Sense of worth vs upper-class entitlement

Last month, I had my own Buddha moment — not in Bodh Gaya, but at a traffic light in Chandigarh’s Sector 37, during the morning rush-hour traffic.

My moment of enlightenment — I had always known that humanity is divided into antagonistic classes. But that day I felt the sting of contempt — the way the upper class look down on the “lesser” mortals.

My Maruti had barely grazed a white Range Rover. A tap most drivers dismiss. But a woman in her thirties, still in her night suit, erupted. “You don’t know the three-second rule?” she said loudly, followed by a sentence that cut deep: “Know your aukaat.”

It wasn’t about driving. It was about hierarchy. Her SUV demanded reverence; my modest Maruti had trespassed against its status. The dent was negligible, but humility wasn’t enough. She wasn’t guarding her car, but her rank.

I’ve always thought Chandigarh was different. A city of teachers, lawyers, doctors, civil servants — where dignity came from work, not wealth.

I come from a “rajji hoi” family — middle-class, educated, reasonably accomplished. I know the rich can be vain, yet rarely have I seen class arrogance so naked in public. I was wrong.

Her fury — reducing me to “my aukaat” — wasn’t personal. It was distilled contempt: the belief that money grants virtue and command. Status symbols mustn’t just be preserved; they must humble others.

I apologised and complied silently. She demanded my papers like a cop, photographed my plate and face as if logging evidence. For a light tap, I was treated like a suspect. But behind her aggression was fear: without superiority, her identity was fragile. If we’re all equal, what remains of those who live by being above?

As I drove away, her voice lingered, but so did a quiet strength. She had the SUV, the fury, the photos. What she lacked, and could never seize, was my sense of self.

Sixty years have taught me this: dignity doesn’t drip from wealth. It rises from within — from knowing who you are, and never confusing riches with worth.

Manu Kant, Chandigarh