The story of privilege during an epidemic
My teacher once told me,
You are aware of your Privilege.
I wasn’t sure whether to be proud of my awareness,
Or to feel terrible about my state.
This birth-given right of mine,
It is a great power with great responsibility.
It is what gives me the power to whine,
And do nothing to change the course of history.
Ab toh corona ka time hai,
Apna time ka intezar bhi nahi.
Ab toh mere paas laziness ka privilege hai,
Ab kaha se badlungi history?
Toh phir maine,
Tik tok videos banaye,
Phir apne maid ke hisse ke kaam bhi kiye,
Delivery boys ko cape bhi de,
Par phir bi din ke sabse buri baat internet ke slow speed hi thi.
Sitting in my ivory tower,
With my home workouts.
KFC delivered, kitchen is stocked.
Then I sigh staring at my phone,
are rey garib,
Agle hi lamhe mein karan johar ki story se gham me kami bhi huwi.
But I still tell myself,
we are all doing our best.
We are all fighting this battle.
Some easier than others.
But the truth is staring at us,
The class difference startles.
Dalit abi bhi neeche hai,
Par woh bi neeche jinhe hum mudh ke dekhte bi nahi,
Woh road ki safayi karne wali aunty akhir famous actress hai bhi nayi.
Toh hum thank you, aunty bolke agey bad jate hai,
She remains the giver, we remain the insatiable takers.
Ye class difference samaj me shayad ara hai,
Par is bimari ka corona jaisa koi ilaaj nahi,
Ilahi, ye bhi communalism jaise shayad sacchai ka mohtaj nahi.
Hum ye jhoot aur captilasm ki hawas me khuhsi khushi jalte rahenge.
Aj inke qurbani pe thaali bajayi,
Kal wapas tv heroes pe paise udayenge.
Zindagi bus isi ghere me reh gayi shayad meri.
Yeh helpless rona bhi privilege hi hai mera.
So I tell this to myself to be aware of my privilege.
Environment toh bacha nahi sake,
Insaniyat toh dikha nahi sakhe,
Raaste bhi sunsan kar nahi sakhe,
Bus privilege ke bartan bajaye hai.
Ayse sunday humne manaye hai.
Raaste pe sone walon ko disinfectant se nhilaye hai.
Ameero ko sar pe bithaye hai.
Jahalat ke andheron me diye jalaye hai.
Ayse Sunday humne manaye hai.
What more can we do?
How do we break this hierarchy,
Where one has more,
And many have nothing.
An empty stomach versus the privilege of dieting.
With UAPA haunting the ones who dare,
Can we waste time on the Kardashians now?
With extradition cases, student activists attacked and the economy in crisis.
Can we avoid the lines of migrants stacked together like mices.
Because that’s what social distancing means to many.
Can we avoid rebels without a cause protesting staying at home?
Because that’s what freedom means to many.
While a doctor is buried on the run,
With the shame of a failed society attending the funeral.
The lynching of men, the pelting of saviours.
We treat them as well as we did the son of God.
The crucified heroes:
Humanity ka copyright toh shayad sirf unke paas hai.
Can we still cover our eyes and follow our country’s andha kanoon?
Or has the virus finally opened our eyes?
Because I still close mine to enjoy the theme song of the office.
My temporary privilege pays for the upkeep of my unraveling mental health.
How long before we are on the streets with no wealth?
How long before escapism is a thing of the past?
Like the last season of our favorite show,
We are forced to explore the possibility of an ending now, at last.
Surely we are trying our best.
But can we be more action and less instagram rants?
Not that that doesn’t impact. But we need more.
Question the government,
Fight for a democracy. Another birth-given right.
Before that be prepared to share our salaries?
Our salaries equally with blue collar workers.
Share what we actually owe to them?
Kyuki jee toh phir bi rahe, fuzuliyat aur khsuhi ke dekho ke bina.
Kyuki huste toh aj bi hai, Kyuki waqt se mile pyaar ne hasna sikha diya.
So as my teacher once pointed out beautifully,
Sabah, you are aware of your privilege,
And my part in running the wheel of greed.
So what will I do about it now?
What will you do about it?
I hope my words become the beginning of something more.
Shayad abhi bhi hai thodi si hope?