There are three lessons in philanthropy - one, involve the

Hear the words of Azim Premji: “There are three lessons in philanthropy—one, involve the family, especially the spouse. She can be a remarkable driver of your initiative. Two, you need to build an institution, and you need to scale it up. Choose a leader for philanthropy whom you trust. Three, philanthropy needs patience, tenacity, and time.” In these words lies not a mere instruction for giving, but a sacred map for those who wish to use wealth not for vanity, but for the betterment of mankind. It is a reminder that to give truly, one must give wisely, deliberately, and with the endurance of spirit that looks beyond the fleeting moment toward the centuries to come.

The first lesson he names is the power of family. Involving the spouse is no small counsel—it is wisdom born of experience. For charity born only of the individual will fades; but charity that flows from the unity of the household becomes a river, nourished by love and shared vision. Many great benefactors of history were not solitary figures, but men and women who, together, poured their lives into causes greater than themselves. Think of Andrew Carnegie and his family’s dedication to libraries, or the Medicis of Florence, who wove their patronage into the fabric of the Renaissance. When the family stands united in generosity, the gift becomes enduring.

The second lesson is the call to build an institution. For acts of kindness, though noble, may vanish like dew in the morning sun if they are not given structure. An institution is the vessel that carries the waters of generosity across generations. Consider the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, founded centuries ago by benefactors long forgotten by name, yet whose gifts still bless the world. By building something that outlasts the giver, one transforms philanthropy from a moment into a legacy. And in this, Premji reminds us: choose a leader you trust, for leadership shapes the destiny of every institution. Without trust, even gold becomes dust.

The third lesson is the greatest, and perhaps the hardest: true philanthropy demands patience, tenacity, and time. For the healing of societies is not a swift endeavor. Poverty cannot be erased in a season, ignorance cannot be lifted in a day, nor can injustice be undone by a single gift. The wise philanthropist must think not in days, but in decades; not in years, but in generations. Just as the farmer plants trees whose fruit he will never taste, so must the giver act with faith that the harvest will be reaped by those yet unborn.

History offers us an example in the life of Florence Nightingale. Though not a wealthy patron, she was a benefactor through her tireless work. Her reforms in nursing and sanitation did not bring immediate transformation, but through patience and tenacity, she reshaped medical care across the world. Her “institution” was not built with gold, but with endurance, and her legacy endures still. This illustrates Premji’s truth: time and perseverance are the currency of lasting change.

What Premji speaks is also a warning. Too often, the wealthy scatter gifts like seed upon stone, expecting instant blossoms, and when none appear, they despair. But true philanthropy is not vanity, nor a purchase of praise. It is the art of sowing deeply, of waiting, of enduring setbacks, and of believing that though the world’s wounds are vast, they can be mended one careful stitch at a time. Without patience, charity becomes noise; with it, charity becomes transformation.

The lesson for us all is clear: whether we have much or little, we can practice the threefold path of philanthropy. Involve those you love in your giving, so that generosity flows through your household like a shared inheritance. Build structures—whether institutions, habits, or traditions—that carry your kindness beyond your own lifetime. And above all, cultivate patience and tenacity, remembering that what you begin today may bless lives long after you are gone.

Thus, let Azim Premji’s words endure as guidance: true philanthropy is not measured in the size of the gift, but in the wisdom with which it is given. It is a river that flows from the unity of family, channeled through enduring institutions, and sustained by the inexhaustible springs of patience, time, and tenacity. And so I say: give not only with your hand, but with your heart, your family, and your years—for only then will your giving become eternal.