The Owner

The Vedantham family had been a family of scholars. They were highly respected for their knowledge than their wealth which was considerably high. People came to them for matters of moral and intellectual crisis. It was also not unusual for small and medium level rulers to consult the heads of Vedantham family over matters of political intrigue and on matters of national importance.

Every time the Vedantham family had always come up with a solution for the problems that had been placed before them. It was his great wish to carry forward this responsibility through his righteous heirs. Heirs who would inherit his knowledge and wisdom; heirs who would be conscientious, judicious, dedicated to truth and justice; just like him.

Vedantham Shanmukha Sarma came out into the verandah of the huge traditional tiled roof house. This was where he would meet the villagers usually and clear their doubts. This was also the place where his students would be learning how to deal with mundane matters.

“Father, can I sit with you today?” five year old Vedantham Kumara Sarma asked. Shanmukha smiled. He offered his hand to the boy who took it happily with his small, fingers and followed his father to the verandah. He settled down comfortably in his father’s lap and observed everything with his keen, sharp, intelligent eyes.

There were some villagers already sitting in the verandah waiting for Shanmukha to arrive. They rose as soon as they saw him and folded their hands in greeting which he returned. As soon as he sat, the villagers made themselves comfortable and started pouring out their woes.

“Sir, please teach my boy some sense. He is refusing to come to work with me.” Said 30 year old Mallanna pulling his 10 year old son towards Shanmukha.

“Is your father saying the truth boy?”

“Y-yes s-s-sir.”

“Why do you refuse to accompany your father?”

“........”

“He’s asking a question answer him!” Mallanna pulled the boy’s ear making him wince.

“Mallanna, leave the boy.” Mallanna obliged. “Don’t be afraid boy. Tell me. What is the problem?”

“My friends are making fun of me. They say I am a product of mud because I roll in the mud.” There was a resentment at being made fun of for being a potter’s son. It was his job to gather clayey soil suitable for making pots. In the process he would be covered in mud since he had to bring the baskets of clay carrying on his head. The constant handling of clay made his clothes dirty.

“Why should I have to make pots while my friends can play and be clean too without worrying about being laughed at? If they handle clay it is playing. If I handle the same clay, I am born of mud?” Shanmukha Sarma was a bit taken aback by the intensity of pain, humiliation and embarrassment behind the question.

“Why should we be forced to do what we don’t like? Why don’t we have a choice to choose our profession? Are we not humans? Are we not part of the nation?”

“Please forgive him sir. He doesn’t know much manners.” He raised his hand to beat the boy.

“Stop Mallanna! Please don’t beat the boy if you respect this house.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Ranga. Come here.” The boy came closer. “Sit here. Beside me.” Ranga looked up at him in surprise. This was something no one in this family had done before. The rest of the villagers were stunned at this gesture.

“Ranga. I can understand your pain. Discrimination is painful. It is wrong. It must be punished.” The boy appeared to be hopeful. “The problem is what are you going to do if someone else does the same thing? Will you just abandon everything to hide or will you embrace things proudly, acquiring knowledge and facing the issues head on?” Ranga was pensive. “Ranga there are always two ways to solve a problem – the first is to run away from it and the second one is to face it. What do you choose?”

“I will face the problem sir.”

“Sabash! (well done) Good choice. Come to me every day when you are free and I will help you face problems as well as solve them. But it is not going to be an easy task.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to think about this carefully. If you want to face the problems, you should be ready to do a lot of hard work. Nothing comes easy. Are you ready to struggle for what you believe is right?”

“Yes sir.” There was a determination in his voice.

“Alright come to me tomorrow and we shall start your true education.” He turned towards Mallaiah. “Mallaiah, send him to me everyday regularly. Don’t force him. I do not take students who are unwilling to learn.”

“Yes Sir. It is a great honour for us that you have agreed to take my son as your student. He will not disappoint you.” There was awe, pride, joy and a bit of nervousness in his eyes that was reflected through the happy tears on his face.

