Most of you would have done that. Curse to high hell the company and / or the team that you were leaving behind. Wishing it folds up, being sucked into the vacuum created by your leaving. “They should know better than kicking me out”. You mutter, while stuffing the “Dadda, mamma, me and our home” impressionist scribbling done by your 2 year old into the staples box.
Such is human tendency. Especially the tender, raw nerve that’s touched upon by not having a farewell or worse being send off by one-line email, “wishing him/her all the very best in his/her future end…”. Understandable.
Pink is not exactly the color-célèbre, when it comes to slips.
But my dear fellow travelers hear me out. There is never more a foolish wish to be praying for than asking for the plague of the company you are leaving behind to disintegrate and those pests of peers and superiors to disperse all over. Instead you must pray for them all to do extra-ordinarily well, the company listed in the best of the bourses, their ESOPs multiplied a 100 times, with salaries tripled and promotions hastened and that they outprice themselves from the job market. Think I am extremely stupid? Read on.
A long time ago, in the era when masters were mentally, morally and spiritually superior to their follower monks; there lived master Wai and his naïve yet faithful follower WaiMudu. Master Wai was a wandering soul, seeking nirvana that is anywhere but the place he is present in. (The modern career-minded may recognize this hopping nature of the monk and nod approvingly at the breaks in his spiritual CV; for then as now parking in one place never got you anywhere). Breaking down complex philosophical commentaries into simple quotes, showing the path to worldly riches in seven simple steps, managing life in one-minute or saving cheese…you get the drift, were few of the philanthropic deeds the monk indulged in for the benefit of the humanity.
During one such wanderings, he passed through a village. Knocking at the first house that lay in his path, Wai asked for a glass of water and some meal to go with it. “What the… Look at you, you %&#$. You look hail and healthy. Why can’t you *&^%$#!@ earn your daily bread instead of doling out worthless and unsolicited advices to us. &^%$ off”. First the barrage. Then the bang of the door in his face. Wiping the spittoon off his weathered yet smiling visage, Wai proceeded to the next house. And the next one. One street after another, not profiting either in the way of quenching thirst or quelling hunger Wai and Waimudu, a disparaging and derisive crowd behind them, stepped out of the village.
Waimudu was muttering under his breath what he would like to be done to the villagers (his recently enhanced vocabulary coming in handy), when to his utter disbelief, there proceeded from the mouth of his master, the following:
“May this village prosper for a 1000 years and all its inhabitants and their future generations make merry like no other. May they have timely rains and bumper crops; turn stinking rich and build palaces in this very place”
Waimudu did not know what to make of this insanity. Nor he had the inclination to clear his doubts then and there for a
grumbling stomach is not an ideal audience for the voice of reasoning.
Slowly but steadily their weary legs bore them towards another village.
Lo. What a world of change! On sighting them, the humble and caring villagers fell over each other to offer them worldly comforts. One elderly person washed their mud-caked feet, another wiped them dry. One housewife held an umbrella from the scorching sun while another started fanning them. Cushions were brought to make their seating comfortable; plates were laid and simple yet delicious food was offered. Sweetmeats and fruits appeared and vanished at the same pace. Packing some for the journey ahead, for one known not when the next such benevolent village will come their way, the contended master, follower duo left the village, leaving behind a joyous bunch of simple minded folks.
Waimudu, squeezing a juicy mango was contemplating the order and magnitude of blessings he wanted to bestow on the large hearted villagers, when once again his disbelieving ears perked up at the following contrarian words, which proceeded from his master Wai:
“May this village be hit with a disastrous famine and the villagers disperse in all directions”
Incredulous as they were, Waimudu couldn’t hold on any longer and confronted his master, all his righteous indignation boiling and bubbling over.
“What sort of insanity is this master? Where you were kicked and spat at and driven out like a dirty distempered dog; you wanted heavens to shower prosperity on them. And where our parched tongues and simmering stomachs were truly and selflessly served, you cursed them to rot in hell!”
Smiling and looking indulgently at his bristling ward, Wai said:
“Son, without reflecting upon the consequences and acting in the heat of the moment, imagine what would happen if I had reversed my words on the respective village.
The kindly villagers would prosper yet stay put. The kickers would disperse all over the world, to surface and cross our paths in some other village where the same fate would then await us. It is better they prosper where they are, see no reason to leave the place and in the process contain the damage they can wrought on fellow human beings and limiting the poison they are capable of spreading.
The givers on the other hand, should move about the world and seed such DNA of sharing and caring; helping wanderers like us to make our living”
I firmly believe Waimudu was my ancestor and his blood runs in me. I may not have learnt much to become a master. But I learnt enough to pray for the buggers I leave behind earn their stripes where they are, not crossing my path or ending up as my peers or bosses in the next company I land a job in.