Minds that move mountains

Thirukkural with the Times explores real-world lessons from the classic Tamil text ‘Thirukkural’. Written by Tamil poet and philosopher Thiruvalluvar, the Kural consists of 1,330 short couplets of seven words each. This text is divided into three books with teachings on virtue, wealth, and love and is considered one of the great works ever on ethics and morality. The Kural has influenced scholars and leaders across social, political, and philosophical spheres.Motivational speaker, author and diversity champion Bharathi Bhaskar explores the masterpiece.Last week, around this time, I was gazing at Mt. Fuji, Japan. The itinerary for our first day in Tokyo promised visits to a couple of lakes from where, it cautiously said, Mt. Fuji may be visible if the weather permits.Our team leader, Murali, had other plans. "Let's go to the foot of Fuji," he insisted to the tour organiser. The guide smiled politely and said, "You cannot always see Fujisan," he said. "Only if you are lucky.” We insisted and the little detour began.The bus which had echoed with songs, jokes and endless chatter suddenly fell silent.As the bus crossed a bend, the guide said over the microphone. "Look to your right. Sometimes she disappears the very next minute."There she was.No mist. No clouds. Fujisan stood before us, radiant against the blue sky, as though she had chosen to welcome our little group. We were among the fortunate ones.Seeing Mt. Fuji had long been a dream. Japanese poetry has celebrated this mountain for centuries—not merely for its flawless shape, but for the serenity and sacredness it radiates. The poet Yone Noguchi captured the feeling beautifully:"O white-faced wonder, O matchless sight, O sublimity, O beauty... As one in a dream of a poem, we being around thee forget to die."For centuries, climbing Mt. Fuji was never considered just a trek. It was a spiritual discipline known as Zenjō. Zen monks ascended the mountain as a moving meditation. The physical exhaustion, followed by the breathtaking vision of Fuji glowing in the morning sun, became a metaphor for emptying the ego before attaining enlightenment. A cherished Zen saying reminds us, "When the sky is clear, Fuji appears." It is not merely about the weather. A quiet, uncluttered mind reflects the truth.Standing at the foot of Japan's tallest mountain, a semi-dormant volcano, I found myself thinking of another Zen practice inspired by these mountains—Shikantaza, literally, "just sitting."In a world that glorifies constant action, just sitting sounds almost absurd. Yet it is one of the deepest forms of meditation. It teaches us to remain fully present without resistance. When our minds are restless and life is turbulent, there is immense strength in simply being still. Acceptance is not surrender to defeat; it is surrender to reality. And from that acceptance emerges the strength to observe, understand and move forward.Perhaps that is what Fuji stands for.As we walked back to the bus, we spotted little shops displaying paintings of the mountain. Japanese artists often layer delicate washes of water over their canvases, allowing light as if it is imprisoned within the colours. That subtle translucence mirrors

Japanese culture

— gentle, understated and profound.Yet history reminds us of another Japan. The same civilisation capable of such exquisite refinement also unleashed unimaginable brutality across Asia during the World War II —from the massacres in Singapore to the sufferings inflicted on prisoners forced to build the Siam-Burma death track. Like Fuji herself, beneath breathtaking beauty rests the silent fire of a volcano.As the bus prepared to leave, I took one last look at the serene mountain. The Zen masters say, "Conquering Mt. Fuji is admirable; conquering yourself is far greater”. I thought, every mountain offers the same illumination. Vallular too echoes this:"Nilayin Thiriyaadhu Adangiyaan Thotram Malayinum Maanap Peridhu.""More imposing than a mountain is the stature of one who remains steadfast and self-controlled."(Thirukkural 124)I bowed instinctively before Fujisan, just as the Japanese do. One person in our group said – ‘Let’s see Mt Fuji tomorrow as well’. Our guide smiled and shared another proverb."A wise man climbs Mt. Fuji once; only a fool climbs it twice."Our laughter filled the bus. But somewhere behind us stood Fuji — silent, unmoved, and still teaching.