Es ist erst ein paar Stunden her, seit ich die Nachricht erhalten habe. Einer meiner liebsten Freunde und eine große Inspiration, den manche einen „Liebeskrieger“ nannten, ist letzte Nacht bei einem Verkehrsunfall am Stadtrand von Ahmedabad ums Leben gekommen. Raghu Makwana, oder Raghu Palathi, wie er in seiner Umgebung liebevoll genannt wurde, war mit seinem dreirädrigen Motorrad auf dem Weg zu Verwandten, als er im Alter von nur 29 Jahren viel zu früh verstarb. Die meisten von euch, die mich kennen oder mit diesem Blog verbunden sind, kennen Raghus Geschichte. Als er erst ein Jahr alt war, erkrankte er an Kinderlähmung in beiden Beinen und konnte fortan nur noch mit Hilfe seiner Hände am Boden entlanglaufen. Es ist schwer vorstellbar, wie man sich in einer solchen Situation fühlt. Man würde Groll, Negativität und Resignation erwarten. Oder vielleicht ist es das, was wir erwarten. Nicht so Raghu. Raghu war ein Ausnahmefall. Eine Fahne, die sich gegen all die Theorien Maslows und die Diskussionen, man brauche „mindestens so viel“, um in eine „gebende“ Stimmung zu kommen, behauptete. Raghu war eine Ausnahmeerscheinung, denn er lebte von etwas, das keine dieser Theorien zu berücksichtigen schien – einem unauslöschlichen, undefinierbaren und bisweilen irrationalen Wert namens Glaube. Mit 20 Jahren verließ Raghu sein Dorf, um ein Leben im Dienste anderer zu führen. Er hatte nur 300 Rupien in der Tasche, aber unerschütterlichen Glauben. Durch verschiedene glückliche Zufälle fand er sich im Umfeld des Gandhi-Ashrams wieder und schließlich… 
Er half Frauen und Familien in den Slums. Geschichten über seinen Lebensweg und seine Großzügigkeit gibt es unzählige. Doch einige meiner prägendsten Momente mit ihm erlebte ich in den kleinsten Gesprächen. In den letzten Jahren gab es oft Zeiten, in denen ich mich hilflos fühlte. Nach Gesprächen mit Freunden und Familie fragte ich mich, wie ich für mich selbst sorgen sollte. Unweigerlich traf ich in solchen Momenten auf Raghu Bhai und setzte mich mit ihm zu einem Gespräch zusammen. Es ist schwer zu beschreiben, was in solchen Begegnungen geschieht. Da saß ich mit meinem Bankkonto, meinem Wissen, meinen Fähigkeiten, einer Familie, die mich unterstützte, und direkt neben mir ein Mann mit eingeschränkter körperlicher Belastbarkeit, einem Bankkonto, das mir nur für ein paar Tage reichen würde, und fast keiner familiären Unterstützung. Und doch strahlten seine Augen und sein Lächeln von den schönsten Absichten, die man sich vorstellen kann: „Siddharth Bhai [Bruder], wie können wir unseren Freunden noch besser helfen?“
In den drei Jahren, seit ich ihn kenne, haben wir gemeinsam viele Glaubensabenteuer erlebt. Einige meiner engsten Freunde sind stundenlang mit ihm durch die Slums gefahren, um zu verstehen, was ihn antreibt. Führungskräfte von Organisationen, Intellektuelle, verletzte Hunde, die in den Rinnsteinen eines Slums lagen, oder Kinder, die auf seinem Rücksitz vor Begeisterung sprühten – jeder war schon einmal auf einer seiner unglaublichen Fahrten dabei. Er genoss es in vollen Zügen, wenn er durch die engen Lehmstraßen des Slums „ Tekra“ flitzte. Lächeln und Winken feuerten ihn an, während sein Motorrad mit Essen für die älteren Frauen beladen war, die er versorgte. Manchmal unternahmen wir, was ich Mini-Pilgerreisen nannte – Spaziergänge ohne Geld und Telefon. Raghu saß mit einem Musikinstrument in der Hand auf seinem Dreirad, und ich ging zu Fuß. Auf solchen Spaziergängen konnte man sein Lebenselixier erkennen. Auf dem Boden hockend, hatte er immer einen guten Überblick. Es war fast so, als sei er gezwungen gewesen, jeder Situation und jedem Menschen mit Demut zu begegnen, und das erlaubte ihm, das Göttliche in jedem zu erkennen. Von seinen Geldgebern bis zu den Kindern, denen er sonntags diente – jeder war eine Manifestation des Göttlichen, des „Einen da oben“ – „ Upar Wala “ war der Ausdruck, den er verwendete.
