I could never figure out whether my life pattern was more difficult or more boring.

Was I more foolish or more restless? More worried or more bewildered? Whatever it was, it was always beyond my understanding.

There was mention of me too — in someone’s words, in someone’s story. I loved to speak, but I was unaware that people only listen to those whose hands hold piles of banknotes or the chime of gold coins. People don’t build relationships with us; they build them with the greatness attached to us.

In simple words: become something if you wish to be spoken of. Create your own introduction — and if you didn’t inherit it from your father, so be it.

A large part of my life was wasted trying to impress those who called me worthless and poor. I kept thinking that one intelligent remark of mine, or good grades in school, would make me worthy of sitting among them. But that was my illusion — an illusion of belonging to the so-called “high class.”

The truth was that my father was not very wealthy, and I had no idea about it. The people we socialized with never spelled out unpleasant truths in plain words. Instead, they were experts in expressing them through subtle, nasty gestures — the kind that would make the other person realize their “place” without a direct confrontation.

Once at a dinner, when I placed two pieces of meat on my plate, a relative sitting nearby remarked, “Looks like you haven’t had good food in a while.” That was the first time a comment hit me so hard — making me both hurt and thoughtful. After all, others were eating far more than I was, yet the remark was directed only at me. And that was it — slowly, the illusion of my self-worth shattered.

The best thing my father gave me was an education, because he didn’t have enough money to leave me a financial inheritance. Having little or no money is one of the greatest trials in our society — something only those who experience it truly understand. A man or woman without wealth is considered worse than an animal — like the widow of a failed man, like a drunken, unclothed body lying under a bridge, like an abandoned goat among hungry beasts.

Hunger is a cruel thing — whether it is hunger for money or for lust, for food or for dignity.

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