by Shivani Chaudhary 
Houston

Sitting on the floor with my 1-year-old son, Yuvraj, trying and failing to encourage him to sit up, I turned over once more the questions that clamored day and night in my head, deafening as they were insistent: Why me? Why my son? Why this affliction? Why?

Something pressed my shoulder gently: my husband’s hand. 

“I said the sitter’s here, Shivani.” When I looked down at our son, kicking weakly in my lap, he added, “Come, it’s just one lunch, one afternoon. They’re looking forward to seeing you.”

These words, meant as encouragement, sent a kind of dread through me; the Shivani our friends were looking forward to seeing, the one they’d seen last, six years earlier, chirpy, happy-going, coming to port off the coast of Lisbon under blue skies, on favorable winds, no longer existed. I wondered if they would recognize the defeated person who’d arrived here in Singapore, a person so engrossed with her own misfortune that she didn’t register when people were speaking to her. I patted my husband’s hand and reluctantly rose.

A year earlier, in June of 2013, Yuvraj had been born prematurely with a severe visual impairment. At first, the doctors were confident he’d recover, but at nine months, after many failed operations, they declared him permanently blind. My husband, Mitush, a merchant naval officer with whom I’d gaily sailed the world for years, decided to come ashore for good, to support me in finding services for Yuvraj, a decision that stationed us in Singapore in February 2014.

Children with working eyes learn through observation; they see something—a brightly colored ball, for instance—and are stimulated to touch it, slap it, learn about it. This is how they gain strength, coordination and confidence. But for Yuvraj, the world was a frightful mystery. I spent my days agonizing over the puzzle of how to stimulate him to engage his environment. There were scant resources available for visually impaired infants in Singapore. On my own, the going was painfully slow and uncertain. It was here, where I had few friends, that I became completely engrossed with Yuvraj’s predicament and deaf to all but the incessant internal question, Why me? Somehow, though, a few words did reach me. Our first summer in Singapore, a concerned friend in India texted me the following quote from the Buddhist philosopher Daisaku Ikeda. It began: “Reality is harsh. It can be cruel and ugly. Yet no matter how much we grieve over our environment and circumstances nothing will change. What is important is not to be defeated, to forge ahead bravely” (daisakuikeda.org).

I’d actually been to an SGI meeting, just once, when I was a student in college. I recalled now the upbeat chanting of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo before a mandala—the Gohonzon—hung within a wooden altar. I asked this friend to connect me with the SGI in Singapore. She made some calls, but some weeks passed and no one reached out. On the way to the lunch with our friends from Lisbon, my thoughts were on Yuvraj, and on the little message, the little Buddhist warning: “Reality is harsh.”

When we arrived, I forced a smile, convincing no one. However, as we passed through the living room, I gasped at the sight of their altar. “SGI?” I asked. 

“Yes!” they said.

I went that day to my first SGI meeting and began chanting daily. Every day—
and I mean every day—for months on end, my district women’s leader bussed to my house on her lunch break to chant and study Buddhism with me. We didn’t read any theory at first, just people’s faith experiences. “You see?” she’d say. “This person totally transformed their karma and became happy! Why not you? Why not your son?” 

“This person totally transformed their karma and became happy! Why not you? Why not your son?”

Slowly, I gained inner strength, confidence and resolve. Seen through the Buddhist lens, I had no cause to lament; my obstacles were opportunities to reveal my true potential and life mission. Furthermore, Buddhism does not believe in coincidence. Speaking of his own family, Nichiren Daishonin says, “It is no doubt because of karmic forces that they became my parents, and I, their child” (“Letter to Jakunichi-bo,” The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, vol. 1, p. 993). In this sense, Yuvraj had chosen our family and his condition in order to fulfill his mission and teach us how to become absolutely happy. I stopped asking Why, and began asking the better question, How? How could I help Yuvraj fulfill his potential? 

I had heard from a friend in the SGI, a mother of a visually impaired child, that the United States offered excellent early-intervention services for visually impaired infants. I began chanting to move to the U.S. 

