I heard this story from a friend recently, and thought I must share it
‘A boy was standing in front of a hospital with his friends when an ambulance arrived and the hospital staff took a young girl out of the ambulance and into the hospital. The girl had been badly injured in an accident. As she was being carried inside, the boy overheard that she desperately need A-ve blood, which was extremely rare. The boy ran inside and told the doctor that he his blood group was A -ve. An hour later, the boy was back outside after donating blood for the girl.
When his friends asked him why he had donated blood to a girl he didn’t even know, he replied, “Yaar! Did you see the girl? She was a real piece; so I thought what better chance could I have with her than having saved her life. Now just wait till she gets well and is told that I was the hero who gave her my blood. Cool na?” The friends were impressed.
When the boy got home that evening, his father said, “Hey! I heard you’ve been giving a lot of blood shlood to young girls!” He replied with a serious expression. “O that! Actually, dad, the girl had lost a lot of blood, her life was in danger. And you know how rare A-ve blood group is! I thought that if I didn’t step up, she might not be able to get the blood in time. Since God had put this rare group of blood in my veins, I considered it my moral duty to help.” His father looked amused and a little perplexed; “But your friend was telling me that you gave blood because the girl was a real piece and that you were actually helping her to become a hero in her eyes so that you could have a chance with here later.”
“O come on Dad!” the boy said, “I had to tell such a story to my friends. If I had told them that I was doing it because it was my moral duty, they would have made fun of me for the rest of my life.” Dad was satisfied.
The next day, as he entered college, one of his friends said, “Hey, hero! I met your dad last night. Did you tell him that you gave blood to that girl because you thought it was a moral obligation or something?” “O come on yaar!” the boy replied, “I had to tell such a story to dad. If I had told him that I had helped the girl cos she was a tota, he would’ve killed me.” The friend was satisfied.
That evening, when the boy was alone in his room, he just could not decide why he had donated blood. He was totally confused.’
Moral of the story? Well, I guess most of the time, if not all the time, we are not sure why we do what we do. Our reasons depend on who’s asking and our brain simply comes up with the logic that would satisfy the inquirer. We act, speak and rationalize our life according to who is watching, listening or asking. Maybe that’s why people get really uncomfortable when a video camera is recording their words and actions. They don’t know who their audience would be, so they don’t know how to act or what to say.
The scariest part? Even when we are alone, we don’t really know why we did what we did. When we ask ourselves, our brain again comes up with an explanation that would satisfy the inquirer, ourselves. And even more confusing is that once we give such answers to a couple of people, we feel the urge to stick to them since we have already committed to them and the chances of getting to the bottom of things become even less.
Another example. Why did I write this? Why, of course because I want to contribute to the world and share whatever useful things I hear with others. It is sort of a moral obligation. Or so my brain tells me!