This Episode is not an advice, its not a suggestion. but what it is, is a cry, an observation and a wound deeply inflicted. Its a epilogue to a lost love that had no where to go. and the only question I ask is, Who Are You To Divide? What name is this you wear so loud, As though it makes you stand more proud? What thread, what title, what ancient claim Gives you the right to measure a name? You and I were born the same No caste stitched into our skin at birth, No rank carved in our fragile worth. Just breath. Just blood. Just beating heart. No man arrived already set apart. What is caste but a story told By trembling men afraid to unfold The truth — that power built on birth Is fear disguised as sacred worth? Did you choose your father’s name? Did you craft your lineage’s fame? Did you select the soil you came from, Or the roof that covered you at dawn? No. And neither did they. So who are you to stand so tall On ladders you did not build at all? Who are you to look below At hands that simply started slow? Respect the one who rises through Calloused palms and skies of blue. Respect the woman who builds her way Through silent nights and working days. Respect the mind that chose to grow When comfort begged it not to know. Respect the spine that would not bend, Though hunger walked beside as friend. Respect the self-made, scar by scar, Who built their light without a star. Respect integrity held tight When shortcuts whispered through the night. Not silver spoons nor ancient claims, Not borrowed pride nor fossilized names Make a soul more pure, more grand. Character is the only brand. What is your greatness, truly made of? Old privilege or courage paid of? Is your pride your own creation Or an inherited decoration? Blood is red in every vein. Tears taste just the same as pain. The grave does not sort bone by caste. Dust forgets your titled past. In that narrow earth where all must lie, No surname shouts, no banners fly. No priest, no throne, no guarded gate Will filter souls by social weight. Only your deeds will speak your claim. Only your truth will sign your name. The kindness given, the hatred fed, The bridges built, the poison spread. So bow that arrogance to the ground. It makes you smaller than you sound. You did not design the womb you came from. You did not negotiate your sun. Difference is not a hierarchy. It is design. It is variety. Strength is not in birthright’s wall It’s rising when you could have crawled. If you measure men by caste alone, Your weakness is the loudest tone. Because a mind that fears another’s rise Builds fences, not empires. We are born with equal breath, Equal right to life and death. What you build, that is your claim. Not the accident of your name. So before you judge a man’s degree, Or mock his lack of pedigree, Ask yourself with all your pride Who are you to divide?
