by Sudha Murty
I was very happy to see the way things had turned out for Chitra. But I came back to my original question. ‘Chitra, why did you pay my hotel bill? That is not right.’
With tears in her eyes and gratitude on her face, she said, ‘Akka, if you hadn’t helped me, I don’t know where I would have been today—maybe a beggar, a prostitute, a runaway child, a servant in someone’s house … or I may even have committed suicide. You changed my life. I am ever grateful to you.’
‘No, Chitra. I am only one step in your ladder of success,’ I said. ‘There are many steps which led you to where you are today—the shelter which looked after you, the schools which gave you good education, the company which sent you to America and, above all, it is you—a determined and inspired girl who made your life yourself. One step should never be given all the credit for the end result.’
‘That is your thinking, Akka. I differ with you,’ she said.
‘Chitra, you are starting a new life and you should save money for your new family. Why did you pay my hotel bill?’
Chitra did not reply but told John to touch my feet. Then, suddenly sobbing, she hugged me and said, ‘Because you paid for my ticket from Bombay to Bangalore!’
19
Miserable Success
Vishnu was a young, bright and ambitious student from the first batch I ever taught at college. So my relationship with him was closer than that with my students from subsequent batches. He was charming, communicative and clear in his thinking.
In college, we used to have long arguments on different issues and we used to agree to disagree on many matters. I used to tell him, ‘Vishnu, I have seen many more seasons than you. With my experience in life, I want to tell you that having good relationships, compassion and peace of mind is much more important than achievements, awards, degrees or money.’
Vishnu would argue back: ‘Madam, your stomach is full and you have achieved everything. Hence, you are comfortable in life and can say that. You have received many awards, so you don’t care for them and you are not ambitious. You will never understand people like me.’ Then, I usually just smiled at him. I liked him for his openness.
Vishnu was also very good at teaching. He completed his degree and got an excellent job in Microsoft in Seattle, USA. He was awaiting his visa to go abroad. I told him to teach at my college while he was waiting. Whenever I could not attend the laboratory sessions, I told him to take charge of the junior lab and be my substitute. He became very popular with the students.
I asked Vishnu, ‘You are very good at teaching. Why don’t you seriously think of becoming a professor?’
He said, ‘My monthly salary in the US is more than a teacher’s annual salary here. Why would I want to become a professor?’
‘Vishnu, don’t be so rude. A teacher is not respected for the salary but for his or her knowledge and teaching. If you don’t respect the teaching profession, that is fine, but don’t make such a comparison.’
Soon, Vishnu left the country on his new assignment.
Many years passed and a decade rolled by. My students, who were once young, were now middle-aged and I had gone from middle age to old age.
One day, my secretary told me that someone called Vishnu wanted to meet me. By this time, I knew many Vishnus and was not able to place him at once. She said that he was a student from my first batch of students. Now I recognized him instantly and told her to set up an appointment. After all, old wine, old memories and old students are precious in life.
On the day of the appointment, Vishnu walked in right on time. He had less hair than before and some of them were grey. He had put on weight. He was wearing an expensive shirt and there was a platinum diamond ring on his finger. But alas, his face was like a dried tomato. There was not a trace of enthusiasm on it. On the contrary, I could see some lines of worry on his face.
He sat in front of me and I ordered him a cup of tea. Vishnu looked at me and said, ‘Madam, you look really old now.’
I smiled and said, ‘Time and tide will wait for no one.’ But he did not smile back. ‘How are you, Vishnu?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t met you for fifteen years. It is very nice of you to remember your old teacher and come to see me. Where are you? What are you doing now? Are you still with Microsoft?’
‘No, madam. I left Microsoft after three years,’ replied Vishnu.
‘No wonder people say that if someone stays in a software company for more than three years, he is a loyal person!’
He did not respond to my joke. ‘So where are you now?’ I asked again.
‘I own a company in Singapore. Two hundred people work for me. We make very good profit.’ I felt Vishnu’s voice had that pride of achievement, which was very natural.
‘So you have settled in Singapore?’
‘Not really, I come to India quite often because of work. I have a house in Vasant Vihar in Delhi, a flat in Worli in Mumbai, a bungalow in Raj Mahal Vilas Extension in Bangalore, a farm on Bannerghatta Road …’
I stopped him. ‘Vishnu, I didn’t ask you about your assets. I am not an income-tax person. I just wanted to know where you normally stay.’ I was pulling his leg, yet he did not smile.
‘Vishnu, you have told me enough about your financial assets,’ I continued. ‘Now tell me about your marital status. Are you married? How many children do you have? What do they do?’ Usually, a mother and a teacher get the automatic authority to pose these questions to her children and students. I am no exception. Some people mind my questions because it is their personal life and I get the hint and stop. But most people happily tell me about their life.
‘Yes, I am married. I have an eight-year-old daughter,’ he said.
Vishnu pulled out his wallet and showed me his family photo. When he was in college, he used to go out with Bhagya, a girl junior to him. But the lady in the photograph was different. She was stunningly beautiful, like a model, and his daughter was cute.
