At the Feet of the Guru / Part Two

Yes, Gayatri didi was doing exactly the same thing with me. She had asked me to read 'The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari' then, by Robin Sharma. Then 'Eat, Pray, Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert. A few other books like that. She would send me links to various instrumentals to listen to. I too would share music by world-renowned composers with her. We would talk about their lives and philosophies. I began reading motivational and spiritual books mainly inspired by her. Then she would send me quotes from various philosophers in my inbox. She would share her own philosophy with me. What I would do was take that and present it in my own way, and while presenting, I would try to refine my inner self further. I would study to form an opinion about it. This work required me to read many philosophical texts. We would discuss different topics on different days. Take existentialism, for instance. She would offer various opinions about it, and so would I. Our favorite topics were literature, philosophy, spirituality, psychology. Sometimes Sufism, poetry by Rumi, Ghalib, Tabriz. If those conversations had been preserved, they could have made twenty or twenty-five volumes of books. We would also debate extensively. Perhaps I or she would provoke each other about something. And that was it! We would exchange texts for hours on end about that very thing. Some nights we would chat continuously for ten or twelve hours, and it still wouldn't seem enough. I missed lunch and dinner many times because I had to leave in the middle of discussing some topic; so did didi.

Through this process, my inner world of thought gradually became sharper, and tremendous confidence grew within me. I would wait for her like an addict, wondering when I could talk to didi. She had become my entire world. Talking to her was my whole universe, and when I talked to her, I felt so much energy that my days would pass beautifully with that strength. The interesting thing is, when she talked to me, she never said things like 'you should study,' 'you should do this or that'...nothing like that. Her words were mostly philosophical, and she would share some of her own problems with me. These were novel to me, and I would try very sincerely to solve them quickly. While trying, I had to think about them. Various philosophies and theories about religion, the soul, life, nature. Along with some of her thoughts on these subjects. Both our thoughts would merge and become one. Didi was twelve years older than me, but that never occurred to me. She was the name of an addiction for me. I had no friend dearer than her.
The interesting thing is, she could have solved those problems herself, or she had better options than me. Didi moved in circles with many distinguished people. Professors from renowned universities like Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard were her friends. Besides, she knew many writers, philosophers, and learned individuals. There was no point in discussing such matters with me. Yet she did just that. She would talk to me all day long. We knew nothing about each other's domestic affairs, what was happening or not happening in whose home—we had no interest in that. Our conversations were about very abstract subjects. Once she started talking to me about Picasso's Cubism. There was no reason for her to discuss that with me. So in the course of our conversation, I learned everything there was to know about it. Didi was such a great teacher. She would leave countless more valuable people and return to me. There could be two possible reasons for this. Either she wanted to sharpen my world of thought, or she genuinely enjoyed sharing these things with me. It could be either.
She had some friends—Sharda, Shekhar, Sharmila, Girish, Rajib, Prithvi, Priti, and others. They too were very sophisticated people. Extremely refined people. Very civilized people. Intelligent people with elevated thinking. People from very high levels of society. I would talk to them as well. Gradually, Gayatri didi positioned me in such a way before them that they too began to respect me. Through conversations with them, I learned, knew, and understood many things. Let me give you an example. I have a piece called 'Broken Appointments of Love.' This writing is nothing but a compilation of conversations with some people. The people I was talking to there were individuals of much higher intellectual and mental caliber. From Oxford philosophy professors to many others were in the comment threads of those conversations. The kind of mental strength and self-confidence required to conduct such a conversation—I never had that. She was the first to give me this. Gayatri Talreja—my dear one, my teacher, my friend.
That I was indeed different from many people, that I didn't need to give time to everyone, didn't need to mingle with everyone, and that not everyone deserved my time—I first learned these things from her. Those who give time to everyone are those who have little work to do, who have abundant time on their hands. No creative and intelligent person in this world has such unlimited time, nor is it possible. She would always encourage me, saying: mingle more with those who think like you, who think better than you, whose minds and intellects are superior to yours, with whom you feel challenged when talking. They won't want to mingle with you, won't want to give you time—that's natural. Create reasons that will motivate them to spend time with you. Build yourself to be like-minded and equal to them. If you don't mingle with great people or observe them carefully, much will remain unlearned in life. For this, keep striking yourself, keep burning yourself. Learn every day, become enriched. Rest, but don't stop. Then you'll be able to change yourself. Remember, those who are more capable than you are more sincere, patient, and hardworking than you. Their thinking is very different from yours.
