2 Growing up with the money

The boarding school was a public school that followed British school discipline but had a Hindu theme. The British Raj influenced the lifestyles of the wealthy and famous, and education in its colonies was designed to produce bureaucrats. The poor were ignored, and seeing poverty on Bombay's streets was not an encouraging place to live. I was only 12 years old when I became aware of the inequity in wealth distribution. The rich were extremely wealthy, while the poor were extremely impoverished. It's a country where faith in God is unfathomable. I was a God-fearing teenager at the time, and I asked myself a question. "If God is equal, why is one born on a thorny bed, while the other is born on a rosy bed?" My childhood image of God was real and compelling; this divine force was able to create, preserve, and destroy using a magical force that no one could achieve. My understanding was that God was also in charge of keeping account of all transgressions and administering just punishment. He could see and monitor everything at the same time.

My father always referred to ancient India's educational system as the Gurukul system. The Gurukul educational system is the pinnacle of Indian learning. A Gurukul is essentially a school where students live alongside their mentors and receive education, moral values, and life skills from them. This method of learning has been used in India since ancient times. With a false Aryan theory that could enslave the Indians, the British eradicated this system. This boarding school had a touch of the Gurukul system of education, so some of my father's goals were met.

I planned my strategy on my first day at school when I was very young. To begin, you must learn to read, write, and comprehend. I appreciated my father's instruction that reading and writing are taught in school, and it was my confidence that gave me a fresh start in school in India. It was an exciting first year because I met new friends, and boarding school was a big change in my life to keep me motivated. It was difficult to adjust to a totally different life in a foreign country. However, when one is young, one is more adaptable to change because one does not carry likes and dislikes. I was finding my footing and writing my final exams for the year while improving my study techniques.

Learning methods differed, with a strong emphasis on memory. It was only later that I realized that memorizing was an ancient Hindu practice. I was a logical thinker who was unfamiliar with this practice. The top students included many scholars who memorized the scriptures. This was known as the "Sanskrit Effect." Dr. James Hartzell, a neuroscientist, observed in The Scientific American magazine that remembering Vedic mantras increased the size of the brain's region associated with cognitive function. The researchers concluded that those who were trained earlier would have enhanced memory, decision-making, sensory perception, and other abilities. That explained why memorizing was used as a learning aid in Indian schools.

It was the summer holidays, and a distant relative picked me up to take me to a small village on India's west coast. The hot summers were an environmental learning experience as we adapted to the climate. I was nervously awaiting exam results at the time. The mail was delivered by the local postman. All of the students from the same school had received their results and were joyfully smiling and celebrating their success. I never received my results.

The thrill gradually turned into torture. When I asked for my results, a villager said, "It is customary that if you do not receive your results, you must have failed." Because the word failed was now threatening my very existence as a learner, I had no choice but to accept failure.

With a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes, and trembling limbs, I began to walk away. My once-excited legs now barely wanted to move. "Oh God, what has befallen me? I'm worthless, and all my faith has turned into an illusion," I thought to myself. Faith had lost its confidence, and my hope and assurance had turned into a nightmare.

With no parents to console me and being abandoned in the harsh world, my growing mind and body were tortured by sadness. There was no one to console me. I missed my mother terribly at the time, and no one could ever replace her. It was here that I realized how a mother's love heals her children. I was still aimlessly walking when I remembered my childhood prayers to the so-called god. I was raised with Sanatan Vedic Hindu Dharma values. My illiterate mother always encouraged me to light a Diya (lamp) in the mornings and evenings. I always looked at a few images of Hindu deities and the Diya burning on the prayer altar and I was given a series of prayers to recite.

As my mind was stimulated by the real world just then, a magical force took me to a small temple that had been built by my mother. The image and the teachings of my mother stayed in my mind. I bowed down on the floor and said to the stone deities, "I had promised to work hard, and so I did." You did not assist me; my only hope was in you." I was back on the road to nowhere, tears streaming down my rosy round red cheeks. Yes! I, too, was losing faith in the divine force. Later, I realized that it was my mother's love that had saved me from this ordeal.