I felt that his life was a picture-perfect postcard. He was successful, rich, had a very pretty wife and a daughter. What else can one want in life? With this kind of success, he should be very happy and enthusiastic—but he was not. I did not know the reason, but I knew that he would tell me. I stopped talking and allowed Vishnu to speak.
Slowly, Vishnu opened up. ‘Madam, I have a problem. I have come to talk to you.’
‘What problem? And why do you think I have the solution? Actually, a successful person like you should help an old teacher like me,’ I joked to reduce the tension.
‘It is nothing to do with success, madam. For the last few years, I have been feeling very sad. I feel like I am missing something in life. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is,’ he said. ‘Nothing makes me happy. Nothing even moves me or touches my heart, even if I see a heart-wrenching incident. I feel that I am travelling in a desert without water and the roads are paved with gold and silver …’
I asked him directly, ‘Have you seen a doctor or a counsellor?’
‘Of course I have. They said that a compassionate heart is important to enjoy life. They told me to read books and advised me to try and be happy by doing things such as looking at the sunrise, listening to the birds, taking long walks and exercising regularly.’
‘Well, what happened?’
‘I lost weight with all the activities but otherwise things didn’t improve. I went back to a counsellor again. He told me to go to Somalia on a trip.’
‘Why Somalia?’ I was surprised. ‘I know that there are trips to Europe, Hong Kong and Bangkok. But I have never heard of a trip to Somalia. Tell me, did you go there? What did you do in Somalia?’ I was curious.
‘Oh, they took us to orphanages, HIV camps and camps of children suffering from malnutrition. But nothing happened. I still didn’t feel anything. On the contrary, my mind was busy calculating how Somalia could export to America or other European nations. What would you have done in my place, madam?’ he questioned me.
‘Don’t put me in your shoes. What I would do is left
to me and you don’t have to do the same thing. Why can’t you talk to someone who is very dear to you—maybe a friend or your wife or someone from your age group? They might be able to give you a better solution. After all, there is a generation gap between us.’
He was quiet. Then he said, ‘Madam, all my life, I have calculated and made friendships. I have never spent time with people who aren’t useful to me in some way. After all, life is a merciless, competitive field. Every move should take me one step higher on the ladder of success.’
I thought to myself, ‘Now I know why Bhagya was replaced by the model wife.’
‘How much time do you spend with your family?’
‘My daughter is friendly but she is nice to me only when she wants something from me. Sometimes, I find it very strange. A child looks beautiful only with innocence but my daughter is more practical. My wife is very busy with the carpet business that she inherited from her father. She doesn’t have any time to talk to me and my daughter, even though she works from home most of the time.’
He stopped for a second and continued, ‘Or maybe I think that way. My wife wants to get all my contacts and clients so that she can expand her business. I am more of a database to her than a companion.’
I understood Vishnu’s problem. Sometimes, it is very difficult to talk with your own family. I was touched that he felt safe coming to me. But he was expecting a quick fix from me. I was willing to listen to his problem, but that did not mean that I also had the solution.
Vishnu continued, ‘Madam, tell me, how do I become compassionate? How do I build a strong family? How can I enjoy the sunrise and the moonlight? How much time does it take to get all these qualities? Are there any books or a crash course or people who can teach me? I don’t care about the cost but it shouldn’t take months together.’
I was shocked by his approach. ‘Vishnu, compassion cannot be taught, sold or bought,’ I said. ‘There is no time limit either. It is one of the characteristics that you have to develop from the beginning. Understand that life is a journey. In that short journey, if you can show compassion to others, show it now. Our ancestors have always talked about the middle path for a reason. That path makes a person stable, happy and content. Vishnu, you are the role model for your children. Children will be what they see. What you have done, your daughter has copied.’
Vishnu sighed and said, ‘Yes, madam. I understand what you are saying. I will take my daughter and work with poor people on a regular basis along with her. That will also help us bond. I am hoping that it will make me a better human being and I will be able to feel worthy again. Now I know what brought me to you. I cannot thank you enough.’
Vishnu left my office with hope in his heart and a smile on his face.
20
How to Beat the Boys
Recently, when I visited the US, I had to speak to a crowd of both students and highly successful people. I always prefer interacting with the audience, so I opened the floor to questions.
After several questions were asked, a middle-aged man stood up to speak. ‘Madam, you are very confident and clear in communicating your thoughts. You are absolutely at ease while talking to us … ’
I was direct. ‘Please don’t praise me. Ask me your question.’
‘I think you must have studied abroad or done your MBA from a university in the West. Is that what gives you such confidence?’ he asked.
Without wasting a second, I replied, ‘It comes from my B.V.B.’
He seemed puzzled. ‘What do you mean—my B.V.B.?’
I smiled. ‘I’m talking about the Basappa Veerappa Bhoomaraddi College of Engineering and Technology in Hubli, a medium-sized town in the state of Karnataka in India. I have never studied outside of India. The only reason I stand here before you is because of that college.’
In a lighter vein, I continued, ‘I’m sure that the young people in the software industry who are present here today will appreciate the contribution of Infosys to India and to the US. Infosys has made Bengaluru, Karnataka and India proud. Had I not been in B.V.B., I would not have become an engineer. If I wasn’t an engineer, then I wouldn’t have been able to support my husband. And if my husband didn’t have his family’s backing, he may or may not have had the chance to establish Infosys at all! In that case, all of you wouldn’t have gathered here today to hear me speak.’
