Neither a borrower nor a lender be

‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.’ 

These lines are spoken by Polonius in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Polonius is offering fatherly advice to his son Laertes, warning him against the potential pitfalls of lending and borrowing. 

I have taught Hamlet to several batches at the master’s level. I often told my students, “Even if it results in personal loss, you should lend. But you need not borrow, even if your need is genuine.” However, over time, reality has often challenged and even invalidated my understanding and belief. 

During my time at Karnatak College, my salary was modest, yet I used to give away nearly 20 per cent of my earnings to students in need, often without thoroughly assessing the genuineness of their requests.

One day, a girl followed me from my classroom to my cabin. I asked her to sit and inquired about the purpose of her visit.

“Sir, I don’t have money to fill out the exam form. I need some help,” she said.

“How much?” I asked, with the air of a millionaire who could lend in crores.

“Just Rs 200,” she replied. Wanting to reinforce my image as a generous donor, I asked, “Is that enough?”

“Give me Rs 300,” she said. 

“I don’t have cash on me. I’ll write you a cheque.” Then I asked again, “Is Rs 300 enough?”

She lowered her gaze, and after a moment of hesitation, softly said, “Sir... could you make it Rs 500?”

Knowing I had no more than Rs 1,000 in my account, I restrained myself from asking if she needed anything further – any more generosity, and I might have had to borrow from my colleagues. 

Just then, my colleague B S Biradar walked in as I was giving the cheque to the student. Biradar was well aware of my generous habits – and equally aware of how I often struggled to make ends meet toward the end of each month. Gently but firmly, he cautioned me against lending money so freely.

We went to a hotel for breakfast. Biradar, who was sitting in front of me, was looking at the girl seated right behind me with a boy. He said, “You gave that girl money to pay her fees, but she’s here in the canteen spending it with her friend.”

The girl was too lost in her own world to realise my presence right behind her. She ordered two plates of jamun, idli, vada, and puri-bhaji, and finished with apple juice. When the waiter brought the bill, the two argued over who should pay. Finally, the girl snatched the bill. 

Biradar smiled at me and said, “This is how your hard-earned money is spent. Stop lending to anyone who comes to you.”

I looked, smiled, and replied, “It’s no loss to me, but a great gain. I haven’t failed in my duty. If she has failed, it’s she who must repent and atone for it.”