The School Teacher
[By now, everyone who has read some of my posts knows about my fascination with Srinivasa (Masti Venkatesh Iyengar.) This is another short story written by him. It reads like a vignette of his own experience, and perhaps it is. I am reiterating it here because an esteemed reader said that my previous translation (about Abbe Dubois) was probably his imagination. Another friend said it was indeed the author’s imagination, and Masti was perhaps addressing the common man’s perception of the social issues of the time. It might be, but then it is also possible that Masti found a real letter that the Abbe had written. Whether it is true or a creative portrayal of the social reality of the times, I am still a fan of the great Masti!]
My friend, Sali’s grandfather Brahmashri Ramachandracharya served as a teacher of the chieftain’s children and lived in the palace complex of Sirigunda. Desai, the chieftain, appreciated the cultured and sweet-tempered old gentleman. Even though very learned, the Acharya was pleased to teach his young pupils. He was very mindful that his wards would grow up to rule the land one day and felt it was his responsibility to bring them up to be well educated good citizens. He saw himself as the instrument of achieving that purpose and continuously prayed that he would teach his pupils to be kind, intelligent, and discerning adults.
Tradition had given a mold of predictability and form to this relationship between the teacher and his students. The children were expected to be present in the teacher’s home with their books every day at a definite time after their morning rituals. A servant accompanied the children with platters of groceries the Acharya’s family needed for the day. After they prostrated before the Acharya, the students gave him the groceries. Then, they presented their understanding of their previous lesson to him. The Acharya would not proceed with a new lesson until the last one was appropriately learned. He also never accepted more groceries than needed for that day. The Acharya had strictly adhered to these rules all his life.
If there were guests, the Acharya would send word to the palace requesting more groceries, but even this was very precise as to how much more. In short, he did not want even a grain more than what was necessary for the day.
After the children grew up, they requested the Acharya to stay back and continue as a teacher for the families that worked for the palace. The earlier custom of getting daily groceries continued. Now the Acharya was a school teacher because he was accepting students from families around town.
The old Desai passed away, and his son took over the administration. The Acharya was his teacher, and the boy had a special relationship with him.
One day, the servant who had gone to drop off groceries came to the Desai and told him the Acharya needed extra groceries for two guests he was expecting. The young Desai sent the groceries, but he ruminated about the Acharya was obliged to request groceries every day. He went to his mother and said, “We must make a more substantial arrangement for the Acharya. I don’t feel good that he has to ask for groceries every time he needs more.”
His mother replied, “Well, your father had thought of this so long ago, but the Acharya refused. He said he was happy with the present system. He has a rule that he should not seek anything that is not needed beyond the day. I don’t think you should bother him.”
The Desai kept quiet until the next time the Acharya requested extra groceries.
The young Desai approached his Acharya and said, “Sir, you are like my own father. You are my teacher, and I have a deep regard for you. I am grateful that you continue to live in the palace complex. I am sorry that you have remained in a helpless financial situation. You must permit me to stock your home to the same level of comfort as we enjoy inside the palace.”
The Acharya said, “If I should enjoy the same comforts as the palace enjoys, the system we have right now works perfectly! Anything else will not do.”
The Desai said, “By God’s grace, I do possess extensive lands. I can gift you a parcel of land. Like we receive grain into the palace granaries, you will also get the output from your own land. You don’t have to depend on the palace for your daily consumption. What is more, for every extra cup of grain, you don’t have to ask the palace.”
The Acharya said, “My home is meant for worship, learning, and teaching. As far as feeding my family and me is concerned, we are part of the palace. Your granary is mine. I don’t lack for anything.”
“But why should your home be so bare that you have to ask for every extra cup of grain?”
“You know, I had had a conversation with your father about this rule of mine, and we had agreed to follow the present system. If you want me to explain it to you, I will gladly do so.”
“Please. I would like to understand your logic.”
The Acharya said, “I am a Brahmin. I have an ideal goal of not being acquisitive. I should have anything in my home beyond what is needed that day. Many have given up this goal as impractical. But I have been lucky. When your father offered me employment, we spoke about this rule, and he agreed. Since then, I have managed to adhere to my ideals and lived comfortably. If you also respect my credo, I can hold on to my ideals. Otherwise, I foresee several pitfalls.”
“What pitfalls?”
