mal’s Weblog











{December 27, 2009}   Guilt

I am guilty. I am guilty of treating others who are in some way or the other less blessed than me, in ways I normally do not advocate. It was not me, but I did it. Twice.

Once when I was very young, I had a girl in my class who wasn’t too sharp to be able to make it to class 4 and 5 with the rest of us. She was apparently kind of slow. Maybe her parents could not accept it or something and that is why they ensured that the administration kept promoting her to the next grades and all. I don’t know what the issue was. All I remember is that I felt she did not deserve to sit with us or talk to us and all. And I feel bitchy about this every time I recall it. I know that if she ever faced a problem I would help her, but I did not think she was worthy of our company. And that exact bit is what kills me – that I actually felt that way.

I saw her  on TV once in some show where the host asked the kids present there, as to what things we can draw / do our paintings on, and given that the kids were all so young, it was amazing to hear answers like “Canvas!” and “Glass” from them. However, what touched my heart was when the host asked Mariam, and she answered, in all her simplicity, “Paper.” Even the host was visibly taken aback – it showed on her face she had not thought of paper. That is when I realized how special Mariam is. She was one of those who allows one the opportunity to touch base with God again.

Later on, in high school, there was another girl with us who was again a little less blessed than the rest of us. I was once an utter bitch to her as well. I was working on the soft board with a senior because it was our group’s turn to beautify the soft-boards all over the school. Once we were done with all the cuttings and had put everything up and all, the senior asked me to go fetch A to clean up after us. I felt bad about this but I went anyway. Now A was pretty enthusiastic about working on the soft-boards but we cut her out with excuses and all. When I went to fetch her telling her that the senior had asked for her help, her excited smile cut me right down to my conscience, but I could not muster up enough courage to tell her what was in store or her. When we both reached the said soft-board again, the senior was gone, and I had to tell A what she was supposed to do. She was visibly offended and left. I felt bad man. I cleaned up the lot but could not meet A’s eyes or a long long while after that. I avoided her and ensured I never had to face her again. But I am thankful to Allah mian for the opportunity and the strength he provided me to, years later, apologize to A. She said she did not remember any such thing, and upon my insistence, she forgave me. That was a huge weight lifted off my chest. But every time I recall what I did, I hate myself.

However, I thank Allah mian to have made me the person I am because I am glad I am able to face that memory and feel bad. I am not a bad person, because then I would have not cared to remember this bitter incident, and felt bad every time I recalled it. Mariam, wherever you are, I need you to know that despite the fact I never did anything bad to you, I know I felt you were below me, and for that I want to ask for your forgiveness. I have faith that you being the person you are, will have a big enough heart to forgive me for my feelings.

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