Let us enjoy reading this Zen Tale of A Handful of Answers.
A young student of Zen was going to the market to buy vegetables for the monastery where he was studying. On the way he met a student from another monastery.
“Where are you going?" asked the first student.
“Wherever my legs take me," replied the other.
The first student pondered over the answer as he was sure it had some deep significance.
When he returned to the monastery, he reported the conversation to his teacher, who said: “You should have asked him what he would do if he had no legs."
The next day the student was thrilled to see the same boy coming towards him.
“Where are you going?" he asked and without waiting for a reply continued, “Wherever your legs take you, I suppose. Well, let me ask you . . ."
“You’re mistaken," interrupted the other boy. “Today I’m going wherever the wind blows." schools in hyderabad cbse syllabus This answer so confused the first boy that he could not think of anything to say.
When he reported the matter to his teacher, the old man said: “You should have asked him what he would do if there were no wind."
Some days later the student saw the boy in the market again and rushed to confront him, confident that this time he would have the last word.
“Where are you going?" he asked. “Wherever your legs take you or wherever the wind blows? Well, let me ask you . . . . "
“No, no," interrupted the boy. “Today I’m going to buy vegetables."
Let us enjoy reading this story of Honesty is The Best Policy. schools in hyderabad cbse syllabus A milkman became very wealthy through dishonest means. He had to cross a river daily to reach the city where his customers lived. He mixed the water of the river generously with the milk that he sold for a good profit. One day he went around collecting the dues in order to celebrate the wedding of his son. With the large amount thus collected he purchased plenty of rich clothes and glittering gold ornaments. But while crossing the river the boat capsized and all his costly purchases were swallowed by the river. The milk vendor was speechless with grief. At that time he heard a voice that came from the river, “Do not weep. What you have lost is only the illicit gains you earned through cheating your customers.
MORAL : Honest dealings are always supreme. Money earned by wrong methods will never remain for ever.
Soon a mongoose came there. He wanted to kill the mouse. As he lifted his head, he saw an owl sitting on a tree trying to catch him. The mongoose went very near the cat's net to save himself. The mouse thought "When the hunter takes away the cat, the mongoose will not spare me and the owl is there to enjoy both of us."
The Mouse went to the cat and said,
"I can cut the net if you promise to save my life from the mongoose and the owl." The cat agreed. The mouse started cutting the net slowly and freed the cat only when the hunter was just near the cat. The cat took to heels and so ran the mongoose too. The owl was very much disappointed to see even the mouse running away to safety.
A few days later, the cat being hungry, went to the hole of the mouse and requested him to come out for a game. The mouse replied,
"I sought friendship and saved you to save my life." Now you can go home.
MORAL : Don’t nurture friendship with selfish people.
The other boy replied, "It's mine. I only took it".
This lead to a quarrel between these two little boys. Just then a tall boy came that way. Upon seeing the quarrel between the boys, he said, "Give me the nut and I'll settle your quarrel".
He split the nut into two parts. He took out the fruit-seed. He gave one half-shell to one boy and the other half-shell to the other. He put the fruit seed into his mouth and said, "This is for settling your quarrel".
MORAL : When two people quarrel some one else gains.
EVERY year on the occasion of Eid, there was a fair in our village. Eid was celebrated only one day but the fair lasted many days. Tradesmen from far and wide came there with all kinds of goods to sell. You could buy anything from a small pin to a big buffalo.
Uncle took me to the fair. Bhaiya, who worked for us at home, came with us. There was a big crowd at the fair. Uncle was leading us through the crowd when he met a few of his friends. They wanted him to spend some time with them.
Uncle asked me whether I would like to look around the fair with Bhaiya till he came back. I was happy to do that. Uncle warned me neither to buy anything nor to go too far out while he was away. I promised that I would wait for him. Bhaiya and I went from shop to shop.
There were many things I would have liked to buy. But I waited for Uncle to return. Then we came to what was called the Lucky Shop. The shopkeeper was neither young nor old. He was a middle-aged man. He seemed neither too smart nor too lazy. He wanted everybody to try their luck. There were discs on the table with numbers from one to ten facing down. All you had to do was to pay 50 paise, pick up any six discs, add up the numbers on the discs and find the total. The article marked with that number was yours.
An old man paid 50 paise and selected six discs. He added up the numbers on them and found the total was 15. He was given the article marked 15 which was a beautiful clock. But the old man did not want a clock. The shopkeeper obliged him by buying it back for 15 rupees. The old man went away very pleased.
