Giving Away

Take it from me, a miserly hoarder of junk. Nothing equals the pleasure of giving away unwanted things. Like the slogan of the Indian Railways – ‘Less luggage, more comfort’!

Maybe it is that I am getting older and stupid, but I want to lighten down. The best way I spend my weekends (us poor bankers have only a Sunday) is cleaning the cupboards and stuff. As my house is ancient (built in the 1930s) and the 4^th generation inhabiting it, there is awful lot of junk lying around. Other than the loft where people fear to tread, we even have a room that we call the Junk Room!

A digression. My son’s name is Nachiketh – for Nachikethus, a character from the ancient holy books called Upanishads – the particular one is Katha-Upanishad. The name Nachiketh is unheard of in Kerala, but in the North, though not common, not unknown either. There was a time in my youth I had an inclination for spiritual life (Now don’t you dare smirk, ANIL!) and used to read up a lot of philosophical works, including the Upanishads. OK, as the story goes, Nachiketh’s father performed a ritual sacrifice in which he was supposed to give away all his wealth to the poor, for eg., his cows. But Vajashravas kept the good cows for himself and gave away only the old and sick cows. The motive was to gain entry into heaven in later life, blah blah. I gave my son the name Nachiketh, ignoring the raised eyebrows and frowns for the reasons 1) I didn’t want to give him a God’s name (most Hindu names can be traced to some God or the other) and 2) Nachiketa’s life was a quest for knowledge. He spurned the offers of goodies from Lord Yama, (the lord of death) instead of disclosing to him the ultimate truth of life. Nachiketh asked,- ‘ If all the wealth in the world cannot let me escape death, what is it’s use?’ I thought, well, I was a moron, at least let the name of my son be Nachiketa, perhaps that will inspire him in the quest for knowledge. A name, you see, is a symbol, not for what it is, but what it aspires to be.

To come back to the junk. Just as I began delving into P’s stuff, I was met with vehement opposition. Retreating, I thought I will start with my stuff. As the first round of cleaning came to an end, “Whew!”, said the house. Then, with no motive of elevation to the heavens, I put my hands onto the most precious of possessions, my books. This is my humble savings over my entire life, these lead-spread papers, not to mention the millions in the bank vaults. Of course, I cannot give away my much loved of them, or those I refer to frequently. But there were books, though good, I knew I had overgrown. Many detective novels, books on science, philosophy etc.

Yesterday I lugged 45 of the books in the saddlebags of my bike and donated them to an impoverished library (the one mentioned in the previous post). The libararian’s emaciated face glowed with gratitude. He said – ‘Sir, I myself will write your name in every one of them – ‘Donated by Sri. Balachandran V’ etc etc”. I was perplexed. I emphatically said, “NO!” The poor man looked confused. “Sir, but how else people would know you gave these books?” I said - “If my name is written on the books, how it could be a donation? I would be still attached to them.”

Outside the old library, I stood beneath the huge shady tree. It was dusk and crows were coming in to roost. The street thronged with vehicles and people were rushing about. Relieved of the weight, the thumping of my motorcycle sounded like a schoolgirl’s giggle, as I rode home to P and Sancho.

******* Balachandran V, Trivandrum, 21.10.2010

PS. Those who would like to read the story of Nachiketa, here is a simple and beautiful version: http://www.swamij.com/swami-rama-nachiketas-choice.htm