A few months later, in September 2014, my husband’s employer announced a job opening at their branch in Houston. Understanding that this was exactly what I’d been praying for so fervently, my husband quickly applied. A few weeks later, his request was turned down; the job was reserved for those with a high level of experience in the field. I continued to chant intensely that Yuvraj would receive the best care in order to fulfill his mission. A few months later, in January 2015, Mitush’s work held a dance. There, amid much merriment, it was suddenly announced that Mitush had been given the Texas job! We relocated there in April the same year.

Within our first few days in Houston, I put out a call letting the state know that I had a visually impaired toddler. On the tenth day following that call, five therapists showed up to our house, one after another, to work with Yuvraj. Watching them, I saw what I had begun to expect through my Buddhist practice: that Yuvraj was no less capable than children with working eyes; he simply had his own ways of learning. By the age of 3, he was fully caught up with his peers. 

As it turns out, Yuvraj is a comedian. Now, at age 9, his teachers remark that he has such a positive aura that when he is absent from school, something feels palpably missing. Every day has its challenges, but Yuvraj meets them head-on. In fact, his primary concern is the happiness of others. The other day, I asked, “What is blindness, Yuvraj?” and he shrugged. “Having no vision,” he said. Then, firmly, “Never feel: I can’t do this. You can do anything.”

For him, a better question is the one he asks me daily, first thing when he gets home from school. “Mom,” he calls, “are you happy?”

“What a good question,” I say. “You know the answer.” 

On October 29, Bharat Soka Gakkai (BSG) organized a Peace and Sustainability Conclave at the Dr. Ambedkar International Centre in New Delhi, India. Some 10,000 BSG members and guests including educators and government officials attended the event either in person or online. Shri Amit Sachdeva, a social entrepreneur, and Dia Mirza, the UN Environment Programme’s Goodwill Ambassador for India, delivered keynote addresses. The “Seeds of Hope & Action: Making the SDGs a Reality” exhibition, a joint initiative of the Earth Charter International and the SGI (Soka Gakkai International), was displayed at the event.     

On October 29 and 30, SGI-USA held an introductory level Buddhist study exam at some 100 venues across the US. On October 30, Soka Gakkai Indonesia held an intermediate level Buddhist study exam at 35 venues that was taken by over 150 people from different parts of the country. On November 6, an introductory level Buddhist study exam was held in Japan. Some 90,000 people took the exam at over 1,600 venues throughout the country.

On October 26, the Soka Gakkai’s Seikyo Shimbun newspaper announced that the sixth and final volume of the traditional Chinese edition of The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin has been published by Taiwan Soka Association.

On October 24, the Soka Gakkai affiliated Ikeda Center for Peace, Learning, and Dialogue and the SGI Office for UN Affairs co-organized a webinar titled “The Peace Proposals at 40: Creating Vibrant Hope and Advancing the Culture of Peace.” The online event, timed to coincide with United Nations Day, commemorated the publication of SGI President Daisaku Ikeda’s 40th peace proposal and was attended by some 400 people from 36 countries. Former UN Under-Secretary-General Ambassador Anwarul K. Chowdhury delivered the keynote speech, commending President Ikeda for his support of and contributions to the UN over many years. Following the speech, a discussion was held among panelists Alice Ferrario, education and youth coordinator of Senzatomica, Dr. Namrata Sharma, adjunct professor at the State University of New York at Oswego, Paulina Tandiono, associate human rights officer of the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights and Dr. Swee-Hin Toh, professor emeritus at the University of Alberta.

On October 23, SGI-Dominican Republic youth engaged in tree planting activities in La Vega. Sixty-nine volunteers planted 1,700 Mahogany saplings. This initiative has continued since 1998 and is supported by the Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources.

Living Buddhism: Earlier this year, you received your associate’s degree in Behavioral Sciences from Pasadena City College and are now on track for a bachelor’s in Africana Studies from California State University, Northridge. These accomplishments are some 50 years in the making. Certainly, you followed your own path to higher education.

Stephanie Wilson: Well, I’ve always been something of an oddball. An only child, raised by my aunt and uncle, I may have made my own way more than my friends who came up in typical two-parent households. Maybe because my family did not look “normal,” I was inclined to question things that others seemed to accept as normal.

