNER VOICE || Seema Burman
November 23, 2006
		
We recently visited the sacred place of a famous saint, who taught mankind that marriage was not a hindrance in spiritual quest and that lay people could achieve spiritual bliss. Seeing the places where he meditated we reached an ashram of great importance in his spiritual journey. Here, we met a senior sanyasi who showed us around. But gradually we found the old sanyasi behaving like any roadside Romeo. It was embarrassing.

Why do we want to look pure in the eyes of society when the mind is impure? When saints, preachers or priests transgress from self-declared spiritual rules, their lapse is most shocking because it betrays devotees' faith.

When Arjuna wants to opt out of the war Sri Krishna accuses him of having double standards. Explaining the right meaning of renunciation, Sri Krishna says, "One who relinquishes the results of actions is a true renouncer" (BG:18:11). Krishna has no sympathy for those who make a show of renouncing the world but mentally indulge in desire: "One who, restraining the organs of actions, sits revolving in the mind thoughts regarding sense objects, he or she, of deluded understanding, is called a hypocrite" (BG: 3:6).

During fasts, if we look at food greedily then we are cheating by gratifying our eyes and nose. Shankaracharya was ready for sanyas at the age of six. But renunciation cannot be an escape from the world, which is a battlefield where one must fight to survive. When survival is threatened, some resort to sanyas. That is not renunciation but finding consolation in inaction.

The mentally impure are soon betrayed by their strong desires. Their body may be quiet outwardly but their mind runs differently. It is better to admit that the mind has cravings, than to fulfil them dishonestly and try to look chaste in society.

Renunciation is the art of mastering the mind not the body. Indeed, Swami Ranganathananda explains that we can transform our homes into ashrams (spiritual abodes), while the old sages describe the stage of Grihastha (family life) as an ashram.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=83678d24-f6f1-4e46-ace1-da4014dc44fa

Rosewater and scorpions
Saiyed Zaigham Murtaza
August 21, 2006
		
This week followers of Hazrat Sharafuddin Shah Wilayat, a revered saint of Uttar Pradesh, will celebrate his birthday and urs with traditional enthusiasm. Shah Wilayat’s message endures as a symbol of the Gangetic Plain’s unique tradition of syncretic culture, the famous ‘Ganga-Jaamuni tehzeeb’. One may go so far as to say that love is eternal and it creates room for itself in any condition.

Hazrat Sharafuddin Shah Wilayat, a medieval mystic, has long been considered one of the great Sufi saints. He migrated from south Asia to India and found a suitable place in Amroha, then known as Azizpur town. His primary mission was to preach love and humane behaviour. In Amroha he was informed about another Saint, Hazrat Shah Nasruddin, who was short tempered and intolerant of other spiritual leaders on his turf.

Hazrat Sharafuddin present him a bowl of rose water through one of his colleagues. The message was that ‘I am here to spread the essence of humanity’. Hazrat Nasruddin responded by dipping a rose in it, which made the water overflow from the bowl. The message was that here is no room for anyone else. When Hazrat Sharafuddin refused to leave the locality, Shah Nasruddin said if he stayed there, his grave would be the breeding ground and habitat of deadly scorpions.

Knowing this Shah Wilayat said to his messenger, go and tell him I am here to preach love not hatred. Love may create room for itself. Indeed, the scorpions will guard my grave and yet they will be as peaceful as saints themselves, if my love has any power.

They will never harm any human being. These powerful words came true. Even today one may find countless scorpions in the graveyard of Hazrat Sharafuddin Shah Wilayat living side by side with humans in utter peace. Such, it seems, is the power of love that can alter the very nature of even deadly Creatures. Why, them, cannot we human beings benefit from love, to live peacefully in the world that was originally for all of us by Almighty?

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=eb56f4d1-aa67-44b3-8ab9-363dc8dc676c

Aurangzeb at Chitrakoot
INNER VOICE || Ahmad Rais Siddiqi
January 12, 2006

It seems unbelievable but it is reportedly a historical fact that Mughal emperor Aurangzeb built a temple 323 years ago at Chitrakoot, a region now divided between UP and MP. Notorious as the biggest destroyer of temples, gurudwaras and mazars wherever he went, including imprisoning the possessor of Hazrat Bal (the Hair of the Prophet, enshrined in Srinagar), he left us an unhappy legacy.

His were acts of disrespect that nobody can defend for such actions are hateful to God.

Once, when Aurangzeb arrived at Chitrakoot, he ordered his army to destroy all the temples at Matiah, Gander and every statue and Math early next morning.

