Who doesn’t like a little gossip? Or a little back biting. Pretty natural human tendencies these are.
If someone causes something to happen to us, we immediately transform into telltale narrators. “You know what he did to me?”, or “It’s because of her only that I had to do this…”.
But when Lord Rama was exiled by his own father Dasharatha and asked to go to the forest for many years, how did he break the news to his mother?
Not by cribbing about how his old man had lost it in his senility. Instead, he only said this:
Mother, my father has asked me to be the King of the forest, and I seek your blessings.
Can we imbibe such a pristine quality into our own daily lives, despite having nowhere near as miserable misfortunes?