History often remembers great souls with reverence, yet forgets the burden their teachings place upon us. Lord Buddha and Mahatma Gandhi did not merely advocate non-violence, compassion, and truth—they embodied them. They walked the earth not to be worshipped as saints, but to be followed as guides. However, as generations pass, we have selectively admired their legacies while conveniently ignoring the difficult path they laid out. It is not their teachings that have failed us; it is we who have failed them. Gandhi and Buddha were not wrong—we wronged them.

Selective Veneration, Avoided Application:
Mahatma Gandhi’s message of ahimsa—non-violence—was not a passive withdrawal from conflict, but an active force of moral resistance. When he said, “If someone slaps you on one cheek, offer him the other,” he was not glorifying submission but offering an alternative to the endless cycle of vengeance. His Salt March of 1930 was a testament to how this principle could shake the foundations of an empire. Thousands joined him to break the unjust salt laws, enduring brutal beatings without lifting a hand in retaliation. Yet today, we praise Gandhi’s courage without embracing his discipline. We admire his outcomes but ignore his process.

Similarly, Lord Buddha’s profound compassion transformed not only individuals but entire communities. The story of Angulimala, a dreaded forest bandit who murdered hundreds, is well-known. When Buddha met him, he radiated such serene compassion that Angulimala’s hardened heart melted. The killer became a monk, a seeker of peace. The lesson is clear: even the most violent soul can be transformed through love—not force. And yet, in our time, we recite these stories in spiritual gatherings, while dismissing the idea of rehabilitation or forgiveness in real life. We turned Buddha’s compassion into mythology, rather than morality.

The Convenience of Worship Without Imitation:
We revere Gandhi and Buddha as ideals beyond reach, placing them on pedestals so high that their teachings become irrelevant to the common person. This is a comfortable way to avoid responsibility. By declaring, “Their path is not practical today,” we absolve ourselves of the effort needed to walk it, even partially.

Mahatma Gandhi lived an extraordinarily simple life. He spun his own cloth, fasted regularly, and constantly examined his inner motives. He didn’t ask others to follow what he himself would not do. Yet we wear khadi on commemorative days and preach Gandhian values in lectures, while justifying corruption, intolerance, and violence in daily life. We quote Gandhi, but do not embody him.

Buddha taught mindfulness, detachment from greed, and compassion toward all beings. His spiritual aura was so powerful that even wild animals, it is said, would not harm him. But he was not a miracle-worker; he was a disciplined seeker who spent years in meditation, cultivating a mind so pure that it could calm nature itself. Instead of practicing his path, we have commercialized his image—selling his statues as décor, not as reminders of inner work. We commercialized Buddha, but not his teachings.

Misunderstanding Their Strength:
The modern world often views non-violence as weakness. But Gandhi and Buddha proved the opposite. It takes immense strength to stand unarmed in front of a soldier, or to respond to hatred with love. Gandhi’s fasting was not escapism—it was moral warfare. Buddha’s silence in the face of insults was not fear—it was mastery.

Yet, when we encounter even minor insults, we retaliate. When threatened, we rush to dominate. We say, “This is the real world, not Gandhi’s or Buddha’s time.” But the world they lived in was not gentler than ours. Gandhi faced colonial brutality. Buddha confronted deeply entrenched social hierarchies and the ignorance of a warring world. The difference is, they chose the harder path—and we rarely do.

Wisdom, Not Blind Imitation:
This is not to say their teachings must be followed blindly. Even great spiritual figures acknowledged the need for discernment. A story from the life of Swami Ramakrishna Paramhansa illustrates this balance. When a scorpion was found in the temple, he asked his disciple Premananda to kill it. Premananda, embracing non-violence, threw it into the grass instead. Ramakrishna reminded him, “If God appears as a scorpion, He must be treated accordingly.” Compassion does not mean foolishness. One must respond with wisdom.

This reflects the need to adapt their teachings with understanding—not rejection. Loving a snake does not mean embracing its bite. Non-violence must be tempered by self-preservation and context. But adaptation is not abandonment. In the name of realism, we have often abandoned the very ideals that could elevate us.

The Path Forward:
It is tempting to believe that Gandhi and Buddha were exceptions—that their spiritual aura protected them, and ordinary people cannot aspire to such heights. But this belief lets us remain spiritually lazy. They did not descend from the heavens. They worked, struggled, failed, and rose again. Gandhi admitted to his faults. Buddha tried multiple paths before enlightenment. They were not perfect by birth—they became powerful through persistence.

If we believe we cannot follow them because we lack their greatness, then we must at least begin by cultivating their values in small ways. We may not face British colonizers or forest bandits, but we do face dishonesty, cruelty, and injustice in our everyday interactions. Can we speak truth in our workplace? Can we forgive our neighbor? Can we avoid harming with our words?

Even a small commitment to truth and compassion can be a revolutionary act. In doing so, we stop dishonoring Gandhi and Buddha by our selective admiration and begin to honor them by our actions.

The Responsibility Lies With Us:
Gandhi and Buddha were not wrong. They showed us what is possible when a human being chooses love over fear, truth over compromise, and discipline over indulgence. If their teachings seem impractical today, it is because we have chosen the easier path. We expect peace without paying the price of inner transformation. We want the change without becoming the changemakers.

In worshipping them as saints rather than following them as teachers, we have not just failed to live up to their ideals—we have betrayed them. The burden of irrelevance does not lie on their shoulders, but on ours.

It is time to stop asking whether Gandhi and Buddha were too idealistic for the world. The real question is: Are we too cynical for their truth?