A “Good Human Being” and a “Good Boy”
By Siddhanta Das
New Delhi, 2 July: When my elder daughter was in Class-VIII she got an assignment to write a note on “What your father wants you to be in life”. I told her “I want you to be a good human being”. She found the answer to be quite vague and insisted that I say something that would make her teacher happy and save her from being ridiculed. But I kept on insisting that’s all that I want her to be, as nothing else really does matter. All is well that ends well; her teacher appreciated the idea and her articulation.
This idea was etched in my mind by my maternal grandmother when I was a child. Sarojini Das was a frail, but mentally very strong woman having strong views on value system. Neither, did it matter to her that she was wife of a Judge in the High Court (Justice Raj Kishore Das) and daughter of a freedom fighter (Haimavati Devi), nor, that she had studied only up to Class-IV and many considered her to be unsophisticated. Her decision not to have a third child after having two daughters was strongly resented by most of the family members, but she stood her ground. A bold decision indeed in the late 1930s.
She was a deeply religious person but hardly ever visited temples. Even she did not have a Puja room at home. All I remember, after taking bath she would just pray for about 5 minutes in a corner of a room and that’s all. However, my first exposure to religious scriptures was through her story telling. Towards later part of her life, she wrote a booklet for children based on Ramayan.
It was her hand written manuscript with 2 carbon copies. She never wanted it to be published, but was too happy to lend those to anyone who wanted. She didn’t believe in touching feet as a mark of respect. She used to say “always have reverence for elders, you don’t have to show it off”. For her “namaste/ pranam” was only a formal way of greeting people. She was a Karmayogi in the true sense, did her own chores and that of my grandfather, insisted that we all (grandchildren) at least did our dishes, wash our clothes and made our bed, in spite of having several helping hands at home.
Anybody and everybody coming to Cuttack (in those days there was no hotel or lodges) for work was welcome to stay at her place, it was like a Dharmasala. She did not distinguish between; her relatives and in-laws, the influential and the mundane, the rich and the poor. But everyone had to follow her strict regime and contribute in running the daily errands. During freedom struggle Jayprakash Narayan during his visits to Cuttack used to stay at our place. My Grandfather in his autobiography has narrated how Prabhavati Devi enjoyed cutting vegetables in her kitchen.
Many thought she was a cantankerous woman and preferred avoiding her “sermons”, particularly children. But I somehow used to like all her idiosyncrasies and enjoyed spending time with her. And she loved it. She kept on telling me why it is so important to be a “Good Human Being” and why a “Good child” may not necessarily become a “Good Human Being”.
She believed anything that you might do, if you had the consent of your conscience (and you must be truthful to your conscience) could not be wrong, irrespective of whatever be the societal or official norms. To the amusement of my grandfather, she insisted all Acts, Rules, Regulations are nothing more than commonsense. I was greatly influenced by two of her “sermons”. First, that I must unfailingly make effort to help anyone who sought for it, if I were in a position to do so.
But she had three caveats; (a) that I must ensure that it was not at the expense of someone who actually deserved that, (b) that I must immediately forget the help rendered and never expect anything in return and (c) that I should ensure that I was not being used with any ulterior motive or even otherwise. Second, that I must have empathy for every human being, particularly for the underprivileged. Her simple thumb rule was, ‘don’t do or say anything to anyone which you would not like to be said or done to you’.
In my 4-decade long career so far, I have never used any harsh word for any of my subordinates (it indeed requires lots of patience and perseverance). I don’t think I have ever taken any harsh action against any Group-D or C staff. Well, as Enquiring Officer I have recommended termination for 3 officers, all senior Group-A, (I believe my actions were quite justified).
On the other hand, my parents and teachers wanted me to be a “Good boy”. My father an IPS officer, thought I should be a copybook ideal child, my mother believed my grandma was spoiling me and my teachers had very high expectations as I was a good student. I was in a fix; I didn’t want to disappoint my parents and teachers but at the same time my grandma was my role model. Very early in life I realized, what appears to be true, is as important as, what is actually true. So, I decided to have the pretense of a good boy while inherently following my grandma’s “sermons’.