And don't miss the opportunity to mingle with such people—those who are completely simple. Simple people are the gems of this world. Simple people must be sought out; they're very hard to find. When you find someone who is truly ordinary, who truly thinks simply, go to them, sit quietly and learn about life. You'll learn aspects of life from them that you couldn't learn from reading a thousand books. These lessons will serve you throughout life. She would tell me these things. Didi would say, when we eat food, we must appreciate that food. If you don't appreciate it, that food may never come into your life again. You may not have the fortune to eat that food a second time. Similarly, when you encounter good people in life, value them. If you can't do that, you may never meet such a person again. Those who don't know how to value good people don't encounter good people. Have you ever noticed that even animals recognize people? They don't go to everyone; they return repeatedly to those they do approach. Build yourself in such a way that good things come to you. If you're not worthy of attracting positive energy, why would it come to you? Have you noticed that someone who doesn't like sweets doesn't really notice the sweet shop by the roadside when traveling by car?
So she would say these things. And one thing she taught me was: remember, more important than earning money in life is building relationships with people. You'll spend a large portion of what you earn on strengthening relationships. What you'll gain from this will be much more valuable than the money you spend. Poor people don't have many friends. Poor in two senses—those without money and those without intellect. Anyone who has either of these won't lack friends. I tell you, if possible, pay attention to both. Then you'll see that those who need money will maintain contact with you, and those who need intellectual stimulation will also stay in touch. Give people what they need. It's your responsibility as a human being. Giving never diminishes you; it increases you. Build yourself so that you always have surplus to give. Maintain a mentality of charity. The poorest person is one who doesn't know how to give. Free your mind from such poverty.
Knowing how to love people and knowing how to value people—there are few treasures greater than these two. When you talk to a person, never speak keeping your own concerns in mind. You must sit in their soul, in their heart, and speak with them from there. Otherwise, you won't truly understand what they want. This will create a kind of power within you. And never keep any ego within yourself. Ego completely destroys a person. No one in this world is dependent on anyone else. You might say you're helping so-and-so with their livelihood. Think about it—if you didn't provide that help, wouldn't you yourself be deprived of some happiness or satisfaction? Compared to this happiness or satisfaction, your help is truly negligible. How long does a person live, tell me? However long you live, live joyfully. There's no joy in living alone. You can try walking both paths and see for yourself which road has more joy.
Say you want to get someone to do something. Then you must think the way they think, and you must tell them what they want to hear from you.
You must go to a cat and call like a cat, behave as it does—only then will the cat consider you one of its own. You have to step outside yourself and enter into the person standing before you, sit within their mind and speak from there. You cannot talk to them while holding onto your own thoughts, your own ego. Your ego has value only to you; this world doesn't give two cents for your ego, unless valuing it becomes necessary or unavoidable. Do you understand? This is what she used to tell me constantly. And I would do it. I would try to reduce my ego to absolute zero. She would say, whatever you do, do it with your whole heart. Don't cheat. When you're being dishonest, then be dishonest—but with complete attention. Whatever you do, pour your entire being into it. If you look at a beautiful woman, look at her in a way no one has ever looked at her before. Whatever work you do, do it differently from others—even if just a little—invest more time and effort, do it better. Never work merely for salary or profit. Those who do this never learn anything in life.
During my time in contact with Didi, what happened was this: whenever someone treated me very badly or did something wrong, I would go back to them. I would say, "Look, what you did to me—why did you do it? Things aren't as you imagine them. Come, let's discuss this a bit. Let's see what can be done." Then I wouldn't protest whatever they said. I would say, "Yes, you're absolutely right. Along with this, we might also consider these other aspects." Almost always, their anger would dissipate and they would stop judging me. This wisdom I learned from Didi. Not that this approach always worked. Didi would say, despite all your efforts, if you don't like what they're doing, position yourself so you don't have to interact with them anymore. Or if you must interact, don't absorb their words into your heart. Don't let them realize this—just remain alert that you'll hear everything they say but won't internalize any of it, won't let any words come close enough to disturb you. Keep yourself well. Death can come at any moment. Perhaps the next moment is your last chance to live.