“See now, I don’t worry about my next meal. The palace is wealthy. My home is part of the palace. Let us suppose you will award me a land grant. Then, perhaps I will even get four times the grain I am getting from the palace, but what about other supplies? Let us suppose your land grant covers all my needs. But what about the workers? The palace will need to underwrite the workforce. Then all we are doing is partitioning your lands into a larger parcel for you and a smaller parcel for me. It is not as though you have decreased your burden, or I have gained any benefit.”
“Okay.”
“Suppose we have no rainfall one year. I am not unduly worried. I will suffer the same fate that befalls the palace. But if I have my own land, I have to worry about crop production. What is more, if the rains fail, I still have to come back to you and seek your help. I cannot stop begging you, and you will not escape the burden of supporting me.”
“True.”
“The workers will have their own problems. There will never be a smooth supply of grain. You are taking care of the administration. If I have my own land, I will have to step in and struggle to take care of the daily minutiae. I will perhaps need to come back and ask you to intercede. Your tiller, clerk, and accountant will have to solve my little problems. Now I don’t have to worry about any of these things. If I have my own land, I would have to become practical and deal with workmen. I would need to get my hands dirty. I can’t think and teach. I will have to focus on the nitty-gritty of worldly life and will be a teacher only in name.”
“True.”
“I will have to deal with the strife of fighting if the grain has too much chaff in it. I will have to worry about the yield of flour per a measure of sorghum or paddy for an acre of land. I have to arrange for the resources, learn the calculations, gain the experience, and shout at the people. Amid this frenetic activity, can I even dream of thinking and studying?”
“You are right.”
“A final thought. I am not really joking. Suppose there is a rat infestation in your granary. I don’t even worry about it. You know why? I am like those rats, their partner in consuming your wealth. You are fighting with them. Suppose I own the land: I will have to fight with them along with everyone else! I know the palace has to engage in doing all this work. But the school should not have to do all this.”
The Desai laughed. “That is fine, Acharya. Let us just continue what we are doing now.”
The Acharya said, “Okay, young Desai. I knew you would see my point of view. Just one more thing, I must tell you about another benefit I am enjoying right now that I don’t want to lose.”
“Tell me.”
“My dear young man. When you sit down to a meal, you sometimes inquire about whether supplies are going regularly and appropriately to my home, don’t you?”
“Yes. You know about it?!”
“Of course. Your employees tell me. They sometimes request me to tell you that they are taking good care of me. I know that the Desai worries about my wellbeing and appreciates me. And because I get supplies every day from the palace, I am reminded every day that you take care of me. I pray for the prosperity and happiness of the palace. This daily affirmation prevents me from becoming arrogant and self-serving. I feel balanced in my mind. Suppose the land becomes mine, the grain becomes mine, I don’t care that you forget me. You don’t have to look at me or think of me.”
“Oh, no.”
“You are a good man. I know you will still look at me kindly. But what is to prevent my children and me from disregarding you? As a Brahmin, I want to be humble and in touch with reality. A Brahmin is a failure if he becomes arrogant. His ancestors will fall from the heavens.”
The Desai murmured, “God forbid!”
“Your father agreed to my proposal that day. You must do the same. I will always be there for you. I will pray for you every day. You must also regard me as your own and take care of me. Like the Geetacharya said, ‘Let us take care of each other, and work towards progress.’”
The Desai agreed.
The Acharya followed his vow to his last.
This is a translation of a short story of an anthology of Masti Venkatesh Iyengar’s short stories (Vol-4)
As a person who grew up in modern times, these attitudes are a complete anathema. I cannot even imagine not being independent and self-sustaining. The thought that I have to wait for daily rations to come from some overlord’s palace is almost intolerable. What if the Desai was not kindly disposed towards the teacher or even just an indifferent manager? What if there was a delay in the supplies coming in? What if it was not enough? Worse, what if there was no equity in the distribution of resources? If the Desai stops being a benevolent dictator, or if the Acharya stops having choices, I can see the system turning into a despotic hellhole.
On the other hand, clearly, Masti was an idealist. In his stories, I have certainly come across weakness, greed, and incompetence. But there is a loftiness and charm that elevates the human experience.
For example, in this story, both the Acharya and Desai are kindly people and want the best for each other and the society they live in. They trust each other implicitly.
The story very beautifully explains the logic behind the ideal of ‘aparigraha’ or non-acquisition. From a practical point of view, there is a lot of economic value in focusing on and developing one’s expertise. But obviously, none of these lofty goals can flourish when there is no trust and equity.
I leave you, the reader, with a glimpse of a gentler, more gracious time. I would love to hear your thoughts!
