GYAN BAATNA CHAYIYE
Whenever I am in a new place, and ask a stranger for direction, the stranger turns out to be one of these two kinds.
The first kind: This stranger seems genuinely happy and proud to help me. He realises that I am a stranger in his locality, that I need his help. So, for him, it is a matter of pride, an achievement, to be of help to some one. In fact, I have seen, some of them going out of their way to to make you comfortable. You feel glad about it; you feel appreciated and respected.
I believe, there is a direct link between this experience and one's self-esteem. My self-esteem goes up, because, I feel appreciated and cared for. The good Samaritan's self-esteem goes up, because, of the feeling he gets within him - that, he is helping somebody, a stranger. When he shares his knowledge, his strength, he has to feel good about it, he has to grow stronger. It is an act of self-empowerment.
Possibly, many of us have seen this when we visit some remote villages. The way these simple folks show their enthusiasm - when we, the well-groomed city-folks, approach them for some guidance - is amazing. They seem simply in awe of us; they drop their work and come with us, for miles, to help us. I am sure, by doing this, they feel good about themselves, they feel empowered.
Needless to say, these simple souls have no idea as to what self-esteem is all about. This term is not there in their rustic vocabulary.
The second kind: Well, this kind is is arrogant, indifferent and even suspicious and insecure. Mostly, and sadly, this kind belongs to big cities like ours. They are least concerned about you, the stranger. Self-esteem, empowerment, sense of contribution ... well, they care two-hooks for all these sentimental ideals. They pretend to be busy, and their response is either a cold shoulder, or a blunt mumbling. They ARE in a position to help you. But, they are never aware of its importance; never have they thought of the impact of it on a stranger's life. Leave alone, on their own!
Once, I was talking to this small-time business man, standing next to his luxurious car. Though illiterate, he did own a few business establishments, and a very big ego. As we were talking, a simple-looking passerby approached him and said:
"Sir, idhar post office kidar hai."
I did not know. And, as the stranger had asked directly this businessman, he responded with this:
"Aage jao."
"Aage kidar," the man sought clarification.
"Aage bolana; jaake dhoond. Saala." The luxury-car owner shooed off the stranger, like an irritating fly!
What could I do, at that time? I was too disgusted with this 'attitude', to even respond. For a while, I turned numb!
Yes, at that moment, I did nothing. But, I took an oath, then and there, that I would never, ever abuse my knowledge ... Whatever knowledge be it. And, I promised to myself: I would, always, share it ... and, share would I willingly and enthusiastically.
Many years ago, I worked for a short period in an Insurance company office. I was a stranger to this city and fresh and inexperienced. In addition, I was pathologically nervous at work place! Obviously, I made several mistakes while working. What I still remember, even today - yes, after three decades - are the faces of these two middle-aged seniors. One understood my plight, and helped me out with suggestions, and encouragement, filling me with hope, raising my confidence. The other would directly make a beeline to the Department Head's cabin and crib about me. And, he did so for every fresher, I was told!
The first gentleman would 'share' his experience and knowledge with me ... In the process, he made me a little stronger, and a little more hopeful. He empowered me through his gentle gesture. After three months, when my term completed, he took me to a nearby Irani restaurant, and there - over a sandwich, pastry and tea - he further shared with me some more good things, which I still cherish.
I remember nothing about the other guy. Except the fact that he was a cribby character, a sadist.
I love this scene In 'Lage Raho Munnbhai'. Munna is desperate to get into the 'Gandhiji radio show' scheduled to be hosted on Gandhi Jayanti by the girl for whom he has fallen head-over-feet. Munna's sidekick, Circuit, has rouded up half-a- dozen history professors - the scholars - to answer the questions for Munna. A huge pile of goodies are kept dangling before the eyes of these wise men, tempting them to be enthusiastic about their participation. Every one is tempted; every one is excited to win, and, thereby, walk away with the goodies ... except one: Prof: Attuputti. He voices his protest. Circuit tries - first with loving words, then with the stick - to convince this upright professor. It is a heart-warming scene. You love this Circuit, when he counsels Prof. Attuputti: "Gyan baatna chayiye re; thu kya usko pakadke baita hai."
And, how can you forget that other Professor's enthusiasm and face? Because he shared, willingly and enthusiastically, all the 'gyan' he possessed, he walked away with all the goodies from Munnabhai: The Toaster, Mixer, Cooker, Music System and of course, the 'istri', 'istri'!