Eines Tages, auf dem Rückweg von einem seiner unzähligen Vorträge, waren wir beide hungrig. Es war nach dem Mittagessen, und wir hatten noch keine Ahnung, wo wir essen gehen sollten. Ich entdeckte das Auto vor dem McDonald's an der Ashram Road. Sofort zuckte ich zusammen – dieser goldene Bogen verkörperte alles, was ich verabscheute. Aber nicht Raghu. Er betrachtete ihn und sagte unschuldig: „Ich habe schon viel von diesem McDonald's gehört – lass uns einfach hier essen.“ Ich ging hinein, Raghu hinter mir, auf Händen gehend. Offensichtlich waren die Mitarbeiter und Gäste des McDonald's das nicht gewohnt – wir waren eine ungewöhnliche Kombination, Raghu und ich. Es war ein Wochentagnachmittag, und wir kamen schnell an und bekamen unser Essen. Als wir uns an den Tisch setzten, huschte mein Blick durch den Raum, um zu sehen, welche Blicke uns alle zuwarfen. Raghu war das gewohnt – Blicke, oft mit Mitleid, die sich fragten, wie er wohl sein Leben führte. Doch er hielt sie mit Würde, fast so, als wollte er sagen: „Ich verstehe, warum ihr leidet, wenn ihr mich anseht, aber ehrlich gesagt bin ich ziemlich glücklich.“ Nach und nach fasste einer der Gäste den Mut, herüberzukommen. Als ich ihn kommen sah, versuchte ich, es ihm etwas angenehmer zu machen. Sofort stellte ich ihn Raghu vor und erzählte ihm etwas über seine Arbeit. Als die Leute uns reden sahen, gesellten sich immer mehr Gäste dazu. Langsam kamen sogar der Hausmeister und die Angestellten von McDonald’s zu uns. Wir tauschten Geschichten aus. .jpg)
Es ging um Raghu in den Slums, die Frauen, denen er half, und die Häuser, denen er Tulsi-Pflanzen schenkte. Wie er im Geiste des Dienens lebte und wie sein Oberhaupt sich stets um ihn kümmerte. Ich trat einen Schritt zurück und war verblüfft – wir waren hier, in einem McDonald's! Raghus Anwesenheit hatte ihn in eine Art Tempel verwandelt. Überall sah man Menschen, die von seiner Lebensweise inspiriert waren. Das war Raghubhais wahres Wirken. Es beschränkte sich nicht auf die Mahlzeiten, die er den älteren Frauen in der Gemeinde anbot, oder die Hunderte von Tulsi-Pflanzen, die er an Häuser im Slum verteilte – es erstreckte sich auf Tausende von Menschen, die von seinem Geist berührt worden waren. Als die E-Mails und Facebook-Posts aus aller Welt eintrafen, begann man zu erahnen, welch großen Einfluss er tatsächlich hatte.
Während ich dies schreibe, fällt es mir immer noch schwer, seinen Tod zu begreifen. Ich merke, wie meine Gedanken immer wieder zu den naheliegendsten Fragen abschweifen: „Warum geschehen guten Menschen schlimme Dinge?“ oder „Warum musste eine Seele, die so viel von ihrem Leben der Linderung des Leids anderer gewidmet hat, so sterben?“ oder „Warum musste er ausgerechnet an diesem Tag mit dem Fahrrad auf der Autobahn fahren?“ Ich fühle mich von einem Strudel der Verwirrung erfasst, als ich mir eine feindselige Welt vorstelle, die es auf uns abgesehen hat. Plötzlich höre ich Raghus Stimme in mir – seine Augen leuchten hell, als er mit einem Lächeln sagt: „Du kannst nicht alle Antworten haben, Siddharth Bhai. Wir müssen einfach darauf vertrauen, dass der Himmel etwas Schönes für uns bereithält. Wir müssen einfach weiterhin unsere Rolle auf dieser wunderschönen Bühne namens Leben spielen.“
Jai Jagat [Ehre sei der Erde].
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17 PAST RESPONSES
I am honored..that my quotation is part of this beautiful man's life... it gladdens me to know that such wonderful people exist.. and his love has transformed me...
