Author / Sukh Chugh

by Sukh Chugh

San Diego

It was only two days, but it felt like everyone I met was family.

We went straight to the temple where I was supposed to talk for an hour and a half on the merits of serving others. Somehow the words found their way from this neo-cortex, through the microphone, through gas and dust, onto ears and into hearts. I shared stories about the beginnings of Be the Cause. I told them my own story which somehow was also their story. We were all searching for something deeper in our lives and somehow we were all led to this same moment. I shared with them the stories I had heard, of a universe so vast that it was incredible and yet its magnificence didn’t trump the size of our own tiny little hearts.

In moments I could feel myself tearing up as I remembered the story of a little homeless boy we met one night in India. At times when I looked up, I found that my tears were somehow falling off the face of someone else. At times we all laughed simply because the words that were coming out seemed so ridiculous.

A few aunties took copious notes, but I knew that what I was saying was already known to them, and more importantly was already written in their hearts: That all we need is the courage to give, and in that moment the entire universe opens up for us.

Afterwards they asked questions. About my life. About how certain projects came together. Someone asked about finances, someone always does. Someone asked about happiness, and yes I admitted, it can be cultivated.

She came up to me afterwards stating that for a moment she felt she wasn’t alone. She cried for a moment standing there with me, I felt it too, that kinship, that togetherness, that love in the room. It made me a little strong and a little weak at the same time standing there in that temple. A little honored and also a little unworthy to be receiving such emotion.

A few of my new friends wanted to sit in silence so that we could end the afternoon the same way we started it. Fifteen minutes rolled by and it seemed as if more was shared in those silent moments than in the hours prior.

Later that night, when a few of my new friends decided to drop by after dinner, I would discover that they were serving much more than they had led me to believe. We discussed ongoing projects and brainstormed new ways of getting people engaged. We planned for the next day, where a repeat performance was requested for a younger audience.

The next day, I sat in front of kids and adults alike. The stories and the accompanying jokes seemed to work a second time around. Even the QnA felt similar, except this time the questions were more personal. I realized that every family is the same, they are all concerned about my marital status. Being single has allowed me some freedom, sure, but sharing stories of my married couple friends that do more together than separate quickly brought the point home: wherever you are, however you are, you can serve.

The drive home was rejuvenating. I felt as if I was leaving home to return home. Thank you San Diego. If anyone is interested in connecting with the Jain Community of San Diego please send me an email.

by Sukh Chugh

When Love Fails

When love fails.

She was young. About 20 years old. A face so beautiful it could make you cry, it made me cry. But it was more than her looks, it was the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she walked and the way she carried the cigarette on her lips. Everything about her said that ‘everything was okay’, that even as threatening men loomed over her, still ‘life was good’.

She was sitting there, outside the outtake building of the Santa Ana jail. How could something so beautiful come from such an un-beautiful place. Just seeing her brought out happiness in me, I had to know her story. I asked her how long she had been inside, she said ‘one week’. I asked her why she had been inside, without hesitation she said ‘prostitution’.

That feeling, when you know you haven’t been punched in the stomach, but almost wished you had, slips over me. The brief moment of extrovertedness falls off of me. I stood there speechless, and all of a sudden she became my sister. Hiding my emotion I slowly re-engage in conversation. She tells me of hotel rooms and craigs list web postings. In that moment I could give her anything she asks for, all she needs is my cell phone to make a call.

She needs cigarettes and wants to avoid the mix of “do-gooders” and “evil-doers” by the ‘Lights On‘ RV. I boyishly ask if its okay to walk with her towards the 7-11. She lets me.

She walks fast, too fast. I have so much to say but time isn’t on my side. Eventually the 7-11 will meet us, it will get in our way. Eventually this night will end. Eventually she will go back to where she came from, and I too will return.