I would say, "Is this possible! I'm with someone, face to face, interacting with them, yet I'm not affected by their words or behavior, showing no reaction!" Then she would say, "You will be like a raincoat. When you go out wearing a raincoat, even in heavy rain, the water doesn't penetrate it. But every raindrop strikes the raincoat and continues to strike it. The impact is only as great as we allow it to be. The raincoat's quality doesn't let the raindrops soak through. The raincoat doesn't stop the rain from falling, because the rain has no power to touch it, so it can ignore the rain and keep going. So Didi would tell me, make yourself into a raincoat. The rain will think it has soaked you through. Let it think that way, let it be happy thinking so. You know very well that the rain has no power to wet you. Let it stay happy in its own way; you shape yourself so that its happiness cannot make you unhappy." I loved this analogy. She would say, "Let the person before you live exactly as they are living. This is dharma."
But Didi wasn't particularly religious—I mean, she had no interest in observing religious rituals and practices. For Didi, dharma meant something entirely different. I learned much about dharma from her. Some of this I've written in my 'Indistinct Journal' series. She would say, "Let the person live exactly as they are living, with whatever experiences they carry, however they were raised—in society, in their family, or in their country. Don't impose your beliefs on them. Your own belief may seem supreme to you, but remember, they too might have something to say! Let them speak. If you're not willing to listen to them, don't try to make them listen to you. Dharma is a matter of the heart, not of force. You will learn from them, accept from them, reject what is bad or unacceptable to you. Tell them about the good aspects of your own beliefs, but don't force them to follow your path, don't irritate them. This is ridiculous. You know when a shopkeeper forces people to buy something from his shop? When it starts rotting and he needs to sell it quickly."
Live this way. Never try to judge them. Because you don't know what they're going through. How much pain they're suffering, what difficulties they face, or perhaps what you call a bad deed actually keeps them well—you don't think about that. Suppose you don't drink, but that doesn't mean no one else in this world should drink. You don't smoke, but that doesn't mean no one else should smoke. Do you know that people in many parts of the world drink out of necessity for survival? Why are you jumping to conclusions without knowing this? However, if they do something that creates problems for others, that harms others, then you can protest. But if they live by their own rules without harming anyone, never judge those rules or that path. Best of all is to avoid arguments with anyone and simply stay away from them. This is the best approach. Didi used to say this, though I still haven't learned it myself.
I would see Didi—she never argued with anyone. I never saw her quarrel with anyone. Didi simply didn't have time for that. What she did was avoid. She would completely avoid, and she loved people—what we truly understand as love. Her principle was: either love people or avoid them. The time saved from hating someone can easily be used to love ten people. If anything ultimately saves this world, it will be love, not hatred. Besides, hating someone wastes mental energy. Instead of spending time hating someone, write a good poem with that time. This will help you think beautifully and be creative. Be humane, think for humanity. This world survives on the shoulders of some creative people and workers for humanity, not on the shoulders of those who lie around idly.
Some of her actions were extraordinarily impactful. For instance, she had cancer and had to have her breast removed. Later she got an artificial breast. I never even saw her feel sad about this. Her sense of humor was incredibly sharp. She knew how to have so much fun that it was unimaginable. She would joke about herself. Instead of feeling sorry for her after hearing her stories, we'd laugh until our sides hurt. This must be the way to live—keeping others happy even when you're suffering, cleverly keeping your own pain within yourself. Pain is not something to be marketed. Those who market their pain devalue their suffering to the price of commodities. If a kilogram of pain can be bought at the same price as a kilogram of rice, then that's a great disaster! So Didi would show her position through very subtle words and behavior. From the time she was diagnosed with cancer until now, she continues one work: she encourages cancer patients to keep living. She has opened a school with her own money to provide them with encouragement and inspiration.
