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(The following are the
reminiscences of six Vidyapith alumni,
presented at the Vidyapith’s 30th Annual Function.)
Jyoti Shah (Attended Vidyapith as a student
during 1976-1981)
Namaste.
I’d like you all to
travel back in time with me to the winter of 1976. My
family was settled in Jersey City, N.J. At a community
gathering, my father got into a conversation with Mr.
Ratibhai Vaidya, none other than the current treasurer
of our Vidyapith. They were talking about their
children. Specifically, they were concerned about
raising their kids with proper values in this secular
society. Vaidya uncle mentioned about this new Saturday
School recently started by a well-educated Gujarati
couple in Jersey City. He said that he had started
sending his son, Harshad, to this school every Saturday
morning. He added, “Drs. Mahendra and Vandana Jani are
teaching value lessons from our Hindu Epics and
discussing the lives and teachings of saints from all
over the world. They also teach prayers, chantings, and
bhajans, and do other fun projects with children to keep
them interested and involved.” It all sounded just
perfect and too good to be true to my father.
The very
next Saturday he woke my two younger brothers, Atul and
Rakesh, early in the morning and dragged them away from
their favorite Saturday cartoons. Then he drove them to
240 Baldwin Avenue in Jersey City.
That morning
was one of the last Saturdays my sister and I got to
watch the cartoons too. Both of us had stayed in India
for the last few years with our grandparents and had
just recently arrived in the U.S. to join our family. At
that point my father probably thought that we were
already well-exposed to our traditional culture and
values, so the Saturday School was not so much a
necessity for us as for my brothers. But our quiet
Saturday mornings at home without the brothers didn’t
last for long. My father had sat through the classes
during his first visit and had asked Uncle (Dr. Mahendra
Jani) and Aunty (Dr. Vandana Jani) later if he could
bring his two older daughters also. The following
Saturday morning, all four of us entered this special
house, soon to become my second home.
We all sat
in a small room with a shrine in front of us. Inside
the shrine were tiny pictures of the “great trio”— Sri
Ramakrishna, Sri Ma, and Swamiji. There we just sat
quietly listening to the soothing bhajans and chantings.
After prayers we came out into a slightly bigger room.
On a blackboard was written the quotation of the week.
Uncle explained its meaning. Most of what he said went
over my head—too many big ideas and words were being
thrown at me in such a short time. After school, I
rememeber getting a copy of a prayer book so that we
could start learning the prayer “Adveshta sarva bhutanam….”
from the 12th chapter of the Gita. That’s how
I started Saturday School, now known to you as
Vivekananda Vidyapith.
I have so
many memories, but so little time to share them with
you. Here are a couple of them that stand out:
I was very
fond of Aunty’s story time. Every Saturday, right before
the concluding prayers was story time when she told us
stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. She
captivated us with her vivid imagination and fascinating
details about the characters and their surroundings. And
in the end, she would always leave us dangling from a
cliffhanger until the next weekend. You all are well
aware of that special talent of Aunty’s that amazes
everyone during summer camp’s story time.
Another
thing about Aunty that amazed me was her speed and skill
in cooking. You see, back then there were only a few
students, and so, after school, we all got to eat a
light lunch cooked by Aunty before we headed for home.
During her free period which was when uncle took the
class, she would go into the kitchen and whip up
something out of the ordinary which we all so much
looked forward to and thoroughly relished. Sometimes, we
would secretly try to guess from the aroma coming from
the kitchen as to what she was making… Yes, those were
the good old days!
It turned
out that my sister Minaben, my friend Bhavana and I were
the oldest ones attending the school. Hence, we were
given some responsibilities to help out before and after
school and sometimes during school too. In return, so to
say, we were offered a special classs by Uncle on
Tuesdays. We concentrated on learning to chant the
Bhagavad-Gita chapters and their meanings, special dhuns
and bhajans—things we didn’t have time to cover during
regular classes on Saturdays. All this led to an
unexpected and yet wonderful phenomenon: Competition!