Some remembrances…
Belaben & Mia shared a poem by Ellen Brenneman:
“His journey's just begun
Don't think of him as gone away
his journey's just begun,
life holds so many facets
this earth is only one.
Just think of him as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years.
Think how he must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away.
And think of him as living
in the hearts of those he touched...
for nothing loved is ever lost
and he was loved so much.”
And, I thought I’d share:
To Raghubhai, my Ahmedabadi brother, a brother like
no other,
I'll miss your smiles, Good Morning!s, Namaste!s,
Kemcho?s, Mazama?s, Aap kese ho?s, Aap kaha par ho?s...I know these are all
from the outer senses, and, to some extent, selfish, as you're likely in a
higher, free-er, lighter place now...your spirit, hugs, love, care, compassion,
empathy, friendship and brotherhood lives on.
You allowed me to play the role of Didi, even
though I'm the youngest of my siblings. And many times, you were like an older
brother to me, even though younger in age, showing me the ropes in Ahmedabad
and supporting me...even though you're the youngest of your siblings (if I
remember correctly).
I hope your spirit touches as many, if not more,
lives as you inspired when in the body of Raghubhai. My best of love and
blessings to you, wherever you are.
You taught me about love, from the Bada Dil (Big
Heart) you have-- more than the mere romantic type, a love that knows no
boundaries, goes beyond judgments and preferences, likes and dislikes, a love
that simply is and exists (in, and around, all of us).
It's probably the best lesson and person I could have
learned this from. You’re one of the best teachers I had, of how to live and
serve selflessly. I keep thinking unconditionally
giving can be a complete spiritual path by itself.
You'll always be my Ahmedabadi brother and always
live in my heart. I love you bhaiya.
And this is dedicated to you (my love for you may
be about the same as the love you shared in nearly every interaction I noticed
you had with the world):
http://www.servicespace.org...
Another poem:
“Kindness
Before you know what kindness
really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the
Indian in a white poncho lies dead
by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night
with plans and the simple breath
that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness
as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow
as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness
that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day
to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.”
--Naomi Shihab Nye
And some quotes that describe how you lived:
“The fragrance always remains on the hand that
gives the rose.” –Gandhi
"Never doubt that a small
[Hide Full Comment]group of inspired volunteers can change the world. In fact, it’s the only thing
that ever has.” --Margaret Mead
I was blessed to spend Christmas Day in December 2013 riding around with Raghubhai as he delivered meals to the slum community in Ahmedebad. Everyone loved him, and it was obvious why--he had perhaps the purest heart of anyone I have ever met. I could tell he was working so hard, delivering two meals a day to the community, so I asked him if he ever took a day off on the weekends or any vacation time. He looked at my as though my question were strange and said, "The people I feed can't take a vacation from eating, so I can't take a vacation from serving them." He was so sincere and selfless in his response. Raghubai was a living example of Gandhi's message.I will always remember him and I am deeply saddened by his passing. --Heidi
My dear Brother, such good people are not actually taken away from us but it is that God (Uparwalla) realizes that his mission to awaken people like you and me have been fulfilled and that now it's our turn to continue what had been left undone. Don't grief his loss! His presence will be there forever in your beautiful heart.!
I did not know of this young man; yet I am weeping and grieving for his friends, those he served, and the whole world at his loss. May God fill the void left by his passing and move all who read of his life to emulate his love in their own corners of the world.
I am sorry for the loss of your friend (and teacher.) You are right, his legacy will not die. Wishing you peace as you grieve.
I cant believe this, Im crying as I type having only posted this on facebook yesterday and finding out how I could help financially to the organisations that helped Raghu. One can only hope that his food distribtuion work will be continued somehow . I even bought a Tulsi basil online last night o add to my garden.:( Bless you Raghu and may you now have the run of the heavens.
I tired controlling the trickle but just couldn't ... I let it pass down my cheek ... No words to say ... Thanks for sharing this ... May his soul Rest in Peace ... May his Light dwell among us who read his efforts to make this world a beautiful place for the poor and the needy ...
