And the skeptic lives on

There are days when I’m not proud of my skepticism. I cant help it. I really cant bring it upon myself to trust in the goodness of others. Last evening something happened which both assured me of the perks of being skeptic and also exposed the coldness of being a cynic.

I head home early. Earlier than usual ie. Around half past five, I had Delhi giving me a call. Go figure!!! I barely know people from there. Of course there is Shix. She’s been quite incognito for a while and I wasn’t expecting her to give me a call. I met a few relatives of mine from Delhi. I was absolutely positive that they wouldn’t be interested in giving me a call. Not that I’m a boring bloke(which I just might be to my relative), I know my COUSINS. they are more of a missed call commodity.

So Delhi got me curious and I hit the answer button on the car’s steering wheel. A young bloke named Deepak Kumar introduced himself.

I was a little puzzled about why a certain Deepak from Delhi would be interested in talking to me. I quickly came to terms that my phone number was really not mine and that a million people out there were exchanging it freely. The bane of a connected world of information pirates! 

Deepak’s heart , and by his heart I meant the script he carried, had a cause. He politely asked me for my time. His pitch would take him five minutes and he wanted to know if I could spare him sometime.

for reasons beyond my comprehension, or the dormant goodness of my heart, I decided to give him my time. I parked my car and gave Deepak my undivided attention.

His story began with a five year old kid. I don’t remember the poor kid’s name. His dad was an auto rick driver. The poor kid was in the worst of his luck ever possible. He had cancer. Blood cancer. There was no cure. His poor auto rick dad could not support the medical expenses.

Ideally , my heart should have sunk. I should have empathised with the situation. I should have felt bad for the kid and should have tried to do something. Oh I did something.

How come its a five year old kid? , I asked.

No answer.

Is it just me or these days a lot of unfortunate dads who also happen to be auto rick drivers are ill-fated to witness their ward suffer from cancer?

No answer.

How did you come across this case? What are your organization’s credentials? Above all, how did you get my number? 

No answer.

Deepak, sorry mate, cant really help. I concluded.

The phone went dead.

I guess somewhere in there, I died a little too. The cynic in me lives another day. With each day passing, the cynic grows stronger. Why is it easier for me to find dirt in everything where others see green grass , I see an infection that is plaguing that grass? Is it a reflection of the monster that I let sleep buried within my conscious self? Does the monster in me see the monster in everybody around? 

Maybe, or maybe its a string of a series of coincidences that I get pulled into spheres of deceit and its in my nature to be the village idiot who cried wolf. I’ve tried to change. The world doesn’t make it easier. I don’t see a point in struggling with my beliefs to fit in and appear human. I don’t believe in such an acceptance. Not at the price of snubbing my gut instincts. Maybe that’s the lesson that I’m yet to learn. A lesson to let go the last shred of fabric that makes me me. My instincts. 

Why is it that I cant bring myself to be nobler , and stick up for a cause? Why do I see people’s personal interests and agenda when others see a sense to their cause. Am I the hypocrite here? 

While others don’t seem to care as long as the cause is met, I stand alone and defend the old saying, maybe the means really should also justify the cause. There can be no good if the foundations are laid through evil and greed.



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