During all
these special classes, Pranav (Uncle and Aunty’s son),
though much younger than us, participated in everything
and sat through every prayer that was conducted. He was
not only silently watching, but also learning and
keeping up with us at the same pace. Whatever we were
taught, he challenged himself to learn. He was right
with us throughout and sometimes, to our surprise, ahead
of us too. This positive style of competing allowed us
all to progress faster.
After a
while, Thursday evening satsangs were started for
interested families. Saturday evenings were already kept
aside for special celebrations. Things were going very
smoothly when I received a very disturbing news: My
father got a good job offer in North Carolina which he
could not turn down. Within weeks, my family moved 650
miles away to Charlotte. You might be thinking that this
was a perfect opportunity for me to quit Vidyapith with
a very valid excuse. But my feelings were very
different. I was determined to keep in touch with
Vidyapith intimately, and this I did by regularly coming
back to New Jersey for visits.
Why did I do
it? I believe it was my intense desire to learn more of
what I had started to learn, and also the strong
connection and affection I felt for Uncle, Aunty and my
Saturday School friends. I loved and respected
them—they were part of my family now.
Year after
year, I kept coming back. I attended almost every major
function of Vidyapith. Every year I came back during my
summer vacation to be with my old friends. Summer Camp
was the highlight of my vacation. I was able to catch up
so much and I got plenty of time to bond with other
students and teachers. It was like a concentrated form
of Vidyapith that enabled me to learn enough things to
sustain me for the whole year—until the next summer.
During these weeks of summer I renewed my bond not only
with the people of Vidyapith but with the IDEALS that
Vidyapith stands for. I recognized that once this bond
developed, it would then keep me on track. I didn’t need
to force myself to do the “right things,” read the
“right books,” follow the “right way.” It all came
naturally to me. In short, summer camp was Vidyapith in
a capsule—I was set for the rest of the whole year.
I cannot
imagine what life would have been like without my
Saturday School. It has taught me confidence in myself,
and at the same time given me love and faith in a Higher
Force. I know deep inside that I am going to be loved
and taken care of, and whatever happens in the course of
my life, favorable or unfavorable, is in the end for my
good. I don’t want to sound like a philosopher, but,
this is my overall feeling about what I have gained as a
result of sincerely trying to follow the ideals of
Vivekananda Vidyapith.
Now, almost
thirty years later, I feel fortunate to have married
Himanshu who brought me back to New Jersey and back to
my Vidyapith family. We both feel so fortunate that we
are able to bring our children, Apurva and Chintal, to
Vidyapith so they can learn the things we value and
treasure so much. Thank you. Hari Om
Nilesh Shukla (Attended Vidyapith as a student
during 1981-1989)
After returning from a
visit to India, my dear parents decided to enroll me in
an institution where I would learn Indian values,
traditions, language, etc. I began attending this school
in September, 1981.
As a young boy, this was
quite a new experience. The prayers were new, the faces
different, the images of God on the alter ones that I
had never seen before. This was a very different
atmosphere; not one of playing games, or singing kid
songs, or coloring pictures, but one of prolonged
silence, concentration, meditation, and reflection. This
was not something I was used to. Yet, there was
something very appealing about it.
I’ll be honest. Waking
up early on Saturday morning, (back then there was no
Sunday school), wearing my blue and white uniform, and
going to prayer was quite a challenge for me. My parents
had to struggle to get me up in the morning. I admit I
was not the easiest child. After a few weeks, my parents
said to me… “OK, that’s it. If you don’t want to go
anymore, we’ll take you out.”
Then I paused and
thought … this wasn’t really so bad, I really enjoyed
meeting everyone there, learning music, listening to
Uncle’s morning discussion, and learning shlokas. From
then on I went willingly, and the place became
affectionately known to me as Saturday School.
As I was thinking about
this speech, I wondered…what memories can I share?
