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The Full Moon - Sandhya Acharya "I am an MBA, based in the US. Life for me is a sequence of happiness, sorrow, hopes and dreams and Writing - an expression of life."

Isn't it ironic that some of life's most valuable lessons come to us through life's most painful experiences? What's more ironic is this - pain dissolves with time, but the knowledge does not. So one day when you look back you might conclude that the sum effect of your experiences, however painful they might have been, was actually positive. It's all a matter of perspective. We have all seen the beauty of the full moon. The full moon symbolizes the dispelling of the darkness of ignorance. On one of the Full Moon days of the year, people who follow the Hindu calendar, pay obeisance to their teachers-their Gurus. The festival is called "GuruPoornima". It is a point in time where we take a step back and offer gratitude to our Gurus who bring us knowledge of the external world and through that, an insight into our own internal worlds. It is the acknowledgement of their importance that arouses in us and reverence for them and humility for what we are. We go so far as to state "Acharya Devo Bhava" - The Guru is like God. Gurupoornima; the full moon. But the full moon too has blemishes on it.

There is a story waiting to be told. It has been held captive in my mind and heart for several years. Burdened by guilt and shame for the incident, I have been unable to talk to anyone about it for a long time. I was afraid once the story would break free it would invite unabated speculation, unwanted attention and unintended conclusions. The uncertainty of the outcome is always the root cause of the fear of action. Yet today, I think I am ready. And with that, I give up trying to control the outcome. All I can do is tell the story with my perspective.

In the 10th grade I had a Guru, about 60 years old, who taught me math, science and languages. He was good at teaching everything, but he was best at languages. He spoke both Urdu and Hindi. Urdu is a language associated with Islamic history in India and the Hindi he spoke was a form heavily reliant on Sanskrit - an ancient Hindu Language. When he spoke using both the languages, the contradictions of the two cultures disappeared and the two languages dissolved into one mesmerizing form of expression. When people are passionate about what they do you can easily see it. It was obvious that teaching was his job, but languages and literature were his passions. I was his star student. I could see it in the way he asked me questions in class and in the way he appreciated my answers. I think he saw in me a hidden force waiting to be tapped, a hidden dream waiting to be fulfilled. He saw something in me. And as for me, it gave me tremendous confidence that somebody could put that much trust in me, expect so much from me. The trust filled me with life, ambition and enthusiasm. And in return for the faith in me, I put all my faith in him. Faith was something he always stressed upon. He emphasized there was no learning without faith. He often told us that any of us should be able to take the test of faith. Even if he asked us to strip and walk in a crowd we should be ready to do it. His comments made us squirm often, but we were young and when you are young, it is easy to forget everything, well, almost everything.

There was another thing he told us. There is always something good and bad in everyone you meet. It is up to you to sieve out the bad and take the good in the person. These teachings were to become a part of my philosophy for a long time. They were ingrained in me. He often said that I reminded him of someone from his past. I never asked him who or why but often wondered about it. One day, I went to class for a special session. It was normal for me to do so. Whenever I would answer a question in a new way with a more enriched use of language I would eagerly go to him to receive his feedback. I will never forget that day. I remember the glass door of his classroom, the narrow aisle between the brown desks and chairs, the earthen pitcher filled with water on the right side of the room, the slate board imposing the wall ahead filled with his handwriting, and him. His hair was combed back and he wore an orange robe like dress, his usual attire. I sat on the front desk facing him, my answers in front of me. Then all of a sudden, he asked me to kiss him. I sat shocked for some time and then acquiesced. I remember his scent, the wetness of his lips and the strange discomfort I felt. I remember telling myself, "He is old, its ok, he is like your grandfather." To this day sometimes I instinctively try to wipe away the moisture from my lips. I don't know why I agreed. Maybe I was too shocked, maybe I didn't know what else to do other than to obey, maybe I wanted to prove I was indeed his star student who had gone through the test of faith, or maybe I just wasn't thinking.

I often wonder why he did it. Did he do it with other students too? Why did he test my faith to that extent? Did he ask us to trust for this reason? Did he teach us not to be judgmental and take the good in every person for this reason? I don't know. I don't want to know anymore. Sometimes it is better to leave questions unanswered. It has been several years since. I don't even know if he is still alive or not, if he thinks of this incident or not, or what he thinks of it. The memory of this incident still stings me at times, but I am not traumatized by it anymore. Maybe other incidents have overshadowed this one in terms of how much they hurt or injured me. Maybe it is a matter of perspective, or time. In spite of the incident, I still value his teachings of faith and judgment. It is just ironic that I had to ultimately use his teachings on him. Yet, it is important to look at an incident for what it is; for the good and for the bad. So today while our raconteurs relate stories of great teachers and gurus and demand obeisance, I relate this story for what it is and nothing more and nothing less. The full moon, with the blemishes, is still beautiful. Ironic!

Till we connect again...

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