The Runner I Was Competing With — Who Never Knew...

Yesterday morning, while I was out jogging, I noticed a man about 200 meters ahead of me.

From the rhythm of his stride and the consistency of his pace, I could sense that he was running at almost the same speed as I was. That realization triggered something inside me. It felt like a challenge — a silent competition.

“I can catch him,” I told myself.

So I gradually increased my pace.

Step by step, the distance between us began to shrink. What was once 200 meters became 150… then 100… then 50. After a few minutes, we were barely 20 feet apart.

At that point, my goal became singular: overtake him.

I pushed harder.

Faster breathing. Faster strides. More intensity.

Finally, I did it. I caught up to him. I passed him.

For a brief moment, I felt victorious.

“I overtook him,” I told myself with satisfaction.

But here’s the truth: he had no idea we were competing.

And in the process of trying to beat him, I realized I had lost something far more important.

What I Lost While Trying to Win

While my focus was locked onto overtaking him:

1. I missed the turn that leads to my home.
2. I lost the inner calm I usually feel during my morning runs.
3. I forgot to enjoy the beauty of the sunrise, the breeze, the trees.
4. In my unnecessary haste, I stumbled a couple of times on the side pavement. I could have easily injured myself.

That was my moment of awakening.

Isn’t this exactly how life works?

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The Invisible Race We Run Every Day

In life, there will always be someone ahead of us.

Someone with:

• A better job
• A higher salary
• A bigger house
• A more luxurious car
• A prestigious degree
• A seemingly perfect spouse
• “More successful” children
• A better social circle

And without even realizing it, we start running.

Not towards our own goals.

But towards beating them.

We begin competing with colleagues, neighbors, friends, even family members — trying to prove that we are ahead, more accomplished, more admired.

In that race:

• We lose our peace.
• We lose our clarity.
• We lose our direction.
• We lose the joy of the present moment.

All because of a competition that may not even exist.

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The Cost of Comparison

Comparison creates insecurity.

When our attention is constantly on:

• What others wear
• What car they drive
• Where they travel
• What they post
• How they speak
• How they appear

We begin to measure our worth through external markers.

And that is a dangerous metric.

Because there will always be someone ahead of you in some dimension of life.

If you make that your benchmark, you will never feel complete.

Comparison and competition — when misplaced — quietly steal your happiness.

Sometimes, in trying to push someone else down, we end up tripping ourselves.

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The Only Meaningful Competition

The truth is simple:

You are not in competition with anyone.

And no one is in competition with you.

Each person has a different starting point, different strengths, different struggles, and a different finish line.

The only meaningful competition is with the person you were yesterday.

Compete in:

• Expanding your knowledge
• Improving your character
• Strengthening your health
• Deepening your awareness
• Growing your wisdom

When you stop racing others and start refining yourself, life becomes steady.

Calm.

Purposeful.

Joyful.

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Run Your Own Race

Next time you feel the urge to compete, pause and ask:

“Is this my goal — or someone else’s?”

Because if you are not careful, you may win a race that never mattered… while losing the path that truly did.

Run your own race.

At your own pace.

With awareness.

With gratitude.

With peace.

When Perfection Teaches Children to Lie

We often scold children in the name of perfection.

“Why didn’t you do it properly?”
“You could have done better.”
“How many times should I tell you?”

On the surface, it feels like guidance. Deep down, we believe we are shaping them into better individuals. But something subtle and dangerous happens over time.

Children slowly stop trying to become perfect.
Instead, they start learning how to escape scoldings.

From Improvement to Avoidance

In the beginning, a child listens.
Then they hesitate.
Later, they calculate.

What answer will avoid trouble?
What version of the truth is safer?

Perfection pressure doesn’t create excellence—it creates evasion.

Children begin to hide information.
They edit facts.
They tell half-truths.

Not because they are dishonest by nature—but because honesty has become expensive.

What Are We Really Teaching?

When we over-correct children:

• They don’t learn responsibility
• They learn storytelling
• They don’t improve behaviour
• They improve defence mechanisms

Slowly, parents lose access to reality.

