Whose blood is in your bread?

The sage Nanak was travelling across the northern Indian subcontinent and beyond. His fame as a wise observer and enlightened teacher had grown, and crowds would flock to see him and hear his discourses, wherever he visited.

He arrived in a town dominated by a very wealthy man. When the rich personage heard Nanak was in town, he was keen to impress and invited him to a feast at his house. At the same time, Nanak met a humble carpenter, an honest and hardworking man. Nanak chose the carpenter’s house, and ate simple homemade bread there.

The rich man was offended, and confronted Nanak, wondering why he would choose to eat simple food at the home of a nonentity, rather than the lavish feast prepared for him in a mansion. Nanak’s response was simple. He told the moneyed fellow that if he squeezed the carpenter’s bread, pure milk would come out of it, because the bread was earned through honest hard work. But from the rich man’s bread would issue blood, because he was known to be an exploiter of the poor and had become rich through unjust and dishonest practices. There was exploitation and suffering embedded in that bread.

Nanak’s successors went on to found Sikhism, and this practice—kirat—was central to all his teachings. It refers to the earning of an honest living, not one based on unscrupulous and underhand practices that cause distress to others. Nanak’s metaphor of blood in the rich man’s bread was intended to convey a message about earning ethically.

That was five centuries ago, but today, perhaps more than ever, we need to reflect on what it meanings to earn an honest living. Now, all the shortcuts to success are celebrated: trickery, manipulation, exploitation, corruption, even outright thievery. An honest living, however, is ignored and even denigrated. 

Can we really not advance on the qualities of personal integrity, fairness of mind, and a deep respect for the dignity of others? Can we not succeed without making someone else suffer?

What does it take to earn an honest living? It means deserving our earnings by basing them on hard work, ingenuity, and giving value out. It requires that we treat those who work for us with dignity and respect, and compensate them with utmost fairness. It demands that we do not reap by polluting or denuding our planet, or exploiting the vulnerable. It insists that we do not deceive or dupe anyone in any transaction, or take advantage of their ignorance.

Does that sound like you or your organisation? Can you hold your head up high and say your bread does not contain anyone’s blood?

What about at the level of the nation? The net worth of leaders has become a performative game. But where do they come from, these riches of those who lead us? From honest endeavour and business acumen? No problem with that. But if the wealth comes from funds diverted away from children in schools and patients in hospitals; or from the plunder of the nation’s collective endowments; or from shady schemes that promise the moon and deliver hot air; then the bread that is being eaten is steeped in the blood of the citizenry.

Jesus also gave us a similar tale, of a rich man who ignored the torments of Lazarus and enjoyed his wealth without any concern for the suffering around him. In both parables, the sin lies not in the wealth itself, but in the manner in which it is generated, and in the failure to use it compassionately and generously.

Nanak saw good work as a form of meditation and worship. We work well not only to make products or earn rewards, but to engage in spiritual practice. Work done the right way is a form of gratitude for the skills and opportunities that have come our way; it is a service to things bigger than us.

Genuine success is not counted in villas and limousines and obscene luxuries. It lies in the honesty that underpins the method of earning. The formula is simple: do not cheat, deceive, exploit, hoard, neglect, or flaunt.

Even if you are not of a spiritual bent, there are pragmatic reasons to shy away from bad earnings. To live large off the suffering of others is not a sustainable practice. Those who suffer will eventually rise up and visit consequences on you. Ill-gotten wealth may bring temporary enjoyment, but if your bread is filled with the blood of multitudes, then you are imbibing a poison that will seep into every aspect of your life and the lives of your descendants. Blood money brings in its train its own karmic consequences: broken relationships; tainted reputations; endless battles with the victims or the wronged; and the constant fear of being exposed. Blood in your bread is a curse that will afflict you and your heirs, who will inherit not just your riches but your moral bankruptcy and the maledictions of those you have exploited. 

When earned correctly, even modest wealth bestows a lasting peace, a deep sense of fulfilment, and a quiet pride in having done no harm to others.

(Sunday Nation, 1 September 2024)

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