Growing up in the poorer side of town, people generally did not form any high opinion about me. My physical attributes did not compensate for the deficiency. Whether one likes to admit or not, society judges. A fairer skin would perform better in the impression department and I fail miserably. I would not be surprised if people do judge me to be incapable, unimpressive and unconvincing. But the question is, "do I give a damn?"
It is a free world and everyone is entitled to the opinions. Just like how I have mine. I do not owe anyone a living just like they, on me.
One humbling experience about judging others was shoved down upon me a good 24 years ago... This posting is an old one from my collection in Rifle Range Boy.
Back in early 90s, whilst I was still a green horned newbie at the art of healing in Malacca, I was approached in the course of my daily dealings, by a lady who despite her outwardly ultra conservative appearance of being dressed in a hijab, looked in the eye and asked whether there was any way that her 3month fetus could be screened for Down Syndrome.
From her dressing, it did not require a rocket scientist to guess her views on prenatal screening and termination of pregnancy.After a protracted discussion, I discovered that her previous child has Down Syndrome and needed multiple surgeries for heart septal defects and Hirschsprung's disease even before he was one. Seeing the puny one cut open and pricked repeatedly was just simply too much for her to stomach. And the monthly follow up the Capital City just drained here physically and financially. Even before she could recover from the trauma of having a special child, in rolls in another pregnancy (through the act of Man and The Divine Powers) in came the ensuing uncertainties. Rather than seeing history repeating itself, she was willing to undergo whatever test even a termination of pregnancy, if warranted than to deliver a Down Syndrome baby despite her religious conviction and country laws because she had first-hand experience of dealing with a special child.
It is easy to judge others using our life experience as a yardstick of how everybody else should live. When a similar malady strikes us, all the rules and regulations, which in normal times would be fought tooth and nail to be upheld, just goes out of the window!
This reminds me of a Lat cartoon published in the local dailies at a time when moral policing was the flavour of the month (it still is). It was a caricature of two elderly husband and wife couples in their 70s. The husband was reading aloud about the banning of Muslim girls in beauty pageants. The wife replies that it is improper to expose too much in public. To this, the husband replies, "I wonder who was the 1947 Miss Ratu Ronggeng? And the wife bows her head in embarrassment!It goes on to say that we make rules and regulations for others to follow but when we are the affected party, somehow the bar is lowered or the goal post is shifted!
We judge others using yardsticks impressed upon us in our childhood. We are told that is the way, the only way to do it. With age, hopefully, maturity and a few hard knocks and dent from the School of Life, we soon realise that we have our ways, they have their ways, the right way, the correct way, the only way, may just not exist!
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