I ask how it all began. I fell in love, she says. Proud of the sacrifices she has made for love, as if the sacrifice makes her in some way pure. The sadness in her eyes isn’t from the life she’s lived, but from the fact that she won’t see her lover for the next 3 months. It is a look of longing.

For the next 3 months he’ll be in jail. Society calls him by other names, but right now he is only “love”. She’s sad, that when the police found her in the hotel room, she wasn’t able to convince them that the man lurking outside wasn’t her ‘manager’. She’s sad, that he has to spend 3 months in jail, and that she has to spend 3 months without him. Love.

She says that people don’t understand. That love can make you do things you wouldn’t normally do. People on countless occasions have interjected that he doesn’t love her because he asks her to sleep with other men. Yet, she continues to have faith.

I also try to interject as much as I can in the short time I have. Speedily we walk, speedily I talk. Usually I talk about Love, this time Love has failed me. I speak about life and about journeys… and about failure. In life there is no training manual. None of us really know what we are supposed to be doing here. But we can somehow make the journey at least worthwhile. And maybe the one thing that can get in our way of living life to the fullest, is our own selves. Maybe sometimes we need to determine which of our emotions lead us to a path of greater good and which lead us to greater harm. … and just maybe we actually need to leave some emotions behind.

Sometimes its not about love, I tell her. Sometimes, it is about what is ‘right’. I recollect stories of when I have failed Love and when Love has failed me. When I have done wrong to those I have loved and when those that have loved me, have done me wrong.

She asks me if I have ever cheated on someone I loved. I say ‘yes’. She asks if I have ever hit someone I loved. I say ‘sort-of’. She tells me that her ‘love’ was the first guy who had ever hit her.

I tell her that maybe he does love her and that maybe she loves him, but that sometimes you have to put all that aside and still do what is best. That maybe sacrificing Love is a greater sacrifice. (Maybe it would be good for him too.) I try to convince her that she has a great life and a greater one ahead if she can navigate through the swamp of thoughts and emotions that we all live in.

I vow not to walk her all the way to the 7-11, as a way of sacrificing my own love. I stop short seconds before the 7-11 and turn towards her. I wrap my arms around her and then let go. Walking back, emotions of sadness and anger grip me. I cry and scream at the same time. Hold my head and grip my fists at the same time.

“Love fails only when we fail to love” – J. Franklin.

by Sukh Chugh

33

What kind of place is this my friends?

The sun rises only to set. We are born only to depart one day. Fortunes, generations, entire cultures, even life itself comes and goes. Is there anything that stays behind?

33 give their lives to unmask the anger of one boy. The boy becomes a man. His life, arising only to pass. Only to take away. Anger remains.

Tears flow through the country. Making us feel. Something within us comes alive. It gives rise to a new reality, a new compassion takes form. Our hearts race, reach out, and sometimes, tears actually leak from our eyes. In our despair we actually begin to feel what it is to be human.

What kind of a place is this?

Tragedies come and go, lives lost forever, yet the rest of us still find ground beneath our feet. One way or another, life moves on. The sun rises again.

Two teenagers pull guns out of duffel bags and destroy entire livelihoods. That was 1999. Twin Towers explode. A tidal wave consumes entire cities. A hurricane touches down to teach us that we are not invincible. And yet, here we are, invincible. A war destroys an entire country, mothers cry out. Leaders, steadfast in their charge, say that lives are not lost in vain, yet we do it again… and again, and again. That was Vietnam.

What kind of a place is this?

The sun sets. Sends us into darkness, only to beckon us again with the chirping of birds. It gives us rise only to set us down again. A pattern emerges. Light and Dark, joy and pain, exhilaration and disappointment, Love and sacrifice all tied together.

We chastise those who grasp at more than is needed, secretly wishing that our own reach was vaster than theirs. Lovers betray one another. The secrets that we harbor in our minds would betray everyone we know.

We send our children, our own flesh and blood, to teachers whose salaries we would never accept for ourselves.

What kind of people are we?

