Feature

Check your socks before blaming others

Sajeda Tamanna Hussain

I have been brought up as a member of the upper middle class of the Third World. This class has always been outstandingly conscious about being able to pass on some of its distinct characteristics to the next generations. My father, being a true upper-middle class man, has made sure he enriches us with what he calls, 'the cream of a man's substance'. Basically, what he has passed onto my siblings and me are strong moral values and a code of conduct, among which, any kind of behavioral discrimination that we might practice on others, is a complete 'NO NO'!

Discrimination is defined as the act of treating a person or group differently (especially in a negative way) than others. Throughout the pages of history, we have been familiarized with records of this despicable act. It has been practiced globally in various forms- racial, sexual, religious, class and so many others. One distinct form of this almost demonic act that I have witnessed very closely is class discrimination among the youngsters of our society. It is unfortunate enough for one to have to witness this even once. For me, it was worse- it was part of my weekday schedule, for it was my Alma Mater that bore the ugly marks of such a crime.

I studied in a school where a majority of the students were from a high-income group, and a majority of this group found it shameful to belong to a low-income group. I still remember those tiffin breaks when I was out playing in the grounds and some of my peers were out enjoying themselves, laughing at some random boy, either because his trainers were from Bata and not Nike, or because he wasn't wearing a Swatch but some regular wrist watch with thin leather belts. It always made me uncomfortable to watch somebody being taunted for a reason that was not even supposed to be his fault.

One of my very close friends exercised this negative feeling, just like the so many others who studied with me at school. However, his feelings were neither as severe nor as directly expressive. The most he would ever do is tell me what was going on in his mind, but never say it aloud to others. For the sake of secrecy, let's call this friend of mine Simon (not his real name). Back in those high school days, I had envisaged that as Simon would grow up to be a mature person, he would slowly learn that discriminatory behavior towards others is merely a distorted representation of the shortcomings of one's upbringing. To my great surprise, my predictions were not only misguided, but as soon as we got into university, Simon decided it was high time he started behaving like his Generation Y counterparts, who take pride in looking down upon those of us who are not equally blessed.

As unfortunate as I may have been to have to encounter such a sad, yet unavoidable social problem, I have also been fortunate enough to be able to witness a few incidents where one is paid back by his own coin. After all, life often creates boomerangs. One such incident took place on a regular Sunday morning at university. Simon and I had got down from the car in front of the main building and walked straight towards the lift. As soon as we stepped in we saw a shabbily dressed young boy of our age. His hair was parted on one side and combed flat with what looked like oil. His sandals were worn out with rough use and his feet appeared pretty dirty from what seemed like a long, dusty walk to university. I remained indifferent to his presence but every second of the trip to the thirteenth floor, seemed to prick every inch of skin of Simon. As we were rising past the seventh floor, all of a sudden Simon exclaimed, “Somebody in here smells like sh*t.”

I was startled by this sudden announcement and the first thought that occurred to me was that Simon was intentionally offending the other boy. However, a moment later my nose caught the pungent smell of rotten faeces, and I knew what Simon meant by that statement. Simon was staring disgustedly at the other boy and before I could wish for it, the lift door opened and I pulled Simon out before he could do or say something further.

As we walked down the staircase to the class, he went on and on about how people of the 'other' kind go to places from which they carry such smells. Just as we were about to enter the classroom a boy standing around nearby said aloud to his friend, “Hey, do smell something bad?” No sooner had he said this that Simon quickly checked the soles of his Reebok trainers. Underneath his left foot was smeared a thick layer of human faeces! The truth hit him so hard that his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. The next thing to be done was, of course, to get rid of the substance as soon as possible. Simon ran to the washroom where several failed attempts to scrub the faeces off his patterned soles only led him to the conclusion that a brush was needed. What next? An Oral B toothbrush from the nearest cosmetics shop! Time wasted- 50 minutes of a regular 90-minute class. Lesson learned- Check your expensive trainers before you lay the blame on others for carrying the smell!

Student of NSU