The eminent Greek philosopher Socrates cracked a joke when his disciples sat around him on the pyal of his house. Nobody knows to this day what joke it was that set the house rocking with laughter. Xanthippe, wife of Socrates, who believed that only the stupidest people roared with laughter, howled from the inside of the house to stop laughing. A sepulchral silence prevailed. The vulgar shrew made her presence felt by bawling out expletives for a few minutes and finally said, "What is the use of driving sense into the callous heads of dullards? So master so disciples."

Socrates kept quiet. A few seconds later, he resumed his talk. Another joke created sounds of cheering that filtered in through the closed window. The shrew lost her mind. She carried a bucket of water to the balcony of the house and emptied it on the heads of the master and his disciples. Fully drenched, Socrates wiped his face and, amidst laughter, said, "Rain follows thunder."

Jokes apart, the great philosopher was indirectly teaching his disciples the art of patience. That is what every teacher should teach their students. By teaching patience, the teacher drives home the very essence of life - controlling one's anger. Control your anger ... you become the master of your self.

A few days ago, I visited a Home Needs centre with my wife and granddaughter. It was our monthly trip to the centre and we stored all the essentials in a big trolley. I was dragging the heavy trolley while my family members helped me by pushing it. We were nearing the entrance, which was also the exit, when an elderly gentleman stopped me and barked: "Have you any common sense? You stupid, fool of an ass."

I had never seen him before in my life and was wondering what actually infuriated him. I looked askance at him. He looked daggers at the newly purchased long-handled broom. It was not yet stripped of its well-packed cover. I understood that the broom that was sticking out of the trolley had grazed his bum, and that made him furious.

"The broom is new and not yet unpacked. Did it spoil your brand-new dhoti?" I was about to retort thus when something in me stopped those words from coming out of my mouth, and out came different words. I said, "Sorry ... I don't have any common sense. Please lend me some if you have much."

While many in the centre smiled, a few laughed. The 'old gentleman' in a fit of fury again barked at me. "You should use your brains when you move in the public." I replied, "Sorry! I don't have any brain but I will be happy to borrow it from you. Rest assured that it will be put to proper use."

People who were enjoying the free roadside theatre heckled and roared with laughter. Disappointed, the elderly gentleman moved away. I always believe in the saying of the Buddha: "He who angers you conquers you." But who conquered whom?

Anybody else in my place could have easily created a scene which would have ended up in a brawl. Much ado about nothing. It was my patience that stopped the would-be brawl.

Patience is passion tamed. Certainly, our patience is bound to achieve more than our force. A little patience should allow us to escape much mortification. What we usually forget is Time takes away as much as it gives. The Holy Bible also says the same thing but in different words: "For what glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently? But if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God." (1 Peter 2:20)

What we call God is patience incarnate. Once, a sage and four hooligans were crossing a river in a boat. It was a long ride, and the hooligans who had no patience wanted to have some fun at the expense of the sage. They began heckling at his appearance. His long grey beard and the cascade of hair rolled into a bun at the top of his head became their target of relaxation. The sage didn't care a hoot for them and continued with this meditation. A little later, the hooligans found delight in slapping the sage's face and punching him in the gut. Undisturbed, the sage went ahead with his meditation.

"This is too much, Sage. You don't have to be so patient with their tantrums. Say a word and I will upturn the boat. I will by all means save you," came a voice from the sky. The panic-stricken hooligans looked pathetically at the sage for fear that his one word would determine their fate. But the sage pacified them by saying, "Have your fun. That was not the voice of God. Enjoy your time, my young friends. It was the devil who spoke."

The jittery hooligans crouching in a corner of the boat darted towards the sage, fell at his feet and begged to be forgiven for their ignorance. The sage smiled and continued to meditate.

"Well done, my son. Sins cannot be undone, only forgiven," came another voice from a different side of the sky. The sage whispered, "That is the voice of God." Unfortunately, nobody heard God's voice. No wonder that the hooligans became the disciples of the sage. To wind up, let me quote a Chinese proverb: "Patience is power; with time and patience the mulberry leaf becomes silk."