Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
A heartbreaking tragedy
It has been difficult to collect my thoughts in the wake of the tragic Air India plane crash in Ahmedabad. The stories of parents, children, and entire families being erased in a single moment are heartbreaking. At times like this, trying to understand life intellectually seems to be a futile exercise. Perhaps the better option is to simply surrender to the present moment and all its attendant complicated feelings in an attempt to live fully.
What difference can one person make?
At a recent book club discussion about Heart Lamp, the International Booker prize-winning collection of short stories, originally penned in Kannada by Banu Mushtaq, we spoke about religious, social, and patriarchal restrictions that limit women, the common thread that ran through Mushtaq’s stories.
“But what can one person do?”
This common refrain came from observations about the characters in Mustaq’s stories. One reader narrated the real-life experience of a woman who didn’t receive her legitimate share of assets from her brothers after the death of their parents. In the interest of family harmony, she preferred to remain silent instead of going to court to demand what was rightfully hers.
“This happens in all homes,” said one reader emphatically.
“Not true. I received an equal share of my parents’ assets after they passed on,” I said.
“You must be the only person I know who can say that,” she replied.
I was surprised to hear this from a group of well-read, educated women in urban India who still do not expect to receive their rightful share of their parents’ legacy. But deep down, I knew that my experience had been different because I grew up in an unusual home environment.
My educated mother, though a housewife, made it clear that there would be no difference in the way my brothers and I were treated. It was an unwritten rule, one that my father upheld even after Amma’s death. My mother’s words, her wishes, and, of course, what was also the legally right thing to do, all converged. And justice prevailed.
Impact versus legacy
In an inspirational and eye-opening speech, Justice Leila Seth, India’s first woman judge on the Delhi High Court, mentions how the law, which requires property to be shared equally among sons and daughters, has been in effect for decades. Laws are put in place for the benefit of society, and they are made to be enforced. Yet, our everyday behaviors are guided by our core beliefs, and they matter more than what is written in legal texts.
The most striking part of Seth’s speech came in the first minute, where she described how her mother, who became a widow in 1942 when Leila was twelve, did whatever she could to ensure Leila and her brothers were equally educated.
Leila Seth went on to have a stellar career. Yet it was her mother, a woman from an older generation, who made a choice, perhaps an unconventional one in those days, to educate her daughter. For Leila’s legacy to shine brightly (in her own profession and later to be known as author Vikram Seth’s mother), it took just one person to take a stand and do the right thing.
One person can indeed change the course of a family’s history and, indirectly, the world.
To think, to act, to follow through
‘Totto-Chan – The Little Girl at the Window’ by Tetsuko Kuroyanagi, and translated by Dorothy Britton, is a memoir that recounts the adventures of little Tetsuko (Totto-chan) at a very unusual school, Tomoe Gakuen, in the years before World War II. This delightful book focuses on the paradigm-changing ways of the principal who lets children be themselves while fostering learning through nature and hands-on experiences.
Throughout the narrative, the author’s mother is shown to be a remarkably tolerant and kind woman. Yet, it is only in the epilogue that we find out that Totto-Chan’s mother had brought her to this school because the child had been expelled from a previous school for being overly curious and therefore disruptive. Tetsuko grows up to become a well-known television personality and a UNICEF Goodwill ambassador, and discovers the fact of her expulsion only in adulthood. While the school had a tremendous impact on all its students, the author lovingly observes, “How lucky I was to have a mother like mine”.
Given my own experience with my mother’s parenting style, which made me confident of my place in the world and as a mother myself, I wonder if my children would share the same sentiments. Sometimes, all we need to know in our various roles is that we mattered to someone.
Legacy is decided by future generations
Impact is something we all strive for, and often fall into the trap of thinking that we need to have an outsized impact on the world in order to make a difference. In reality, regardless of our best attempts, rarely do our actions bear the fruit we desire in our preferred time frame. No wonder we find it difficult to live in the present if we are guided only by thoughts of the legacy we will leave behind.
Like trees whose shade is enjoyed by future generations and not by the one who planted the seed, it is pointless to think of how our words and actions will shape the future. It is, after all, the ones who live on after us who get to weigh in on our legacy.
For now, let’s stop thinking about impact and legacy. What if instead we just thought carefully and acted from a place of quiet conviction about what we instinctively feel is right, even if unpopular at the moment? What if we heed our core inner compass in all our interactions and leave behind an intangible yet powerful way for future generations to live with clarity?
While it may often seem like we are the odd ones trying to lead an authentic life, there is a tribe out there quietly doing the right thing, nurturing the seed and sapling. The tree will provide shade in its own time.
