Lessons from an unlikely teacher

Sound of divine music and flute stopped me in my tracks during my evening walk, recently. I have lived in the neighbourhood for two decades, but never had I heard music this melodious. I was convinced that this was my imagination at play as I had my earphones on and was listening to a live spiritual session as I walked.

Going around on the same path, I heard the melody again on my second round. There was nobody else other than a goods auto, which was parked on a side road with its nose against the compound of a house. The rear of the auto had a tarpaulin cover. The tiny window of the driver’s cabin had a brown shirt for a cover and windshield was covered with a make-shift screen. I could not see beyond those covers.

On my third round, overcome with curiosity, I approached the parked auto. Yes, that was the source of the music. A young man, probably in his early 20s, was playing the flute as his teacher listened on in an online class. I didn’t think right to dusturb the class.

On my fourth round, I waved at him which was fondly reciprocated. As I walked on, I heard an auto approach and stop right behind. A humble Murugan, that was his name, stepped out with all humility. He said his guru was a highly accomplished musician. He went on to say that his guru had taught him that music connects with the heart of people. I assumed he spoke Kannada and continued the conversation in the language though his answers came out in broken Kannada.

I asked him about his work, pointing to the auto. He had just unloaded goods at a restaurant nearby. When I asked him about his background, he switched to English and enthusiatically informed me he was pursuing a PhD in Yoga at the University in Cuddalore. The goods auto helped him meet his ends. He had a Master’s degree in yoga. He had me stumped. I had no words.

He had taught yoga until the pandemic-induced lockdown, unfortunately cut it short. He came from a family of farmers and his brother was pursuing his BEd after completing his Master’s degree. Murugan had no option but to earn his living here in Bengaluru.

Why not other jobs? Why drive an auto? It gave him enough flexibility to make the frequent trips to meet his PhD guide, he said. He dreamed of moving to Switzerland where people appreciated yoga -- his friends living there had told him. I was even more surprised when Murugan said he knew a few other students who drove autos. And I had always thought auto-drivers were a nuisance for the way they drove. What a fool I was to vent out my ire against many of his tribe?

The harm that assumptions and prejudice do to us! I decided I must kill my road rage, right then.

Both my online and offline spiritual sessions had just ended as he took off in his auto.