Just then, a passing saintly man dressed in religious garb stopped me and said, "Son, don't look so worried." Purchase a rosary with 108 beads and chant this sacred mantra every day before retiring to bed. "All of your problems will be resolved." I was taken aback by the stranger offering me advice. My mind was blown apart by a mystic thought. Who was this holy man? Still, with a lump in my throat and tears in my big black eyes, I stepped out and bought the Rosary. My actions had become robotic as if I had been possessed. As I recall it today, this was my mother's divine force.

As night fell, sleep was disturbed due to the summer heat. The bed had bedbugs, and the summer mosquitoes were having a good time with me. I reflected on my entire life and realized that the only way out was now closed. I was supposed to find a window or see if the door was locked so that I could pass through it the righteous way. I fell asleep while consoling myself by chanting the mantra with the help of a rosary. With the rising sun, I decided to try again at school. The remaining holidays were spent slowly, reading and writing, but the joy of childhood had faded, and I saw no future to make my dreams come true.

Following the holidays and a full day of traveling, I arrived at a Bombay boarding school. Failure began to haunt me now. All thoughts of joy, happiness, and excitement had vanished from my ecstatic mind. The mind was empty, and it desired to undo the past to create a better future. Now I realize that failure was merely an illusion.

It was registration day, and many parents and guardians had gathered at the school's gates. I was also there, trying to avoid my former classmates. I then heard one of my best friends say, "We'll be together again this coming year." My father informed me that I had been promoted to the next class." I was initially doubtful because failure does not allow the brain to prepare for success. What happens next?

Crazy thoughts ran wild in my mind. "There must be some mistake," I thought. Slowly, the confused mind of my devastated body began to make sense. Suddenly, I focused all of my efforts on my speech and asked my friend, "How does your father know that I am also promoted to the next class?" The friend quickly responded, "Go register and see for yourself," and ran with excitement to his mother. My peaceful memories remind me that the most effective healer for her children is their mother.

Many doubts remained, but when I registered for the school year, I knew for certain that I would be in the next class. My roll number had changed, and the previous year's memorandum was missing from this revised file. I was just beginning to accept reality and facts when another negative thought began to wreak havoc in my mind. What if it's all a big mistake, and when they find out, I'll be in the former class? So I told myself to shut up and forget what had happened.

Unknowingly, I had already created faith by chanting the given mantra. On that fateful night, something told me that my prayer had been answered and that the divine entity had indeed assisted me. The most recent transformation started to take shape, and my advancement was a fulfilling experience that gave me the most delight I will ever know. These moments and memories are treasured alongside all of my accomplishments. I still regard this childhood reality as a gift from a mighty unknown force that has no explanation in the real world.

The years that followed began to fly by. I progressed from being a mediocre student to a bright young teenager. My first display of strength was competing with clever students. Most students hired tutors to improve their grades at an additional cost; however, I accepted the fighter's attitude and did it myself without the assistance of others; I made the change in my studies with my own effort, and I could not afford the extra tuition fees. The thought "I can do it" seemed promising at the time. Yes, I corrected myself numerous times and discovered methods to remember things and reason with logic and common sense. Later, I realized that the school's teachers wanted to make more money and that charging tuition was an easy way out. Yes, ‘money, money, money' served as a trading goal.

This was my third lesson, and it taught me how to earn or make money. One could sell their skill, trade, knowledge, or help in the form of labor in exchange for money, the only versatile medium of exchange. It reminded me that my father, grandmother, and now the teachers worked in a field that accepted money as a medium of exchange known as employees.

The boarding school was divided into different houses, which gave me a sense of belonging. They also became my family and friends with whom I shared many happy and sad moments. With my excellent academic progress, I was also a prefect and captain of the house, which served as basic training in time management and duties. Yes, I recognized that I possessed the abilities and personality to lead others.

The Sanskrit scholar who was our house master always provided us with insightful advice, leading our house to annual competitions. During one of the most critical cricket matches, he asked me, "Are you playing to win, or are you playing not to lose?" Confusing but intellectually stimulating, and has won the match, I discussed this statement at length with him, and in this intellectual discussion, thought was given to me about this story.

Possess a rational mind.

In a remote village near the mighty Ganga, a group of people inspired by democratic principles began to evolve in the essence of free thought. One generation of youths was radicalized and did not want to be influenced by the old, so they started their own lives, performing random rituals.