She says, "You see, Sush, there's no happiness greater than seeing people live. That people are well through my work, through my efforts, that they're happy and cheerful—what greater fortune could there be? I'm alive, cancer couldn't destroy me. I could have died too. That I'm alive is a bonus! If I had died, would I have gotten this time, would I have been able to see my son a little longer, been able to quarrel a little more with your dear brother-in-law? The debt of life must be repaid by doing something, mustn't it? Since I'm alive, let me live by taking some more people along. I've learned to laugh; let me teach them to laugh too. I've learned to live; let me teach them to live too. People die less from illness than from the mental anguish that illness brings. I can't prevent people's deaths, but I can make their living time a bit more joyful and longer, can't I? When I see someone in pain, it becomes difficult for me to live. For the sake of my own survival, I try to keep others alive. For my own need to laugh, I bring laughter to others' faces."
Does such a person really need to practice religion? If heaven and hell truly exist, if God is just, where do you think Gayatri Didi will go after death? Let me mention something here. These career conversations I conduct—I do them inspired by her. When we give something to people without any expectation of gain, what we receive in return cannot be measured by worldly achievements. What we gain from this is infinite peace, joy, satisfaction, comfort, happiness—everything that gives us inspiration to live. This cannot be bought with money, cannot be purchased in any shop. You won't find this anywhere even if you spend all your accumulated wealth. It can only be obtained through working for humanity.
By keeping others well, we keep ourselves well.
Why do we read books? Why do we listen to music? These things have no monetary value. There's no financial gain to be had. Really, there isn't? Wrong, wrong! The fascinating thing is, these do have a monetary value. The thing that keeps us well, keeps us healthy, keeps us at peace, keeps us content — if we had the chance to buy it, wouldn't we? Yes, of course we would. People spend money to buy the accessories of happiness. Even when the price is high, they buy; if necessary, they borrow to buy. So if I can get this thing by doing some work, that's rather good news. I believe that anything that keeps us well surely has an economic value. Often we find its value is far, far greater than we imagine. How so? The happiness that comes to the mind from walking or sitting by a riverbank for a while — if we wanted to get that from some material thing, it would cost a great deal of money, and even after spending it, whether it would work at all remains doubtful. So one could say the price of that simple walk along the riverbank is very, very high.
Let me tell you something else. Once, about three years after we first met, she called me to wish me on my birthday. After she called, she was speaking English so rapidly that I was quite breathless. I can't speak English that well. I couldn't keep up with her in conversation. Then I said, 'Didi, I can't speak English well. I don't know what you must be thinking of me!' Then she said to me, 'Little brother! If I could do even 10% of how well you can write in English, how well you can think in English, I wouldn't want anything else in this life.' Then it struck me that I have a strength so much greater than my limitation, and if I bring that to mind, I can easily ignore the limitation. Ah, what magic! The magic of accepting one's weakness as strength!
Now let me come to the real point. Would anyone else in her place have said such a thing to me? At least to maintain their own ego, they would never have said it. To lift another person so high, one must first rise very, very high oneself. That requires such a large heart. To do what she did, one must first become a Gayatri didi. Not everyone can bear such magnanimity; most would vomit it up long before. It was because I heard this from her lips that mental strength was created in my head. She knew this too, and because she knew it, she showed me as great, and that too on my birthday. Who else could have been such a perfect guru in my life? How many teachers know this wonderful method? If she hadn't told me, perhaps I would never have thought of myself in that way. And if it hadn't occurred to me, I probably wouldn't have tried to take myself to such heights. This is why this person is like God to me.
She never made me feel low. Never by mistake, never by mistake! On the contrary, it often happened that I sometimes didn't speak to her with proper appreciation. Yes, to put it simply, I often didn't give her due attention, undervalued her. I would leave many of her texts unread, let her emails pile up unchecked. Still she wouldn't be discouraged, wouldn't push me away even for a moment! Actually, when small people get someone great all to themselves, this is what happens to them! — the same thing happened to me! I felt this person had become taken-for-granted in my life, I didn't need to give her much value or time anymore. Didn't didi understand this? Of course she did. But surprisingly, she never let me know that she understood. Actually, her worth, her position was so high that my thoughts couldn't even reach that height! When someone truly knows their own position and worth, whether someone values them or not doesn't matter to them at all. If some small person had gotten close to Einstein himself as a friend, he too would sometimes forget to appreciate Einstein. What would that matter to an Einstein? He knows what he is! On top of that, I was didi's little brother. So her forgiveness for me was infinite! She loved me, so seeing my mistakes she would perhaps smile to herself and say, my dear silly brother!
