Somewhere deep within, in a remote corner of my heart, a recorder beeps, voicing my reactions.
And do you want to know what commanded those reactions?
My “I”—a package of righteousness and ego, gift-wrapped in humility and goodness.
The “I” that glowed with pride when praised.
That frowned at criticism, labelling the critic with words not worth a mention.
That defended itself when blamed.
That prepared counter-explanations while the person across me was still explaining.
All the while feeling, “What a good boy am I!”
Then Reena was rude.
“Oh, how could she say such a thing to me? Doesn’t she know how kind I am? What have I done to hurt her?”
As soon as my “I” popped up, feeling hurt, the inner voice interrupted.
“Aw, shut up, you brag!”
My “I” glared back. “But she has insulted me, hasn’t she?”
“Aw, silly, first go and stand in her shoes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go, go and stand on her side.”
So strong was the voice that my “I” went over.
And there was Reena, living with a family who never understood her, but barked at everything that did not suit them. Empathy and love were missing. Life was one long trail of stress and pain.
Her temper, it seemed, had plenty to feed on.
My “I” saw her stress, but still questioned the voice.
“So why should I take this nonsense?”
“Did anyone ask you to?”
That stopped me for a moment.
“Tell me truly,” the voice continued, “is it only her rudeness that hurts? Or is it the image you have created—‘My generosity, my charity, my helping others in need… is that what I get?’”
My “I” had gone rather quiet.
“Does your goodness come with an expectation of how others should treat you?”
I didn’t much like that question.
“And remember, being a giver needs a receiver. It isn’t always easy to be the one who needs help.”
I looked towards Reena again.
I could see her circumstances without liking her behaviour. And I could see how quickly my “I” had made it all about me.
“Oh,” I said, “was it this simple?”
“Yes, dear. Go ahead and experience it.”
My “I” went silent and introspected.
Then it said, “I let go.
“Her story is hers. I’m sorry for her circumstances, but I can’t live my life through hers. If she is okay with being rude, the onus is on her. I can still be okay.
“And the day she is not okay with her behaviour, she may change for the better. I’m okay with that too.”
Smiling, I nodded, letting the knowledge touch my being.
“Now you may rise,” my inner voice said, “for your knowledge has met your being—the pure essence beneath all your layers—and in that encounter, wisdom is born.”
The voice within knew its job was done. But was it really so?
We’ll know when someone reacts violently.
Hahaha…
