Chapter 5
BREADWINNER AT EIGHT
I had engaged myself, from my seventh year onwards,
in certain sundry jobs connected with weaving, out of school
hours.I assisted my Father in preparing the warp, and my
mother in reeling off the yam. When schooling ended I started
to weaving itself in earnest.
For weaving lungis (coloured cloth of chequered
patterns) only pit looms serve the purpose. The pit was
shoulder high. If I got down into it, only my head was
visible from ground level. So I stood on tiptoe, and leapt
up each time I had to pull the cord and manipulate the tape.
I was at first permitted to learn this only for a limited
period each day. Even that was a concession, extended to
ther side, hidden from view, was the area where food was
cooked and served to us.
My Father and my Mother were engaged in talk. That
much could gather from where I was. As I turned round,
I caught sight of my Mother mopping her tears with the
loose end of her sari.
It proved too much for me!
I could not bear the sight!
Till that moment I had never seen my Mother in
distress like that!
I climbed out of the pit of the loom, put on my
clothes, went straight to where the two were standing and
addressed my Mother, tears surging in my own eyes. "Why
do you weep, Mother? Tell me, Mother, tell me!" I asked,
clasping her legs with my arms.
Holding me in a tight embrace, my Mother said, "We
moved earth and heaven with our penance, O my Darling,
for securing you as our child. What a heinous sinner indeed
I should be, unable to find a cup of broth to appease your
hunger today!" With that, she burst out crying.
I toon wept,
My Father, on his part, raised my right hand to his lips
and kissed it, weeping all the time.
I could see that the two had been starving long. Their
shrunk and shrivelled abdomens bore witness to that.
Just a few minutes sped by in silence like this. Then my Mother set me down. "Look after the child,
please for a while", she said to my Father, and went out,
with a small pewter jug in her hand.
I caught sight of my Mother mopping her tears with the
loose end of her sari.
It proved too much for me!
I could not bear the sight!
Till that moment I had never seen my Mother in
distress like that!
I climbed out of the pit of the loom, put on my
clothes, went straight to where the two were standing and
addressed my Mother, tears surging in my own eyes. "Why
do you weep, Mother? Tell me, Mother, tell me!" I asked,
clasping her legs with my arms.
Holding me in a tight embrace, my Mother said, "We
moved earth and heaven with our penance, O my Darling,
for securing you as our child. What a heinous sinner indeed
I should be, unable to find a cup of broth to appease your
hunger today!" With that, she burst out crying.
I toon wept,
My Father, on his part, raised my right hand to his lips
and kissed it, weeping all the time.
I could see that the two had been starving long. Their
shrunk and shrivelled abdomens bore witness to that.
Just a few minutes sped by in silence like this. Then my Mother set me down. "Look after the child,
please for a while", she said to my Father, and went out,
with a small pewter jug in her hand. Her return was quick. The jug was now full to the brim
with broth of millet meal. It would have been brought from
the third house to our hut where some distant relatives
lived.
"Look here, honey", she said. "You take this now. This
evening I shall start my cooking early, and give you rice to
eat".
couldn't bring myself to taste it in the mood I was
in.
"I won't, unless you two eat first. How can I eat,
Mother, when both of you are hungry?" I was obstinate.
To pacify me, each took a tiny mouthful.
Then I put away what was destined to be an indelible
memory for me all my life-the content of that small jug of
millet broth.
I sat next to them now, and plied them with questions.
"Why is it we don't have any food?" I asked.
How could they explain their proverty in words? Their
answers were more or less evasive, meant to satisfy me for
the time being.
Thus it Was that I had an inkling that day of what it
meant to be poor.
"What could I do to relieve my parents of want?" That
was the trend of my thinking. I fixed my mind on that.
I made a discovery. If I work more, I shall be paid
more. That will help me to wipe out poverty, I decided. At
that time l knew only one art, that of weaving cloth by handloom.
I worked at my loom day and night. Soon, what others
took two days to produce I could do in just one day and do
it as well. Work. More work. That seemed to hold the key
to my success.
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Story of my life Sri. Vethathiri Maharishi - CHAPTER- 5 Breadwinner at eight introspection معنى | |
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