Keeping Score

By Dr. Tilak Verma

Evening Vedanta class at the Vedanta Society of Providence was about to begin, and Chuck (not his real name) asked if I might give him a ride home later.

I said yes, quite readily, perhaps eagerly. Because I am keeping score.

Chuck is a perfect student of Vedanta. He takes copious notes and has already filled some 800 pages. He extracts a notebook and pen from a bag and starts writing, single space, and by the end of class has filled several more pages. He makes thoughtful comments and asks probing questions. 

Another thing he is known for are his ear-splitting sneezes that can rouse you out of reveries, drifting mind, or slumber, and yet have enough energy left to shatter a window. On the drive home, he gives precise directions, which include helpful pointers and alerts on traffic signs and lights and locations of pedestrians, etc.

Decades earlier, I recall being in a similar situation--that of needing a ride.  

We were nearing the end of our medical training after medical school, a period called residency, and a major, must pass, board certification examination loomed. I had enrolled in a review course held once weekly, at a renowned medical school in New York City. Not wishing to add the stress of Manhattan’s rush hour traffic and parking woes, I would leave my car at my hospital and take two subway rides into the city and then walk a few blocks to the lecture hall.  

At the very first session, I noticed a fellow resident, whom I will call Mike, had signed up for the same 8-week course. He was a couple of years ahead of me, and we would periodically have overlapping rotations at the same medical center. Unfazed by hassles of getting downtown, he had driven in and at the conclusion of class offered a ride back after the first and then after all the subsequent ones.

We likely spoke about the class we had just taken, or the perpetual lack of sleep from the long hours of being on call and the upcoming examination. What I do know is that he took a detour from his way hom, to get me back to my car and didn’t complain even once. Rather, he did it cheerfully and declined my frequent offers to share the cost of gasoline and parking.

Vedantic philosophy would describe Mike’s actions as being a form of KARMA YOGA, where a task, duty or act is performed without expectation of reward and as a spiritual offering. We perform actions constantly, and it is both liberating and empowering if we can free ourselves from constant worry over outcomes and renounce the results of our actions. 

In my thinking, giving Chuck a ride enabled me to check off one that Mike had given. It felt good, but it also felt like a crucial element was missing. 

Gratitude!

I started searching for Mike. Did he leave the city? What became of him? Eventually, I located him or someone who might be him and picked up the telephone and called.

I recognized him instantly from his voice.

“Mike?” I said tentatively. 

“Yes.”

“This is Tilak.” 

“Oh, yes, you know, I have been thinking of you, I’m glad you called.” 

We shared updates about our careers, what we did, and our personal journeys.

“There is a reason I called,” I said and launched into the rides he gave me and the need I now have to thank him sincerely. He said that no thanks were needed and added, “I owe you an apology.” 

“For what?” I asked, surprised.“I once, after rounds in the ICU with our Professor, commented that I disliked you,” he confessed.

“I have no recollection of that,” I replied.

“No, it did happen, and I am sorry. I was simply intimidated and envious at times,” he added.

We talked some more and exchanged contact information. …

We were both simply keeping score and that particular karmic account was perhaps settled.