Maybe I was born this way. Maybe my parents failed to teach me moral behaviour. Maybe they did but I was reluctant to learn.
I’m bad because I think of myself. I think of the way I’ll dress up today, what hairstyle I’ll wear, which bracelet will match my clothes, food that I’ll eat and food that I’ll avoid, friends I will hang around with, movies that I will watch, the cosmetics that I’ll use to help my skin glow and how I’ll look beautiful.
I do not care of my millions of brothers who die every day due to the stormy weather because they don’t have warm clothes to shield themselves. I do not care of crore others who spend their eternity in every corner of every street in hope of getting a handful of rice, to whom a handful of rice is equal to the food of a five star restaurant. I do not care of thousands of other anaemic girls who haven’t shampooed their hair or scrubbed their bodies since months. Movies? They might not have the slightest idea of what it is. I do not care of hundreds of other poor old men, around whom a clan of mosquitoes linger every time everywhere. I ignore the dreams of lacks of others which are similar to mine and I turn a blind eye to the fact that they are also humans. Heavens above! I do not even ask if my parents have had their meal tonight, if they are happy, if anything is bothering them. I’m a callous wimp. I don’t think of nothing but myself.
When a man lands into a murky puddle, I hoot with laughter. I pick apart my food and if it’s spicy, I cast it away. I walk away from people and things that give out offensive stench. If my flipcover fetches a scratch, I replace it quickly. If I get pimples on my face, I panic and visit the dermatologist. I’m bad because I couldn’t care less.
But wait! I’m not the onliest. You too, are identical to me. You behave the way I do. We are drops of the same pond, crops of the same field. So you are also bad and selfish and careless. Aren’t you?