Everyone clapped and laughed, but I really meant what I said. After the session got over and the crowd left, I felt tired and chose to sit alone on a couch nearby.
My mind went back to 1968. I was a seventeen-year-old girl with an abundance of courage, confidence and the dream to become an engineer. I came from an educated, though middle-class, conservative Brahmin family. My father was a professor of obstetrics and gynaecology at the Karnataka Medical College at Hubli, while my mother was a schoolteacher before she got married.
I finished my pre-university exams with excellent marks and told my family that I wanted to pursue engineering. I had always been fascinated with science, even more so with its application. Engineering was one of those branches of science that would allow me to utilize my creativity, especially in design. But it was as if I had dropped a bomb inside our house.
The immediate reaction was of shock. Engineering was clearly an all-male domain and hence considered a taboo for girls in those days. There was no questioning the status quo, wherein girls were expected to be in the company of other female students in a medical or science college. The idea of a woman entering the engineering field had possibly never popped up in anyone’s mind. It was akin to expecting pigs to fly.
I was my grandmother’s favourite granddaughter, but even she looked at me with disdain and said, ‘If you go ahead and do this, no man from north Karnataka will marry you. Who wants to marry a woman engineer? I am so disappointed in you.’ My grandmother never thought that I would do anything she disapproved of. However, she also didn’t know that in the city of Mysore, across the river of Tungabhadra, lived a man named Narayana Murthy who would later want to marry me.
My grandfather, a history teacher and my first guru who taught me reading and writing, only mildly opposed it. ‘My child, you are wonderful at history. Why can’t you do something in this field? You could be a great scholar one day. Don’t chase a dry subject like engineering.’
My mother, who was extremely proficient in mathematics, said, ‘You are good at maths. Why don’t you complete your post-graduation in mathematics and get a job as a professor? You can easily work in a college after you get married instead of being a hardcore engineer struggling to balance family and work.’
My father, a liberal man who believed in education for women, thought for a moment and said, ‘I think that you should pursue medicine. You are excellent with people and languages. To tell you the truth, I don’t know much about engineering. We don’t have a single engineer in our family. It is a male-dominated industry and you may not find another girl in your class. What if you have to spend four years without a real friend to talk to? Think about it. However, the decision is yours and I will support you.’
Many of my aunts also thought that no one would marry me if I chose engineering. This would possibly entail my marrying somebody from another community, an absolutely unheard-of thing in those days.
However, I didn’t care. As a student of history, I had read Hiuen Tsang’s book Si-Yu-Ki. Before Tsang’s travel to India, everybody discouraged him from making the journey on foot, but he refused to listen and decided to go. In time, he became famous for his seventeen-year-long journey to India. Taking courage from Tsang, I told my family, ‘I want to do engineering. Come what may, I am ready for the consequences of my actions.’
I filled out the application form for B.V.B. College of Engineering and Technology, submitted it and soon received the news that I had been selected on the basis of my marks. I was ecstatic, but little did I know that the college staff was discomfited by this development.
The principal at the time was B.C. Khanapure,
who happened to know my father. They both met at a barber shop one day and the principal expressed his genuine anguish at what he perceived to be an awkward situation. He told my father, ‘Doctor Sahib, I know that your daughter is very intelligent and that she has been given admission only because of merit, but I’m afraid we have some problems. She will be the only girl in college. It is going to be difficult for her. First, we don’t have a ladies’ toilet on campus. We don’t have a ladies’ room for her to relax either. Second, our boys are young with raging hormones and I am sure that they will trouble her. They may not do anything in front of the staff but they will definitely do something later. They may not cooperate with her or help her because they are not used to talking to girls. As a father of four daughters, I am concerned about yours too. Can you tell her to change her mind for her own sake?’
My father replied, ‘I agree with you, Professor Sahib. I know you mean well, but my daughter is hell-bent on pursuing engineering. Frankly, she’s not doing anything wrong. So I have decided to let her pursue it.’
‘In that case, Doctor Sahib, I have a small request. Please ask her to wear a sari to college as it is a man’s world out there and the sari will be an appropriate dress for the environment she will be in. She should not talk to the boys unnecessarily because that will give rise to rumours and that’s never good for a girl in our society. Also, tell her to avoid going to the college canteen and spending time there with the boys.’
My father came back and told me about this conversation. I readily agreed to all of the requests since I had no intention of changing my mind.
Eventually, I would become friendly with some of the boys, but I always knew where to draw the line. The truth is that it was these same boys who would teach me some of life’s lessons later, such as the value of keeping a sense of perspective, the importance of taking it easy every now and then and being a good sport. Many of the boys, who are now older gentlemen, are like my brothers even after fifty years! Finally, it was the lack of ladies’ toilets on campus that made me understand the difficulty faced by many women in India due to the insufficiency or sheer absence of toilets. Eventually, this would lead me to build more than 13,000 toilets in Karnataka alone!