Arranged marriages were no longer acceptable, and it was decided that only the youth would participate, leaving the older generation out of the decision-making process. The big day had arrived for the first wedding of the season, and the youth had gathered the bullock carts and were about to leave. The bridegroom's younger brother was approached by a very elderly man in the village. The man was a member of the Panchayat and asked if he could accompany him to the nearby village with the wedding party. The old man belonged to the Panchayat, the village justice court, and it was difficult to say no to him. He attended because of the delicious meals served at that wedding village. The brother was persuaded and hid the old man in the bullock cart, leaving him with fun and joy.

When the groom's wedding procession arrived, the bride's grandfather noticed that there were no elderly people among them. He was disturbed and wanted to put them to the test on the old wisdom of marriage success. He summoned the groom's representative, as there were no elderly, and informed him that it was their village's custom to fulfill a specific condition before accepting the bride. The representative of the groom accepted the offer and inquired about the conditions of the wedding. The grandfather explained that it was very simple. He said that before he took the bride from the village, they should fill the smallest water well in the village with ghee or purified butter. It was because the groom's village was abundant in cattle and should have plenty of butter.

Hearing this, the groom began to run around, asking his young friends how they would do it. He also insisted that he cannot postpone the wedding because he is in love. The bridegroom's brother dashed to the bullock cart, knowing that the old man with wisdom was hidden in it. When the wise old man heard the condition, he told the brother that it was a simple condition to meet, suggesting a counter condition without panicking and telling him to be confident in telling them to remove all the water from the well and that their supply of gee would have left their village by then.

When the bridegroom informed the bride's grandfather that the gee was leaving his village and that the water from the well needed to be removed immediately. The bride's grandfather was convinced that youth possessed wisdom. Because no one can remove all of the water from the well, the condition is null and void. He was convinced that they had elderly companionship, so he ordered the wedding to proceed.

The youths celebrated the wedding with pomp and ceremony, and the grandfather believed that they were wise when saying goodbye to their granddaughter. When the newlywed bride arrived in their village, everyone paid equal respect to the only old man in the bridal party. They decided to acknowledge the principles, rules, and laws that their village elders had established over many years based on the theory of truth. The old wisdom of the elders was once again respected to make the village prosperous.

This story is based on the idea that wisdom comes with age. It was the first time I was taught to think differently and to use lateral thinking to solve problems.

Boarding school was a strict and disciplined environment. Everything had to be paid for. I was given the responsibility of supervising myself. In a short time, I learned a few things I needed to know. Money became a medium of exchange for all the necessities. I started learning about money management. I made a lot of local friends from wealthy families. In addition to attending such a prestigious school, I was also considered the child of wealthy parents. I haven't ever told anybody about my past. It was the first time I realized that the rich expected their children to be well-educated and successful. Some students worked extremely hard at school to achieve high grades. They kept me focused and motivated. My parents were compassionate and loving because I realized that the only woman who loves a poor man is his mother. Most of us had a few hobbies, and some of us excelled at sports. We also read quite a few books. I resolved to be like them in the coming years by imitating them and pretending that the world was mine. Yes, I became the first imposter. This is when I realized the importance of education. Education opened doors to more innovative ways of thinking and earning money. It was an inspiring realization of the importance of friendship. Inspiring friends instill the right values. Knowledge makes a man unfit to be a slave, so the cunning British destroyed India's education system.

Naturally, not all friendships are created equal. A handful of spoiled rich kids were abusing their father's wealth. Bunking school, smoking in the restrooms, and leaving campus without permission appeared to be a ritualistic tradition of wealthy scholars. Some bullies were always looking for attention, and this aspect of life did not appeal to me, so I avoided them. It was then that I witnessed how the wealthy abused their financial power.

Intellectually, I managed my money. I learned from many wealthy people who did not waste their money. Some people are true misers. While experimenting with money, needs, and desires, I came to the conclusion that I needed to establish a method to become a careful spender. These values were instilled in me by one of my friends' families. This friend had a thing for me, and I used to go over to his house on holidays to spend time with him. He was the same classmate who told me the good news on my first day of school. He was a wealthy businessman. His father ran a large business. I recall being asked who my father was at our first meeting. I lied, saying he was an international lawyer who worked in Africa and Europe. I realized that if I told the truth, his son would be discouraged from being my friend. The wealthy socialize with other wealthy people. When the end justifies the means, dishonesty is sometimes required.

