Envy

A young man and a young woman, walked together slowly on the pavement, oblivious to my observing eyes. I looked at the young man, and I could tell he would not have much of an income but that the woman was still there with him, walking with him. It would not have mattered if they were a brother and a sister, or related or simply by coincidence, happened to walk together. What mattered was the feeling I felt when I saw them, of envy. I was envious of the man, because, he had yet to feel wealth. I was envious of the child who has not tasted of the responsibility of living with the onset of maturity. I was envious of the rock who would not have any nerves and nerve endings, to feel pain or misery, without heart and probably without soul. I was envious of the bird with the wings which it could use to fly to anywhere and at anytime. At that time, I was envious of the poor man, because then, he was not burdened by greed, or envy or avarice, he was not burdened by false pretences and friendships, he was not burdened by expectations and of the desires for worldly goods. All that would have mattered to him, would be the food on the table and a shelter under which, he could sleep. I was envious of the child who has only eyes to see, ears to hear, feet to run with, hands to touch and feel, and of a heart that does not know envy and greed. As we grow older, we have grown further from that child and with a certainty, there is no turning back, no returning to what was once a home. As we grow older, we live to expectations, other people’s expectations and the expectations of the world.

When you are able to see your future in the palm of your hand and it is short of expectations, it is better not to know. When you have been able to feel the luxury of travelling in comfort and transiting at airports and being able to see different people of different races and seemingly on important journeys, and now that luxury is not there anymore, it is better not to know. When you know that your name is on the list of the proposed names for a promotion and the event has passed without you being in it, it is better not to know, for hope is like a self-inflating balloon, which drifts and floats and rises even higher with each passing day, only to fall when reality sets in. With hope, there is a price and hope is not something that comes out of a will, but of its own volition, inflating itself without needing the full conscience of the self. When you are able to know the salaries of those colleagues and you know you have fallen behind, it is better not to know. When the doctor tells you that you do not have much time to live, given the disease within you, it is better not to know, because, at times, knowledge of such a certainty will not allow for miracles to happen.