How do you feel when people judge you? Do you judge people as well? #JudgingPeople

Written for IndiSpire... Edition 172

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!

To be humbled in another man's shoes!

Pichaikaran (பிச்சைக்காரன், Beggar, Tamil; 2016)

My friend told me that the tone for Chinese New Year this year is somewhat sombre, to put it mildly. Gone are the days when the eardrum exploding firecrackers used the usher the arrival of the lunar new year. Some low ranking staff are tightening their belts, resorting to wearing last year's unused garments for this year's celebrations. Sure, that is austerity but ask someone who has been on the other side of the numerous success stories of capitalism, the ones that the narcissistic politicians like not to talk about.

The people on the losing end of economic development have often been accused of many things; that they are lazy, have poor work ethics, that they do not plan, that they lack willpower and creativity. In reality, most of them do not fall into the categories above. They certainly do not lack in the creativity department. They have mastered the art of stretching the last ringgit to its last fibre. They live in a well balanced but precarious household where just one small malady can tip the balance. A freak or careless accident, someone with a terminal illness to care, an ailing child to mind or even the beginning of a schooling year all heralds the start of a familial crisis when economic generation suffers. Meeting biological needs like hunger takes precedence over trivial matters like birthday and anniversary celebrations.

In its own way, this film, which was recommended by a close friend who had been on the losing end of development and managed to unshackle himself from its clutches. This film brought memories of his humble beginnings, and it tries to impress upon us that we are all beggars. The rich extend both palms to the divine in return for granting of personal boons. The poor do the same only to need their biological needs. The filmmaker, in his own cheeky way, tells us that begging is just another profession just like any vocations. There is a time for undivided attention at work to reap the best of what you can give and an 'after-office' time to unwind!

A scene from this movie went viral around the time of demonetization of ₹500 and ₹1,000 notes. In a prophetic way, in an unrelated snippet, a beggar calls in on a talk show to suggest discontinuation of the above notes to put a stop to India's poverty!

A recently returning foreign-trained MBA graduate, Arul, finds his mother, a mill owner, who is a success story of rags to riches, seriously injured in a freak accident in her factory. All the modern medical treatment at their disposal could not treat her serious head injury. She remain comatose. The advice from a sage suggests that Arul should do penance by living the life of a beggar for 48 days for his mother's recovery. In midst of all that, there is a maternal uncle who is hell bent on appropriating the whole business. There is still time for hero to find time for love during his crusade. Despite all the masala and mind bending scenes, it is still an enjoyable flick but don't ask me why our hero's one-week stubble remain unchanged over 48 days!