Watching didi, I learned that any person who will make you feel low is like a virus for you — you must stay away from them at any cost. And any person who won't make you feel low, but rather whose company increases your mental strength — even if they're an uneducated fool, still associate with them. What will happen by associating with them? At the end of the day, you yourself will be well. At day's end, you must maintain your own wellness. Someone may be a scholar from Oxford, a scholar from Harvard, a Nobel Prize winner, or something even greater — very good... but that doesn't really matter to you. What difference does associating or not associating with them make to you? Someone may have a hundred crore rupees, but their money is in their house — what's that to you? Whoever you cannot flourish by being with, whoever they may be, they are not the right person for you.
I never actually met Gayatri didi, and there isn't much chance of meeting her. She lives in America. I don't know if I'll ever go to America. But still, she has helped me recognize the person within myself, day after day. She has nothing to gain from me! Anyone who stands by your side knowing they have nothing to gain from you — they are truly noble. When there was no one in my world to talk to, she was still there. There were times when she stayed up all night talking with me about something, then went to some urgent work the next morning. But she stayed awake the whole night just to talk with me. If I said, 'Didi, why aren't you going to sleep? You have to leave early tomorrow morning,' she would say, 'The moment I'm chatting with you, meaning now — this is what's important to me. This enrichment I'm experiencing, this cultivation of joy in my heart — this is priceless! If I survive till morning, then we'll see what happens! Of course, if you're sleepy or have other work, you can say goodbye, no problem!'
Let me tell you another mysterious thing. She would somehow sense that I was in distress or that my heart was heavy, and she could truly feel this. How this happened, I don't know, but she could do it. We often say, 'I can really feel your pain.' This is a false claim. No one can truly feel another's pain in the real sense — at most they can understand that such-and-such person is suffering, and thinking about it, they themselves might feel a little sad. What we can feel for someone through this process is sympathy or compassion. Everyone can do this. But to feel what the suffering person is actually experiencing, to feel it from their position — this is called empathy, which not everyone can feel. What's the difference between sympathy and empathy? This is a very interesting thing. Say a dog's leg is broken. It's walking on three legs. You feel sympathy for that dog. That is, the fact that it's suffering is causing you a kind of distress. Oh, poor thing, its leg is broken! This is sympathy. And empathy is if you imagine — because its leg is broken, the suffering it's experiencing — suppose you don't have one leg, that leg is broken, you're limping along on the remaining leg, then you can feel its intense agony, intense pain much more deeply. This is called empathy. Not everyone can do this. One must possess an extremely sensitive mind to do this.
So Gayatri Talreja didn't feel sympathy for me — she felt empathy directly. I got proof of this many, many times. How? I knocked her, after saying two or three lines she asked, in English of course... she didn't know Bengali... 'Are you feeling down for some reason?' I said, 'No!' Then she would say, 'Don't lie to me at all! Tell me truthfully!' I said, 'Yes, didi.' Then she would suddenly say, 'Is there any need to take every word people say to heart? What's the point of feeling bad over their every word?' Truly, hearing this, the hair on my body would stand up in fear! How did she know that I had been hurt by someone's words! Then everyone in the world would gang up to say various things to me, because making me listen was very easy. First, I wouldn't protest. Second, I was in such a position that everyone had made it their right to lecture anyone in that position. People get heavenly pleasure from lecturing others. All that's fine. But how did she know? I would say, 'Didi, how do you know?' She would say, 'I can't exactly say how I know. My knowing might even be wrong, but I felt that you're nursing someone's words in your head and heart and suffering greatly. Is that right?' I would say, 'Yes, didi. I'm really suffering a lot.'
(To be continued...)