The Pothole on Ashram Road

Ravi Ila Bhatt
It was the peak of the monsoon in Ahmedabad, and the city had been battered by a heavy downpour all night. By morning, the lanes of the old city were flooded, and the main roads were a mess of muddy slush and hidden potholes.
Manav, a young aspiring entrepreneur, was in a massive rush. He was driving his small delivery van filled with handmade snacks from his mother’s home business, heading toward a major exhibition at the University Ground. This was his big break, but the traffic was crawling.
While trying to take a shortcut through a side lane near Income Tax Cross Roads, his front tire went into a massive, water-logged pothole with a sickening thud. He revved the engine, but the wheels just spun in the muck, splashing grey sludge all over his clean white shirt.
Manav got out, looked at the mud, and threw his hands up in despair. He didn't even try to find a wooden plank or push. He just stood under his umbrella, scrolling through his phone, complaining on Twitter about the municipal corporation, and looking at the sky.
"Why me? Why today?" he groaned aloud. "Bhagwan, I’ve worked so hard for this exhibition! Why are you doing this to me? Send someone to help, please!"
Just then, an old man walking by with a grocery bag stopped. He had a sharp, knowing look in his eyes. "Beta," the old man said, "do you think that van is going to fly out of the hole just because you’re tagging the CMO on Twitter or praying to the clouds?"
Manav snapped, "Kaka, can't you see I'm stuck? I'm waiting for help!"
The old man smiled. "Help doesn't come to those who stand with their hands in their pockets. You haven't even tried to get your hands dirty. Put your phone away, get down there, find some stones to give the tire some grip, and push while you accelerate. Bhagwan only helps the person whose hands are already on the wheel."
Feeling a sudden sting of shame, Manav realized he had been waiting for a miracle instead of making an effort. He tucked his trousers up, found some discarded bricks nearby, and jammed them under the tire. He got back in, gave it a steady rev, and leaned his weight forward.
With a roar and a bit of a struggle, the van popped out of the pothole.
Manav looked back to thank the old man, but he had already disappeared into the crowds of Ashram Road. Manav wiped his muddy hands, feeling more empowered than he had all morning, and drove off toward his future.
Moral
God only helps when you make the effort yourself. Don't wait for luck, fate, or others to fix your problems while you sit idle. Put your shoulder to the wheel, and you’ll find that the universe moves with you.