What kind of a person am I?

Trapped between trying to build a new life and submitting to my past’s patterns. Childhood memories still shape the decisions of my life. Unable to control all of my thoughts I see the direction of my life shaping itself. Was my destiny shaped with my birth?

Seeing suffering everywhere and still I am consumed by my own discomforts. I still find it necessary to smile, to laugh, and to enjoy despite all the chaos that intrudes this planet. I celebrate birthdays, promotions, and even unexpected (and unwarranted) moments of joy, despite not knowing what this entire experience is all about.

A soldier asks why 3000 lives weren’t honored like the 33. An Iraqi woman asks the same about 100,000. And me, I’m just trapped thinking about why someone lied to me.

But it does all arise to pass. And in doing so, hopefully there is hope, that it teaches us something. That it refines us somehow, makes us better at who we are, and at what we are supposed to be doing in this diminishing existence. Time passes by, we get older, nearer to the days when we can no longer remember. The moment is now. To rise up, embrace the sun, the warmth, the birds, and the calling for a new day. The sun sets, only to call for us again the next morning.

by Sukh Chugh

Letter to my nephew

Happy New Year Pravir,

I wish more peace and happiness for you this year.  Time is a concept that none of us really understand.  How one moment actually changes to the next.  Why space exists, why movement exists, why all of this has created all of us?  What is it all supposed to be about, what are we supposed to be doing?  At best, we are experimenting with our time here, either to create a legacy that will last beyond us, or to experience more happiness than the moments that have already past.  At best, we are always stepping into the unknown.

Life, a movement from one unknown to another.

You may be too young to understand some things, but I know that you already understand the one thing that matters most in life: Love.  Your grandfather, grandmother, father, mother and ¨chachu¨ love you very much.

The world belongs to you, and you to the world.  Everything is a circle and we are all points along this circle.  Anything you do to one part of the circle eventually touches every other part of the circle.  It is never ending.  What more is that everything that is inside the circle is the same as what is outside the circle.  Emptiness inside, emptiness outside.  Infinity inside, infinity outside.  Only a thin line separates what is inside from what is outside.  That is a circle.

I´m in Quito, Ecuador right now.  I went with 15 other friends who wanted to make the world a better place.  I think of you often.  How the part of the world that is somehow brighter because of our actions will somehow directly ripple brightness into your life.  If everything is truly a circle that I have faith that what we do here will be good for you there.  What is good for others, is good for me, is good for you.

I love you.  You are in my thoughts, in my dreams, and in my convictions.

In this part of the world they say ¨Feliz Ano Nuevo¨ (Happy New Year).  Maybe one day we will have a conversation without words.

by Sukh Chugh

People Everywhere

When we see the kids from the streets here, they are just like the kids we met in India, or the kids we met in South Africa and Kenya.  Every face that i look at feels familiar for some reason.  As if they are already known to me.  I cant speak their language yet the love in their hearts and the love in my heart is the same.  We are all known to each other.

There are many good people that we are meeting here.  They work with determination, with faith, and with unconditional love for the people.  We heard a Christian Pastor speak about his life and his inspiration today.  If I would have closed my eyes I would have felt as if I was back home at Manav Sadhna in India, listening to Virenbhai, Jayeshbhai and Anarbhen speak about what they do there.

There is love everywhere and goodness pervades through every soul on this earth.  We are fortunate to be surrounded by people and opportunities that help bring that out in every moment.

by Sukh Chugh

Wake up call

I woke up to a knock on the door and a sweet voice gently soothing me back to reality.  I was dreaming of a far away land.  Enter Ann Nguyen. 

Each year we embark on our service vacation trips, Ann Nguyen always participates.  No, she doesn’t hop on the plane with us but she is with us on every step of journey.  Each year, before we leave, Ann makes sure she gets the names of all the travellers and brings a gift for each and every single one.  This year was no different.