Should I mention the DEBATE ABOUT WHO’S GREATER, KARNA
OR ARJUNA… or writing Subhashita for Sapling, or our
Kabuliwala play where a 16 year old boy (me) became a
45 year old father? Or how about our Karma Yoga classes
where we endlessly debated whether the goal of life is
knowledge, happiness, or freedom? That still has not
been decided. Or how about our summer camps where we
would go out for a one week stay in a park, sleep in
tents, wake up early morning before dawn, and sing
Suprabhatam while watching the sunrise. And, of course…
listening to Vandana Auntie’s evening stories about
great personalities… those were told better than any
orator I’d ever heard before. I could go on, and on.
But one
memory that stands out was our wonderful Sanskrit class.
In fact, I was part of a Sanskrit play during Annual
function. I was given the line… TATAH KIM? That was MY
LINE… I must have said it 5 or 7 times: TATAH KIM? As
a very rudimentary Sanskrit student, I felt quite
fortunate to have been assigned those two words. After
other students including Pranav, Manish, Raju, Ammu,
Preeti, Yesha, Dhara and Bhavana had a profound
discussion about a poor old Brahmin who had to carry a
goat home, I had the honor of listening and
intermittently asking… TATAH KIM? I was so delighted to
be involved in that charming play!
Well, of
course, since then I have become a Sanskrit scholar and
written many books about TATAH KIM. (Just kidding!)
In all
honesty, Vidyaypith has left an indelible impression on
me. Not just because of these wonderful memories.
Through Vidyapith, I learned simple, but important
lessons, such as punctuality, to be neat and clean, to
be organized, to set goals and to work hard to achieve
them. I realized that success is not only in the final
outcome of my efforts, but more importantly, is in the
process of trying to achieve my goals.
Vidyapith
provided a forum for higher discussion amongst young
minds, who may not have otherwise sat down to discuss
ideas such as service to others, seeing God in others,
and devotion to God. And Vidyapith allowed these ideas
to sink in deeper, so as to mold the character of a
person. These principles can be applied to daily life,
such as treating others with respect, and understanding
how my actions affect those around me.
Certainly I
am proud of my religion, the great teachings of the
Gita, our saints, and being an Indian in America. I
credit Vidyapith for teaching me to appreciate our
culture, our values, the teachings of the Vedanta, and
developing a sense of responsibility not only to myself,
my family, and my community, but to the world around me
as well.
Lastly, and
very importantly, because of Vidyapith and the love of
our Uncle and Auntie, I have a circle of friends, and
our bond is very, very strong. The friends I have made,
our comradery, has lasted for many years and continues
to grow.
Today on
this 30th
anniversary, I am proud to say that I am a graduate of
Vivekanda Vidyapith, and also the father of a Vidyapith
student, Radhika.
Well, my
dear friends and family, let me leave you with the
question that is before all of us: What next? TATAH
KIM? Thank you, and Namaste.
Medha Kirtane (Attended Vidyapith as a student
during 1988-1996)
Good evening & Namaste,
A few weeks
back, Uncle called me and asked me if I would be willing
to share some of my thoughts and experiences about the
Vidyapith at this year’s Annual Function, as it makes
the 30th
year anniversary of its inception. I was so happy to
hear Uncle’s voice after so long, but when I heard his
question, my emotions recoiled almost instinctively,
taking harbor deep within my heart. My innermost
dialogue commenced something like this: “There is no
way! Speak publicly about my relationship with the
Vidypith?” “This organization has a special place in
your heart, you’re not the type to share such private
feelings in a public venue!” “Goodness, this is like
asking me to share my most intimate reflections on my
parents in public! That’s not my style, because for me,
words cannot elucidate such deep, potent feelings.”
Much to my
surprise, however, my voice answered Uncle with an
answer, “Sure, I’d be honored…”
How did that
happen, I wondered! “Ah,” I realized, “When given an
opportunity to speak the truth about something that has
played a central role in my life, it is after all, my
duty to speak on its behalf.”
