Ranjan Lekhy
Once upon a time, a highly educated young professor embarked on a sea voyage. He taught at a university. His name was preceded and followed by a long list of titles and degrees. Society regarded him as a great scholar and a storehouse of knowledge. But he was almost completely unfamiliar with the real experiences of life.
In the cabin next to his on the ship, an old man was also cruising around the world. During their introduction, the professor learned he was a fisherman. Now, in his old age, he had taken retirement and was enjoying life by going on a sea cruise. Due to poverty, he had entered the fishing profession from childhood, so he had never been able to study. But years and years of experience in his work had given him such knowledge about the sea, the weather, and life that no book could provide. The skin of his body had become rough from the sun’s heat and the salty sea breeze; the calluses on his rough hands and the deep thick lines told the story of hard labor; and his moist eyes silently sang the song of countless waves of memories from the ocean.
Every evening, just before sunset, the professor would come up on deck, sit in a comfortable chair, and enjoy the sight of the sinking sun. The red sun would slowly disappear into the blue sky. The colors of the sky and the sea kept changing every moment due to the sun’s rays, but at the moment of sunset, the entire horizon and earth would turn golden. The old fisherman would also come and quietly sit in the chair next to the professor. The professor would boast about his knowledge. He knew sixteen languages and would show off, saying there was no one else like him—a true polyglot. The fisherman would listen spellbound to the professor’s talk of heaven and earth. Hearing the professor speak clearly and fluently in his own mother tongue astonished the fisherman—he fell completely silent. The poor old man knew nothing beyond fishing in the sea and his own language. It seemed to him that he was hearing some mysterious things that only educated people could understand, and no one else.
After a few hours of conversation, when the old fisherman would get up from his chair to head back to his cabin, the young professor asked him, “Fisherman, have you ever heard of Geology?”
The old man hesitated a little and said, “What is that, sir?”
The professor smiled slightly and said, “It is the science of the earth—this discipline (logos) explains how the earth was formed, its soil, rocks, stones, mountains, rivers, and oceans came to be.”
The old fisherman shook his head in embarrassment and said, “No, sir, I have never studied anything. I couldn’t even go to school.”
The professor took a deep breath and said gravely, “Old man, living on this earth without knowing Geology! You have wasted a quarter of your life.”
The fisherman’s face fell. He walked away quietly from there. His heart felt heavy—“Have I really wasted a quarter of my life? If such a great scholar says so, perhaps he is right.”
The next day, the same thing happened again—conversation, talk of knowledge and science, and then another question from the young professor: “Fisherman, have you studied Marinology?”
“Marinology?” the fisherman asked, embarrassed and surprised. “No, sir, I have never even heard that name.”
The professor shook his head with a condescending look and said, “You have spent your entire life on the sea, yet you don’t know Marinology! Marinology means the science of the ocean. Fisherman, you have wasted half your life.”
Now the fisherman became even sadder. “Half my life?” he murmured. “Have I really learned nothing meaningful?”
The next day, the sequence repeated. The professor asked again, “Old man, at least you must know Meteorology, right?”
The old fisherman felt ashamed again and said, “No, sir. As I told you, I am an illiterate. I know nothing.”
The professor became very disappointed and said regretfully, “No Geology, no Marinology, and no Meteorology. You face all these things every day, yet you know nothing about them. Tell me, how can one fish in the sea without knowing weather science? Old man, you have wasted three-quarters of your life.”
Now the fisherman’s head bowed even lower with pain and shame. With a heavy heart, he walked toward his cabin. Lying flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he thought, “Three-quarters of my life wasted! What have I done so far? Caught fish, sold, eaten, slept, raised children. Nothing beyond that. Not a drop of knowledge. The professor is not wrong.”
That night he could not sleep properly. The professor’s words kept playing in his mind all night. His life began to feel worthless and meaningless to him. Thinking like this, he didn’t even realize when he finally fell asleep.
The next morning, a terrible storm suddenly arose at sea. The sky filled with dense black clouds. The waves of the sea became uncontrollable and began to roar like elephants. The wooden ship started rocking violently. Before the captain could lower the sails, with a terrifying loud crash, the ship struck a rock.
Panic broke out everywhere. In the chaos, many passengers fell and were injured; screams and shouts filled the air. The captain warned, “The ship is sinking. Save yourselves!”
Hearing the commotion outside and feeling the jolts, the professor rushed out of his cabin toward the deck. On the way, the old fisherman was coming toward him. His face was serious. In a desperate voice, the fisherman asked, “Professor sir! Do you know Helelogy?”
The professor asked in a panicked voice, “What is that? I have never heard about Helelogy. Do you mean Science of the Sun?”
Then the old fisherman said in a straightforward tone, “No Sir! Do you know how to swim (in Tharu Hele or helanai means to swim and in Hawaiin it means ‘to hurry up or to move’)? The ship is sinking.”
Hearing this, the professor, terrified and hopeless, said, “I have read books about swimming techniques, but I don’t know how to swim.”
The fisherman’s heart filled with compassion and pity. But helplessly, in a deep voice, he said, “Professor sir, you have wasted your entire life. The ship is sinking. The one who knows how to swim can reach some shore and save his life. But the one who cannot swim will disappear into the depths of this vast ocean. It pains me greatly that you have learned everything except how to swim. What can be done now? Still, thrash your arms and legs—try to save your life if you can.”
Saying this, the old fisherman left the learned professor standing there and jumped into the sea with a splash. Cutting through the huge waves, he moved forward—toward life. In truth, this was his daily work. For years, while fishing, he had cut through the deadly waves of the sea and emerged.
The professor remained standing there—stunned, ashamed, and terrified. Slowly the ship began to sink. Paralyzed by fear, he could not even attempt to thrash his limbs. As he started drowning, he realized that the most important thing in his life was not learning science—it was learning the science of swimming, the science of living.