I had forgotton about our breakfast appointment and slept in from the late hours the night before.  Instead of dismissing the meeting, Ann decided to swing by my home.  It is the day we leave for our trip and I am awoken by one of the sweetest sounds known to mankind.  In that moment, it felt as if my own mother was calling for me.

She carried with her 16 cards for each of the travellers.  She told the story of the woman who helped make the cards: a sister who spent part of her life in Peru, one of the countries we will be visiting.  She mentioned how this woman, Sister Grace, had been badly burned at one point because of a prank some youngsters pulled.  To this day, she doesn’t have any ill will towards these kids.

Before Ann left, she told me that she and others will keep all sixteen of us in their thoughts and prayers.  I thought to myself: what power, we haven’t even left for our trip and yet there is already a force of support behind us.  I know that Sister Grace’s thoughts, Ann’s Prayers and all those wishing us well will help make our own efforts in South America more meaningful.

Sukh

by Sukh Chugh

Cotton Balls – my experience in Houston

Hello All,
I just returned from a 5 day trip to Houston. Below is a summary of events I sent to the folks there. I thought I would share with everyone so that we can see that wonderful people exist everywhere. Everyone I met, through some connection with Maushmi, made me realize how lucky we are to have each other.
Sukh

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Love exists everywhere. You can find it in the plane seat next to you, in cotton balls that lie scattered across the floor, and in strings of pasta that unexpectedly find their way to your plate.

It was extraordinary. Who would have thought that I would find newfound determination in the heart of Texas. People make their way across many oceans to find themselves. Some walk for days in search of truth. My pilgrimage takes me to Texas. To an Italian Restaurant where the noise of our neighbors doesn’t disturb the silence in our hearts.

Words are never enough, so with folded hands I bow.

Wednesday night. As soon as I arrived I was handed a set of keys. One of them was to a home, another to a car, and yet they all unlocked something deep within me. Generosity. Afterwards I ate a hand cooked Gujarati meal. If you haven’t tried Maushmi’s Mom’s rice pudding you must insist on a meal at their place!!!

Thursday. Maushmi took me to the Houston Hospice. I saw the rooms where some of the past Compassion Cell Magic had taken place. I breathed the entire place in: the volunteers, the visitors, and the current residents. I felt proud that I was part of an organization that had done some good there. It was an honor to walk through those floors.

I made my way to the Thomas Street AIDS clinic that had been decorated by some volunteers the night before. I breathed in all that they had left behind. I envisioned the volunteers working together to beautify the clinic. I then looked into the eyes of the patients. Their faces broken down by years of pain, stigma and concern. This quote kept running through my mind: “Our happiness is greatest when we contribute to the happiness of others”. Each and every decoration left behind was a sign of hope to a disenfranchised community that is forgotten by so many. I bumped into Jackie, the volunteer coordinator. She gave me the history of the clinic and told me the story of how she lost her son to the disease. My tour naturally ended at the meditation hall. I sat there for 30 minutes thinking of how much goodness had been generated at this clinic the night before.

Although I was full of words at the time, thinking of Thursday evening now leaves me speechless. Goodness flowing in every direction. We questioned ‘service’, our own human nature, and the genuinity of our desire to make the world a better place. In that moment, my world became a better place. I went from being a Californian, to a guest, to a family member in a few short minutes. Houston became home.

Friday. I met Margo. As with everyone else, I felt as if I had known her before. We talked about this movement of life that we are all engaged in, and what it means to be a parent in today’s world. I felt like her son.

Saturday. Every week should have a day of fun. … and everyone should have a friend like Katania. She walked in with bags full of things to play with. We spent the entire afternoon making cards, necklaces, drawing, gluing cotton balls, laughing, and most importantly nourishing something within ourselves that we had been neglecting for some time. It was all inspired by this one quote: “Compassion for others begins with kindness to yourself”. A day of being kind to ourselves was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Sunday. We started at the Sikh Temple. After eating lunch we were inspired to serve. We spent the next few hours washing all the pots & pans and sweeping the entire floor. A priest at the temple, in his broken English, shared with us how important service and meditation is. In the evening we checked out the Hare Krishna Temple after sitting in silence for an entire hour.

