Ever since life took that abrupt crotch, putting me right in the midst of the “Brightest Minds” , a realization that I’m probably not as ‘bright’ has been clambering unconsciously, somewhere deep within. And it gets reaffirmed by the opinions and sentiments I hold about mankind. One such reflection inspired this post.
There are people in our lives who may never conquer the world. They might not even come close, should they decide to make an attempt. Or, for that matter, they may never accomplish an absolutely extraordinary feat in life. In all probability, they would never make it to the the headlines of a national daily, or be the buzz creators of social media.
Yet, they’ll have just enough – the right amount, of the right ingredients, in the right proportion – to never fall short when it comes to ‘giving’. Their offering is almost effortless, one that happens occasionally out of obligation, but predominantly out of spontaneous desire. They simply have to bestow, something that can be felt but never captured, that which is intangible yet concrete, and which borders on the mystical. Sadly though, in the world of palpable symbolism, this offering loses it’s significance.
My mother, for instance, might never make it to the Bournvita quiz contest or the Spellathon. Neither will she ever posses the best GK in the town. But she’ll know almost everything I am in and about, sometimes even more than me. And that carries a greater weight in her life than anything else. My father may never have enough to gift me a yacht on my birthday, but he’ll do just enough to make sure that I never feel like I’m missing out on anything in life. My sister might not act or talk logically at all times, and yet, she is the first person I’ll consult before taking a potentially life altering decision.
In our day and age, we have probably started giving in too much to the values that can be expressed in numbers. The status of people coded in their IQs and EQs, their worth found in the zeroes of their Cheque books, their creativity judged by number of hits or their character evaluated by the size of the group they are a part of. Alas ! Their individual compassion has no scale to be measured upon, and thus holds no explicit value.
Honestly, the reflections of personality are notable, while those of character are tacit. But personality is a matter of choice, that which we make but certainly can’t sustain. And character reflects legitimacy and purity, that which eventually surfaces and stays.
With experience, comes the enlightenment that our flawed paradigms of human evaluation are nothing but a hoax.
It would be so much better if we could let logic take a back seat, and let empathy drive all choices that may shake the deeper recesses of our lives. If we simply revered humans, not on the basis of the contours of their brain mapped on scale, but by the expanse of their heart sensed in those latent vibes. For they may engulf all anxiety and suffering, and yet, not shed a penny.
But then ! An acceptable chronic social con is much easier to endure, isn’t it ?
And therefore, So Much For Logic !