Ignorance is not bliss. As I’ve grown older, I’ve become increasingly aware of that fact. Looking at life through the trajectory of my own experiences, I can now recognize how privileged I am, even in the smallest, quietest ways.
Here I am, on the 29th of July, 2025, writing about my life, my unsolicited and unneeded thoughts and perspectives while out there, people are working and toiling just to afford food that fills their stomachs only halfway, enough to sleep through the night.
I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I take medication, attend therapy, go through psychiatric evaluations and dare I say, these things are neither cheap nor accessible for everyone. I completed my M.A, but I couldn’t mentally afford to pursue a Ph.D due to my condition. And yet, here I am, writing about it, not worrying about immediate survival, not worrying about jobs, not worrying about rent. That’s privilege.
I am grateful for the hard work of my parents. They’ve given me a beautiful house, with my own room, where I have a closet full of clothes—many of which I no longer remember, or even wear. I own high-quality, designer-brand shoes paid for, gifted, bestowed upon me. I can afford to attend art school, a space where I get to de-stress and learn, aware that art is not an imperative career for survival, but something that nourishes my soul. I have the luxury of lounging around at home, where food and drinks are always available, not when I’m starving, but simply when I feel like it.
I lived in the capital city of Delhi for years. During that time, I learned, grew, expanded my understanding of language, culture, and people. My perspective widened. I saw the world more clearly. There are countless more examples I could offer from my life. But the fact remains: I am privileged.
Recently, I heard from a friend about a delusional, ignorant and asininely foolish individual who claimed there is no class divide in Mizoram because “everyone drinks the same café drinks” and “wears the same clothes.” It made me laugh. How narrow. How tunnel-visioned. Much like an institution where people dress as they please and imitate dreams they can’t afford, this person mistook uniformity for equality.
Yes, imitation comes easy in a society, knockoffs and second-hand clothing are ways many people adapt to trends affordably. I am not glorifying this, mind you. I’m merely pointing out that when you look closer at texture, color, depth, length, quality, you start to see the fault lines of class. That’s where the divide reveals itself.
Fashion plays a powerful role in this. When a new trend emerges, those who can afford the original and those who go for the knockoff or resale version walk the same streets but with very different feet. And somehow, I’ve grown sharply, maybe weirdly, aware of these differences. I am weirdly yet sharply aware of it as I observe people.
Yes, everyone may have iPhones these days but who gets the latest release? And who waits for the discounts, the second-hands? Even in consumption, there’s hierarchy. It’s not about having, but how and when you have.
And then, when you are suddenly placed in a situation where you have no money, no resources-your state of mind, how you react, what you expect, how you cope, that’s when your true class reveals itself. How people respond to deprivation is shaped by the comforts they've been conditioned to.
To that person who so confidently declares there is no class divide: I have never seen a more blindly privileged individual. It baffles me how ignorant one can still be in 2025. But perhaps, for some, ignorance is bliss.
I’m not here to brag or defend anyone. But saying “there’s no class divide” in 2025? That just salts my onions. As a writer, a witness, an observer, I cannot even fathom stepping into the shoes of those truly suffering. I failed to.
Class divide exists. There will always be people more privileged than you and me. I’m not even saying it’s inherently wrong or right. But when we live in a survival-of-the-fittest world where people must struggle and compete for jobs, positions, status; if you still don’t see the divide, my god, how privileged you must be.
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