Monday. Maushmi and I checked out a park and a coffee shop. Who knows? Maybe a Walk for Hope or a Seva Cafe in Houston at some point? As we said goodbye, she handed me a card from some of the volunteers and a certificate that said that a little girl named ‘Priccila’ had received cleft palate surgery in our honor. It seems that our friendships not only enrich our own lives but continue to benefit others as well.

I’m not sure if all good things need to come to an end. I think that all good things continue forward and expand outward. Something deep within me changed this week. I told Maushmi that all I was bringing to Houston was emptiness, hoping to fill myself with goodness that I could share in California. Filled with your goodness, I am grateful for the way you have welcomed me. You all are now officially invited to Southern California to hang out with our family here.

All good things continue forward. Like water that drops to the earth, and returns upward again one day, I hope to return back to my home in Houston some day.

Sukh

by Sukh Chugh

Are you family?

Sent out on the Be the Cause newsletter:

It’s that time of the year when we start to get together with our families to give thanks.  There is a lot to be thankful for, undoubtedly, the larger question we face is who do we consider family?  I’m sitting in Seattle visiting my sister-in-law and my 2 ½ year old nephew, and yet I feel related even to the random stranger walking down the street.  Two friends came over today, as they were playing with my nephew one of them said that it felt as if we were all one family.  One family.  (Maybe that’s why I felt no inhibition when I called them five hours before I needed a ride from the airport J ) 

Many talk about charity beginning at home, and how we must take care of our family first, but every single person I meet feels like my family.  If we were to draw the circle of our family as wide as possible, then who would we be willing to neglect?  Is the 2 ½ year old living elsewhere worthy of anything less?  Is he any different?  

I’m fortunate, I have a lot of family.  …and it keeps growing.  One conversation with Nikkie in South Carolina and she immediately becomes my sister.  She’s planning a Food Drive in the Charleston Area.  Maushmi is planning many projects for the holidays in Houston.  Southern California volunteers are planning two projects on Thanksgiving Day. 

The Seva Café volunteers continue to change hearts every week.  This Saturday, another brother, Hip Hop artist Isaac “IZE” Barba will be dropping some music for everyone. 

In the last couple of weeks we revamped our on-line calendar of events and created a 8 minute video on the Walk for Hope.  Some wonder why we work so hard.  I do it for my family.   

by Sukh Chugh

Living as a reminder

My brother fell today.  He had been standing for far too long.  The earth crumbled beneath him, all we could do was watch.  He just slipped away.

Jim Sun, MBA Graduating Class of 2000. 
 
It reminds me that we are all vulnerable.  None of us can escape the thoughts that run through our minds.  Sometimes life gets the better of us, sometimes we can get up fighting again, but sometimes our thoughts don’t give us a way out.  Sometimes the battle of life is between us and our own minds.  Between giving in and letting go.
 
Today you have fallen, and yet something within me gives rise: a responsibility to love harder than I have ever loved before.  That seems to be the only way to accept what is happening. 
 
I watch drops of water fall from the sky knowing that one day they will return upward again.  The cycle of life and death continues.  Death gives birth to something new.  Now you are one with everything, a part of the very air I breath.  I feel closer to you than I have ever felt.  Now nothing separates us. 
 
Hours later I find myself at a birthday party.  Birth and Death tied together in every moment.  The span of our entire lives is but a mere snapshot in time.  Death an inevitable part of life.
 
It becomes apparent.  Our degrees and our resumes cannot shelter us from what is most important in life.  In the short time that we are here, I just hope that we are moving in the right direction.  What’s important?  Right now its family, love and service.
 
Jim, I’m sorry.
 