What kinds of things did you question?

Stephanie: Church, for instance. Mine was an all-Black church, a lively place and, for me at that time, a good place to be. But while everyone was singing and giving praise, my mind was racing. Just across the street was an all-Asian church. What did they believe? I wanted to know. How did they worship? Why did we worship separately?  I’d ask around but no one seemed interested.

At school I had the same problem, firing off questions about things the other kids didn’t seem to put stock in. It was really my love of learning that got me pegged as an oddball. I was teased for liking school too much, bullied, even. So, over time, I learned to keep my questions to myself. I didn’t have the confidence to embrace what was a little odd, a little different, about me—my restless seeking spirit.

There was one class, though, where you didn’t hold back.

Stephanie: That’s right. In 1968, I attended Los Angeles Valley College as a freshman and enrolled in a course on African American history. I aced it; I let loose. The history of Black people—not just as a few tragic footnotes in U.S. history but as a collection of voices and stories of real people, Black people, who had struggled and survived that history—presented to me a legacy of spiritual strength and moral courage that I had never encountered in a classroom. It made me more curious about African American history and culture, and by extension, more curious about myself and my community. That class confirmed for me my sense that ordinary people possess deep inner strength and wisdom. I was guided by the question, What inner strength and wisdom was within my own life and the life of my community?

What a profound question. How did you see yourself using a college education?

Stephanie: I had always known that I had a deep spirit in me, only that it wasn’t moved so much by the notion of God as it was by acts of service to others. I remember when I was 14, too young myself to register folks to vote, running all over Oakland with a lady from the church to register volunteers who were themselves of age to do that. Though young, I felt powerfully driven to put power into the hands of ordinary people, to empower them to look within themselves to come up with their own answers to what was going on in their communities and personal lives. When I enrolled in college, it was because I wanted to receive an education that would help me do this for the people in my community.

But, a few big things caused me to drop out. My uncle, my father figure, had been battling cancer for some years and passed away, a loss I took very hard. I also worked full time and stepped up at home to support my aunt. Then, my second semester of freshman year, I became pregnant with my daughter. But something very important had taken place while at college—a classmate introduced me to Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. Though I did not attend Buddhist meetings or fully grasp the meaning, I would chant when I was stressed. It was not until I enrolled in college again years later, at Los Angeles Trade-Technical College in 1986, that this seed would sprout, and I’d engage with Buddhism in earnest.

What spurred you to fully engage the practice after so many years?

Stephanie: Well, a whole lot of things. I was 36 and a mother of two; my son had been born in 1974 and was 12. My daughter was 17. I was working a swing shift as an indoor technician for Pacific Bell while attending classes at L.A. Trade-Tech to get a better paying job. My aunt and I had moved to a new neighborhood, but not a very safe one for raising children. This was the ’80s, at the height of the crack epidemic in Los Angeles, and I worried constantly about my children.

I was near the same age as some of my Trade-Tech teachers and connected with them as peers. I asked one teacher who was battling cancer how she kept her spirits up, and she said it was by chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.

“I don’t have any money!” I blurted. “Can it help with that?”

You could say that I started practicing Buddhism out of emergency.

What made you want to keep practicing?

Stephanie: The people and the diversity. I went to that first meeting, and it just felt good, it felt right. People really cared about what I was going through; they wanted to know what was going on and to support me. Chanting for a better job and a supportive family environment, I put faith first and soon found that, despite my crazy schedule, everything was falling into a productive rhythm.

In the mornings, I made dinner and put it in the fridge for the kids to come home to. By 9 a.m., I would’ve dropped them off at school. My own classes were 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., after which I left for my swing shift at Pacific Bell, near campus. I’d get home around midnight and sit down in front of the Gohonzon for gongyo. Despite this, I rarely missed an SGI district meeting. My prayer for a supportive family was answered by the SGI community itself; knowing my hectic schedule, members and leaders would drive from all over to chant at my house, to give guidance and encouragement.

I’ve always been inspired by Ikeda Sensei’s words: “Reality is harsh. It can be cruel and ugly. Yet no matter how much we grieve over our environment and circumstances nothing will change. What is important is not to be defeated, to forge ahead bravely. If we do this, a path will open before us” (daisakuikeda.org). I found this spirit alive in the members of my SGI family, who made me feel that I could do anything I set my mind to.

