Trust is everything, nurture it

Mar 15, 2010, 12.00am IST
ANIL DHIRUBHAI AMBANI.

Trust was the foundation on which my father, Dhirubhai Ambani, built his life, his enormous wealth of relationships, and one of India’s greatest business enterprises.

The absolute sanctity he attached to trust is reflected in the very name that he gave to his business – Reliance. It was his way of saying to the world, “You can rely on me.”

Without reliance, he said, there can be neither trust, nor relationships, neither family nor life itself. Reliance means many things. But, first and foremost, it is a deep sense of honour, a commitment to one’s word.

When Kaikeyi approached Dashratha for the grant of her boons, he was devastated and broken. How could he send his beloved Rama to exile? How could he deny him, the righteous one, the throne? How could he nominate Bharata as his successor?


But, equally, could he afford to break his word, not keep his promise? Dashratha knew the answer but he had his moment of doubt.

Rama had none.


When the news of his terrible fate was broken to him – by Kaikeyi, not Dashratha, who was too distraught to talk, one might remember – he was the very picture of tranquillity.

If father had given his word, could Rama ever think of going back on it! His was to obey, not question, follow, not doubt, surrender, not seek. Raghukula Riti Sadaa Chali Aai, Praan Jaahun Paru Bachanu Na Jaai . (Ayodhya Kanda). Could there be a higher example of trust?

Lord Rama knew in his heart, as a billion Indians do, that trust is not about taking short-cuts, it is not about taking the easy way out. Trust is all or it is nothing. Make a sacrifice if necessary; but do what is right rather than what is convenient.


Trust is also my father’s proudest legacy to all of us, our most precious inheritance.

Sadly, a legacy might not be forever. More than what you get, it is what you make of it. Cherish it, and it grows. Neglect it and it wilts. Like a tender young sapling, it demands constant care and concern.

Looking back over the last few years, I am deeply and painfully aware of how easy it is to lose touch with one’s values. How easy it is to let one’s samskaras turn into empty words without meaning or intent.

How easy it is to let the obsession with self – ‘I, me, mine’ – vitiate even the purest, most selfless of relationships – the bond between a child and his mother.

This takes us beyond trust to a realm yet higher; a realm so sacred, so exalted that it is likened, in our scriptures, to divinity itself. There is no higher duty, purpose or end in life, say our epics, than an unconditional surrender to a mother’s love, a supreme respect for her will, a devotion to her well-being.


“Verily,” say the Vedas, “the mother is God”. “Matrudevo bhava!” proclaims the Taittriya Upanishad. “Honour thy mother. Look upon her as God.”
Can one worship God without total trust? Can one show her reverence without bowing one’s head in absolute humility? Can one break a word spoken solemnly in her presence?


And if one does – in the mindless pursuit of power, ego or material riches – what has one gained and, more importantly, what has one really lost?