Thirukkural with the Times explores real-world lessons from the classic Tamil text ‘Thirukkural’. Written by Tamil poet and philosopher Thiruvalluvar, the Kural consists of 1,330 short couplets of seven words each. This text is divided into three books with teachings on virtue, wealth, and love and is considered one of the great works ever on ethics and morality. The Kural has influenced scholars and leaders across social, political, and philosophical spheres.
Motivational speaker, author and diversity champion Bharathi Bhaskar explores the masterpiece.
A delayed domestic flight finally touched down in Chennai, and we were herded into a bus that crawled another 25 minutes before reaching the terminal. By the time the luggage arrived, irritation had settled like dust on my tiredness. I was eager to leave when a woman stopped me. I thought she might ask for a selfie but instead, she whispered, “In one of your speeches or columns, please share some tips for women who put up with toxic relationships.”
She looked like someone in their forties, but her face carried the fatigue of many more years. The circles beneath her eyes seemed carved into her skin. Her gait was heavy, as though she carried an invisible cross.
“Ma’am, I am not a counsellor,” I started, when she interjected, “But women like me cannot even dream of approaching a counsellor or a lawyer.”
I decided to address the issue quickly and move away. ‘If you sit and talk it out, any issue can be resolved’, I told her. I knew it sounded hollow. She shook her head. “He will not listen. The moment I initiate a discussion, my words dissolve in his abuses and emotional storms. There is no space for a conversation.” Her eyes carried rage, not directed at me, but at the futility of hearing the same empty counsel from many.
In front of me was a tortured soul. I cannot be beating around the bush. I looked at her in the eyes and said, “It is never too late to sever a relationship that has become unbearable.” She smiled, that of someone who is unable to cry. “It’s too late. The children will suffer.”
Grasping at another thread, I said, “Sometimes suffering can be seen as karma cleansing. If you believe in karma, think of it as reducing your karmic debt.” She gave me a faint smile, but it did not reach her eyes. I simply held her hand. And in that silence, I understood; people in such prisons do not always seek answers. They have tried, failed, endured. What they crave is not solutions , but empathy .
It is not only women who suffer. Men too fall into such traps. Wives who threaten to commit suicide, to go to the police station. The husbands won’t even be able to say a word. Dialogue is strangled before it can begin. In toxic relationships, love hardens into control, care mutates into manipulation, protection becomes possession.
Thiruvalluvar noticed such people centuries ago. He doesn’t offer comforting illusions; that patience can reform them, or love can redeem them. With the sharpness of a razor, he delivers the truth:
Eavavum seygalaan thaantheraan avvuyir
Poamalavum oor noi.
He neither listens, nor realises what he does; such a person
Is a disease until death departs.
Valluvar ’s brilliance lies in what he does not say. He spares us futile remedies and, in doing so, clears the fog. Acceptance itself can be strength to endure when there is no escape, and the courage to disunite when the moment comes.
Love is meant to give wings, not chains. Care is meant to bring comfort, not fear. That night at the airport, I realised that the deepest form of kindness is not advice, but a quiet hand, held in the silence of shared humanity.
Motivational speaker, author and diversity champion Bharathi Bhaskar explores the masterpiece.
A delayed domestic flight finally touched down in Chennai, and we were herded into a bus that crawled another 25 minutes before reaching the terminal. By the time the luggage arrived, irritation had settled like dust on my tiredness. I was eager to leave when a woman stopped me. I thought she might ask for a selfie but instead, she whispered, “In one of your speeches or columns, please share some tips for women who put up with toxic relationships.”
She looked like someone in their forties, but her face carried the fatigue of many more years. The circles beneath her eyes seemed carved into her skin. Her gait was heavy, as though she carried an invisible cross.
“Ma’am, I am not a counsellor,” I started, when she interjected, “But women like me cannot even dream of approaching a counsellor or a lawyer.”
I decided to address the issue quickly and move away. ‘If you sit and talk it out, any issue can be resolved’, I told her. I knew it sounded hollow. She shook her head. “He will not listen. The moment I initiate a discussion, my words dissolve in his abuses and emotional storms. There is no space for a conversation.” Her eyes carried rage, not directed at me, but at the futility of hearing the same empty counsel from many.
In front of me was a tortured soul. I cannot be beating around the bush. I looked at her in the eyes and said, “It is never too late to sever a relationship that has become unbearable.” She smiled, that of someone who is unable to cry. “It’s too late. The children will suffer.”
Grasping at another thread, I said, “Sometimes suffering can be seen as karma cleansing. If you believe in karma, think of it as reducing your karmic debt.” She gave me a faint smile, but it did not reach her eyes. I simply held her hand. And in that silence, I understood; people in such prisons do not always seek answers. They have tried, failed, endured. What they crave is not solutions , but empathy .
It is not only women who suffer. Men too fall into such traps. Wives who threaten to commit suicide, to go to the police station. The husbands won’t even be able to say a word. Dialogue is strangled before it can begin. In toxic relationships, love hardens into control, care mutates into manipulation, protection becomes possession.
Thiruvalluvar noticed such people centuries ago. He doesn’t offer comforting illusions; that patience can reform them, or love can redeem them. With the sharpness of a razor, he delivers the truth:
Eavavum seygalaan thaantheraan avvuyir
Poamalavum oor noi.
He neither listens, nor realises what he does; such a person
Is a disease until death departs.
Valluvar ’s brilliance lies in what he does not say. He spares us futile remedies and, in doing so, clears the fog. Acceptance itself can be strength to endure when there is no escape, and the courage to disunite when the moment comes.
Love is meant to give wings, not chains. Care is meant to bring comfort, not fear. That night at the airport, I realised that the deepest form of kindness is not advice, but a quiet hand, held in the silence of shared humanity.
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