Our team's goal was to rank at the top of their division. The hidden abilities began to overflow. I appear to be interested in music, art, religion, and other activities that have nurtured my young inner ambitions. The leadership spirit was strengthened, and I was promoted to platoon commander in the junior wing during military training. I was chosen for the school basketball team and was named captain. I also entered an art competition and won several awards over the years. Once I reached the stage to receive my prize, I always thought of Leonardo DA Vinci. The old habits and grudges from home died away. The subsequent years were unremarkable due to the boarding school's strict schedule that provided little time for other social activities.

Again, motivational history lessons inspired me. Poet Rabindranath Tagore received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913 for his collection Gitanjali, which was published in London in 1912. Bhagwan Buddha was born into an autocratic family. Buddha, or Siddhartha Gautama, was born in a small kingdom near the Himalayan foothills around 567 B.C.E. His father was a Shakya clan chief. Despite coming from wealthy families, all of them chose a path of righteousness other than a yogic life. My experience with Indian culture left me with a lasting impression. I held the same views about Sanatan Dharma whether I was rich or poor.

When I was sixteen, I yearned for my parents. Of course, letter writing was the only form of communication back then. My childhood fantasies were always productive. So when I got the letter, I would sit and think about him for hours. My father wrote the majority of his letters in the vernacular language he learned from the people he lived with. Some of the letters were read several times to grasp the moral and philosophical values of life. I missed my family at many of the school functions where most parents were present to celebrate their children's accomplishments. I couldn't return home, and neither could my parents because everything was about money. When I told my father about my accomplishments, he never complimented me. I didn't understand his feelings for me at first, however one day, in response to receiving some of my accolades, he wrote me this story.

The most famous sculptor

In ancient Rome, there was a master sculptor. He was well known for his sculptures and artwork. He was blessed with both fame and fortune. He also had a son who admired his father's achievements.

As a young and tender boy, the boy was groomed and trained in the same craft by his father. This led him to carve beautiful sculptures like his father until he was old enough to train under his father's guidance.

In addition to assisting his father, he created some masterpieces for the city of Rome. He, too, made a name for himself in his discipline as a result of his father's training. His father was a harsh critic who constantly pointed out flaws in his work and advised him to do better. With his father's constant criticism, the boy became irritated and desired recognition.

Hearing about a major exhibition in Rome, he prepared himself by making a sculpture in secret for his father and submitting it under a false name. He concentrated on and improved the critical skill that his father was most concerned about. Many of the country's most distinguished sculptors were invited to judge the finest of the exhibits. The boy's father accepted the invitation and came to evaluate the performances.

While browsing through the exhibits, the father paused at one that piqued his interest. With a smile, he told his son about the sculptor's excellent work. The boy was elated and asked his father about his attraction to that piece of art. He told him about his typical mistakes, as well as those of others in the exhibition, and how the sculptor of that exhibit possessed such perfectionist skill.

Upon receiving this compliment, the boy excitedly informed his father that it was his work done under a false name. He also informed his father that it was the first time he had received such recognition for his efforts.

The father paused for a moment before telling his son. "My son, you have always been talented, but my criticism has turned you into a perfectionist, despite my admiration, and from now on you will never better yourself because my praise will slow your pursuit of excellence."

While meditating on this thought, I realized that I would not receive a pat on the back from my father. Instead, I would have to better myself to achieve excellence. This aspect of my life has motivated me to seek out and achieve the highest standards. This realization that the harder I worked for something, the better I felt when I got it was going to be my wisdom.

At this school, we were taught about Sanatan Dharma, the mother of all ideologies, beliefs, and religions. The fellowship endorsed many symbols, descriptions, images, and idols that represented its identity. Festivities are always initiated by ceremonies and celebrations and are in a man's blood. When turned inward, a celebration, sacrifice, worship, or ritual means cosmic identification and awareness of Sanatan Dharma. Many ceremonies and celebrations became ritualistic parts of my life because they were all part of my hostel life.

