Armchair sentimentalists

Armchair sentimentalists
Anurita Rathore

Writing about the recent earthquake, I am sure, needs no deadline. There is so much that has happened, so much that is happening, that a little of something would always struggle to come to the fore. With no finality can one express the pain that the quake has blanketed us with; there is also nothing quite left unsaid and yet there is a lot that lies ignored. The help received, the services offered, are all that differentiate people from one another. If wiping tears is one way to show you care, offering monetary help is another. If distributing some of the clothes from your fancy pile shows you care, sitting quiet and praying for the welfare of all does too.

There are numerous ways and various forms of expressions. None can be compared or rated. Some weigh altruism stronger than pomposity. And some the other way round. But it must be well remembered that pragmatism is the need of the hour. That we need to think before every step we take... for it is that very step or action that could hurt and give insurmountable pain or even help regain lost smiles. The obstacles that clutch on are not insuperable. They have to be cleverly handled and neatly dealt with.

And then, it must be remembered that in difficult times like these, anything is enough to bring tears to those who are trying their best to contain themselves. They need no reason to dwell in self pity. Come to think of it, how many of us have actually bothered to know what the other person's pain is? Have we concerned ourselves with what the others require or need in these times of distress? How much of it is real and how much of it make believe?

Sadly though, I realise there is no dearth of armchair sentimentalists. Theytalk big and blame others. They make plans but expect others to follow them. And there are more than just a handful around. Just the other day, as I was walking past one of the crumbled structures, I happened to bump into a gentleman who preferred grumbling to anything more worthwhile. While he found it easier to blame the government and the army and the police for all the ``wrongs'' they were committing, he grappled with equal might to list or point out one act of kindness on his part.

But it was worth listening to all the facts he had gathered. On the earthquake. On the number of deaths. On the economic loss. On the lost opportunities. He seemed an ideal Helpline, though one that is engaged when you need it most. He argued against the government's strategies and threatened to take to task all those who have neglected the needy. He ``looked down'' upon their indifference and lack of interest in the rehabilitation programmes. Not just that, he managed to call people ``selfish, greedy and indifferent''. Those who cannot see beyond themselves. Those who are clouded by selfish motives.

The man, ignorant to any form of agreement or disagreement on my part, continued lashing out at everyone. But what he miserably failed to realise was his shallowness. Not once did he mention how he could offer help. He neither spoke of what he could do nor did he suggest a way out to help. Forget parting with even a 100-rupee note, he didn't consider emotionally anchoring children who've lost their parents or those who've lost out on a family. He found fault with the government but not once did he think of approaching the authorities with a constructive suggestion. He blamed the world of being ``cruel'' when himself he cannot be termed anything better.

What's more, he failed to accept or even realise his miserable loss at being a True Human. A fellow helper. A person who feels. A person who is generous. Or genuine too. Someone you can count on in times of distress. Not someone who merely talks. But someone who acts.