And so here
I am before you, and please bear with me, as talking
about the Vidyapith is like talking about a cherished
loved one and exposing your feelings in front of
everyone – it’s a responsibility, a joy, and yet a
difficult task to express a private journey in front of
a public audience.
Why, you
might ask, do I have such powerful sentiments towards an
organization such as the Vidyapith? Well it is because
the Vidyapith is not a monolithic entity to me. To me
there isn’t even one face that represents the
organization. In my mind there is no single philosophy
that steers my thinking of it. The vidyapith is a
community, a school, a family, a forum. It is a group
of people you know or don’t know and yet they act and
care in a way that makes you feel like their own. It is
an engine for exploring philosophy and culture, values
and ideologies. It is a playgroup to learn from peers
who may look more similar to you then your public school
friends but who think in the most diverse ways – whether
through questioning cultural practices or engaging in
lively debates about history, values, or even the latest
sports competition.
When I think
of the Vidyapith, I don’t think of just Uncle or Aunty,
rather I see an image of countless faces sweating,
foiling, always laughing, loving…and for whom? It is for
you and me. I don’t just think of prayers and rituals.
To me, though I may not understand all of them, they are
moments for me to respect the traditions of my culture.
Those moments give me the time to reflect upon what I
love most: the ideas of Swamiji about strength,
conviction, honest pursuit of fearless futures – that is
what this place is to me curricularly and
experientially.
The
Vidyapith complimented the life my parents provided for
me. I value it because it played many roles in my
life. Today, depending what lens I choose to view it
through, the Vidyapith has offered me a multifaceted
view into a better understanding of myself. It’s taken
the role of a friend, parents, mentor, teacher…even a
mirror for me to look within myself.
At times it
provided friendship – offering me friends to discuss
divergent viewpoints with, laugh with, play sports with,
sing with. Other times it offered me a sanctuary –
place where I could reflect upon life through the
vibrant ideas of Swami Vivekananda, questioning
constantly, my choice and the important questions of WHY
I did the things that I did and made particular
decisions based on that.
At times it
offered me intellectual challenges – seeking to
understand a spiritual verse of a philosophical nature
and grappling with the bold words of Swami Vivekananda;
trying to see if they were as practical as he made them
seem.
But any
which way I looked at this being that touched my life, I
realized that it made me focus to figure out ways to
honestly interrogate who I was and what I wanted to be.
It provided a forum for mental, physical, and emotional
maturation, just like the home my parents created for
me.
The
Vidyapith has never been a place that I look to for
answers. It has been a place that has provided me with
the tools to create a map for myself in order to answer
the many questions that life provides me with in my
daily existence. I realize that, like any investment,
it’s only worth what you put into it.
Sitting in
class on a Saturday morning may never seem to be as
exactly as revealing in the antics of Bugs Bunny on a
day off from school if I don’t want to be.
As a
teacher of teenagers, by profession, I feel the same
frustration that my students do when we have to sit
indoors on a lovely day. My mind travels to far off
locals though I’m supposed to be teaching that class….so
what I have realized? Its’ that there is no point in me
sitting before a class or attending a class if I am
unwilling to engage with the purpose. The Vidyapith,
like any other class or experience in life, has meaning
only when you seek it out, when we - students, teachers,
and you - parents, are willing to put in the time and
effort to give it meaning. Going to the Vidyapith did
not change my life because I showed up each weekend over
a number of years. The Vidyapith’s beauty and meaning
only emerged for me when I was willed to accept that it
was only a resource that provided a steady basis of
love, humanity, knowledge, philosophy, and culture and
that I have played the vital role of unlocking the door
with my willingness to see the Vidyapith with an open
mind. The people in the Vidyapith are strangers unless
we are willing to feel their love and see them as a
family. The curriculum is merely more words unless we
are willing to question it and engage with its content.
The practices are only rituals unless we, as individual
are willing to seek out their meanings. You see, I’ve
been lucky to have looked myself in the eye and asked
“Medha, are you going to give this a shot?” I’ve been
able to level with myself and accept that if I go to the
Vidyapith it is because I am going for myself. I’ve
heard the voice within say, “Go for yourself, Medha. If
you go by force you will fight the purpose and the
intent will be lost.”
