Coventionally Incorrect

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I finally came to terms with the fact that I was conventionally incorrect the day I watched my mom strike a conversation about Yam with a woman she loathed.

The delivery of the play was so flawless, the expertise in the delivery of the niceness so apt, the craftiness and performance of the whole conversation was incredible.

That it was a mutual  performance was even more incredible.

Up until that time, my interaction with the world was one that came with the assumption that everybody was true and kind and honest.

That incident slapped reality into me – that I come from a culture where hypocrisy is a proof of wisdom.

Hypocrisy is understood as social correctness. It is an unspoken ethic. You either learn it or slip into it unconsciously.

I watched my mom and her friend  that day and I realized and learnt that there is something impure about life and I cannot leave my understanding of the world to someone else’s vision and understanding. I needed to arm myself with the wisdom of elders but still experience life for myself.

I need to understand life for myself, and decide for myself what I will allow to take root in me and what I will refuse.

That experience made me self-aware and also taught me about convictions.