While thinking big is incredibly important for personal growth, trying to live entirely beyond or against the established norms of society isn’t brave—it is social suicide
MUFTI JAMEEL FAROOQ
I am writing these words in the immediate aftermath of a visit to the HR office. My objective was simple, perhaps even mundane: to ask about my missing salary. The HR representative, a lady I have known for years, politely directed me to sit. As I lowered myself into the chair, I asked the burning question that had brought me there.
The lady, attired in a black Abaya, gave a routine, almost detached reply: “Your salary shall be disbursed along with the other employees.”
With that, I had to leave. I left because I am just an employee working for an employer, trapped in a bureaucratic cycle that makes me feel like a complete failure. I am someone who, despite having piled degree upon degree, works in the private sector, essentially begging for the timely disbursement of what is rightfully mine.
To an outsider, this reaction might seem extreme. You might be thinking: What is wrong with him? Why does he consider himself a failure when he holds advanced credentials, is gainfully employed, and earns an honest, legal wage?
Today is May 16, 2026. I visited that office to demand my salary for the month of April. The sheer normalcy of her response, the casual deferral of my livelihood, triggered something deep within me. It forced me to confront the questions that have been nagging at my soul: Am I actually successful, or am I a complete failure?
I did everything society required of me. I studied hard, accumulated credentials, and spent years chasing the elusive security of a government job. I piled up the degrees, but I failed to land that government post. I didn’t fail due to a lack of merit, but because of systemic rot—corruption, dishonesty, and the culture of backdoor entries. Now, I am left questioning the true value of my education.
Every day, I ask myself: What is the true definition of success?
A philosophical voice within might argue that success is simply “satiation”—a state of inner peace and contentment. Yet, pure contentment cannot be the sole definition of success in a world governed by material realities. Consider a deeply religious man who offers his Salah five times a day, maintaining an impeccable spiritual life, but fails to provide proper sustenance for his family. Can we truly call him a successful person?
While inner satisfaction is vital, the parameters set by society cannot be ignored. Society weighs and values a human being by a highly superficial yardstick. I have observed and experienced this firsthand in our local communities. For instance, individuals who possess high status, wealth, and influence are routinely assigned prestigious memberships on Masjid committees, completely bypassing any consideration of their actual spiritual state.
Conversely, I have encountered many people in my locality who are not only pious and virtuous but live lives of beautiful austerity. Yet, because they lack material wealth, they have absolutely no voice or say in community matters.
I don’t necessarily blame society; it has simply evolved to function this way. But the reality remains: those who do not conform to these economic norms are left behind, permanently denied social stature.
This brings to mind a famous quote by the actor Shahrukh Khan, who pragmatically noted, “First become rich, and then become a philosopher.” You may possess the most profound philosophies—ideas that could genuinely change the world and make it a better place—but until you are rich, hold a position of authority, or occupy an elevated status, your voice will remain a whisper in a hurricane. Until then, your ideas are treated as abstract and bogus. Societal patterns are rigidly defined; anyone who dares to defy them is dismissed as “nuts” or deemed entirely valueless.
A week ago, I held a discussion with my principal, who shared a striking parable with me.
“A balloon seller sells a balloon for his sustenance,” he said. “A second child buys that balloon, and a third child pricks and explodes the balloon purely for his own enjoyment.”
This parable forced me to contemplate deeply. Who among the three is truly successful? Is it the one who sells the balloon for his livelihood, the one blessed with the money to buy it, or the one who destroys it because its monetary value means nothing to him?
For my principal, the balloon seller is the successful one because he provides sustenance for his family, achieving a sense of tranquil purpose. But my internal questions persist: Does that balloon seller actually earn respect in the eyes of the world? How is he treated when he walks down the street? Society does not look at him as a beacon of success; it looks at him with eyes of pity.
We cannot ignore the generational privileges of status. A son whose father is wealthy enjoys an immediate head start in life, inheriting a safety net and social reverence. Time and again, we witness the poor being trampled by the rich.
Can we truly change these norms by choosing to be the odd one out? To survive, we are practically forced to be hand-in-glove with society. We have to live within its structures, and crucially, we have to find life partners within it. Will society accept the non-conformist? If a man chooses to be the “odd one out” by rejecting material metrics, who will be ready to offer their son or daughter to him/her in marriage? The practical answer is no one.
Look at the stark reality of how status functions in the marriage market. I know a handsome young IAS officer who cracked the elite civil services exam at the age of 23. He married at 26, and by 30, he was divorced. Yet, because of his immense social status and position, he was effortlessly able to marry again. His professional designation wiped away any social stigma of divorce, acting as an all-powerful currency.
This entire train of thought actually began during a debate with my colleague, Ms. Mushkeen. She argued that we are a society, that every individual living within it collectively creates the norms, patterns, and social strata. Therefore, she implied, we have the power to change it.
I strongly disagreed with her. The average citizen does not possess the agency to rewrite social structures. It is only those who hold institutional power, wealth, or high office who are truly emancipated enough to alter societal norms. For the rest of us, trying to fight the system from the bottom is a losing battle.
Some might comfort themselves by saying that this sense of entrapment is just a “state of mind.” It isn’t. While thinking big is incredibly important for personal growth, trying to live entirely beyond or against the established norms of society isn’t brave—it is social suicide.
(The Author is a columnist and can be reached at: Muftijameel97@gmail.com/)