Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane.Atleast thats what i think the appropriate response should be.
She sits next to me in class everyday, and somehow i’ve come to expect that. Maybe people should know how much i want that. Im not at all pleased that the seat next to mine attracts so much competition. Sitting next to me does however require some sort of a certification. Currently, i just see one certified member. Anjali.
Anjali didn’t ask for sympathy, not mine or anybody else’s. She never implored me to imagine my father slapping me several times across the face after beating my mother callously. She didn’t ask me to imagine being looked down upon by people she respects profoundly.
She doesn’t want her grief understood or her pain alleviated. She wants—though the word doesn’t come close to conveying the disquieting single-mindedness with which she pursues this objective—nothing more than to become something in life.
Her family didn’t fail her; her family spit in her eye and then slapped her across the face for good measure. And the reality is things like this happen every day. Our country is home to thousands of stories like Anjali’s.
Although her response to all this has been unimaginably patient. She speaks to herself when no one’s around, cries herself to bed and still manages to be the strongest girl i know in class.
And maybe, just maybe, Anjali’s response is more appropriate than that of the teacher who claims to care for a student, all the while mocking him in front of the whole class and never giving him a chance to defend himself, or the self-satisfied Head of Department who has no difficulty advocating turning the other cheek when the cheek turned isn’t his own, or the Principal who only looks on and grumbles about journalistic ethics.
*sigh* I need a drink!