On Rich and Poor

A rich isn’t born rich, but a poor is born poor. The world since the first human settlement has been divided into this very group; one the employer, the other, working class hero.

Amongst the children born in wealthy families, I’ve seen a number of cases of misconceptions, the major being that they are rich or wealthy, which in fact, they are not. I refute this form of perception. I firmly hold the opinion that they aren’t rich, but with sheer luck of being born to rich parents became one. What if they were born to the poor? Therefore, indeed, they are but just the children of rich parents.

There is a huge difference between being rich and being the children of the rich. The former came to their position with their toil, while the latter, as stated above were, by chance born to the parents who on their hardship became rich.

With several encounters with the children of rich, I have come to know how majority think. First of all, they take everything for granted, which once again, they aren’t entitled for. Having being brought up where all their wants are fulfilled the moment they ask for, they consequently lack what real life seeks for: compromise and hard work.

Unlike the poor, they haven’t have had to compromise on their wants. You ask for it, and you get it; as if you fully deserve what you ask for. Consequently, they lack dedication to work, hard working, and self-earning. As a result of this, they believe life is easy. However, they do not know how hard it is, how strong ill-fate torments other people, and so forth.

I ask them not to display the wealth of their parents. It is not yours. It is theirs. I ask you to go, fill the vacancy posts with out source to get a job, earn and then show your money, no matter how small it be, because it is yours. You earned it with your labor. Your money deserves your pride. Only then will you know what life is: of hardship and struggle, dropping off your job applications, earning, saving and compromising your needs for the ones you love.

I lean to the poor because although I come from a middle class family, I undoubtedly can relate to them. They have everything which children of the rich, most of the time tend to lack. The major is the real glimpse of life, despite the fact that they have a more pessimistic approach to it. They have grown in hardships and compromises. Since they know the hardships, unlike the rich, they aren’t scared of it. After all, it isn’t the first time they are facing it. They never give up. However, the children of the rich, on the first sight are scared and thence surrender. My poor friends, wealth doesn’t make someone rich. Wealth comes and goes. Your wealth is your life that you live with dignity, self-respect and self-esteem. It is a misconception that only the rich have these qualities.

Rather than believing, “end of the beginning,” I opt for “beginning of the end.” With this belief, I support the poor. The beginning of their end is the crumbling poverty to the rise of prosperity. Charles Dickens was never wrong when he said “survival of the fittest.” Yes, only those rise who are not just fit, but the fittest in terms of mind, body and soul. Remember, a lotus is born in dirt and swamp!

The eight Oscar winning movie of 2008, Slumdog Millionaire just proves the beginning of the end of poverty. In it, a guy from the slums wins millions. Of course, one could criticize the movie as being far-fetched, detached from the reality, a fairy tale, like Salman Rushdie does, but I see the possibility. “Why? Can’t a poor be wealthy?” I ask. “where has it been written that only the rich will be rich, while the poor will always dwell in poverty?” Like the poor who has a chance of being rich, the rich also has an equal possibility of being poor. After all, it takes a minute for life to turn topsy-turvy.

Therefore, I ask to you, the children of the rich to wake up. You’re parents property aren’t rightfully yours. You’re not rich. You are, once again, I repeat, the children of the rich. I urge you to learn the reality of life. “You go, get a job, save, earn, compromise and be rich.” Only then say with pride that you are rich, because you’re earned it, and therefore deserve it. Then will I finally be content and convinced. However, until then…you’re just the children who were luckily born to the people of rich.

Thoughts …the face of hurting reality!

An abstruse feeling has been causing restlessness within me I wonder to relate and yet stay puzzled by the waves of emotions that drowns me in depth…never allowing to swim across.

Fate or destiny? I wonder the tempest. Was it my destiny to drown or was it my fate that made me drown? In sheer confusion, I ask to myself, was it a matter of chance in destiny? or was it a second change of fate that was entitled upon me? The answers could vary and I wouldn’t stick with one because of the damage it could inflict on my existence. The answer of my query, unlike the tossing of a coin stands still, with equal possibilities that enables me to identify myself in a crowd.

The thought of being in her arms in the scorching heat of the sun calms me down. The thought of her presence in the serene nights of loneliness without light warms me from within. The longing of her presence, wherever I go…never departing me like my shadow until one fine morning…is what I think of.

The ethnocentric feeling of her existence has made me life individualistic. The impulse of the thought, “I am the world and the world is me” seems profound with her arrival. My feelings are one side of the coin, but what about the other? The side of reality that we both live in? I cannot abide to the bitter realism. I long to escape it…detaching myself from the world and rising to the unity of the super conscious; the very unity where reality doesn’t bite.

The final scene of Mahabharat strikes my mind and I easily feel I can relate to it. However, unlike the dog that Arjuna wishes to take to the heaven, it is her that I wish to take away in the sound realms of bliss.

The conflict between my ego and id takes shape. With the decisive factor now in tension, I let my conscience be my guide. With my conscience and morality in play, the confusion ends and I stand affirm to what I wish; the thing that I most probably cannot have, but what I wish to have…what I could still have.

Yet, last question pounds again. Are we both the destiny of the other? Would the societal constructs debar our accord? They say, let destiny choose its doom. But cannot we choose our own destiny? After all, we never find our destiny until we are in the middle of the path; the path that someday will cross and walk along…

Mortal Immortality

Life is always clueless. It takes an unexpected turn when least expected…when happiness that we long to last forever turns to euphoria which slips away too quickly. Thus, we all wish to hold our happiness…stop time although we know, we can never win it. The quest we set upon ourselves is too far to reach. We slowly get old and our energy fails us…our concentrated vision goes frail…stirs with age. Yet, time continues to rule us till it snatches our breath for the last time…never to breathe again.

Life is a flux controlled by time. Its rage I wonder if we could feel…hearty stay in patience while it spreads like slow poison every time we breathe…every second we live? No, I say for it is the only thing we ere to win…conquer…defeat making it un-spared for its cruelty.

Life we all reluctantly acknowledge is too short…like a dream. Despite the short stay, there are things we’ve created that makes our existence seem real to the prospective generations, while at the same time, it shares another small part of the Earth’s two and a half billion year old history. Those created materials range from earthen vessels, arms and ammunitions, transport means, technologies, inscriptions, and the most important of all; words, pen, and paper.

However, despite it, there are the limitations of human immortality through words. Of the global population, only those who impress their feelings, perceptions, thinking on paper have a chance of breathing or smelling the joy and fragrance of mortal immortality.