Hatred is not as bad as being indifferent. Hatred means one has a corner of the heart dedicated to for generating the impulses of hate; indifference, on the contrary, refers to the unacknowledged and unfelt presence of a person, having not a single atom of your body affected by a person’s happiness or sorrows. A total ignorance sans feelings—a sign of inexistent in this big universe.
Such thoughts haunted him while he did some daily chore, depressed to the core for the preceded interaction (read argument) that he had with his father. With the gush of the water falling into the bucket of the bathroom where he now stood watching the process silently, a cold rush of blood ran through his veins. They made him say a hushed prayer, taking him back to his deepening thoughts. It was not hatred he feared from his family for his incapability in the eye of the world, but the indifference delivered by them. It was intimidating to think of nil reactions from his beloveds.
It was confusing; sometimes he was showered with love, especially from siblings. It no more excited him, nor did they please him at that exact moment. They always gave him this idea that either they were bored and came here in seek of some entertainment out of him for the sake of being his close kin, or the pampering was usually followed by a favour asked from him. As he thought of his emotional troubles, he reminded himself of their audacity of hiding mistakes under the sheets of, “We are telling you something about your attitude; it is only good for you to learn at times!” He desired of a moment where he could tell them what they needed to learn.
Now those harsh words had resulted to a headache. There were so many moments when he wanted ears to tell his problems to, and today was a no different day. He cried his heart out and longed for that unconditional support—one who didn’t judge him of his imperfections, but he confided to none. He had only witnessed criticism in the supposed inspiration that was offered to him in long speeches. They only hollowed him more. At some instances like these, his mother had been the oasis of relief, the guiding light, nourishing him to live with her love. With everyone else he lacked the emotional bond. He shared the least with them and got the least from them, he knew that he would be adjudged a dumb.
The prayer he sent was not to let them know of his miseries. Let them be happy in their own world and him being ignorant in his. “Ignorant? Did he say ignorant?” he wondered. If he prayed for ignorance, is it he who is brewing the indifference? If so, has he himself surpassed the levels of hate so much so that he has become indifferent to his close ones? The overflowing water from the bucket was the answer.