Soon I secured work that I enjoyed for the next 10 years as the director of public relations and recruitment for a youth mentoring program. What’s more, though I had not yet received a college degree, I was elected to manage a team of people who had. I was beginning to come to terms with what I had to offer, as someone who did not hesitate to question and collaborate with others to find answers to problems as they arose.

That’s wonderful. How did you go about pursuing your degree?

Stephanie: Well, there was always not enough time or not enough money. But still I wanted to go. As much an odd ball as ever, I still had many questions about the world I wanted answers to. I was finally ready to enroll again in 2004 but was appointed legal guardian of my three grandchildren. So the dream was put on hold once more. But by this time, I had developed what I call my Buddha muscle—the conviction that everything happens for a reason. There was no doubt in my mind that my grandchildren and I had chosen to walk the path of life together. For the past 18 years, we have done our human revolution side by side.

I like to say that they have done for my Buddha nature what hot oil will do for a kernel of popcorn. Without them, I wouldn’t have “popped” into the strong, happy person I am today.

Working fulltime while raising grandchildren, you managed to return to college in 2020.

Stephanie: Yes. For the past 16 years, I’ve worked in home service, assisting underserved communities with their daily needs. What I’ve found is that ordinary people possess rich wisdom and insight. However, you wouldn’t know this by opening any magazine or newspaper sold in this country. But I know better. When Sensei directs us toward the Gohonzon, he is encouraging us to pull forth from within our own lives the answers to life’s problems. In the SGI, it seems that someone is always telling me, warmly, firmly, on Sensei’s behalf: “Please believe in yourself! Whatever the obstacle, you can find a way!”

Even at my age, I wanted to pursue an education that would give me the skills to write with and for the people in my community, to draw attention to the everyday struggles and diverse perspectives of ordinary people, and empower them to take action to remedy the problems they see in society.

When you received your associate’s degree from Pasadena City College in May, we understand that you also gave a commencement address. What did you say?

Stephanie: Buddhism is about appreciation. I submitted my speech for commencement because I wanted to appreciate my teachers who believed in and helped me along the way. I also wanted everyone listening to know that it is never too late to accomplish a dream. Actually, an older gentleman came up to my family after the ceremony to say that my speech had inspired him to go back to school. “Thank you,” he said. “Now I know that this is something I need to do.”

What’s next?

Stephanie: This year, I turn 72. My prayer is one of deep appreciation; I’ve lived a long, wonderful life and want to live a lot longer! I want to contribute to society in my own unique way based on the time I’ve spent on earth and the experiences I’ve had as a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother; as a public servant and student; as a disciple of Ikeda Sensei. Through my own example, I want to inspire people from all walks to dig deep within their own lives to discover their own answers—to realize that they, too, have something to say.

On October 22, Soka Gakkai Thailand (SGT) inaugurated its Asia Peace Training Center in Nikhom Phatthana, Rayong Province. The opening ceremony was attended by community leaders, guests and SGT members. President Daisaku Ikeda sent a congratulatory message.  

On October 22, the Ikeda Research Institute for Soka Education at Soka University hosted the inaugural International Symposium on Global Citizenship Education under the theme “Restoring Learning to Daily Living: Global Citizenship and John Dewey.” President Daisaku Ikeda sent a congratulatory message to the event, which was held at the university and attended by some 170 scholars and students from 25 countries. Keynote speaker Professor Emeritus at Virginia Tech University and former president of the John Dewey Society Jim Garrison spoke on four intellectual virtues of global citizens—confidence, open-mindedness, single-mindedness and responsibility—that Dewey highlighted. On October 24, Professor Garrison visited the Soka Gakkai Headquarters in Tokyo where he met with Soka Gakkai Senior Vice President Hiromasa Ikeda. 

On October 20, SGI-Argentina representatives participated in a forum for interfaith and social dialogue, which was held to coincide with the C40 World Mayors Summit in Buenos Aires. The participants engaged in small group discussions on climate change.