Everyone has experienced FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), which comes when you see that others are moving ahead and you are missing out on opportunities at some point in your life. But have you ever felt bad about being in a good situation?
It happened when I was conducting outreach to expand the Hamari Bakhli collective, the business venture of my project. We were scheduled to visit two villages in the Dwarahat block of Almora. I was excited for the outreach because, after almost 20 days, I was going back to the field (as I like to be in the field more than being in the office in front of a laptop).
The first of two meetings went well. A group of around 30 women and girls attended the meeting in Bhatoura village. We (Kavita Di and I) told them about us (Udhyam), the project Hamari Bakhli, and what they would gain from it.
We then went to the next village, Dhamoli. It was the same village where Kavita Di’s mother lives, and she knew many people there. People kept arriving at the place and started saying,
“Areee Kavita! Ki haal hariyaan?” (How are you in Kumaoni)
and Kavita Di responded,
“Thik chhu” (I am okay in Kumaoni), as they had known her since her childhood.
At one point, she was busy talking with them on the side, and I was greeting everyone with Namaste. After waiting for around 40-50 minutes, people finally gathered (not all of them, as it is very common for some people to miss meetings in social sectors).
Now the time came for the briefing, and I was ready with the pamphlets and booklets. Till this point, the clothes thing had not grabbed my attention.
Pic: 1 Bhatoura Village
The moment everyone sat in front of me, my mind got a few seconds of uninterrupted gaze at the group together. I noticed that almost all of them were wearing very humble clothes. Their hands clearly showed the work they were doing before coming to the meeting.
One lady had numerous cut marks on her palms. It was similar to the cut marks on the index finger of someone who cooks daily, but hers were on almost all her fingers. I wanted to know the reason, but something stopped me from asking her. Maybe it was my own thought that she might not feel comfortable sharing about it.
When you see something in others, you naturally compare it with yourself for good or bad reasons. My attention first went to my unblemished hands. Hands that did not know the hurt and pain of agricultural labour. Hands that did not need to toil every day. No cuts or blemished, just clean hands. Then my gaze went to my own clothes. They were very bright, new and clean, as I had bought them just 10-15 days before. Compared to everyone else’s, they stood out oddly, and I felt like the odd one out in that setting. It made me look different from them. Maybe it was something they had always noticed, but for me, that was the first time.
And there it was, a sense of discomfort rising inside me. Not for something I had done on purpose. There was no malice inside me. It was just something that had happened, by itself. My privilege was clear and bright in that group, as was my discomfort in my clean clothes.
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