Lessons Learned from My Parents by Raghbir Dhillon |
In human karma one can choose many things, except for two — Parents and time and place of birth, are allotted to a person by God, and the person has no say in them. The astrologers told my parents that my stars of birth were not in good formation, and they were worried. I never cared for the faraway blinking stars, and this superstition never bothered me. However, I was lucky in having wonderful parents. In the early formative years of my life their direct and indirect interaction greatly transformed my life. Let me give one instance which greatly influenced me. At the time of distress, crisis, and failure, the words my mother uttered on that day always ring in my ears, and the sight of Dad's fearless determined looks inspire me. The threatening dark clouds vanish. My sinking ship finds its rudder and steers me through the troubled waters. To clarify my point, let me narrate the incident: It happened on June 5, 1940. I was ten and studying in the fifth grade of Thati Village, Punjab, India. I was tall for my age and the mirror told me I looked handsome with rosy cheeks and sharp features. On that morning, my thirty-year-old father came to me and said, "Bir, you're not going to school today." I was surprised, since my father was always very particular about my attending the school. "Why, Dad?" "You have to help me fight the locust which are going to attack our crops." "I'm ready," I said. "But, what is locust?" "I don't have time to explain. You will see it in a few hours," he said. "Let me line up your younger brother and mother." Soon my mother, Taro, twenty-eight, tall and gorgeous, and my younger brother, Atma, stood along with me. Dad gave a pan and a steel rod to each of us and said, "When those locusts attack our wheat crop, you bang the pan with the steel rod, shout at the top of your lungs, and scare them to fly away from our field." "Dad, why not kill the tiny insects?" "Impossible! They are zillions. We can simply save our one crop." Mother tied her Dupatta (head scarf) to her waist and said, "I'm all set to help my family." My six-foot two-inch tall father had the build of a giant. He had been the champion wrestler and with his barrel chest and bulging muscles, he looked intimidating. A black walrus mustache covered his upper lip and provided an umbrella to his bright teeth. His piercing brown eyes showed determination and strength. To fight the locust, he had broken a ten-foot-long branch of the banyan tree. This branch was heavy, and a normal person couldn't even lift it. But Father carried it like a tiny toy. Mom filled one big bucket with buttermilk, and we marched in single-line formation to our wheat crop. Those were days of the great worldwide depression, and we couldn't afford to lose our crops. Anyhow, Dad was determined to save only the wheat crop, and we were all set for it. We reached the wheat field and Mother placed the bucket under the mango trees and covered it with a towel. It was ten in the morning. The hot Indian sun was shooting burning arrows and scorching the poor earth. I saw them reflecting from the parched soil and turning into hot vapors. Perspiration ran down my spine, and perspiration dripped from Dad's mustache. There was no breeze and the leaves of the trees, frozen like statues, stirred only when a bird shot out of them. The monsoon frogs had stopped their croaking and were hiding in the pond. My younger brother, whose motor was always supercharged, jumped up and down, thinking we were playing some kind of game. Suddenly, the sun was covered with the black clouds of the insects. It became dark. Dad pointed to the zillions of tiny insects and said, "Get ready, here they are coming." Waves of insects landed on our crop, and we started banging the pans and screaming at the top of our lungs to scare them away from our crop. It was a tough job, but we tried our best. Dad could easily clear ten foot area with his branch. When one wave flew away, another landed right behind it. I studied the locust: It was a two inch brown insect with large head and bulging large eyes. This two-horned critter rubbed its large two hind legs against its wings and that made cacophonous sounds. It had four wings which folded against its body. When we scared it, it hopped away with its large hind legs, and if further scared it used its wings. I was surprised to find that it was doing impossible things — with its mouth, it was munching the leaves like a chopper and its bottom was pushing out feces at the same time. I wondered how it could eat, pass stools, sing, and hop simultaneously. Many dropped dead on the ground, and the other carried on their destructive work. After three hours the locust left our crop, leaving behind their fetid dead and our ruined crop. Dad laid aside his big branch and said, "Good job. We have saved half the crop. I'll clear the area and tend to the damaged crop. We won't starve. Let us drink buttermilk and take some rest." We sat near the bucket and Mother gave us glasses of buttermilk. After the hard labor, the buttermilk tasted delicious and satiating. I looked at the three mango trees. They stood naked … all their leaves had been eaten by the locust. No luscious mangoes this year for us. I sighed. My younger brother continued hopping over the dead locust yelling, "I want to kill all these crooks." Mother calmed him. We walked back to our home. Placid Dad took his bath and checked the farm animals for plowing in the morning. Mother cooked and served us the food. Dad returned from the barn and went to sound sleep without saying a word about the lost crops. I learned one lesson from my father — Fight the danger with your full might and then forget it; never agonize over it. Mother placed my younger brother in his bed, and soon he started snoring. She faced me. "Bir, let's go the temple and thank God." "Thank God for the destruction of our crops?" "No, son we should never dwell over the loss of something, but thank God for all the blessings he has showered upon us." "Mom, why did God make this locust?" "I don't know. God made 84 million species and He only knows the reason." "Why can't we eliminate this destructive locust?" "Son, like us, these insects have equal right to exist on the God's Earth, and God protects them." "How?" "The female locusts digs a hole and stacks its eggs in it. It covers the hole, says a prayer to God and dies. God takes care of the eggs and hatches them." "What about their coming next year?" "Don't worry, they will come after 13 years," she said. "Forget locust, and remember to thank god for all your blessings." Mother and I walked barefoot to the temple and thanked God. As I grew up, I always remembered Mom's instructions. And later on I read Bishop Sheen's analogous message: "I complained to God for not providing me with shoes; I looked out of the window and saw a man without feet. Immediately, I genuflected and thanked God." In the time of distress and disaster, my mother's advice always lifts me up and carries me through my problems and saves my emotional balance and health. |
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