Then a boy, a little older than I, tried his luck. He got a comb worth 25 paise. The shopkeeper looked neither happy nor sad. He bought the comb from the boy for 25 paise. The boy tried his luck again. He now got a fountain-pen worth three rupees. Then he tried a third time and got a wrist watch worth 25 rupees. When he tried again he got a table lamp worth more than 10 rupees. The boy was happy and went away with a smile and a good deal of cash.
I wanted to try my luck too. I looked at Bhaiya. He encouraged me. I paid 50 paise and took six discs. My luck was not too good. I got two pencils. The shopkeeper bought them from me for 25 paise. I tried again. This time I got a bottle of ink, also of little value. The shopkeeper bought that too for 25 paise. I took a chance for the third time. Still luck was not with me. schools in hyderabad cbse syllabus
I had hopes of winning a big prize and continued to try my luck again and again paying 50 paise each time. But every time I got a trifle. At last I was left with only 25 paise. Again the shopkeeper showed his kindness. He said I could either play once more with 25 paise or settle the account then and there. I played again and the last 25 paise also disappeared.
People were looking at me. Some were laughing at my bad luck. But none showed any sympathy. Bhaiya and I went to the place where Uncle had left us and waited for him to return.
Presently he came. He looked at me and said, “Rasheed, you look upset. What is the matter?"
I did not say anything. Bhaiya told him what had happened. Uncle was neither angry nor sad. He smiled and patted me. He took me to a shop and bought me a beautiful umbrella, biscuits and sweets and some other little gifts. Then we returned home.
SAEEDA’S mother had been ailing for a long time — fever, cough, body-ache, painful joints and what not. Treated by a variety of physicians for weeks, she often showed signs of improvement but soon relapsed into her old, sick self, one complaint substituted by another. Though weak and colourless, she was forbidden normal food and was under strict orders to remain perpetually confined to her small, dingy room with doors and windows fastened, deprived of sunshine and fresh air.
When she became critical, her relatives and neighbours persuaded her to consult a specialist even though his fee was likely to be high. Life is more precious than money, they said. Saeeda’s mother was poor but she heeded their advice and sold a few trinkets to pay the doctor’s fee and the cost of medicine.
The doctor came in a few days and examined her and prescribed effective but costly medicine. To the question as to what she should eat he said, “Anything you wish to eat — chapati, vegetables, milk, fruits, etc. In addition to all this," he added emphatically, “leave this dark hovel and occupy a bigger room with doors and windows open. Sit in the sun every morning from eight to nine. Sunshine and fresh air," he concluded, “are more important than medicine."
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The doctor and his advice became a subject of noisy commentary among all present. Some favoured while others opposed it. Exposure to sun and air for someone afflicted with chronic cough was dangerous, an experienced lady declared. A younger neighbour nearly quarrelled with her over this. Too exhausted to participate in the debate, Saeeda’s mother remained quiet but determined to follow the doctor’s advice. “Forget the consequences," she said at last. “I’ll carry out his instructions to the letter. Move my bed into the next room and let me sit in the sun on my charpoy for an hour daily."
A smiling Rukku Manni threw open the door. Ravi and Meena rushed out and Ravi pulled Mridu into the house. “Wait, let me take off my slippers," protested Mridu. She set them out neatly near a pair of large black ones. Those were grey, actually, with dust. You could see the clear mark of every toe on the front part of each slipper. The marks for the two big toes were long and scrawny.
Mridu didn’t have much time to wonder about whose slippers they were, because Ravi dragged her to the backyard, behind a thick bitter-berry bush. There, inside a torn football lined with sacking and filled with sand, lay a very small kitten, lapping up milk from a coconut half-shell. “We found him outside the gate this morning. He was mewing and mewing, poor thing," said Meena. “It’s a secret. Amma says Paati will leave for our Paddu Mama’s house if she knows we have a cat."
“People are always telling us to be kind to animals, but when we are, they scream. ‘Ooh, don’t bring that dirty creature here!’ " said Ravi. “Do you know how hard it is just to get a little milk from the kitchen? Paati saw me with a glass in my hand just now. I told her I’m very hungry, I want to drink it, but the way she looked at me! I had to drink most of it to throw her off the scent. Then she wanted the tumbler back. ‘Paati, Paati, I’ll wash it myself, why should I put you to trouble’, I told her. I had to run and pour the milk into this coconut shell and then run back and wash the tumbler and put it back before she got really suspicious. Now we have to think of some other way to feed Mahendran."
“Mahendran? This little kitty’s name is Mahendran?" Mridu was impressed! It was a real name—not just a cute kitty-cat name. A Gift of Chappals
“Actually his full name is Mahendravarma Pallava Poonai. M.P. Poonai for short if you like. He’s a fine breed of cat. Just look at his fur. Like a lion’s mane! And you know what the emblem of the ancient Pallava kings was, don’t you?" he looked expectantly at Mridu.
