ఉపాయం

ఉపాయం - 416 When the climb Isn’t enough: Trust, power, and the fragility of modern relationships!

The Approach

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ఉపాయం - 416

Saint Thyagaraja’s “Gatti vadavani pattithi nee cheyi” is not merely a devotional song; it is a quiet philosophy of trust and responsibility. The devotee holds Krishna’s hand believing Him to be gatti vadivani—strong, steady, unfailing. The fear expressed is not of failure, loss, or hardship, but of something deeper: illusion (maya). If the very source of strength entangles the devotee in maya, how can life be managed at all? In this relationship, power carries duty. The stronger one is expected to protect, clarify, and remain steady, not confuse or abandon. Set against this is the modern emotional landscape reflected in “Swami Ji Please” in Priyanka Meher’s voice. Here, affection is wrapped in aspiration, charm, and movement. “Let me take you higher” speaks to ambition and escape, to rising together through momentum and allure. The bond feels alive as long as the climb continues. It is intoxicating, but fragile—dependent on speed, success, and shine. The contrast between these two worlds is revealing. Thyagaraja’s vision assumes that relationships are proven not when life is rising, but when it wavers. The devotee’s fear is not poverty or failure, but abandonment through confusion—when power shifts and clarity disappears. Modern relationships, however, often break precisely at this point. As careers advance, money accumulates, and influence grows, familial bonds quietly become conditional. Comparison enters through wealth, hierarchy enters through profession, and control slips in under the guise of care. What once sounded like “I hold your hand so I won’t fall” slowly turns into “I walk with you as long as we rise together.” When ascent slows, loyalty thins. Thyagaraja called this maya—the illusion that distorts perception and weakens the soul. Today, that illusion wears secular clothing. It tells us that attraction, visibility, success, and power can replace steadiness and character. They cannot. The real fragility of modern relationships lies not in the absence of love, but in love that is conditional—present while convenient, absent when tested by patience, sacrifice, or moral responsibility. For Indian-American youth stepping into careerhood, this insight is especially vital. You are entering spaces that reward speed, skill, and performance. You will be surrounded by people who encourage your rise, align with your success, and mirror your ambition. Enjoy the climb, but do not mistake momentum for loyalty. Pay attention to who remains grounded when outcomes are uncertain, when titles change, or when progress pauses. Build inner steadiness before outer success, because careers will rise and stall, and only values endure both. This is also where Indian-American parents play a decisive role. Guidance today cannot rest only on academic pressure or professional achievement. Parents must help children develop discernment—teaching them how to read people, not just resumes; how to recognize integrity, not just ambition. Conversations at home should normalize pauses, setbacks, and ethical dilemmas, so children do not equate worth with constant upward motion. Parents must model relationships that endure strain, humility in success, and restraint in power, because children absorb these lessons long before they encounter boardrooms or peer competition. Rather than urging children to impress, parents can guide them to remain rooted. Rather than shielding them from every fall, they can help them interpret setbacks without shame. And rather than defining success solely by status or income, they can emphasize character, accountability, and the ability to stand firm without losing compassion. Be mindful, both as youth and as parents, of relationships built solely on ascent. They feel exhilarating, but often lack the depth needed for endurance. Success will test character more sharply than failure ever did. How you treat others when strong—when authority, recognition, or leverage are present—reveals far more than how you behave when struggling. Seek hands that steady, not ones that merely dazzle. Thyagaraja’s quiet question still echoes across centuries: if even the strong abandon the weak when illusion intervenes, how does anyone survive? In an age obsessed with climbing higher, the deeper crisis is not falling behind, but becoming someone whose hand no longer stays when the climb ends. Climb if you must—but as parents and as children, never at the cost of becoming people others cannot trust to remain steady when it matters most!