I knew that
I owed it to myself to explore this world that was in
front of me. When I accepted this responsibility to
dedicate myself to this honest pursuit the Vidyapith
provided me with and continues to provide me with a
great gift: the opportunity to look myself in the heart
and question my sincerity, my motives, my goals.
I know I
still lave a long way to grow as I find that I have more
unknowns than knowns in life, but the Vidyapith has been
another family – seamlessly fitting in with my own to
support me in my adventures in this life. It’s given me
a wealth of opportunities to engage with historical and
global philosophies at a young age. It has introduced
me to good people who have impacted my life and at its
core, it’s given me a more open mind and the courage to
call it my own, and most recently, the confidence to
reconcile my inner conflict I mentioned at the onset of
this reflection – the ability to stand here NOT as my
duty, but because I have learned to embrace my
responsibility and see it as an opportunity.
Achyuta Adhvaryu (Attended Vidyapith as a
student during 1988-2000)
Congratulations to the
Vidyapith for completing 30 years.
I’ve been part of the
Vidyapith since I was five years old. So I have a
feeling that 3 minutes is not enough time to explain its
role in my life. Nevertheless, I can offer the following
remarks. The Vidyapith, to me, is like a third parent.
Your parents give you information about life, like how
to be nice to your friends, how to remember the names of
your many relatives; they teach you skills, like how to
brush your teeth, and do homework on time; they praise
you when you act heroically, and chastise you when you
act foolishly. The Vidyapith, at a basic level, did
exactly the same things for me. It gave me information
about my culture and my religion; it taught me skills,
like playing the tabla, singing, and reading Sanskrit;
it rewarded me when I acted well, and criticized me when
I didn’t.
But I believe that the
Vidyapith is more akin to a parent than just at this
basic level. Especially after leaving for college, the
values my parents have instilled in me seem to linger
over me, even in my parents’ absence, as I make
important decisions on my own. I find that the Vidyapith
shares this eerie quality. It’s not that I refer back to
some canon of values set forth by the Vidyapith every
time I encounter a difficult moral question, but rather
that the canon of values that has solidified in me as a
response to what I’ve learned at the Vidyapith arises
within me and shows me what is right. I can’t say that
I’ve always followed this inner advice, but it’s nice to
know that it remains within me, strong, defiant, and
constant.
We wonder sometimes why
we get up at 7am for Saturday school. We question the
point of learning the 15th
chapter of the Gita. And yeah, we even question the
existence of a force greater than us. I’m glad that we
do question these things; in my humble opinion, it’s
foolish to believe in something without having done so.
My advice to the students is to not be apathetic about
your questioning. If you have questions, and I know
you do, stand up and ask them. Don’t bury your head
in your lap and draw a doodle, because doodles won’t
help you make tough decisions. Let the Vidyapith soak
into you, and you might be surprised at what happens.
I know I was.
Vivek Kocharlakota
(Attended Vidyapith as a student during 1990-2000)
Namaste. I’ve been
coming to the Vidyapith for pretty much my whole
childhood. When approached about speaking today, I ran
through off the top of my head, certain experiences that
would be interesting and relevant to my being here
before you today.
Almost 2 decades ago, I
remember my first encounter with my soon to be Vidyapith
family. At that time the Vidyapith audience was much
smaller than what it is today, and I was able to enter a
coloring competition held for 2nd
graders at that year’s Youth Day. I was quietly sitting
next to my parents (being that I did not know anyone
else there) and they had announced our grade to go into
the back and start our competition. After we had
finished, they led us back into the main auditorium
where I found myself sitting next to all the other kids
of my age. Suddenly each of their names were being
announced by a person standing in front of the whole
audience. “Achyuta Adhvaryu, followed by Shyam Gohel…Now
Shyam Gohel followed by Ohm Deshpande”. After each
name, I would see my fellow classmates make their way to
the front of the stage and begin to recite a quote by
Swamiji. I was absolutely horrified at the sight.
