In the quiet town of Lalgudi, there lived a clerk named Venkatesh who worked in the municipal office. Every morning he walked to work along the same dusty road, past the same banyan tree, the same tea-stall, and the same group of neighbours who stood gossiping under the shade.
One day, as he was hurrying past, old man Krishnan called out, “Venkatesh! Stop by for a tea ! Did you hear what that new fellow next door is saying about your promotion?”
Venkatesh stopped, then remembered something he had read the night before in a little book his son had brought from the library. He smiled politely and said, “No, Krishnan-sir. And I don’t think I need to.”
The old man looked puzzled. “But everyone is talking!”
Venkatesh adjusted the strap of his old leather bag and replied gently, “You know, there is a great deal of trouble a man can avoid if he does not keep looking over the wall to see what his neighbour says or does or even thinks. I have only to watch what I myself am doing, and see that it is just and clean.”
Krishnan scratched his head. “You talk like those old philosophers.”
“Perhaps,” said Venkatesh. “There was one who quoted a poet named Agathon. He said, ‘Do not look around at the crooked ways of others. Run straight along the line without turning aside.’”
That evening, while sitting on the steps of his small house, Venkatesh explained the idea to his wife as simply as he could.
“Imagine,” he said, “that a man’s purpose in life is like a single point far ahead. The only sensible thing is to walk straight towards it, along a clear line. The principles one lives by—honesty, kindness, doing one’s duty without fuss—these are the rails that keep the feet from wandering. If someone wishes to walk with you, well and good. Take them along. If they prefer to stand under the banyan tree and talk of other people’s faults, leave them there. Move on. No moaning, no groaning, no complaints.”
His wife looked at him for a moment and then laughed softly. “You have become a philosopher after reading one page.”
Venkatesh smiled. “Not a philosopher. Just a clerk who has decided that looking over the wall takes more time than walking straight.”
And from that day, whenever the neighbours called out with fresh stories, Venkatesh would raise his hand in a friendly wave and keep walking, eyes fixed on the quiet point far ahead, along the straight line of his own work and his own conscience.