This thought popped up in my mind few months back when I was in France. Indian heritage is richest in the world. Swarm of articles, word of mouth and long articles on shelf prove it. I do agree with this and I am proud too. But lately, I have started feeling as if I am faking. Charity begins at home and is tethered here for ever.
As a child, we are told to respect elders, love younger ones and be friendly with the people of our age. We are taught to be kind, gentle and filled our hearts and minds with the best of words found in dictionary that describe humanity. Everyone applauds when you give a glass of water to the guests, parents give you a coin alongwith the prasad to the poor people sitting out side the temple. I remember how much our neighbors used to praise me and my brother whenever she found us helping mamma in setting up the dinner table. I do not know how much her words affected my brother but my heart used to be like over-filled balloon and I tried not to leave any empty space in offering her water, tea etc. :-P
With all these values, we are brought up and a constant feeling of being in this beautiful world prevails us until we start facing the real world outside home. I remember how difficult it was for me to cross the road to reach my uncle's home in the middle of the busiest market in Kurukshetra. It was eleventh standard I guess when mamma asked me to cross the road and bring some stuff from my Uncle's home while she was waiting in the car. I had almost frustrated her as it took me 10 complete minutes to cross the 5 meters wide road. That road like any other road in Indian town market is full of scooters, hawkers, bikes, cycles etc. There I lost the theory of look towards right and left and then cross the road. After that I started showing my hands and crossed the roads like an angry ox.
Few more events happened during my graduation days that taught me even more practical approaches and gathered the theoretical and ideal stuff, directed to deep slumbers. The time came, when I started boarding roadways buses all alone or with the friends. It was the second time when I got a frustrated stare from my parents. We stood at the bus stop when two buses came and I could not board them because of the crowd around. Both the buses stopped and the view from outside proved that the bus had more capacity than specified by the manufacturers. Like usual Haryana Roadways buses those were over-crowded and equal number of passengers were struggling to get into the bus. But idea of jostling and climbing over people to get inside did not appeal me. The third bus came and I heard from behind, Nimisha board this one now else miss your class. The words gave me the kinetic energy and failed the potential I had built in my mind regarding the respectful queue system, like a crazy monkey I got into the bus.
I finished my college and went out for my first job. Now, my mind started understanding the difference between a fair-weather friend and a friend, blood-relations and the namesake relations and above all whom to love and whom to like. I truly believe that hostel life teaches you who you are more than how others are. But outside world is far different from the protected walls of the educational institutions. I do not say it is bad. But it is tough and good. Good for you and best for the scope of growth you need. This is the time when slowly, you are taught to finish your tasks and then take out the helping hand for others. Society starts teaching you this and it is up to you how much do you afford.
At the age of 25, we start keeping a identity chip that we swipe in when get back home and swipe out while leaving home. All the charities we learn and earn are regulated by this. We become emotional, humble, helpful, loving and lovable at home and so afraid to be so outside our home.
I wonder sometimes where we are heading to. The Indian culture and rich values we learnt over the years, swings and dances inside home and a hot air gulps it outside. In the race of life, as an individual when we start conquering all the necessities of life, it seems we start loosing the fact that we belong to the soil of charities, courtesies, love and respect.
If I rotate the globe and focus on the west, I may find people five time divorced and children living in a strange identity crisis, who their parents are. But in a queue, older people are given priority. On the zebra-crossing, 10 minutes long project need not to be executed and a common belief in humanity is still a part of the culture.
I used to feel bad when Indians stay few years in west start cursing their own land. But a fact lies beneath all the depressions. I will not ever curse my land for these circumstances but because this is the high time when our own over-loaded mother seeks a helping hand. So, destroy the swipe-in-out machine and break the tethered charities. Let it come out, respect humanity and get the same....