In one such celebration, my friend's family invited me to lunch on Diwali, a very auspicious Hindu festival. My friend's father was a very wealthy man who owned several cotton mills in Bombay. When I entered the dining area of this grand celebration, I found hundreds of people, old and young, children and women, seated on the floor. They were waiting to be served a meal. I was led to the VIP lounge, where I was introduced to the rich and famous of Bombay. Because the majority of the parents' children attended my school, I was able to easily mix in with the crowd. My friend just told me that he was on his way to help distribute treats for the festivities. It struck me that this wealthy man was walking around with a serving dish, smiling and offering it to each person on the floor with his right hand. He was dressed in an all-white loin cloth. I observed the people on the floor greeting him with folded hands, some touching his toes and saying thank you. It was a tender and touching scene, and the festivities began with a meal. Some asked for more, and I could feel the joy in the hearts of the less fortunate. When I saw how people were eating, I got the impression that they had never eaten such food. When everything was finished, we sat in the dining room and ate our fair share of the Diwali feast.

When we returned to school, I asked my friend about the Diwali meal during one of our lunch breaks. I was surprised to learn that it was a family tradition in my friend's family to invite every worker and their family to this celebration. His father would personally serve them food, and then he would have his meals for the day. A nutritious meal fulfills the most basic needs of the poor. Most of them will never see such rich and well-prepared foods in their lives. He continued to tell me how his father had returned his father's wealth to his people by investing in projects such as education, healthcare, and social upliftment. I kept listening and absorbing the key points he made. It was time to develop values and appreciate a wealthy man who had given so much to his people. I inquired about his family's ancestry and was surprised to learn that they were the heirs of a large kingdom that was destroyed by invaders. His uncles served in the Indian parliament. Their ancestors had a kingly personality. My life demonstrated that many rich people's children were trained to take over their father's responsibilities. They were raised to manage duty, values, and money. I never imagined that this experience would stay with me for years. Humans have coexisted for millions of years on this earth. The former kings of India looked after their subjects without money during those years, and that system was still in the blood of such people.

My academic career was coming to an end. I studied very hard for my final exams. Here, I assessed my strengths, weaknesses, and opportunities before deciding on engineering as a career. I was left stranded in an emotional war, encouraged by a rich man's love and hurt by the poorest of the poor. The most valuable lesson I learned in school was practical money management, as well as leadership training. This taught me how to manage people in addition to reading, writing, and comprehending.

The end results were unimpressive, and I was disappointed in myself; however, while applying to colleges, I developed a new mindset. Change is unavoidable, and the time had come for me to embark on a journey of adventure. No experience and a skewed education from a boarding school were not a winning combination. Students from a family background were taught to focus on and pursue family values and careers. They lived in luxury and enjoyed the aristocratic lifestyle, whereas I had the disadvantage of moving to a foreign country and being in a position where money dictated my day-to-day living. Was there a decision to be made about where I should go from here? I needed immediate assistance and traveled to my grandmother's village. There, I researched my ancestors. My grandfather was a carpenter and my mother's father was a potter, so what should I be?

I evaluated the skills I learned at boarding school.I could operate machinery and felt comfortable using my hands, which is probably first and most crucial.  This is because I was an operator for a 16 mm projector that showed movies in the school auditorium. I was skilled at playing the sitar, a musical instrument. I was even offered a scholarship to Poland to pursue my interest in art and painting, but I turned it down. I had leadership experience and the ability to manage others.

I struggled with languages, history, and geography, but excelled in math and science. I used this as a guide to choose my college courses. Many of the students who came with me returned to their home countries. Some were homesick and left for sympathetic mothers. Yes, I was bombarded with opinions and advice.

Wisdom would come not from my age, but from my education and learning, so I had passed the first stage and making a decision was critical. I didn't want to make an emotional or harsh decision because my future was dependent on the very first step in life, which was right after high school.

1 What is Money ?

Looking at the Matchbox cars in a shop window, I was as happy as possible. I would stand in front of toy stores, claiming to want to buy one. I was honestly just thinking that everything there might one day be mine. As a young and growing boy, I wandered in a dreamland where toy cars dominated the mind. When the sales lady questioned what I wanted, I would simply walk away, and while walking home from the store I kept thinking, "If I had the money."