I loved him.
GERALD D'CUNHA
The first kind: This stranger seems genuinely happy and proud to help me. He realises that I am a stranger in his locality, that I need his help. So, for him, it is a matter of pride, an achievement, to be of help to some one. In fact, I have seen, some of them going out of their way to to make you comfortable. You feel glad about it; you feel appreciated and respected.
I believe, there is a direct link between this experience and one's self-esteem. My self-esteem goes up, because, I feel appreciated and cared for. The good Samaritan's self-esteem goes up, because, of the feeling he gets within him - that, he is helping somebody, a stranger. When he shares his knowledge, his strength, he has to feel good about it, he has to grow stronger. It is an act of self-empowerment.
Possibly, many of us have seen this when we visit some remote villages. The way these simple folks show their enthusiasm - when we, the well-groomed city-folks, approach them for some guidance - is amazing. They seem simply in awe of us; they drop their work and come with us, for miles, to help us. I am sure, by doing this, they feel good about themselves, they feel empowered.
Needless to say, these simple souls have no idea as to what self-esteem is all about. This term is not there in their rustic vocabulary.
The second kind: Well, this kind is is arrogant, indifferent and even suspicious and insecure. Mostly, and sadly, this kind belongs to big cities like ours. They are least concerned about you, the stranger. Self-esteem, empowerment, sense of contribution ... well, they care two-hooks for all these sentimental ideals. They pretend to be busy, and their response is either a cold shoulder, or a blunt mumbling. They ARE in a position to help you. But, they are never aware of its importance; never have they thought of the impact of it on a stranger's life. Leave alone, on their own!
Once, I was talking to this small-time business man, standing next to his luxurious car. Though illiterate, he did own a few business establishments, and a very big ego. As we were talking, a simple-looking passerby approached him and said:
"Sir, idhar post office kidar hai."
I did not know. And, as the stranger had asked directly this businessman, he responded with this:
"Aage jao."
"Aage kidar," the man sought clarification.
"Aage bolana; jaake dhoond. Saala." The luxury-car owner shooed off the stranger, like an irritating fly!
What could I do, at that time? I was too disgusted with this 'attitude', to even respond. For a while, I turned numb!
Yes, at that moment, I did nothing. But, I took an oath, then and there, that I would never, ever abuse my knowledge ... Whatever knowledge be it. And, I promised to myself: I would, always, share it ... and, share would I willingly and enthusiastically.
Many years ago, I worked for a short period in an Insurance company office. I was a stranger to this city and fresh and inexperienced. In addition, I was pathologically nervous at work place! Obviously, I made several mistakes while working. What I still remember, even today - yes, after three decades - are the faces of these two middle-aged seniors. One understood my plight, and helped me out with suggestions, and encouragement, filling me with hope, raising my confidence. The other would directly make a beeline to the Department Head's cabin and crib about me. And, he did so for every fresher, I was told!
The first gentleman would 'share' his experience and knowledge with me ... In the process, he made me a little stronger, and a little more hopeful. He empowered me through his gentle gesture. After three months, when my term completed, he took me to a nearby Irani restaurant, and there - over a sandwich, pastry and tea - he further shared with me some more good things, which I still cherish.
I remember nothing about the other guy. Except the fact that he was a cribby character, a sadist.
I love this scene In 'Lage Raho Munnbhai'. Munna is desperate to get into the 'Gandhiji radio show' scheduled to be hosted on Gandhi Jayanti by the girl for whom he has fallen head-over-feet. Munna's sidekick, Circuit, has rouded up half-a- dozen history professors - the scholars - to answer the questions for Munna. A huge pile of goodies are kept dangling before the eyes of these wise men, tempting them to be enthusiastic about their participation. Every one is tempted; every one is excited to win, and, thereby, walk away with the goodies ... except one: Prof: Attuputti. He voices his protest. Circuit tries - first with loving words, then with the stick - to convince this upright professor. It is a heart-warming scene. You love this Circuit, when he counsels Prof. Attuputti: "Gyan baatna chayiye re; thu kya usko pakadke baita hai."
And, how can you forget that other Professor's enthusiasm and face? Because he shared, willingly and enthusiastically, all the 'gyan' he possessed, he walked away with all the goodies from Munnabhai: The Toaster, Mixer, Cooker, Music System and of course, the 'istri', 'istri'!
I loved him.
GERALD D'CUNHA
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