We should recognise the value of pausing and reflecting, to determine whether our reactions to perceived insults are genuinely justified

I read a beautiful story by a well-known Indian author about a middle-class household. The lady of the house locks herself in an earmarked dark room whenever she feels unloved and uncared for by her family. We too retreat to our inner self, the equivalent of our dark room, sometimes in our lives.During a recent vacation, my wife’s friend compared me to a beast of burden.

The adjective is also often used by parents admonishing their good-for-nothing sons. The word is probably also applicable to all husbands. I sulked till a couple of hours later, I gave it back to her.

This time my wife objected, forcing me into another sulk. They had probably expected a better sense of humour. I was not amused.

A friendly neighbour objected to my entrance to attend a meeting in a rather loud stage whisper for reasons I was unaware of. I was asked to wait outside. It turned out that he was retaliating to an earlier fight with another neighbour.

He had probably expected me to empathise with his unexpressed anguish. I felt insulted.Another time, a neighbour acting as an observer in society elections, got up rather aggressively, started shouting at me, and asked me to get out, on the grounds of some rules not mentioned anywhere.

A couple of hours later, he came out and shook hands with me. I tried to mend fences by putting on my best smile. He rudely turned his face away, telling anyone who cared to listen, “He is a writer; he does not even know the rules.”

I could not understand the relationship between a writer and knowledge of unwritten rules. Rationally thinking about the incident a day later, I thought he was probably venting his frustration about inadequate writing skills. It was no consolation.

I faced several unpleasant events in my professional life. I took them in my stride. One such incident happened within a few weeks after I had joined my first working post in the railways.

I sat in the senior foreman’s office after my usual morning round of the maintenance shed, when I was interrupted in my discussions by the entry of 30 odd staff led by a union leader. Listening to the problems, I was startled by the landing of an earthenware teacup on the table.

They were trying to gauge my reaction. I took it as a management challenge, not an insult.I witnessed a catfight between two young ladies in an upmarket shop in Delhi. One lady had tried to get ahead of the other at the payment counter.

I was relieved that it remained a verbal duel, rather than turning into a fisticuff. In another incident, a mother trying to help her teenage son choose clothes was rudely snubbed by the latter, “Do not talk like a fool.” The mother had tears in her eyes as she surreptitiously looked around, and then fussed some more over her child. I too looked the other way, embarrassed at the rude snub in public to a mother’s affection.

There are many such incidents that we face in our lives. We take a few more seriously than the others, while others we shrug off. The line between a perceived insult and rational logic is often blurred.

It is easy to cross this line without even realising it.It may save a visit to the inner dark room, if we do not react, but pause, reflect, and remember the Greek philosopher, Epictetus, “It is not he who reviles or strikes you who insults you, but your opinion that these things are insulting.”

(The author is an electrical engineer with the Indian Railways and conducts classes in creative writing; views are personal)