 Being young and innocent was the happiest time to be born into a dream world. It didn't matter if I was told at the time that we were poor and didn't have enough money to buy those toys. I had no idea that daydreaming was free of charge. Music, arts, crafts, and woodworking drew me in, and I later realized that they are the foundation of human expression.

 Since I was in elementary school, children of the rich and famous have been a part of my life. Remember lunch breaks when many of my friends ate chocolate, sweets, and snacks? Those who couldn't afford the mouth-watering experiences, like me, were always the ones who wished they could.

 Many friends were afraid to share, so they avoided us during lunch breaks. As a reward, I would sometimes barter my skills for a piece of chocolate or carry their school bags home. It has always worked. The children of the wealthy were sluggish and lethargic. They owned everything money could buy. I was a mediocre student, a daydreamer, and a child with many fantasies. The concept of money was also introduced with the introduction of education.

 Attending school was also intended for school vacations. The rich neighbor’s daughter used to visit our small town during the holidays. She was about my age, and I enjoyed her company. She came from a wealthy family and went from a big city.

 I used to admire her red lipstick, red painted nails, and small heel shoes while playing hide and seek. Yes, she was stunning.

 I sat occasionally to hear about fashion and the city's delights. Much of it was like a fairy tale that stimulated my imagination. At that age, I realized beauty and pleasure were also linked to money.

 We grew to like each other as we got older. We always wished to see each other and looked forward to the school holidays. We talked about birds and bees, and I would run around the fields catching butterflies to show my appreciation for her friendship.

 She was wealthy and attractive, and I had to be the rough village boy with tattered clothes and a cheerful smile to win her. Her parents frequently did not approve of our friendship since they saw me as a laborer's kid. Money has no bearing on love, whether it is wealthy or not. My grades were suffering because all I could think about was playing and fantasizing.

 The imaginary world was ending as I was barely over my ninth birthday. Even though those days were short-lived, memories remain. As I approached adolescence, my desire to own money grew. Growing up in a family of six brothers and a sister was neither exciting nor rewarding. I had several siblings as well as some elders. It is always the case that one brother or sister is successful and the other is neglected because of sibling rivalry. The elders were given priority in the distribution of household chores. As a willing participant, I was always given some work. Shining shoes, washing dishes, and helping Mom with laundry became routine tasks. Because of their illiteracy, parents blamed many things on the rich and poor. 

 When I was ten years old and found myself in one of those dream worlds, I asked myself, "Can I make money from nothing?" Is it just me, or am I living in a dream world? Childhood was the time when faeries, magic, and miracles were real, and it was only later that I realized faith was an assurance of things wished for. Then one day I decided to ask my grandmother. My grandmother worked as a farm laborer when she was younger. She was well-versed in vegetable gardening. She described a grueling day's work in the fields for the scarce money she had. The majority of the work was done in the spring when seedlings were planted in the rain, and that sounded thrilling. Harvesting and weeding in the summer heat saps one's energy and makes one want to sleep until the next morning. I was taught that money and intelligence were linked, and that physical endurance needed to be developed. One point she always emphasized was honesty. She mentioned how other field workers stole vegetables and fruits from farms and how she abstained because my grandfather was a man of principles and would never accept it.

 Knowing her I asked my grandmother one winter day while sitting near the fireplace if I could make money out of nothing. She answered positively with a "yes." My mom called just then, so I missed the conversation. That night as I slept, I reflected on her work in the fields and compared it to the nature studies we had done in school. I finally asked her how to produce seeds at the next available opportunity. Her response was straightforward: "from rotten fruits and vegetables." An innocent question followed, asking if one could make seeds from rotten tomatoes. "Yes," Granny said right away.

 Granny was a wise woman who taught values through simple folk tales. Knowledge leads to wisdom, and I had the privilege of having her as my mentor. The following story is one of them, and it inspired me.

 The tree of drumsticks

In a village tucked away in the fertile countryside of India, a successful farmer resided. He had two kids who could have been successful farmers given the property they owned, but who were sluggish and spoilt by their mother. The mother's brother dropped by on the spur of the moment. However, he was worried about the consequences and warned his sister about spoiling the children and making them lethargic and lazy.