However, when his forces commenced their task, the men began crying with unbearable pain in their stomachs. They started falling one by one and all became unconscious. This shattered and upset Aurangzeb. All efforts to cure the soldiers were futile and he became even more nervous. Finally a local lad plucked up the courage to call out to the Shahenshah. Nobody can cure these sick men, except our temple priest, Sant Baba Balik Dasji.” Aurangzeb had no choice but to beg the Baba to save his enfeebled army, promising not to destroy any temple at all, if his men were cured.

Baba revived the unconscious army with his medicine, which greatly impressed Aurangzeb. He ordered his men to build a grand temple then and there. He also conferred 330 bighas of precious and fertile land with seven villages and one rupee daily from the state treasury for the maintenance of the temple. These villages are Hamutha, Chitrakoot, Rodra, Sarya, Madri, Jarva and Dohariya in Allahabad district, UP.

What we have always known and Aurangzeb must have known too, is that Chitrakoot, today in shambles and civic disarray, is sacred ground, the abode of Lord Ram, Sitaji and Lakshman for nearly eleven and a half years of their exile.

innervoice@hindustantimes.com
http://www.hindustantimes.com/StoryPage/StoryPage.aspx?id=875c4264-c239-4aef-a72d-35eb7cf64017

Living up to expectations
INNER VOICE || M Yusuf Khan

When A male teacher misbehaves with a girl student, a policeman robs a helpless citizen or a man in the garb of a saint assaults a woman it raises more than indignation. And rightly so, because they have broken the trust placed in them which they enjoy by virtue of their position. They are guilty on two counts, one of committing a horrendous act and the other of breach of trust.

There is a piece of Sufi lore that explains it better. A famous Sufi of his time was on a long journey along with his disciples. When tired and hungry, they decided to halt under a tree. The tree that gave them shade also gave shelter to a flock of birds in that barren landscape. One of the disciples wanted to supplement their meagre fare by adding a dish of peafowl. He took out his bow and arrow and managed to bring down a bird.

His elation was suddenly disrupted by the frantic behaviour of the birds. Their persistent ruckus drew the attention of the Sufi, who called out to the leader of the birds. He asked the reason for their hue and cry The head bird said that . one of his disciples had killed their kin and they wanted justice.

The Sufi summoned the accused. He admitted to the killing but said that he had committed no crime as hunting was permitted. The Sufi’s other followers saw reason in the argument and waited anxiously for a reply from the head bird. After consulting his flock, the head bird said firmly and sorrowfully, “Sufis are supposed to be harmless and you are dressed like Sufis, therefore we took no safety measures. If you were dressed like ordinary people we would have flown away You have deceived us.” .

The Sufis huddled together and deliberated. They agreed that even if hunting was permitted the disciple was guilty because he had breached the unsuspecting birds’ trust in the Sufis. He was given a severe punishment for his crime and asked to atone for his sin.

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Who got to meet god?
INNER VOICE || Abhishek Patro
		
I found this story very moving and want to share it with HT readers.

A long time ago there were three trees in a forest talking to each other. A man had chopped off the nearby trees, so they were aware their turn was next. "After I am chopped down I want that my wood should be used to make a jewellery box for precious diamonds," said the first tree. "I want my wood to be used to make a royal boat," said the second."  "I wish I wasn’t being cut down; I want to grow and grow so that I can touch God's feet," said the third.

But the tree that wanted to be a jewellery box became a trough in which cows's food and water was kept. The tree that wanted to become a royal boat became a humble fishing boat instead. The tree that wanted to touch God's feet was made into two wooden slabs and kept unused for many years in a storage house.

After many years a Jewish lady gave birth to a boy and kept him in the trough from which first tree was made. Those who came to see the baby were filled with awe. "Who is he?" wondered the trough.

Some years later a man mounted the fishing boat made from the second tree, with some people. During that journey a storm came up and the boat thought it would capsize and drown. But when everybody asked that man to do something, he stood up and said, "Stop!" and the storm subsided.

Several years later, the two wooden slabs were dragged out and fashioned into a cross and a man was nailed to them and died on them to screams of “Crucify him!"

As you’ve guessed by now, all three trees got their wish, through Jesus, the precious jewel of the royal house of David, who was hailed as the Son of God. So we should keep in mind that God does fulfill our wishes and that too in a better way.

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Guru Hargobind, the unselfish
INNER VOICE || Ramesh Seth
		
Great men have great compassion. And their mission starts early in life. That's why this story from the life of Guru Hargobind, the sixth Sikh Guru, haunts me.

In 1612 AD, when Guru Hargobind was only eighteen years old, Jahangir the Mughal emperor commanded his presence. Despite opposition from some Sikhs in Amritsar. the Guru went to the royal court. Jahangir demanded Rupees two lakhs, the yet-unpaid fine he had imposed on the late Guru Arjun Dev. Failure to comply had resulted in the Guru's death. Now it was Guru Hargobind's turn to face the imperial wrath.

