That man who sweeps your office—the one you look at and think, what harm would it do to give him a good scolding for no reason at all, whom you consider the safest target for venting your domestic rage or personal frustrations, saying whatever comes to mind, whom you’ve given yourself the right to raise your hand against when the urge strikes, whose parents you can abuse without consequence while revealing your own sick mentality, who considers enduring all your unjust words as part of his job, whom you can address with casual disrespect without any discomfort, whom you can shout at quite loudly to move your shoes, whose helplessness makes your ugly machismo dance with delight—he too is the absolute head of a family. Just because you can “devour” his job with a mere flick of your finger, he bows before you and endures all injustice. He keeps his voice as low as possible, because he fears you might consider his natural tone impertinent and do “everything” within your power. In that fear, he accepts with a smile, without a word, whatever you say, as if he truly agrees from the heart! This is not respect, not love—this is pure fear. Remaining silent doesn’t mean accepting from the heart. The absence of protest doesn’t mean justice. The shameless display of physical power only reveals the fragility of the mind. The weakest souls in this world are the ones who must raise their hands against others. When a person becomes unworthy of their position, they use that position’s advantages to hurt others. A petty person in a powerful position is truly terrifying!
Let me return to that office sweeper. When he comes home in the evening with a cheap lozenge in his hand, his doll-like, adorable little daughter jumps into his arms with joy, brushing away his hair, kissing his forehead, eyes, and cheeks, and while sucking on the lozenge, she says, “Abbu, you’re so wonderful!” At that moment, the father feels that no certificate from the world’s finest university could be more valuable. She tells him everything—what happened during the day, who said what to her, what games she played with friends, when Ammu scolded her, one by one. His wife watches this father-daughter banter from a distance, smiling to herself and thinking, “Who has ever seen a more beautiful sight anywhere?” Even the poorest, most neglected man is the finest man in the world in some woman’s eyes, the best father in the universe in some child’s trust. That man then perhaps places a wilted rose in his wife’s hair—one sold cheap at day’s end. To his wife’s enchanted eyes, it’s the most precious gift in the world! That day, the smell of her husband’s sweat-soaked shirt rivals the fragrance of that rose. With shy glances, she looks at her husband as she did on their first day. She brings water for him to wash his hands and face in service. After washing up, the three of them sit together in their tiny courtyard outside, eating puffed rice mixed with mustard oil, onions, and green chilies, bathing in moonlight.
The little girl runs around them, jumping and reciting nursery rhymes, laughing with tinkling sounds, playing. Watching this scene, when the wife keeps laughing and laughing, suddenly she notices her husband gazing at her eyes with unwavering attention, smiling gently. Seeing this, even after all these years, the wife feels terribly shy and covers her face with her sari. “What are you doing? The child is watching!” Laughing heartily, the husband sits closer to his wife and begins singing in his coarse, raspy voice. That song seems like the most beautiful, enchanting music in the world at that moment. The spell of that wondrous music fills the surroundings. The daughter shows her father pictures she’s drawn from the picture book he bought her, and the father says, “Wonderful! It’s so beautiful!” The wife thinks that even hearing that little “Wonderful!” makes life worth living. One day my daughter too will grow up like the daughters of wealthy families. Dreams of kingdoms descend upon her eyelids. At some point, with stories, songs, the chirping of crickets, and the light of fireflies, the ancient night’s silence comes to rest in that courtyard.
When he sits down to eat, his wife sits beside him, serving him curry, placing the table fan close to her husband. The little girl had waited all day for when father would come home, take her on his lap and feed her four morsels of rice, tell her wonderful stories. That day perhaps there’s nothing on the plate but some greens, lentils, and vegetables, but with just that, their little heaven’s royal feast continues. When he feeds his wife a morsel, the little fairy spreads her chubby little hands on both sides of her mouth and bursts into giggles! What joy he feels feeding his wife! After putting one morsel in her mouth, he gently removes with his hand the grain or two of rice that sticks below her lips. When putting the next morsel in her mouth, he keeps his left hand under her chin so no rice falls out. Since their daughter is present, he can’t take his wife on his lap to feed her, but he feeds his wife with supreme satisfaction, stroking her head with all his feelings and affection. When a beloved person lovingly feeds you by hand, women feel more joy than from anything else in the world. This art surpasses the world’s most expensive gifts. The wife thinks, just for this moment alone, one could wait an entire lifetime! Life’s entire meaning lies hidden in these small joys. For such happiness, the moment of a husband’s return home is the most precious moment of the day for every wife.
Sometimes the little girl picks up a few grains of rice haphazardly with her soft, tender hands and holds them to her father’s mouth, to her mother’s mouth. Before the taste of that tiny bit of food, the cooking of the world’s finest chefs must admit defeat! All day’s labor, exhaustion, yet he’s feeding his wife and daughter rice with a smile—there’s not even a trace of fatigue in it. In their eyes, he’s the most honored person in the world. His wife looks at him with wonder and thinks, “Can a person be so beautiful! Why is there so much color in life?” The little girl stares at her father with her soft eyes wide and thinks, “None of my friends has such a good father.” Every girl has the best father. That sweeper thinks, “Could there be more happiness than this?” He who has no respect anywhere is also a greatly respected person somewhere.
Have you ever looked with loving eyes at those who do the smallest jobs under you—how wonderful it feels? Have you ever inquired about his and his family’s wellbeing? Have you ever asked why he seems sad? Have you ever bought a Cadbury for his little son or daughter and seen how gratefully he looks at you? If nothing else, during a break from work’s busyness, call him to your room and chat with a smile for just 5 minutes! One’s caste doesn’t disappear from talking to people in lower positions. You’ll see his eyes sparkling! Going home, he’ll tell his wife and children about you. He’ll pray many prayers for you. I believe that while the prayers of the wealthy may or may not work, the prayers of the poor do work. They really work. If you misuse your position to wrong someone, punishment for that injustice is inevitable. If you treat someone in a lower position well, value their work, give them their due power within their work’s scope, they remain very satisfied. They become tremendously happy with very little. They’ll love you from the heart, respect you, even be ready to give their life for you. You’ll learn from them what people think and say about you, and you can improve yourself. They’ll look after you not as part of their job, but truly from the heart.
Have you ever called the person who cooks for you daily to your room and thanked them? Try it once—the next day’s cooking will be even better. You might think, won’t this make them arbitrary? Neglect their work? I’ve seen they don’t. They work from love, happily, not from fear. There’s no more terrible rule than the rule of love. If you can do this once with your heart, much of your work stress will diminish. Strike their sense of responsibility with love, with all your heart’s warmth, not with rules and regulations. You’ll see, in shame and embarrassment, they won’t shirk their duties. Keeping your honor in mind, they won’t do anything that would dishonor you.
Living in peace is far more necessary than being successful in life. A good person can live in much more peace than a successful person. If you mistreat those who do small jobs in your office, you’ll receive punishment for this from the Creator himself. Natural justice operates in nature in such cases. You’ll see that in terms of personal and family happiness and peace, the Creator rewards them. The value of night’s peace is much greater than day’s success. A person who ruins others’ sleep while awake cannot sleep peacefully when it’s time to sleep—this is natural. A successful person is surely a successful father, successful husband. A father who doesn’t become his child’s companion during childhood dishonors his own father’s teachings at every moment. A husband who deprives his wife of her due love actually diminishes his mother’s position. Success can be measured by wealth and position, but not fulfillment. One life’s fulfillment is far greater than a hundred lives’ success.
P.S. I mean, if the person I’ve described in this writing doesn’t have hair on his head, we should assume his little daughter kisses his shiny bald head!