Mind Your Own Matters

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I have been in a lot of mess, a lot of chaos, a lot of trouble because of one mistake, one habit – I don't mind my own business.

As I try to see its truthfulness, its validity, I see it in play in most (if not all) of my relationships and equations with other people.

Somebody comes to me with a problem and I tend to make it a personal task, goal to accomplish.

My maid asks for help in police verification for working in the society and I make it a personal mission – she may neither be that appreciative of my help, nor may be critically needing it.

Some girl in my society in first year of college asks for my help with Math and Python, and I make that a personal mission. Even when (same as before) she might neither be that appreciative of my help, nor may be critically needing it.

My mom calls me and tells me of some issue with some tenant, or some issue with water, or electric, or some tool or equipment, and I would be totally distracted from what I would be doing. Packing my things and leaving for Tri Nagar. And then when things are sorted, my mom would be telling me that “my personal intervention was not needed”. I then at such times think (for no reason) to myself “why did she call me then to rant?”

At the NGO I went to for the last two months to teach, I thought of it as a personal responsibility, and felt an onus for it to make sure that the kids there learn something. Even when their parents and the kids themselves don't see much value in it, though the kids cannot be blamed given their age. And this is not my assumption, I see it in absenteeism and falling attendance.

The same thing applies to my blogging activity – what do I have to do with Iran? What do I have to do with Bihar? What do I have to do with Bengal? What do I have to do with Delhi? Nothing, nothing and nothing – but I still write, I still blog, still waste my time and energy.

Then came the moment of realisation…

Yesterday afternoon, I was at Bikaner Sweets to buy some sweets and namkeen. There I saw an electric kitchen appliance that was frying samosas in an oil pool. I was totally excited to see that and could not hide my excitement. I asked “is that an electric appliance for making samosas?... Is that an electric appliance for making samosas?” Then the old bitter-and-sour man sarcastically remarked, “No, that's running on gobar-gas!” (Gobar: cow dung)

I went quiet. I thought about it. And put in my pocket the lesson he meant to impart…

~~~

Thanks for reading! 

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