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You know the saying about not knowing where the shoes bite unless you’ve walked in them? Our present situation is something like that.
Bahrain is in the grip of an unprecedented crisis. All those fears of loss and hardship which we have seen etched on faces on TV from far-away war zones are staring back at us from mirrors – not quite as terrified or gaunt, but fearful, nevertheless. It is not just the ongoing regional attacks that have upended our lives.
For expatriate Indians, especially those with growing families, it is also deep concern about their children’s future.
The Indian central education system is going through a massive churn with changed syllabi and scandals of leaked papers nullifying vital entry-level qualifying marks.
Imagine if you spent months preparing for the GRE or GMAT to join your chosen American college, only to find out after the exam, that the whole exercise was compromised because of leaked question papers. That is what Indian students are facing over the NEET qualifiers for medical school, where investigations have uncovered a multi-million rupee racket of leaked papers and marksheet fixing.
Faced with a cornucopia of disaster headlines, columnists like me are thrown into confusion.
Do we dare to leave these world-altering happenings aside and quibble over every day, local issues? Luckily, there are plenty of problems that people are talking about in hushed tones which cut our quality of life right now.
Let us start with the non-negotiable: despite what our loved ones watching the Middle East conflict unfold on their screens think, Bahrain is still much safer than many countries.
I can still indulge in an after-dinner walk at 10pm on quiet, moonlit streets near my home without fear of being assaulted. Break-ins are still rare enough to warrant single-deck headlines. Despite rising costs, everyday essentials are available, and the vast majority of residents still have an undamaged roof over their heads.
However, there is no denying that there are hidden bruises.
We can shore up our courage and optimism all we like, but the fact is that small businesses are suffering tremendously.
At the blue-collar level, fleet drivers, salon workers, and retail aisle workers – the foot-soldiers of our economy – are facing the brunt of the challenge, losing jobs or taking pay cuts they can ill-afford.
Furthermore, in Indian schools where higher studies entrance requirements call for three years of unremitting slogging, parents are taking their kids out of school here and relocating to India so their children do not face the shock of a sudden change in their final years.
If a thousand students have made this choice, that is a thousand families where parents have split responsibilities. The father usually stays behind, embracing the bachelor breadwinner life, whilst mum becomes a single parent back home. It impacts family spending power in Bahrain and scars our emotional and social fabric.
The true measure of a crisis is found in these quiet, domestic fractures.
We look at the grand geopolitical chessboard, but the real impact lands right here on our doorstep – in empty classroom seats and divided households.
As families split and small businesses buckle under the weight of an uncertain world, let us consciously support the fragile community that keeps us anchored. After all, a society does not just survive by keeping a roof over its head; it survives by keeping its fabric whole.
meeraresponse@gmail.com
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