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“If we are all a creation of God – a moral Creator – who has made goodness inherent in all of us, then why do we find goodness to be so rare? Don’t you think that if goodness was inherent in all of us, it should have been more commonly observed?” I asked.

“First of all, I don’t think that goodness is as rare as we sometimes tend to think.” He immediately replied. Then, after a moment’s silence, he continued, “I think, we tend to see more of whatever you call the opposite of ‘goodness,’ because we become conditioned to focusing on it and expecting it from others. Thus, on the one hand, we expect it from others and, on the other, we notice it more.”

After a few more moments of silence, he said, “As for your question, what I call ‘inherent goodness’ does not mean that humans are supernaturally inclined and attracted toward doing ‘good’. It neither implies that people have more potential to do good, as compared to their potential for doing ‘bad’, nor does it imply that taking to the path of goodness is easier for people, as compared to avoiding it,” he said. Then taking a slow, deliberate sip of his strong black coffee, continued, “what it means to me is that we feel more elated and at peace inside when we do what we consider to be good, even if treading this path can occasionally be very difficult and can sometimes entail huge costs. I also think that we are in a state of inner conflict, disturbance, and, sometimes, even guilt when we indulge in something that we know to be wrong, even if doing so gives us immediate pleasure and gratification of desires.”

“Even if that is the case, why do we not see more of goodness around us? Do you think people don’t value this state of inner peace and serenity?” I asked.

He looked at me with a strange kind of pain in his eyes and said, “can you think of a time when you knew what was the right thing to do, but you still didn’t do it for some reason?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, hoping I would be able to avoid answering his question.

“For instance, can you think of a time when a small action on your part could have saved someone from a big…,” I could not wait for him to finish and interjected, “yes, once while traveling on a bus, I could have saved an old man from a big hassle and a lot of embarrassment, by paying a very small and insignificant amount for his ticket. I could not bring myself to take that step and sat there frozen, while the ticket checker forced him out of the bus. Whenever that thought comes to my mind, I feel extremely sorry for it and wish I could, somehow, do something about it now.”

“I really can understand that,” he said, and asked, “Had you been able to help that old man on that day, how would you have felt today, recalling that incident?”

I thought for a while and then said, “I am sure, the memory of the incident would have been a source of extraordinary joy and great pride for me.”

“Yes, I am sure that it would indeed have been one.” He said, and then after a few moments of silence, added, “what do you think held you back from taking that step?”

“I can’t say exactly what hindered my taking that small action,” I said and then added as an afterthought, “maybe, I just did not want to stand out from among so many people sitting in the bus; maybe I didn’t want people to think of me as a pompous and a pretentious person.”

“I can understand that. Really! I can relate to that too. There have been times that I have felt exactly that way,” he said. Then after a pause and a couple of sips of his coffee, added, “many times, we avoid doing the right thing, because doing the right thing can entail an immediate cost or a loss of benefit – even if the cost is just to stand out of the crowd. This potential cost or loss of benefit may or may not be huge, but it is generally immediate. And in our desire to avoid that cost, we miss out on the opportunity to do the right thing and, thus, miss out on experiencing the spiritual and moral elation that comes with doing what we consider to be ‘right’. Then, if we keep treading this path, it becomes a habit; And once it becomes a habit, we stop deliberating on our actions and their consequences – for ourselves as well as for others – and simply keep doing what will help us avoid the immediate costs and loss of benefits.”

I just sat there, trying to digest what he had just said. After a long silence, he said, “just think about it.”

 

January 4, 2020
(Dubai, UAE)

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“You keep referring to ‘altruism’ as a fundamental good. Can you please explain what exactly do you mean by that?” I asked him.

He smiled at me – a proud smile, which I had now become so used to seeing every time I asked him a question – and asked, “Have you ever done something in which you were only concerned about the welfare of or about satisfying a need of another person, without any other ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, “what do you mean by ‘ulterior motive?’”

“’Ulterior motive’ is a motive that lies beyond what is evident, revealed or declared.” He said. Then recognizing the confusion on my face, continued, “You see, there’s a danger of having an ulterior motive, whenever one does something good. One may be helping an old man cross the road – and this would definitely be a great act of kindness – but, one may be doing this great act of kindness for some other motive, not known to anyone other than himself. For instance, he may be doing it simply to be recognized as a good person by the onlookers, or to win their trust or confidence, or to be appreciated as a helpful individual, or simply to win the heart of someone he admires. But, remember, as I mentioned, this hidden motive will only be known to him. No one besides himself can know it with any degree of certainty unless he himself decides to share it with someone else. So, do you understand what is an ‘ulterior motive’ now?”

“Yes. I think I do. So, coming back to ‘altruism’, I understand that it implies doing something to benefit another person, without desiring to be recognized, appreciated or rewarded in return. Is that correct?” I asked.

“Yes. That is how I see it.” He replied.

January 1, 2020
(Dubai, UAE)

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Close to the border of Punjab and Sindh lies the city of Rahim Yar Khan. I had to travel there from Lahore on the 8th of December, 2019. I had to conduct a workshop session there, the next day. This time, the topic was “Our Impact on those Around Us.”

One of the discomforts that I have to face because of traveling is due to my own finical and restricted taste in food. I don’t like eating out. So, sometimes I try to make do on fresh fruits or even a packet of potato chips. 9th December was one such day. After having completed my session, I returned to my room at the Sadiq Club. I asked the manager on duty if I could get an egg sandwich. I was informed that the club did not have an in-house kitchen. So, I decided to take a walk to a nearby shop and get myself a packet of potato chips and a lemon malt. The shop was hardly 250 meters away from where I was staying.

As I started my walk back, after my shopping, I was a little startled as a young boy on a motorbike halted right beside me. A sudden storm of thoughts flooded my mind. Was he going to snatch the bag of my potato chips and lemon malt? Was I being robbed? Abducted? As the storm subsided, I realized that the boy was too frail to abduct me. There was nothing in his hands even remotely resembling a weapon, so a robbery was also not a possibility. Finally, having come to a complete halt, he was not in a position to snatch the bag from my hand.

As I returned to reality from my adventurous imaginations, I heard him say: “Uncle, sit. I’ll give you a ride.” Surprised at his offer, I told him: “I am staying at this club, it is just a few meters away.” He said: “I’ll drop you wherever you want to go.” Not able to control my curiosity, I asked: “Why do you want to help me, son?” I was pleasantly surprised, when he replied: “Because I want to be a good human being.” Lost for words, I silently sat behind him on his motorbike.

It was a very short companionship, yet a very impactful one.

Within a few seconds, we had stopped at the gate of the club where I was staying. Again, for the lack of anything better that came to my mind, I heard myself saying, “Son, can I give you some money?” He smiled and said, “No. No. That will spoil everything.” I asked him, “Spoil what?” He replied, “My effort to be a good human being.” I asked him again, “Seriously, why did you help me?” He replied, “My father used to tell me to help others, in whatever way I can. He used to say, ‘it is best that you help strangers, whom you are not even likely to meet again, as that will keep your heart clear of any expectations of a return.’ That, he used to say, is what makes a good human being.”

That was the last that I saw that young boy. As I was walking to my room, I was thinking about his father. He must have been an unusual man. In these times, when most parents only want to know about their child’s grades and scores, he was an exceptional parent, who ignited a very different aspiration in his son’s mind.

I entered my room and started preparing to review the material for my session scheduled for the next day. As I opened my files, the title of the session caught my eyes: “Our Impact on those Around Us.”

The smiling face of the young boy was clear in my mind.

December 15, 2019
(Bahawalpur, Pakistan)