The deep personal class compromises

A new friend, a young friend, FB friend, came home. To meet, and share social concerns and possible steps we could take.

"Ma'am, I was scared. I thought you would be very stern from your posts. But you are gentle."

I laughed and said I was non-violent, I hoped.

As I told her, if my posts are brutally blunt, it is because I have seen the brutal reality from very close for long. It has made me face myself, and what I saw was not pretty. And yet it was essential to face oneself.

1.  At home, we would cook 2 handfuls of dal for the three of us. When Eashwaramma or Munishwari came, they would casually open the lid off the pot on the fireplace. i would die within. Because they would use half a handful of dal for 6 people, and simply add a lot of chillies to make it go around. They would use exactly 4 ladies fingers for six people. And they saw a full pot simmering in our home. They did not hold it against us, but I could never get over that. And each time i shrunk in shame when they opened our lids to see what we were cooking.

In the Friday santa at Kommireddigaripalle 4 km away, where we all used to walk down for our weekly vegetables, our bag used to be the heaviest, though ours was the smallest family in the village. It used to break me each time, this reality.

We used to buy milk for our daughter from our neighbours. But they did not, could not did not keep any for their daughters. They could not afford to.

We did what we could to address the situation of malnourishment, but it was too little, and we lived knowing our affluence in a country of deepest poverty.

This despite living an essentially simple life, mud house, water from the street taps, public bus travel, simple clothes, simple meals. Yet - we were secure and not uncertian of our next meals. And we had enough rice, dal, vegetables daily. And we knew that that was an unattainable dream to most in our land, to all in our village

I know the poverty there is, and I know our plentifulness. Juxtaposed, it makes for a brutal truth.

2.  The other fact that was brought home to me most starkly and painfully was our smallness of heart compared to theirs. They had so little, and yet never hesitated to give away from that to someone who came to their door asking. Saying that Dharmam is to share, and the God would show the way to the next meal if we were to have one. He would show work.

I neither had their simple, deep faith. Nor that generosity that stemmed from that. We did give. But not like they gave. Unthinkingly and completely.

3.  I see what climate change has done. Put paid to lives and livlihoods. Completely. I know what excesses go on in other places. ACs, fridges, generators, cars. Which have wrought this climate change. For which these gentle people, taking so little from earth are paying the final price.

Yes, my posts are blunt. And brutal. The truth about ourselves is brutal. We are not pretty people. And what we have done, and are doing, is not pretty.