Like his father, Guru Hargobind too refused point blank to comply with the unjust demand. Jahangir sent him to the political prison in Gwalior Fort. In that jail, Jahangir had already imprisoned 52 other Rajas from various parts of India. Most of them had been rotting there, long forgotten. Although Guru Hargobind was the youngest there, as the inheritor of Guru Nanak's spiritual throne he emerged as their leader.

The Rajas started looking up to him for moral support and comfort. Therefore, every morning and evening Guru Hargobind started holding religious Diwan (discourse and prayer) for their benefit, to soothe their frayed nerves. The atmosphere in the prison changed for the better.
 
After some time, Jahangir realised his mistake and ordered the release of Guru Hargobind. When this news was made known to the other Rajas in the Gwalior prison they became despondent. Without the elevating presence of their Guru they felt lost. They begged him not to abandon them. The Guru refused to leave the prison alone without them. After a short stalemate, Jahanghir agreed to let out as many other prisoners as could walk out holding on to the Guru`s robe. Guruji got a specially designed robe made with 52 long strings sewn to it. Thus each of the 52 Rajas held one string of the robe and all of them walked out of the prison led by Guru Hargobind. For this compassionate act Guru Hargobind is still lovingly remembered as Bandichhod (liberator of prisoners).

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Guru Ravidas: a man of God
INNER VOICE || Girish Bhandari

Guru Ravidas was one of the greatest spiritual masters to have blessed India. He lived a very simple life as a maker and mender of shoes, which he termed the seva God had assigned to him. Not surprisingly, he was very good at his work.

Legend has it that one day it was a very auspicious date for bathing in the holy Ganga at Varanasi. Droves of people came to the ghats. A panditji walked past Ravidas, flaunting two huge bangles of gold. They were oversized, as he had insisted on extracting his price from a landowner, to reserve a place in Swarga for his departed father.

He warned Guru Ravidas that the most auspicious time for bathing would be over in the next two hours and so Ravidas should close his business for the day to avail of the opportunity.

Guru Ravidas smiled. “I cannot stop my work today. There are so many devotees passing by and many may need their footwear repaired. I have decided to do all work free today, as a service to devotees, who have shown so much faith and walked miles and miles”. The pandit laughed and went off. The shadows lengthened and suddenly Ravidas heard a wailing and saw the same Panditji weeping and carried prostrate on a cot. His heavy bangles had slipped off into the Ganga and he was made ill with grief. ‘Is that all the reason for this wailing?’, the Guru asked , ‘Two trinkets of metal?’ The Guru dipped his hand in the wooden bowl (kathauta) containing the water that he used to soften up leather, and lo, produced the two lost bangles!

As the import of the miracle sank into the minds and hearts of people, the panditji realised that here was a true man of God, whose touch had made the water of the kathauta into Gangajal. From that day we have the saying “Man changa to kathaut mein Ganga”. (If the mind/heart is good, then it effects transformative magic, or, the humblest are the highest, if pure-hearted).

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What price Valentine?
INNER VOICE || Jyoti Jadwani

There are love tokens and there are love tokens.

I live in Indore, in India's heartland. On our way back from an adjacent town, my friend and I stopped at a highway dhaba. Placing our order, we stretched ourselves out on the cane chairs. A motley group of people occupied other tables. As we glanced around desultorily, a ragged man sauntered in and sat down. He poured himself a glass of water from the steel jug. He drank two whole glasses, but ordered no food, nor did the dhaba boys ask him. When our tea and samosas arrived, he looked at the food, filled his glass again and drank it. We saw no greed in his eyes, but it was an easy guess, that the guy was hungry and had no money.

The dhaba boy told us, "Oh! That madman comes in everyday If he has money, he eats something, otherwise he just drinks a few glasses of water and leaves. My boss said that since water has been given to us by the Lord, we must never stop anyone drinking it at our dhaba."

This logic really touched me. I asked the boy to serve the man a plate of samosas. When he did so, the man looked at him. The boy pointed to us. The man looked at us but made no acknowledgement. As he picked up the first samosa, a little girl in rags walked up and just stood there. He gave her the samosa, which she wolfed down. He picked up the second one and handed that to her, too. She grabbed it and ran away He pushed away his empty plate, filled up his glass again, drank the water and walked away from the dhaba without a backward glance.

I asked myself if I were capable of a gesture like that. The most I could muster was, "I HOPE so". If sharing what we have in excess is generosity, then how would we describe what that madman did? 'Selfless love'? It is what intellectuals talk about and madmen practice.

