the thing about us

I thought I should write about social classes and history, cos im extremely inspired by this history class I had today. My teacher, kumar anna, is one of those exceedingly learned chaps. Iv heard he reads like thirty or so newspapers and magazines and some books everyday. He reads for eight hours every day as a rule. The wonder stops not at his learning but is furthered in his brilliant connections and outlooks. I’ve had another such history teacher too, but will bring her up specially another day. Anyway, it’s only the roused feeling burning me from the inside that I have at this point, but I don’t know enough on the subject that I wanted to write about, to do justice to it. I’m thinking, though, that I should put down the feeling however it is, so I can at least do some justice to that.
I guess I should start at home. the divisions in society are blurred and furthermore differ greatly from people to people. Id say that i come from a middle or upper middle class family. There are a couple of cars at home, a couple of servants, two car-drivers, a day and a night watchman, and a gardener. We often seem to be getting kinda tight, but we buy a sufficient amount of goodies so as to be able to call ourselves mindless consumers, and are able to tap enough of good water from places we’ve never seen, while the neighbourhood stays thirsty, and we don’t even need to feel the guilt of snatching the water and other such resources, cos the system makes that possible too. My dad is a settling writer and my mom is a part time teacher. Any money that we have is that from some institution that my granddad setup, but has today nothing really to do with. There’s a lot of smelly politics there. Basically, none of us really earn for our lifestyle.
Having had a considerable amount of exposure to the severely poor section of india, I developed a conscience, but having felt the softness of my bed and the comforting fan above, every night along with the “safety” of four or more walls, I seem content with intellectualisation and cant go out of my way to act. Somewhere, the very thought of an upheaval in the hierarchies of societies scares the hell out of me. im in love with the comfort of taking for granted life. I don’t have to think about where my food came from, who’s keeping me here, or even who I am. Im supported from all sides to be here. There’s this part in my, however, that’s suddenly co cynical to being here in this way. I suppose it started the day I came across Marxism in class nine. It was so beautiful that I first couldn’t except that the world, hundred and fifty odd years later is still the same. Except that the power manipulators are today capable of masking themselves more efficiently. In many cases, serious questioning must start with cynicism.
Im at a loss of words because im feeling a bit weak in the mind, and need some time to heal. I’ll get back to this post and even try to put it into a clearer and firmer stream. So: to be continued…..