As the train from Trivandrum to Kochi rolled along, I found an empty row, sat down, and drifted to sleep. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks transported me back to 1959, when I traveled in crowded general compartments, sleeping on the floor, to visit my grandfather in Amritsar. Life was simple, and though we had little, I never felt poor.

I woke as the train neared Ernakulam Junction. Stepping toward the bathroom, I paused — it was occupied. Outside the door, I saw piles of garbage lining the tracks, dumped over the years by careless hands. It struck me: this was not just physical pollution but the result of deeper conditioning — a freedom misunderstood, a culture shaped by ego and ignorance.

Human behavior, like Pavlov’s dog, is conditioned by repetition. We learn by example. I remembered a childhood experiment: children who watched violence without consequences repeated it. Those who saw accountability, did not.

Even in my youth, I faced moral tests. Once, I found a 100-rupee note at a fruit stall. I pocketed it, but when I told my father, he sent me back to return it. My mother walked with me. That day, I learned honesty matters — even when no one’s watching.

My father, a government officer, was often offered bribes hidden in fruit baskets. He returned every one. “God has given me enough,” he would say. He lived with integrity — and died peacefully, without regret.

We grow up shaped by family, teachers, society — conditioned by what we see and accept. But as Gandhi taught us, no work is beneath us, and no person is above another. He cleaned his own toilets, defying caste and custom, because dignity lies in action, not status.

As the train slowed into the station, I realized: the garbage outside could be cleaned — but only if we first cleanse what’s inside us.