I had heard a great deal about Miss Beam’s school. But not till last week did the chance come to visit it. When I arrived there was no one in sight but a girl of about twelve. Her eyes were covered with a bandage and she was being led carefully between the flower-beds by a little boy who was about four years younger. She stopped and it looked like she asked him who had come. He seemed to be describing me to her. Then they passed on.
Miss Beam was all that I had expected - middle-aged, full of authority, yet kindly and understanding. Her hair was beginning to turn grey and she had the kind of plump figure that is likely to be comforting to a homesick child. I asked her some questions about her teaching methods which I had heard were simple.
“No more than is needed to help them to learn how to do things – simple spelling, adding, subtracting, multiplying and writing. The rest is done by reading to them and by interesting talks during which they have to sit still and keep their hands quiet. There are practically no other lessons."
“The real aim of this school is not so much to teach thought as to teach thoughtfulness - kindness to others and being responsible citizens. Look out of the window a minute, will you?"
I went to the window which overlooked a large garden and a playground at the back. “What do you see?" Miss Beam asked.
“I see some very beautiful grounds," I said, “and a lot of jolly children. It pains me, though, to see that they are not all so healthy and active-looking. When I came in, I saw one poor little girl being led about. She has some trouble with her eyes. Now I can see two more with the same difficulty. And there’s a girl with a crutch watching the others at play. She seems to be a hopeless cripple."
Miss Beam laughed. “Oh, no!" she said. “She’s not really lame. This is only her lame day. The others are not blind either. It is only their blind day." I must have looked very surprised, for she laughed again.
“This is a very important part of our system. To make our children appreciate and understand misfortune, we make them share in misfortune too. Each term every child has one blind day, one lame day, one deaf day, one injured day and one dumb day. During the blind day their eyes are bandaged absolutely and they are on their honour not to peep. The bandage is put on overnight so they wake blind. This means that they need help with everything. Other children are given the duty of helping them and leading them about. They all learn so much this way - both the blind and the helpers.
“There is no misery about it," Miss Beam continued. “Everyone is very kind and it is really something of a game. Before the day is over, though, even the most thoughtless child realizes what misfortune is.
“The blind day is, of course, really the worst, but some of the children tell me that the dumb day is the most difficult. We cannot bandage the children’s mouths, so they really have to exercise their will-power. Come into the garden and see for yourself how the children feel about it."
Miss Beam led me to one of the bandaged girls. “Here’s a gentleman come to talk to you," said Miss Beam and left us. schools in hyderabad cbse syllabus
“Don’t you ever peep?" I asked the girl.
“Oh, no!" she exclaimed. “That would be cheating! But I had no idea it was so awful to be blind. You can’t see a thing. You feel you are going to be hit by something every moment. It’s such a relief just to sit down."
“Are your helpers kind to you?" I asked.
“Fairly. But they are not as careful as I shall be when it is my turn. Those that have been blind already are the best helpers. It’s perfectly ghastly not to see. I wish you’d try."
“Shall I lead you anywhere?" I asked.
“Oh, yes", she said. “Let’s go for a little walk. Only you must tell me about things. I shall be so glad when today is over. The other bad days can’t be half as bad as this. Having a leg tied up and hopping about on a crutch is almost fun, I guess. Having an arm tied up is a bit more troublesome. because you can’t eat without help and things like that. I don’t think I’ll mind being deaf for a day - at least not much. But being blind is so frightening. My head aches all the time just from worrying that I’ll get hurt. Where are we now?"
“In the playground," I said. “We’re walking towards the house. Miss Beam is walking up and down the garden with a tall girl."
“What is the girl wearing?" my little friend asked in A Different Kind of School.
“A blue cotton skirt and a pink blouse."
“I think it’s Millie?" she said. “What colour is her hair?"
“Very light," I said.
“Yes, that’s Millie. She’s the Head Girl."
“There’s an old man tying up roses," I said.
“Yes, that’s Peter. He’s the gardener. He’s hundreds of years old!"
“And here comes a girl with curly red hair. She’s on crutches."
“That’s Anita," she said in A Different Kind of School.
And so we walked on. Gradually I discovered that I was ten times more thoughtful than I ever thought I could be. I also realized that if I had to describe people and things to someone else, it made them more interesting to me.
When I finally had to leave, I told Miss Beam that I was very sorry to go.
“Ah!" she replied, “then there is something in my system after all."