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It is all about intention
INNER VOICE || M Yusuf Khan

Intention (niyat) is most important in any thing one does but it acquires a greater significance in the life of a Sufi. A Sufi I know always tells people to nurture an intention before setting out to do the deed. The belief goes that it is the intention behind the deed that matters to God and not the deed itself. For example if someone gives charity to acquire fame it is not an act of piety in the eyes of God. He will earn God’s favour only if he does so truly intending to help the poor and please his Lord.

There is a story in Sufi literature about an ant. This insignificant creature developed a great desire to visit the Kaaba, the house of God. He did not even know where the Kaaba was. What he did know was that neither did he have the means nor the physical strength for the arduous journey. Despite these heavy odds, his resolve was steadfast. His fellow ants thought that he was crazy to aspire to such an expedition.

One day as the ant was going about his chores a flock of pigeons descended near him. Ravenously, they got busy picking grain to gratify their hunger. Suddenly one of the pigeons said, “Let us hurry. The sun will set in a short time and the Kaaba is a long way from here.” The little ant realised that the flock was headed to the same place that he was longing to visit. Here was opportunity suddenly knocking at his door. He quickly crawled to the nearest pigeon and caught hold of its feet. He remained stuck to it as the pigeon flew all the way back to the house of God. His dream was realised after all.

The Sufis draw two inferences from this tale. One is that if you have good intention (nek niyat) and persist with it, it will be fulfilled. The second is that a true Master makes the divine journey easy, like the pigeon in this story.

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Wake up and smell the coffee!
INNER VOICE || M. Yusuf Khan

A brigadier friend of mine was reflecting on life the other day. Both his children, a son and a daughter, have lucrative jobs in the USA. He said that in comparison to his children's salaries, his own was a pittance when he was in service. Despite that, he felt he was far happier than his progeny. His reasoning and insight both told him it was because most of us make the mistake of measuring happiness in terms of money. He was not triumphant or gloating, indeed he regretted, like any father would, that his children were under so much stress and could not get to enjoy their hard-earned income.

This made me recall another meaningful instance. A group of highly successful professionals who were visiting their old teacher complained to him that life had become very stressful. The teacher listened to them patiently. He then went to the kitchen, brought out a large pot of coffee and laid out an assortment of cups made of plastic, porcelain and glass. Some were costly, some very ordinary. The teacher asked them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the teacher said, "If you notice, all the nice-looking, expensive cups have been picked up by you. Only the ordinary ones are left. Obviously everyone wants the best for himself and this is the source of your stress. You wanted coffee, not the cup, but you picked the better cups and now you are eyeing each other's cup."

"Now, if life is coffee, then jobs, money and your position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, but the quality of life itself will not change, unless you do. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup we fail to enjoy the coffee in it. Content, not container, is the real thing."

My brigadier friend chuckled heartily at the story. "Perhaps I'll e-mail it to my children," he said, but added soberly, "I must do it without upsetting them."

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What Farhan learns at a madrasa
INNER VOICE || Shara Ashraf

It’s a month since I met Farhan, a cheerful 13-year-old madrasa student of my locality. His inquisitive eyes followed me one day when I came home from shopping. He offered to carry my bags and we became friends.

Farhan wears torn, muddy white kurta-pajama and a skullcap. He doesn't play cricket with neighbourhood children, has not seen a movie in two years, has no clue about KBC or Gandhi, Nehru, science, geography, math. His curious eye settles on my PC. I tell him one can write letters, watch films, hear music and see any part of the world with it: "Do you want to learn how?"

But his hectic schedule at the madrasa will spare no time. He has come from Assam to enlighten himself on Islam, and is already a "hafiz-Quran" (one who has learnt the holy Quran by heart). So what if he doesn't know what the Arabic means. His parents had no option for him. Farhan is appalled at the portrait of Jesus in my room: "Aapne yeh Hindu ki tasveer kyon rakhi hai? Aapke ghar me farishte kaise aayenge?" (Why do you harbour the portrait of a Hindu? How will the angels grace your house?). I tell him it's Jesus, whom we Muslims call Isa Masih, a Prophet of Islam. Farhan is relieved and a bit embarrassed.

"Vaise Farhan, Hindu ki tasveer ghar me rakhne mein kya harj hai? Kya woh hamari tarah insaan nahi?" (Why Farhan, what's the harm, are the Hindus not humans like us?) I ask. He looks up and recites, "Woh doosri kaum hai, woh kafir hain aur unke jaisa banna kufur hai." (They are another race, they are idolaters and it's idolatry to become like them). I cut him short, "That's how you have been made to think, Farhan." He simply nods and leaves. Scientific inquiry is not something he is used to.

I am afraid I might have hurt my young friend. Hope he comes again and this time we won't discuss religion. A few lessons in computers will do him good.

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