Life is short, they say. Life is for living. Celebrate. Enjoy. Look good. Kiss. Be selfishly happy. Because there is only one life. Once in a while, donate a hundred rupees to charity.
You deserve to be happy.
Heck, I have advocated for selfish happiness, myself. I still maintain that if we don’t look out for ourselves, no one else will do it for us. No one else will, is the truth. And for someone else, somewhere else, there is no one looking out for them.
It is not that we don’t know of their existence. We read about them. We ache for them. We pray for them. We start hashtags for them. We light candles for them. What else can I do, we say.
Mine, Ours, Yours, Theirs – where do they all overlap? Do they, at all?
The Voices that do not speak for the Voiceless. The Hands that do not reach out to help the Fallen. The Wealth that does not bring Smiles on the face of others.
The resulting imbalance.
What can I do? My own problems…
The fact that international organizations – so many of them, at least one for each purpose, for peace, for health, for rights – had to be created to take care of the downtrodden. And even so, the lives that exist in the blind spot.
This has been said before, and this will be heard again.
So… what happens now?
I have written this blog and got it off my chest. This thought had been weighing me down for long. I have done my bit. I can go live my life.
You have finished reading. You can heave a sigh for the unlucky people of the world. You’ve done your bit. Now you can go back to your living. We’re done.
And that, Your Honor, is what’s wrong with this world.