Perfect goodness in an imperfect world
HE WAS NOT CRITICAL OF THE IMPERFECTIONS OF THE WORLD AS ALL HIS WORK WOULD HAVE NO MEANING IF THE WORLD WAS PERFECT
Twenty years of teaching have taught me that one never stops learning. Often, the words of a soldier friend who died last year after a gruelling battle with cancer haunt me. He would often belittle my claims to knowledge by reciting a couplet: Kabhi kabhi yun bhi hum ne apne dil ko samjhaya hai; jin baton ko khud nahi samjha auron ko samjhaya hai.
The benighted may sometimes profess knowledge. A few days ago, a banker friend who also runs an NGO showed me how wisdom may just be a matter of looking at things differently. Though I’m not a member of his NGO, I admire the untiring service that my friend Sharma ji renders for the destitute, sick and needy. Sometimes, he invites me to programmes organised to distribute uniforms and books to underprivileged students. Last time, about 15 days before the winter uniforms and book distribution programme was scheduled, Sharma ji called me. He had fractured his ankle and requested me to help him get the auditorium of the local government education college allocated for the programme. The teachers who would accompany the students were yet to be intimated about the venue. I promised that I would go to the concerned college on his behalf. I went the next day with a written application, seeking permission for using the auditorium.
To strengthen the case, I gave an account of the social work being done by the organisation and also explained how books and uniforms will help students overcome deficiencies in studies. The official who received the application was unresponsive and got rid of me with the standard reply, “We’ll look into it.”
The lukewarm response did not dampen my hopes. I expected things to take the logical turn. It was a college and the authorities would immediately see the significance of a programme promoting education among those who lacked resources and contribute to the effort by allowing the use of its premises.
I returned to the college a few days later. The official looked at me as if he did not recognise me. When I reminded him of my application, he began to fumble. I was a little upset but offered to write the application again. However, that was not the issue for there were other formalities. Permission had to be taken from the directorate in Chandigarh. I rued the fact that he needed a second visit to make the procedure known. The programme was a week away. I drafted a fresh application and went to the principal’s office.
The principal was amenable to my request and looked positively at the idea of holding the function in the college. “We get credit for supporting social causes in the annual assessment,” she said. It was decided that my application would be forwarded to the directorate through email and she would herself get the case expedited.
“The internet is not working since yesterday,” said the official, lurking behind my chair. I offered to escort him to a nearby internet café so that he could send the mail from his official ID. “No, we’ll send it tomorrow. We cannot take official work to internet cafes,” he said. Two days before the function, I made the perfunctory enquiry.
The permission had not arrived as the mail had not been sent. Defeated and frustrated, I thought of the poor children who were to receive the uniforms, the programme without a venue and of the living and non-living stumbling blocks. I went to Sharma ji and gave vent to a rehearsed educated rant against the inertia of the clumsy machinery.
However, Sharma ji would have none of it. With surprising composure he gave me addresses of two banquet halls that lent their premises for philanthropic causes. The one I went to took precisely a moment to accede to my request. As I confirmed the venue to Sharma ji, a sudden illumination made me see everything in a new light. Sharma ji was not critical of the imperfections of the world as all his work would have no meaning if the world was perfect.