In the 1970s I loved listening to radio for Hindi film songs, there was a time when I could remember singer, music director and lyricist of almost all the film songs of 50s, 60s and 70s. Since 1969 I have been following all major international tournaments in Cricket, Hockey, Football, Tennis, Badminton and of course the Olympics, Asiads, Commonwealth games. Nothing mattered in life except sports, games and music.
Attending classes and studies were just incidental. My father had no issues, as he was a good sports person and for my mother and teachers there was nothing to complain about as I was getting good grades and I was branded as a good boy. But was I a “good boy”? There are several episodes in my school days that would not exactly qualify me to a good boy in the true sense. I will narrate just one of those:
Although sports, games and music were quite okay for a good boy, watching Movies was a big NO. One Day I saw the film “Hathi Mere Sathi” and was awestruck. I suddenly realized I have been paying a very heavy price for being a good boy by missing out on Hindi films! My mind started working overtime to find ways, how to sneak out and watch more and more Hindi films.
A “brilliant” idea struck to me. I announced at home that I need private tuition classes for Sanskrit. There was no reason to say no, after all I was such a good boy. Although the tuition fee was Rs. 20 per month, I lied that it was Rs.25. So Rs.5 per month was available for watching movies. The next challenge was to find excuse to account for continuous 3 hours absence.
I along with a friend, my partner in this venture, decided that we will purchase 2 tickets, one each for two consecutive days. One would watch the 1st half on day-1 and the other the 2nd, then watch the other halves the next day. But very soon we both realized, it was not a great arrangement. Then we decided that since both of us are very good students we really don’t need that private tuition. We discontinued the tuition but did not inform at home.
Now we had a princely amount of Rs.25 per month and accounted for time (during tuition hours) to watch movies twice a week. I don’t think there is any Hindi film released during that period which we had not watched at least one. But this had disastrous and expected consequences. In the half yearly exams of Class-IX I fared miserably and secured unacceptable marks in some papers. It was a crisis. I was no Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi to admit everything before my parents.
My hard disk in brain worked overtime and came up with a solution. I altered marks obtained in 3 papers in the Report card, forged initials of the Class teacher in the corrected portions and showed it to my father. I explained that by mistake, marks of the student in the next roll number (who was incidentally not good in studies) was entered in my report card and therefore the teacher had to make those corrections.
My father had no reason to disbelieve as I was a “Good boy” and put his signature in the report card. Now the real challenge was to return the report card in school. In those days we used ink pens. I dipped the report card in water to wash off the corrections I had made, while ensuring that my father’s signature was not obliterated. Spun a story that while cycling to school I was hit by a bull and fell down and the report card fell in the roadside drain.
I had to put a few bandages to make the story appear true. My class teacher just checked whether my father had put his initials or not. He only enquired what was my father’s reaction. He did not have any reason to disbelieve me, as was a “Good boy”. Thereafter, I also pulled up my socks and in the Final Exams I topped in the class. Mission accomplished!
I narrated this incident to my parents at a much later stage, when I was in college. My mother refused to believe; my father was initially aghast but later amused. But the reaction of my grandma was interesting. She was not interested in the nitty-gritty of the incidence, she only asked 2 questions; first, did my action cause any harm to anyone, second, did I commit a sin or consider this to be a mistake.
According to her, one learns from mistakes. She told me that I should consider this incident as a learning process. “No one will teach you these in class, nor are these in text books, but these are opportunities to learn”. She would say, don’t hesitate to make mistakes, learn from mistakes but don’t repeat the same mistakes.
Perhaps I was not a “Good boy” but my mentor was definitely a “Good human being”.
(The author Siddhanta Das is an Indian Forest Service Officer of 1982 batch, recognised for his human touch in administration and empathy for sub-ordinates and forest dependent communities. Currently, he has been rendering his services as an Expert Member at the National Green Tribunal since 1st January, 2020.)