Children stop sharing:

• What they eat
• Where they go
• What they feel
• What they struggle with

And we wonder one day:

“Why doesn’t my child talk to me anymore?”

Perfection Is Not Safety

A child doesn’t need a perfect parent. A child needs a safe parent.

Safe to tell the truth.
Safe to fail.
Safe to be imperfect.

When correction is mixed with understanding, children grow. When correction is mixed with fear, children hide.

A Small Shift Makes a Big Difference

Instead of asking:

“Why did you do this?”

Try:

“What made you choose this?”

Instead of scolding:

“You should know better!”

Try:

“Let’s talk about what happened.”

Children who are not afraid of scolding are more likely to correct themselves. Children who fear perfection learn only one skill—escape.

Closing Thought

Perfection may look like discipline from outside.
But honesty grows only where there is acceptance.

If we want truthful children, we must first make truth safe.

Happiness in Being Needed: Lessons from Mani and Muthu

Happiness does not always come from achievements, money, or recognition.
Very often, it comes quietly—from old memories, from small relationships, and from people or beings who depended on us.

When we look back at life, we realize that some of our deepest happiness came from moments when someone trusted us, waited for us, or relied on us with love.

Sometimes, this “someone” is not even a human being.

It may be a pet.
It may be an employee.
It may be a simple person who depends on us for guidance, care, or emotional support.

And in serving them, unknowingly, we find our own peace.

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Mani – The Deaf Puppy Who Taught Me Love

When I was studying in Class VI, my father brought home a newborn puppy.
We named him Mani.

He was deaf.

At that age, I did not fully understand what “deaf” meant. But slowly, we noticed that Mani never reacted to sound. Even if we shouted his name loudly, he would not respond. When he slept, nothing could wake him up—not noise, not clapping, not calling.

Yet, he was full of life.

Every day, my sister and I poured milk for him.
We watched him drink happily.
We played with him.
We protected him.

When he was awake, he ran around joyfully.
When he was asleep, he looked so peaceful.

But the most beautiful moment was this:

Every day, he waited for us.

After school, when we returned home, Mani would be there—wagging his tail, jumping around, expressing happiness in his own silent way.

He could not hear us.
But he felt us.

He recognized us by presence, smell, and love.

That waiting… that dependence… that trust—
It created a bond stronger than words.

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The Joy of Being Needed

At that time, we were just children.
We did not realize that Mani was teaching us something important.

He depended on us for:

• Food
• Safety
• Care
• Companionship
• Love

And because he depended on us, we felt responsible.

That responsibility gave us happiness.

We felt important.
We felt useful.
We felt loved.

When someone waits for you sincerely, your heart automatically softens.

That is real happiness.

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Muthu – The Loyal Servant

Later in life, I experienced the same feeling in another way.

Muthu was a loyal servant.

He worked sincerely.
He respected deeply.
He showed genuine affection.

Not because of fear.
Not because of money alone.
But because of trust.

He depended on me.

For guidance.
For support.
For fairness.
For encouragement.

And I depended on him too.

For reliability.
For honesty.
For loyalty.

This mutual dependence created a relationship beyond employer and employee.

It created dignity.

And once again, I felt that silent happiness—
The happiness of being responsible for someone’s well-being.

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Why Serving Others Makes Us Happy

We often think happiness comes from “getting”.

Getting success.
Getting wealth.
Getting fame.
Getting praise.

But real happiness comes from “giving”.

Giving care.
Giving time.
Giving protection.
Giving respect.
Giving emotional security.

When someone depends on us:

• We become more compassionate
• We become more patient
• We become more responsible
• We become more human

Serving others polishes our character.

It removes ego.
It builds humility.
It strengthens empathy.

And these qualities bring long-term peace.

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Dependence Is Not Weakness

In today’s world, “dependence” is often seen as weakness.

But that is wrong.

Healthy dependence is trust.

When a dog waits for you,
When an employee trusts you,
When someone looks up to you—

It means you matter.

It means your presence makes a difference.

That is a privilege.

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Chewing Old Memories

As years pass, many things fade.