It didn't seem possible at first. I read the news of Raghubhai's passing late last night. I'd just gotten up from meditation, and the words I was reading on the screen made no sense. How could he be gone, just like that? Raghu whose flashing smile I can still see so clearly when I close my eyes. Raghu who made a playful game of sneaking up next to us to touch our feet, before darting away, so quick and graceful on his hands, his incapacitated legs folded neatly beneath him. Raghu who could sing to God with a voice strong-winged as a bird, Raghu who found wholeness in broken places and learned to serve with a love that defied physical limitations. In the brief time I spent with him, he made me want to be a better human being. And now, though I didn't know him nearly as well as many others did, like all his brothers and sisters in service I feel a gaping Raghu-shaped hole in the universe.
After reading the news I sat down in tears, on the cushion I'd just risen from. And as I began to meditate a small voice inside said quietly, "He knew he was here to love and serve. He loved. He served. He lived a full life. Who are you crying for?" And I realized that I was crying for me and all the many of us who simply wish we'd had more time in a world that had him in it. And in that moment there was no grief only a wordless sense of awe and gratitude for the life he'd lived.
One of my favorite memories of Raghu is from several years ago. And it has nothing to do with his countless acts of compassion or his heroic generosity. It was a moment that gave me a glimpse of his whimsical side and his sense for the poetic. We were a big group meditating at Sughad, sitting together under the night sky. At the end of the hour we opened our eyes and went around in a circle sharing reflections. When it was his turn Raghu spoke in Gujarati and his voice was full of laughter. He said before closing his eyes he'd looked up at the sky and seen the crescent moon with a single star below it. "And all through the meditation I was thinking how perfect it would be if the star had been positioned just a little higher. Then at the end when I opened my eyes there it was right where I'd wanted it." We all looked up then, at the beautiful sight of a bright single star cradled in the silver curve of the moon. "I really need to learn how to focus better when I'm meditating," Raghu said smiling sheepishly. And I remember thinking then that he must have the soul of an artist or a poet. Because who else imagines rearranging the stars like that? There are other memories of course. Of sitting down to a meal with him and hearing from someone else how that very morning he'd stopped a woman from committing suicide simply by stopping and listening to her tell her story and giving her a cup of chai. There's the memory of weaving through the slums riding triples with my sister on his scooter laden with gleaming tiffin-boxes. The way I remember it, it was like riding with royalty. Children and puppies and grandmothers and schoolteachers and shopkeepers in tumbledown shacks all seemed to know him -- they came running out of their homes, lifted their hands in greeting, or shouted out his name like he was one of their own. And he was. I remember marveling at how well he knew the lives he served. How he stopped to touch the feet of one, and to check on the health of another, how he delighted the kids and how he never just dropped off food at someone's doorstep, but always went inside and sat down as if this one person was the only person on earth that he needed to be with.
He had such humor and dignity. I think of his straight-backed poise, and his way of looking directly at people when he talked to them. I think of his ready smile and the nobility of his heart. Noble. The word fits him well. He was truly a Noble Friend to all of us who knew him. He was one of those rare people who truly understood that in helping others we help ourselves, and in healing others it is we who heal.
He was such a luminous star in our lives. And I can't help thinking that now maybe he's just changed his position a little -- to find that perfect place in the sky.
[Hide Full Comment]I feel a heaviness and moist tenderness around my eyes reading about Raghu's approach to life. May my life and his cross paths in future incarnations so that I can learn more from him.
Thank you for sharing another beautiful story of giving and kindness. Raghu's memory & his legacy will live for a very long time. Hugs to you all. If anyone wants to join this Friday/Saturday it's our 4th Annual Worldwide Free Hugs (celebrate Valentine's Day and <3) Here's the link on FB:
https://www.facebook.com/ev...
Thank you Raghu! I intend that I serve in unconditional love for the Highest Good of All. So be it and so it is!
he gave all he had to give and now he is being taken care of...so touched to hear his story and sad for the loss as well...
I, too, worry about my future... especially as an old woman. Will I have enough money, will I be weak, ill and dependent, will I have chronic pain, will I be alone and lonely?..I struggle with my faith in the One Above. Superhero Raghu instructs me and reassures me that all will be as it should. Simply serve and practice gratitude.
I'll do my best to remember him. Thank you for introducing him to me.
Thank you . Truly inspirational to see how Raghu lived his life and left a legacy behind for others to follow . Love & service in it's purest form .
As I read this I see that Raghu loved life. Life loved him right back. He was young at his death but did more for his world than many people who live what we call "lucky long lives". What was missing for him, or in him? Can we ask, not "How long can I live?", but just "How can I live?"