Levels of our existence

Equality is a cruel lie in a class society. You do not need to read ‘Sapiens’ to know that. Everything I have heard about it comes from either some pro-wealth, anti-social justice douchebag or an equally pedantic know-it-all. So I doubt I will read it if you tell me to read it. I am open to a fresh interpretation, I will read it when I read it. I am 27 and watching Star Wars for the first time, so yes, I am not in a hurry.

The learned can record history and spend time romancing it’s details, while our actual lives are spent surviving it. Politics is their pass-time. Yet I will be balmed of ‘anti-intellectualism’ by those who went to classes I could never enter. Who have possibly also never read the book. And I will be called a ‘reductionist’ for not wanting to read a tome of complex language I do not have the time to master.

\\level break\\

This is my reality. This is your reality. Surviving hierarchies is our whole life. Look at the world right now and determine your level. Everyone upwards think they are better than us, because they own more things, have resourceful acquaintances and can go to exclusive places. And no, absolutely nobody wants to share. But since education has been made the treasure of the rich, they believe they are the vanguards of knowledge. They get applauded for teaching us the levels of ‘privilege’. So they’ll publish pointless wastes of paper and call themselves writers. And we believe it too. We believe that is the life to live. We resign ourselves to some class mobility, which trust me, is never enough. You will never be their equal, and even if you are, they will never see you as one.

And here, they are us and sometimes we are they too.

\\level break\\

दिक्कत तो गजब ये है कि, अगर दो शब्द किसी और भाषा में कहने बोल दिए जाएं, तो लोग हकलाते हैं। कि मोड़ के आगे अगर सकरी सड़क पर कच्चे घर दिख जाएं, तो जाने क्यूं घबराते हैं। जब काले मले शरीर पास आएं, तो हल्के से पीछे मुड़ जाते हैं।

ये सोचना कि हम सब एक हैं, झूठी दिलासा है – पर मदद करने वाले,‌ ज़रूरत में जो काम आते हैं, अपने हो जाते हैं।

हम अपने आप ही, खुद को सबसे अलग करके, सीख सिखाने और पाठ पढ़ाने में लग जाते हैं। इक दूजे को जो अपनी कहानियां सुनाया करते थे, अब हम वो बातें ही नहीं कर पाते हैं।

खै़र, जो चाहते हैं कि हमारा जीवन सिर्फ़ कुछ हिदायत देने वालों की गुलामी में बीत जाए, अपने किस्से सुनाना बंद नहीं कर पाते। और कौन दोस्त है, कौन दुश्मन, हम यही नहीं समझ पाते।
तो बस इसी बीच, हम एक दूसरे को ही मार खाते हैं।

ख़ामोश रहने की आदत यूं है, कि जब मू से ज़रा नहीं, जरा निकल जाए – तो पता नहीं किसकी शरम से, बोलना ही बंद हो जाते हैं।


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