Life, or something close to it.

Charity begins at home. That statement is not a fleeting collection of words that I was able to come up with for this specific article. That statement is a very well known and symbolic idiom. Symbolic, because it is the epitome of our selfish nature. For us, charity does begin at home and so it should. We need to see that our wishes are looked after properly before we think about helping foreign lives recuperate and blossom. It isn't essential that we be god parents to the entire world, generous and kind to everyone else while we ourselves suffer great misfortune with brave stoicism. That is not how we are. To be diplomatically correct, that is not how most of us are. Our principle of self preservation before all else, shouldn't bear any inherent guilt. It is not a wrong principle; it is a rational and accepted principle. And yet it drains away the essence of generosity. It is good to look after our needs and try to make the world better place for ourselves before we try to make it a better place for everyone else. But its strange how easily we confuse needs with wants. Its not an obligation, and I believe it's not even our duty (moral or otherwise) but its just a voluntary gesture of humanity everyone would expect a human to show. We can be kind and generous with respect to our own fortunes, we can help others in a lot of different ways but still something keeps us from offering that simple but significant help to someone in need. We could easily offer a few things, that in real calculations of our lives would seem superfluous but we don't. I can't understand why. I do not wish to implicate the whole of mankind in this theory of ungenerous souls, this is more an exposure of my wicked heart that somehow has become rather resistant to alien plights and maybe a way to understand and explain such instincts.
Recently, like so many many other times, I was in a rickshaw, stuck in a traffic jam. My theory is that the traffic signals and the traffic policemen have somehow conspired to always make me spend an eternity waiting for a red light that just won't turn green and a whistle bearing arm that just won't wave me through. Such stationary occasions are just the sort of gatherings beggars exploit to earn their living. Now a rickshaw is a very open vehicle, and very suitable for (unwanted) conversations between the individual on the vehicle and the individual on the road. There were no windows for me to roll up and hope the beggar would get the hint and move on and search for someone else to tell his sorry story. So, a beggar approached. He was old but not too old with teeth stained red and a body so thin he seemed to be emaciated. In one hand he held an inhaler for his asthma, his other hand was free, ready to accept anything that was on offer, if there was to be an offer. There we were, him pleading for just a small ounce of kindness and me looking away, the needy and the temporarily deaf. In god's name he asked, show some kindness in God's name. I said your god doesn't know me. But I said it quite softly and I don't think he heard me. Then he showed me his inhaler 'I need it for my asthma.' he said. I told him sorry but I couldn't help him, which wasn't entirely true. I could've helped him. I could've spared some change if I actually wanted to. But I didn't. I had absolutely no desire to offer any kind of help to this less unfortunate human being. Why? I do not know. It was the exact opposite of what I was taught to do. From as far as back as I can remember, I have been taught to help people in need and it has always seemed to me like a rational advice. But the thought that this man is in need and I have the means to if not eradicate but at least alleviate his misery, didn't even come to my mind. It wasn't judgmental. I myself am a parasite, feeding on a rather meager parental fortune, so I have no right to be judgmental. Apparently I have lost my instinct of generosity or I have forgotten generosity and allowed my instinct of selfishness to resurface. All I could think of was the red light that just wouldn't budge. When it did, the rickshaw pulled away, I was gone and he was left standing there, with an empty inhaler in his hands and a bitter confirmation of human cruelty in his heart. But to me all that mattered was that with a simple change of colour from red to green our unpleasant confrontation was over. Now, this is not an outcry of my righteous subconscious, asking me to show some kindness to poor old men, it's just a question of a wondering heart, asking where could I have lost the simple lessons I was taught? Were the lessons right, or am I right now? I do not know, what reasons others have for giving or not giving what they can to the people in need, but for me there seems to be no reason at all, just a lack of desire to be helpful. Maybe this is a frailty of the entire human kind or maybe it's just a sign of an individual's greedy and selfish nature.