Being that this was my first ever exposure to Vidyapith,
I thought that it was only a matter of time before they
announced my name, and I would get up there and have no
idea what to say! Thankfully enough, my name was not
announced that year. However it was the following year,
in which I found myself giving my very first speech
about the life of Swamiji, at my very first Youth Day.
You see, that’s the
greatest thing about the Vidyapith. It holds certain
experiences different to each person and means so much
to so many people in so many different ways.
Growing up in Vidyapith,
one would think that it was completely embedded into my
lifestyle. But what was also embedded was the weekly
rounds of fighting I had with my parents every morning.
I didn’t like getting used to the strict atmosphere that
Uncle and Auntie had laid out for me, and I was quite
vocal about it. I remember one of my teachers pulling
me aside and asking me about why I didn’t like being
there. She would assign homework each week. We had to
go home and find out when the next satsang was. We then
had to make a promise to her about which satsang (if not
all of them) we would be attending. I would then get in
the car to go home, and my parents would ask, “Ok so
what did you learn?”….I would reply…. “Eh… nothing.”
They would ask, “Do you have any homework?” I would
reply, “Nope.” I would tell them that I had no homework
and then deal with it when the time came. The next week
she would ask everyone to take out their homework, and I
would conveniently ask to go to the bathroom. I would go
out into the hallway, find some piece of paper and
whatever writing utensil was laying on the ground and
frantically run around the Vidyapith trying to find the
date of the next satsang. I did this for a few weeks,
and eventually, she caught me.
I tell you this not to
narrate how mischievous I was at the age of 8 or 9.
But, I tell you this to help you understand what
Vidyapith has meant to me.
You see, I always used
to receive reports from my regular school teachers
saying, “Vivek has so much potential, he just doesn’t
use it.” This was something that my parents and I would
fight over all the time. But in the summer before 7th
grade, my mother forced me to sit down and both learn
and play the bhajan, “Gauranga Ardhanga…” on the
harmonium. I spent the whole summer singing and playing
it over and over again. Then the school year started
and Uncle came in prepared for his class with me (as a
trouble maker). He sat down and asked the class “has
anyone done anything over the summer?” Many of the
responses heard were “I went to basketball camp”… “I did
my summer reading”… “I went to India”. I slowly raised
my hand, and said that I learned how to play “Gauranga
Ardhang…. He was quite surprised. (I think he thought
it was a joke). He then asked me to play it and show
him. After I finished playing it, I looked up from the
harmonium at him and saw something that I wasn’t used
to. He was smiling at me in appreciation…AT ME!! He’s
looked at me many times, but until that point he had
never looked at me like that. His eyes were just wide
open and he was smiling like I hadn’t seen before. That
one incident alone made me realize and finally believe
some of what these teachers were telling me. I could
see that he felt the same way as them, and he was simply
just waiting all along for something to happen that
interested me. For me, it was music.
That’s what the
Vidyapith does, and most definitely did for me. It gave
me a source of strength, a belief that I was capable of
achievement provided I worked for it. Not only did it
give me this strength, but it showed me how to apply
it. Throughout the years, we would read Karma Yoga, and
talk about inner divinity and the ability to realize
your own greatness. But I saw it in action…in me when I
played “Gauranga Ardhang…” for Uncle.
To the future students
and parents of the Vidyapith, as my fellow alumni,
Achyuta said, “Let the Vidyapith soak into you”. Take
it seriously, give it a fair chance and try and
experience everything that it has to offer. I promise
you, give it time and patience and you will find
something that will impact you and stick with you for
the rest of your life. Today is a perfect example.
Alumni have come back because of their love and
appreciation for the Vidyapith, (some from even 10 years
and before). That is an endearing quality, different
for each person, but united in its result. IT KEEPS
THEM COMING BACK.
