Of Feeling Pity and being Human

I went home to my village. Not far from Peshawar. Homecoming is always sweet. Family, loved ones, known faces, with centuries of acquaintance in every eye. I am a kind of a celebrity over there. The guy from the city who made it without the help of his village roots, his family name and his father's pride. These are bad times for landowners. The money modern luxury, or even comfort, requires couldn't be found toiling the land. This is the Pashtoon heartland, inhabited by people who love family feuds and losing their sons in them. Loss is a cultural thing. Loss is a sense of pride.
But this time around I saw a woman working at home. I saw her earlier also. She had this calm and quiet demeanor, something that aspires respect and sorrow at the same time. She didn't have the tongue in cheek attitude of the housemaids. She had that deep sorrow in her eyes. Quietly doing all she was asked to do. I asked about what she earns a month. "500 Rupees and food," was the answer. "And she works all day long, till you ask her to leave," I asked. "Yes, she is a good woman," came the compliment. I was told the woman had a home and land of her own. The family had lost it. They had to come from nearby village to secure a few meals, and this is what she got.
Her eyes followed my kids, my wife, and myself with appreciation, sadness, and solemnity. "What is she thinking." Nobody need to be an Einstein to solve the riddle. Her own kids' hunger, her own haplessness, and uprooted life compared with the homecoming of the city guys. I can't enjoy anything. I just sat there. My wife came to me, whispering in my ear,"she looks different". "I know," I told her. She had never served as housemaid before. She had lost all she had and is new into servility. "We should help her," she said. "Sure", I told her, "This is the least we can do."
Individual philanthropy is good, but it is never an answer to such an enormous question of poverty. It never retrieves self respect. The begging bowl doesn't vanish with the magic wand of individual philanthropy. It satisfies the ego of the giver, while puts a loaf of bread into the mouth of the needy, without the guarantee of this arrangement being permanent. There is also a difference between philanthropy and generosity. Generosity fulfills the needs of the needy, or it doesn't but gives some support, without necessarily feeling empathy for the needy. It thus never rehabilitates. It never helps the needy regain her/his self respect. Philanthropy on the other hand is a helping hand with a heart. If one can't see the need of ones own little children in the eyes of those in need, there is little hope that the people in need would ever be able to rise above subhuman level.
Is our society ready to take this step towards humanity? This is the question all of us have to ask ourselves. This is nothing to be taught, but something to be felt. It is the process of sublimation among individuals as well as social units, the society as a whole. The excuse of being in trying times and under immense pressure from all sides is not a valid one. It is, in fact, during the worst times that the greatest achievements in humanity could be made. If this is true, our time is ripe.