People

Nanaji:
The Wealthiest Man I Knew

SUNDEEP SINGH KHAREY

ONKAR SINGH SAGGU, Architect
Born in Murid Wala (India, now in Pakistan), on May 13, 1939
Passed away in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, on March 10, 2013






Sardar Onkar Singh was my great uncle -- my Nanaji.

Nanaji and I enjoyed a very special bond. We discussed art, ancient civilizations, literature, philosophy; we shared books, and we watched films and listened to music together.

This was no ordinary friendship, and I quickly learned to treat anything this man shared with me like gold.

Though nearly 45 years separated us in age, when we were together, we sat as equals --  and whether we were discussing Egypt or Tagore, it was always a discussion between two loving friends. Though he was able to teach me so much about life, he never once treated me like a child.

You see, Nanaji never put himself above anyone else -- ever. And therefore, he could connect with anyone -- young and old -- and he did.

And where many of us would be quick to point out someone’s shortcomings, Nanaji only saw the goodness in peoples’ hearts.

He often spoke of the virtuous qualities in other people, but never felt the need to talk about his own accomplishments. He was a terrific golfer, a scrupulous architect, and very knowledgeable about world history -- but he’d tell you that he wasn’t particularly good at anything and didn’t really have any useful knowledge.

He personified humility. And with this quality came the ability to recognize truth and beauty in every thing and every one.

Nanaji found happiness in the things that most of us look past --  like a cup of tea. Not long ago, I made him a cup with my clumsy recipe -- I wasn’t sure if he would like it. “Boy!” he said, after he took a sip, “How do you make it like this, yaar?”

Shortly after his passing, my cousin-sister sadly said, “Who will I make tea for now?”

I realized that Nanaji had shown the same appreciation for her tea as well -- not because it was the polite thing to do, but because for him every cup of tea was perfect.

While many of us spend our time in pursuit of wealth, possessions and status, we almost always forget to appreciate the simple things -- the cups of tea -- along the way.

Buddha once said: “Contentment is the greatest wealth.” Indeed, in this respect Nanaji was rich beyond measure.

His most cherished treasure: his family and friends. Being in the company of those he loved was his greatest joy.

And as far as material wealth would go, he would say, “What for? What more could I possibly need than I already have?”

Many years ago, Nanaji sat with his dearest friend, my maternal grandfather, Sardar Dhanwant Singh. Between them sat a bowl of cherries. They ate as they talked.

“Bha ji!” Nanaji said to my grandfather, in his playful way, “no more for you!”

“What happened?” came the reply.

Nanaji pointed to a large pile of cherry pits next to my grandfather. And when grandfather looked next to Nanaji, he saw maybe 3 or 4 pits.

And they laughed.

Because you see, my grandfather put two cherries at a time in his mouth, efficiently separated the fruit from the pits and spit them out. Nanaji, on the other hand, picked up one cherry at a time, he studied it, taking in its color and texture, before mindfully plucking the stem, and taking one small bite as if he were eating a tiny apple. He savored the flavor, each time, before taking another bite to finish the fruit.

This was the quality of mindfulness that Nanaji possessed.

While our intuition suggests that the more we eat and the more we consume, the more satisfied we will be, Nanaji knew this was simply not true.

He was aware that the enjoyment from the cherries doesn’t arise from eating them, but from experiencing them; taking the time to appreciate the beauty of their color, their texture, their taste -- and to feel fortunate to be in the company of a good friend. Though he ate fewer cherries that day, can one say he was any less satisfied?

Nanaji mastered the art of living. While most of our lives are full of selfish pursuits, petty conflicts, and insatiable desires, he chose a different path. He chose to live simply, contentedly, and mindfully.

The art of living, what did that mean to Nanaji?

*   Was it being able to find beauty in the mundane? Surely, if beauty can be found there, where can it not be found?

*   Was it being able to live mindfully in the present moment? Don’t we look past so much if we only know how to live in the past or future?

*   Was it being thankful for all the treasures life has given us? Like family.

*   Or was is it not being in conflict with life -- not having a predetermined view of what it should be, but being content with what it actually is?

Though I didn’t fully grasp it at the time, Nanaji was leaving an indelible impression on my heart and soul. And he had set in motion a powerful transformation within me. He enriched my life in ways words could never capture. He showed me what it means to learn, to live, and to love. He demonstrated that bliss is attainable, and that it was simply a matter of choice.

I’m certain this is exactly what he has done for so many of us here today.

Both Nanaji and I came to admire a beautiful lullaby rendered in the classical Rajasthani tradition. We would end some of our evenings listening to this song and I would watch Nanaji as he would melt into the music and take me along with him. He heard every beat of the tabla, every intonation in the singer’s voice, and he would light up with every subtle improvisation of the sarangi. He would shake his head as if in disbelief of its beauty …

“My, God!” he’d whisper.

And after the song would end, we would sit in silence for several minutes, just taking in the experience, and I would quietly say goodbye, leaving him in his state of bliss, and go on my way.

March 21, 2013

read other articles in People