I cannot add anything of value to this narrative regarding concerning a live in endless cycle of poverty without the luxury of planning or the sort of fancy, subsidised foresight that we imagine ourselves to enjoy from an outsiders' perspective, except that this story is a provoking and important one to read (and reflect upon and share) and apply to ones own contrived blinders.
It is very important not to dismiss apparent bad decisions that contribute to caste and culture but in order not to deflect the critique, we have to recognise the cells that we each condemn ourselves to—not matter how much more pleasantly dressed than the alternative of being poor without end and without the ostentation of daring otherwise. It is better, I think, to live without
privilege, however defined or misconstrued, than to go without empathy and circumspection and the hope to be able to distinguish a tool from a decoy of convention.