Sukh

by Sukh Chugh

101

What people appreciate the most is the people.  That’s what we learn at the Walk for Hope each year.  Sure the quotes are great.  This year they were even hand made and literally took over three months to create.  The activity stations are great too, they give the walkers a chance to pause, interact and reflect.  But year after year, people always say that the best part of the walk is interacting with all the people that are there.  What a concept, just your mere presence becomes a gift at the walk for hope.  Just by choosing to walk, you are giving a gift to another walker.

The people that come to the Walk are pretty unique I would agree.  They participate in both the moments of silence and the warm-up exercises by the Laker Girls.  They wish to make the world a better place and they know that they can’t do that by judging others.  They give of their lives, of their resources, and of their hearts.

I learned this first hand.

15 minutes into the event, someone who had traveled from Northern California to be at this event walked up to me and handed me an envelope.  They said that some random person had asked them to deliver it to me and that they wished to remain anonymous.  I suspected a few of the usual suspects but this was no ordinary random act of kindness.  The envelope had a quote hand written on the outside: “Nature is full of genius, full of divinity; so that not a snowflake escapes its fashioning hand” – Thoreau.  Through the thin envelope I could tell that it contained some money.  I opened the envelope and found $101.  I was shocked.  Someone had just handed me $101 and I had no idea who. 

All I could think about was how amazing the people at the Walk for Hope are.  Their mere presence was a gift to me, but now that gift also came with $101.  I wasn’t sure what I would do with the money, but I was already thinking of creative ways to give it away.

Lost in my thoughts I continued to mingle with the crowd.  15 minutes pass by and a random person approaches me.  They hand me an envelope.  Same story.  Someone had asked them to deliver the envelope to me and yet they refused to get any recognition.  There is another quote hand-written on the envelope: “The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.  It is the source of all true art and science.” -Albert Einstein.  I open the envelope and inside I find $101.

15 minutes later, someone approaches me, hands me an envelope and smiles.  “This is from a random stranger who wishes to remain anonymous”.  They place the envelope in my open hands and walk away.  All I can do is stare in their direction as they leave me speechless.  I don’t know who this delivery person is, or who they had just met, but the interaction that took place between these two strangers is changing my life.  Time becomes more visible.  A few minutes ago a transaction took place.  Two people met, some conversation took place, and a gift was exchanged.  In this present moment, one of the two strangers is handing me an envelope.  Somehow, without knowing, without choosing, my life is tied to the interaction of these two strangers.  “The best way to find yourself, is to lose yourself in the service of others.” – Gandhi, it says on the envelope.  Inside is $101.

Noon rolls around and I now have seven envelopes in my pocket.  I’m scared.  I begin to fear every person who comes up to me to say hello.  I have the great fortune of being able to interact with many people on the day of the Walk, and now this role scares me.  I’ve got $707 dollars in my pocket and I know that each additional penny that I collect will force me to open my heart in ways it has not opened before. 

I sit down and this time it’s a nun.  She greets me with “Om Shanti”, which to me in that moment means: let there be love between us.  She hands me an envelope, walks away, and leaves me in tears.  The Walk for Hope is almost over, I have to make my way to the stage to make a few announcements yet all I can do is sit and cry.  Om Shanti.

I learned to accept.  I learned to bow.  I learned to touch the feet of every person who handed me an envelope.  I learned that there is love between us.  I learned to cry.  I learned that someone somewhere out there has faith in me.  I learned to have faith in myself. 

With ten profound gestures of kindness, I ended up with ten envelopes, ten quotes and $1010 in my pocket.  (Revised: Actually I ended up with 11 envelopes, 11 quotes, 11 profound gestures, and a total of $1111… all one(s) ).

11 random strangers learned the joy of giving.  They became tied to my life.  Dear friend, whoever you may be, thank you for the envelopes, the love you left inside, the quotes, and for the 11 random people you brought into my life. Continue reading →