A Love Letter to Fellow Scapegoats

This is a love letter, let me begin with that. It's Christmas today, and no, I don’t have a glass of wine on me, nor do I have a roaring fireplace beside me. I’m definitely not surrounded by a loved one’s arms, and I most definitely don’t have a black Persian cat with heterochromia fast asleep on my lap. What I’m trying to say here is, Santa put me in the naughty-people list and nothing I wanted has been afforded to me. Not even the Post-Grad admission I had bribed (may I add, heavily) God for. You must wonder why am I writing words of amore when not a lot of what I wanted has been given to me. Or is that wishful thinking on my part?

I wonder in what words I could explain that I might be grateful for all of my turmoil-induced-emotions. I wonder if my fervour for these emotions has anything to do with the mindless novelty of them, or perhaps, it is due to their unrestricted nature. I’m not a Godless person, but neither am I someone who completely believes in God’s idealistic characters. Yet, in recent times, I’ve found charm in begging, bribing and accepting the Higher Presence. With not one thing in my hand, I enjoy the idea of having left the utter discourse of my life on the One higher-up. I may not have what I want, not even what I possibly deserve, but who’s to blame? Not me. I wish I were one of those who felt ‘touched’ by The Presence, or the ones who believe only the good is destined, and maybe I’m paving a path towards that, but I’m not there, yet (most likely, I never will be). But, I must accept, I’ve felt much better about coursing the blame through someone else. There’s less to it than devotion and yet, it’s pristine enough to maybe be beyond it. It may be called a defence mechanism, or maybe it’s simply just a change of tact, a diversion, if you will. Either way, it has saved me quite a lot of tears and several hours of self-loathing. 

If one were to search ‘God is a micromanager?’, the likeness of a treasure trove may be found. My favourite answers (very obviously) belong to Quora. Jim Whitehead, Former Subatomic whisperer answered ‘No we do!’ and, I’m here for it, his answer is eloquent and metaphorical and everything I wanted from a Quora answer. However, after much deliberation, I decided to forego further research, mostly because of Jim, and partially because I wasn’t in the mood to give up on the blame game, yet. The feeling of guilt I tried not to feel, or even the remorse, I suppose, caught up to me. The 7 Laws of Magical Thinking by Matthew Hutson gives a purview into why we do what we do - it speaks quite a lot about God’s Plan (not the fun Drake kind) and about negative agency bias (my favourite kind of bias). What it suggests is that acts of consequence, particularly unfavourable consequence, arouse feelings of divine authorship. The negative agency bias also results from the fact that we like to take credit for positive outcomes and blame failures on someone else. But I’ve spoken about that before, many times, if I recall correctly.

At this point, I would say I was simply looking for a scapegoat, one who doesn’t retort back. They don’t unfollow you, or tweet you back, or worse, block you. Or do they? Ah, I’ll try not to give myself a scare. I’m sure you’re screaming at me to just take responsibility, fess up and get on with the ‘real’ world. Believe me, Sir Louis Cohen, off-of-Quora’s answer, “The only gods are fictional characters in fairy tales. You’re in charge so don’t try to pass the buck” really tried to do a number on me. But it’s Christmas, in the middle of a pandemic with new mutant versions popping out each day, and don’t you remember? My cat is not here for support. And like I said, this is a love letter, to fellow scapegoats, whose presence are sometimes questioned, always appreciated and very well monetised. If this pity party of mine has managed to affront you, I heartily apologise, I’m open to new learnings (mostly, because I’m Uni-less at the moment) and will like, follow and subscribe if you put a good word for me to the One Above.


Harshita Jain

Second year Psychology student from Delhi University, with a keen interest in reading anything from Archer to Rumi. Speaks in analogies, more often than not. Writes poetry and paints, when not testing people's attributes. Believes in Occam's Razor.

The Pangean does not condemn or condone any of the views of its contributors. It only gives them the space to think and write without hindrance.