Though it was not unusual for Shanmukha Sharma to take students from other communities, this was the first time he had offered to educate a boy from their community. It was a rare opportunity that Ranga and his father were well aware of. They were so happy they failed to notice the slight frown and a thoughtful expression on the five year old Kumara Sarma.

Kumara Sarma waited till his father was free. He had already learnt to guess the mood of his father and when he would be getting answers to his questions. The boy had learnt to wait patiently till he got the chance to quench his thirst for knowledge. He would usually pester his mother with question after question and she would answer them patiently.

It was 4 pm. Shanmukha Sarma was relaxing in his reclining chair reading the Bhagavadgita. Kumara Sarma who had been playing till then came running to his father who scooped him up in his arms and placed him in his lap.

“Father, I have a doubt.” This was his trademark opening line before he asked a question. Shanmukha knew that none of his son’s doubts were simple. He would ask those questions his mother failed to answer. He smiled at his son which was the cue for his son.

“Father, will you teach him like me?” Shanmukha looked at his son for a few moments analysing the question that was actually a hornet’s nest in disguise.

“Yes and No.” The boy seemed happy with the ambiguous response which meant that more explanation could be expected.

“Will you teach him all the Vedas like me?”

“No.”

“Then you are not teaching him like me!” Shanmukha smiled at his son lovingly. He wanted his son to ask questions and learn.

“What does Ranga’s father do?”

“He’s a potter!”

What does a potter do?”

“He makes pots!”

“How are those pots?”

“Nice!”

“And?”

“Beautiful!”

“Can you make such nice and beautiful pots?”

“No!”

“But, if I teach you how to make pots can you make such pots then?”

“Yes!”

“But, do you want to make pots all your life?”

“No!”

“Why?”

“I want to be like you!”

“Why?”

“I want to help people just like the way you help them!”

“So will learning how to make pots going to help you if you want to become like me?”

“No!”

“Then what do you need?”

“I learn what you teach to me.”

“Exactly! Now, do I need to teach Ranga what I know and what I teach you?”

“No. But you can teach him no?”

“Will it be useful to him?” the boy pondered over the question. “I don’t know.”

“Suppose he can’t use this knowledge at all. Will it be helpful to him?”

“No.”

“So what should be taught to him?”

“Teach what he can use!”

“Correct! I will study him for a while before deciding what to teach him. Knowledge should be given to the right person. Apaathra daanam mahaa paapam. (charity to the undeserving is a sin) what happens if the knowledge goes into the wrong hands?”

“They will misuse it like the rakshasas(demons) and people will suffer.”

“Correct! So I need to find out what his paatrata (ability) is and what kind of knowledge he is ready to receive and what kind of knowledge will benefit him the most.”

“Ohhh! So you will be testing him!”

“Yes. I will test him and then impart knowledge to him accordingly.”

“But father, can’t we all have the same kind of education and then decide what to do next?”

“Tell me dear son, what does mom use to cut vegetables?”

“A knife.”

“Can she use that knife to break a coconut?”

“Nooooooo!” the boy smiled mischievously.

“What do you use to break a coconut?”

“A biiiiigggg stone!” he said as if revealing a big secret. Shanmukha Sarma chuckled.

“Can you use a stone to cut vegetables?”

“Nooo!” there was a look of comprehension on the boy’s face. “I understand now!” he said enthusiastically. “Everyone is different and should do different types of work like the knife and the stone!”

“Exactly! And hence there are divisions in the society. Unfortunately, due to the ego and arrogance of some people these divisions that were meant to provide an honest living to everyone and to help the society thrive as a whole have been used to divide and oppress people.”

“Dad, what is the meaning of aahh-press?”

“Oppress means to deny some people their right to lead a proper, dignified life.”

“Father, what is proper dignified life?”

“Let me tell you a story. By the end of it you will understand what dignified life means.” The boy sat alert ready to listen to another of his father’s favourite stories that taught him so much.