Over the years, from the
many speeches I gave on multiple Youth Days, satsangs,
and even just general morning presentations, this one
small presentation before Uncle showed me what I think
Vidyapith is all about. FINDING YOUR OWN STRENGTH, YOUR
OWN WAY, AT YOUR OWN PACE.
To conclude, I wanted to
leave you with a witty saying, or clever remark that
would help you remember this day, but I couldn’t think
of one. Correction…I couldn’t think of one any better
than what my father once said to me. I had asked him
what he though about the Vidyapith. Being that this is
quite a loaded question, he was somewhat taken aback by
its randomness. However, through his glasses, he calmly
looked at me and took a minute. I was wondering what he
was going to say, or what was taking him so long to
respond. Finally he made a motion for me to move a
little closer, and he thoughtfully said, “It is by
far, without a doubt, the best investment I’ve ever
made.” And to this day, I could not agree with him
more. Hari Om.
Nisha Shah (Attended Vidyapith as a s student
during 1992-2002)
As my college graduation day quickly approaches, I’ve
found myself now more than ever before reflecting on the
years of life under my belt. Through the various life
stages I have passed through so far, it is clear that
there are very few constants that have remained over the
years. Of them, the Vidyapith remains at the very core
of how I define myself.
Over the
years, the role of Vidyapith in my life has changed
drastically. Initially, Vidyapith was a chore, my
parents had to struggle to wake me up in the morning and
I fought them almost every Friday night about having to
go to school on the weekend. Ironically enough, I also
almost always had a stomach ache on Saturday morning
when my parents woke me up for Vidyapith. I soon grew
out of that stage and began to enjoy going to
Vidyapith. It was fun. I was able to see my friends.
The teachers were nice, and I learned a lot. But
quickly, I moved from only enjoying going to Vidyapith
to experiencing a different feeling towards Vidyapith.
It made me feel complete and at home. The Vidyapith
became a staple in my life and I couldn’t imagine it not
being there. It’s hard to pinpoint a single reason why
I grew so attached, because there are really so many
reasons why it holds such a special place in my heart.
Beginning with the practicality of the Vidyapith’s
teachings, to being taught the importance of cultivating
a strong unwavering character, to the importance of
prayer, respect and service, and to the atmosphere it
offers. There is a certain calming and welcoming
feeling that I experience every time I am at the
Vidyapith, even still today; there seems to be a warm,
homey air that radiates through the eyes of all the
teachers, parents, and students.
More than all of these
however, I have found over the years that the teachers
of Vidyapith make Vidyapith what it is for me. The
atmosphere they have created is one filled with utmost
love and a compassion that never ceases. Henry Adams is
quoted saying, “A teacher affects eternity, he can never
tell where his influence stops.” My Vidyapith teachers
have influenced my life in countless ways. From the
never-ending discussions, to the prayers, to the music
classes, and to the weekly cooking class Auntie held for
us when we were seniors in high school so that we would
be able to feed ourselves in college. The influences
the Vidyapith has had on my life are countless.
I came across a poem
recently that speaks of the influence a parent or
teacher has on a child, entitled “When you Thought I
wasn’t Looking.” A couple of verses of the poem are as
follows…
When you thought I
wasn’t looking,
You said a prayer and I believed there was a God that I
could always talk to.
When you thought I
wasn’t looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that
sometimes things hurt, but that it’s okay to cry.
When you thought I
wasn’t looking,
You smiled, and it made me want to look that pretty too.
When you thought I
wasn’t looking,
You cared, and I wanted to be everything I could be.
When you thought I
wasn’t looking,
I looked…and wanted to say thanks for all those things
you did when you thought I wasn’t looking.
I am extremely grateful to the Vidyapith for all the
things that I have been taught, through the classes,
through interaction with the teachers and other
students, and through sheer example.
As I continue to move
through different stages of my life, the influence
Vidyapith has had on my life continues and grows even
stronger over the years. I may have graduated from the
Vidyapith a few years ago but I have never stopped
learning and I have never stopped being a student.
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