 The farmer and his wife were elderly, and their deaths did not affect the two boys' sluggish lives. Both were married and spent their days doing nothing but neglecting the land, which was overgrown with weeds. The wealth was soon lost, but one drumstick tree, also known as the horseradish tree or Moringa, provided a daily harvest of fresh drumsticks.

 Their mother's brother was always concerned about the children's well-being and decided to visit them. The evening meal was prepared, and the elder brother sat with his maternal uncle, eager to observe a religious fast that day. The other brother came along but declined the food because he was not hungry. When the uncle noticed that the food was only enough for one person, he realized that poverty was knocking on the door of this once-famous farmer's family.

 He slept soundly all night but worried about his sister's sons. Then, early in the morning, he overheard the elder son conversing with a vegetable vendor. Under the full moonlight and profound silence, he noted the elder son replacing the vegetable with money from the hawker lady at the drumstick tree.

 After realizing that the drumstick tree was their father's only reliable source of income for the day, the uncle took an axe to the tree and chopped it down. This was before the brothers awoke.

 The brothers awoke with the rising sun, not seeing the uncle and saddened to see the drumstick tree had been cut down. The last source of income is lost, said the younger brother. He added with dismay that it is time to make preparations to prevent losing the house and land to poverty.

 Fearful, the two brothers worked hard to prepare the land for the coming rains and plant crops for the season. The brothers did not notice the passage of time because they were so preoccupied with their daily tasks. A bountiful harvest with a handsome return of money and food was granted.

 When the maternal uncle noticed the difference, he decided to meet with them again. When the brothers saw the uncle approaching the farm's entrance, they ran to greet him. With tears in their eyes, they expressed their gratitude to their uncle for felling the drumstick tree and demonstrating the value of hard work. That evening, everyone enjoyed a sumptuous feast, and they all lived happily ever after.

 A moral code of upliftment was finally mentioned to me by her. "Those who are lazy and lethargic become slaves, while those who work hard create opportunities."

 As a result of dedicated work and an instrument to combat poverty, my anticipated future became a reality. Stories shape history for people of all ages, leaving a lasting legacy that inspires future generations. I was a determined follower who had resolved to make a positive change.

 Legends tell a country's story; granny was born in India, so her thoughts were shaped into an imaginary or finite entity that represented our Sanatan Dharma. I was taught that we did not have a religion but Sanatan Dharma, which promotes the peaceful coexistence of all life on Earth.

 My father worked as a greengrocer, and I was always asked to assist him in the store. During the summer, many of the tomatoes rotted and were discarded. I started collecting rotten tomatoes and bringing them home. Granny would remove the rot and collect the tiny seeds that floated on the surface of the water. When it dried, she carefully stored it in a bottle. My first lesson was to begin planting seeds in the spring. Schoolwork was neglected, and my mind was absorbed in nature's greatest experiment. Many seeds had already sprouted by the middle of spring. My mother disliked them, but my father, an experienced businessman, suggested that we sell the seedlings at the greengrocer's on a wet day.

 I ventured out on the weekend to collect discarded milk cartons. They were cut up and the seedlings were transferred for easy merchandising. With good rains on the way, I walked to the shop after school and sold all of my seedlings. Anyone could now make money from nothing by using their imagination. I was convinced from that day forward that having nothing is not an obstacle in life.

 This achievement resulted in a few unfortunate outcomes. The money owed to me was never paid. The owner of the local food store had taken a portion of my money. He claimed that the tomatoes were his and had not been paid for. I also sold my seedlings on his property and wanted a cut of his famous business. I was completely devastated. He encouraged me to remember the lesson I learned and the fact that money was not the ultimate goal. 'Money is not everything in an achievement,' she wisely said. The end of the school year was quickly approaching and my fourth year of school was a disaster.

 My parents and brothers constantly verbally abuse me. They mocked me for trying to make money and for failing. To make matters worse, I was labeled "the family fool," and as retaliation, I was made to spend the holidays working in the greengrocer's store so that the rest of the family could go play. As a result, failure took on a scary image in my young mind.