Money changes.
Positions change.
People move on.

But memories remain.

Sometimes, when life feels heavy, I think of Mani waiting at the gate.
I think of Muthu loyalty.
I think of simple relationships.

And my heart feels light again.

Those memories are like medicine.

They remind me that I was once useful to someone.
That I once mattered deeply to another life.

And that is enough.

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Conclusion: Happiness Lies in Responsibility

True happiness does not always come from being served.

Often, it comes from serving.

It comes from being needed.
From being trusted.
From being depended upon.

Whether it is a deaf puppy,
A loyal employee,
A family member,
Or a friend—

Every dependent relationship teaches us humanity.

Mani taught me love without words.
Ganesan taught me loyalty without conditions.

Both taught me that:

The heart becomes richest when it learns to care.

And in caring for others, we quietly find ourselves.

A Life of Quiet Strength and Selfless Service

Some people live not for recognition, but for responsibility, compassion, and inner growth. RG Baskkaran Mama was one such person—quiet in nature, firm in values, and unwavering in his commitment to family and society.

My association with him was only for the last couple of years, yet in that short time, I could clearly see the depth of his character and the richness of his life journey.

A Journey Shaped by Responsibility

Due to family circumstances, Baskkaran Mama could not pursue higher education. However, instead of allowing this limitation to define him, he transformed it into a powerful motivation. He ensured that all his three children received quality education, believing firmly that learning is the strongest foundation for life.

Together with his wife, he created a home where discipline, values, and care for others were naturally cultivated.

A Pillar of Family Strength

Baskkaran Mama stood as a backbone of his family through many difficult times.

He devotedly cared for his sister, who suffered severe full-body burns and remained hospitalized for more than six months. During this period, he showed extraordinary patience, resilience, and emotional strength.

He consistently supported his elder brother, Dr. Gothandaraman, in every possible way and ensured that the needs of his younger siblings were met. His life reflected the true meaning of family unity—where responsibility is shared, and love is unconditional.

Service Beyond Family

His compassion extended far beyond his own household.

Along with his wife, he took care of many elderly individuals who required tertiary medical care. He guided numerous people in their careers and often extended small financial help to those in need—quietly, without seeking acknowledgment.

For him, helping others was not charity. It was simply a way of life.

A Deep Spiritual Inclination

Baskkaran Mama possessed a strong spiritual orientation that guided his thoughts and actions.

He regularly took his entire family to the Rajapalayam Gurusamy Temple, making spiritual practice a shared experience. At home, he followed the Valalar Maargam, emphasizing compassion, purity, and inner discipline.

Later, he became closely associated with Arul Jothi Illam under the guidance of Sathiya Moorthi Ayya, where he practiced meditation periodically. Along with his family, he regularly read Vallalar’s Arutperumjothi Agaval, deepening their spiritual understanding.

His spirituality was not confined to rituals—it reflected in his calm demeanor, patience, and moral clarity.

A Life of Honest Work

Professionally, Baskkaran Mama served in United India Insurance and later became a dedicated LIC Agent. In both roles, he was known for sincerity, integrity, and commitment to his clients.

He believed that honest work, done with dedication, is itself a form of worship.

A Calm and Gentle Presence

Those who knew him will remember him as a calm, composed, and dignified person. He did not seek attention. He did not raise his voice. He did not complain about hardships.

Instead, he carried his responsibilities silently, with grace and courage.

A Legacy That Lives On

Though he is no longer physically with us, RG Baskkaran Mama’s life continues through the values he nurtured, the people he supported, and the family he strengthened.

His story reminds us that greatness does not always come from fame or wealth. Sometimes, it comes from:

• Choosing duty over comfort
• Service over self-interest
• Faith over fear
• Love over ego

Such lives may pass quietly, but their impact remains forever.

Final Tribute

May his soul attain eternal peace.

May his family find strength and comfort in his memories.

And may we all strive, in our own ways, to live with the same sincerity, compassion, and spiritual depth that defined his life.

Rest in Peace, RG Baskkaran Mama.
Your legacy of goodness will continue to inspire many. 🙏