Real luxury of life

“Why don’t you buy a new car when you earn so handsomely?” a close friend often asks me. I have a small Santro that I purchased 10 years ago. I tell my friend that my car runs well and is as good as new. He, however, does not appear satisfied with my response.

These days, owning luxury cars, palatial bungalows and branded attires have become status symbols in our society. What an erroneous way of judging an individual! Though I am a man of good enough means and can afford all the glorious goods and chattels, I have never given credence to these so-called emblems of elitism and prestige. Indeed, our preference to follow a specific course of life is often the outcome of the influences of our role models.

My role model was my teacher, Prof Hari Ram Gupta, whose story goaded me to tread the path of austerity. He taught me history during graduation. He always exemplified the best of the virtues of devotion and dedication, which every teacher must strive to cultivate. But in addition to being a dedicated historian of erudition, Prof Gupta was a human class-apart.

While endowed with a plethora of ancestral wealth, he would also draw a handsome salary. But one day, I was left quite marvelled to know from one of our mutual relatives that every month Prof Gupta donated half his salary to a local orphanage for the upkeep of the children. Though at the moment of the revelation he was on the verge of retirement, he had apparently stuck to the practice since the day he wore the professional harness.

One day, when Prof Gupta was peddling his way to college on his only rickety bicycle (though he too had the resources to afford a luxury car), I accosted him and unhesitatingly asked him the reason for his baffling generosity. In a reverential way, I told my professor that he had kids and family to look after, and therefore, he must save money for their future instead of giving its away as donation.

Acknowledging my concerns for his family, he softly took my hand in his own and quoted a liner from Dr Faustus by Christopher Marlowe that money was just an external trash. With gales of laugher, he then recited a Hindi couplet: “Poot sapoot, to kyon dhan sanchay, Poot kapoot, to kyon dhan sanchaya?” (Why bequeath wealth to an unworthy son/ Why bequeath wealth to a worthy son?”

Fortunately, I imbibed the greatest lessons of life from his pithy sayings and exemplary life. My friend may remain annoyed with me but I have no intentions to buy a new car for pleasure. Inspired by my professor, every month I now derive an utmost sense of gratification by contributing some part of my salary for the education of a few local underprivileged children. A joy that no luxury can ever bring!