How odd that it never struck me that beneath this unctuous ghee of compassion might lurk a supreme arrogance: for quietly I had believed I was superior, just for being able to feel all these things, just for being able to ask all those questions. It occurred to me that the kind of cushioning life had provided me- which gave me the freedom to think the way I did and live the way I'd lived - was itself a grand privilege very few could avail themselves of. At the same time, I had never wanted to put my superior cognizance to the test by actually doing something, either for myself, or for the poor souls who excited my compassion. Real work was for others, the poor toiling masses. I was the spiritual aristocrat, by virtue of my superior sensibility. With hindsight, I found it laughable that I prided myself on my sense of empathy, claiming to abjure privilege of any sort, when in actual fact I was just being bone lazy. And most likely, afraid as well. Afraid to test the mettle of my alleged superiority.
The miseries and misfortunes of other people can be overwhelming. They can make one feel like giving up, like lying down and letting things drift unto death. But suddenly a terrible fear has gripped me. All my theories have turned to dung. I don't want to be submerged in common mire. I want to be different. I'll say it now. I want to be special. I want to be happy...
- picked up from - Radiance of Ashes
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ये सपने
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इन आठ पहरो में सिमटी ज़िन्दगी से ऐसा रूठा हुआ हूं मैं
के अपने ही सपनों से पीछे हो गया हूं, इतना धीरे चला हूं मैं
ना जाने किन ख्वाबों में ऐसा डूबा हुआ हू...
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