 My affluent girlfriend had little interest in learning anything about me that holiday. Failure separated me from those I cared about. On Christmas Eve, the store was packed, and I was tasked with standing outside and selling the just-ripe peaches. I was in the shop with my father in the early morning, watching the sunrise. The stock was packed in bags and everything was ready to carry in. Customers began to infiltrate the business areas. In no time, I was surrounded by people. "Fresh sweet peaches, the cheapest in town, one shilling a bag," I screamed. And we were completely sold out. I kept collecting money until my pockets were empty. While I was selling those lovely peaches, I was surrounded by money, money, and more money. I was too young to understand its significance. The second lesson in making money was introduced to me through buying or selling.

 I was thrilled at the thought of getting rid of the whole supply. My mother woke me up the following morning after reminding me of my granny's childhood days of sleep, labor, and work, and I went asleep without opening my eyes. Yes, I can confidently say today that I never took a single penny for myself, in other words, stole the business's money. With so much grueling work and verbal abuse, my young body couldn't take it any longer and I became ill with a high fever.

 My Granny sat beside me, telling me more stories about her work and the resilience of the mind, body, and soul within us. When my father arrived that night, I recall her telling him about my abuse and neglect. Some abuse was stopped thanks to my grandmother's assistance, and my father was aware of what had occurred. He finally recognized my untapped potential. My parents were illiterate, impoverished, misguided, and burdened by day-to-day issues. In later realization, I became aware of a significant family disadvantage and the fact that no family member's aspirations can ever be fulfilled. Despite my desire to be someone, money began to play an influential role in my childhood.

 Education was very critical in our community and country because formal education was only available to white-skinned invaders or Europeans. Many children were studying abroad and learning more about their culture. The elders in our community advised my father, an uneducated man, to send my brother and me together with others. Despite school failure, I was admitted to a boarding school in Bombay in the same grade. I couldn't wait to get out of the house. Only on the day of my departure did I face the heartbreaking prospect of leaving behind my friends, family, and parents. "How will my father pay for my education?" Many times during the long journey to Bombay, I wondered.

 While escaping life at home, I was eager to venture out and seek new experiences in the big wide world. The journey consisted of thirty days at sea. My adolescent mind agreed to work hard during this long journey. I started missing my parents. I was thinking about my mother's affectionate nickname for him, "Jacko." I remembered my father's words. "Son, reading stimulates the mind, and writing inspires one to become an author."

 I made up my mind on the ship's deck, sitting on a vacant bench, and this gave me mental awareness of the long journey ahead. I had brought one large book with me to study. I started reading the book after being inspired by my father's words. I read the book twice without understanding or comprehending a single word. "What's the matter with me?" My inner consciousness alerted me. "No wonder people call me dumb." Suddenly, I thought to myself, "Bingo, I found my problem." "If I can't understand what I'm seeing, how can I write well?" Days flew by as I watched the rising sun, tossing waves, and freshening winds. The thought of money was put aside, and I began to evaluate myself as I reached for the stars.

 A bleak memory of my schooling in South Africa haunted me, carrying a zero in history. Nevertheless, I had another mentor, Leonardo da Vinci, in that renowned history class. I considered the elite in which he was regarded as a genius: an Italian Renaissance polymath, painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist, and author. My childhood fantasies took me far into an imagined world where everything came together perfectly. Becoming like Leonardo was easy, forgetting for a moment that I had the stigma of carrying a zero in history.

 Every child's dream is to live in a utopia, and I was a daydreamer. The only thing that came to mind was his famous painting the Mona Lisa. For the first time, I realized that a history lesson was for students like me. Understanding the past can inspire us to be like the celebrated people of today. I followed my inspiration and aspired to be a painter and an engineer for fame rather than fortune. I realized I had developed an interest in history and was eager to learn more about it. Money was gradually becoming a substitute for fame, and I aspired to be like Leonardo da Vinci. Growing children often experience confusion as a result of unbalanced family life. A fresh start will provide me with a second chance, which was the only opportunity I had anticipated.

 This thought brings my inspirational experience to a close.

 “Childhood is not a race to see how quickly a child can read, write and count. It is a small window of time to learn and develop at the pace that is right for each child. "Earlier is not better" - Magda Gerber