Two stories got me thinking this week.
A paraplegic found out that humanity had not died. He was surprised to see that people went out of their way to appease his less fortunate self even though the last thing that the paraplegic wanted was self-pity and pittance thrown at him. Still, people obliged. It was much like the blind man who was forever taken over to the other side of the road just because he was standing at the edge of the road, not intending to cross or worse had just crossed the road.
Then, there was another chap who had been taking care of his stroke-stricken mother for the past twenty over the years. In the initial few years, he was so high-spirited to give his mother all that modern technology could provide. Things were looking brighter until she was stricken with another episode of apoplexy, paralysing her so bad snatching away her motor and vocal abilities. What is left of a once robust chatty lady is just a faded rose, responding sluggishly to stimuli. Caring for her has progressively become from bad to worse. Frustration set in both sides. Seeing her suffer proved too much for the son. Sometimes, he wonders what plan the Maker has for her; living each day enduring pain and disappointment that her appointment for the Big Sleep is yet to come. But he dutifully does what is expected of him, his filial duties and a chance to repay his dues for the care that he received in the blurry days of infancy and toddlers.
Are we innately hardwired to show compassion to others? After all the generations enduring calamities and hardship, is selflessness part of our DNA? Is it that our constant societal conditioning of its subject to care for the needy changed our selfish selves which were primally satisfied with self-fulfilling primal needs?
Just when I thought that humanity had not died and the human race had a chance for redemption, in walks my son from 'The Big Bad Wolf' sales. He had purchased a book on Auschwitz just to highlight the banality of evil that still lurks as an undercurrent in all of us.
A paraplegic found out that humanity had not died. He was surprised to see that people went out of their way to appease his less fortunate self even though the last thing that the paraplegic wanted was self-pity and pittance thrown at him. Still, people obliged. It was much like the blind man who was forever taken over to the other side of the road just because he was standing at the edge of the road, not intending to cross or worse had just crossed the road.
Then, there was another chap who had been taking care of his stroke-stricken mother for the past twenty over the years. In the initial few years, he was so high-spirited to give his mother all that modern technology could provide. Things were looking brighter until she was stricken with another episode of apoplexy, paralysing her so bad snatching away her motor and vocal abilities. What is left of a once robust chatty lady is just a faded rose, responding sluggishly to stimuli. Caring for her has progressively become from bad to worse. Frustration set in both sides. Seeing her suffer proved too much for the son. Sometimes, he wonders what plan the Maker has for her; living each day enduring pain and disappointment that her appointment for the Big Sleep is yet to come. But he dutifully does what is expected of him, his filial duties and a chance to repay his dues for the care that he received in the blurry days of infancy and toddlers.
Are we innately hardwired to show compassion to others? After all the generations enduring calamities and hardship, is selflessness part of our DNA? Is it that our constant societal conditioning of its subject to care for the needy changed our selfish selves which were primally satisfied with self-fulfilling primal needs?
Just when I thought that humanity had not died and the human race had a chance for redemption, in walks my son from 'The Big Bad Wolf' sales. He had purchased a book on Auschwitz just to highlight the banality of evil that still lurks as an undercurrent in all of us.
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