Charity Is the Filthiest Invention of Mankind

A long, no-holds-barred dialogue between Basu and Madhukar beneath the neem tree of Yelmadagi.

---

Scene: A slow afternoon. Basu has just returned from an “NGO fundraiser” in the city. He arrives at Madhukar’s hut dressed in city clothes — neat kurta, polished sandals, a jute bag filled with brochures. Madhukar, seated on the ground with a blade of lemongrass between his teeth, watches a bull chew cud without a care in the world.

---

BASU:

Madhukar, I did something today that made everyone clap…

but my soul stank afterward.

MADHUKAR (grins):

That sounds like charity.

BASU (collapsing on the floor):

How did you know?

MADHUKAR:

Because only charity makes you feel holy while continuing to participate in a system that’s slowly killing the people you’re helping.

---

I. THE DEFILED CONCEPT OF CHARITY

BASU:

They made me give a speech about how my “donation will change lives.”

There were candles, children in torn clothes singing songs,

a banner with my name spelled wrong,

and a plastic garland.

MADHUKAR:

And how many cameras?

BASU:

Three.

One was a drone.

They said the footage would go viral.

MADHUKAR:

Of course.

Charity now comes with drones, hashtags, and captions.

Soon it’ll be a Netflix series:

"Philanthropists of the Galaxy."

BASU:

But here’s the filthiest part.

After my inspiring talk…

I saw the same girl who garlanded me

sweeping the floor outside the venue barefoot,

still hungry.

And the organizers stepped over her.

MADHUKAR (spits out the lemongrass):

Ah, the ritual of selective mercy.

Dress the poor up for stage,

use their hunger as emotional decor,

then discard them after the claps.

---

II. CHARITY IS A COVER-UP FOR CRIMES UNTOUCHED

BASU:

Why don’t we see it?

Why does everyone praise the giver

but never ask why giving is needed in the first place?

MADHUKAR:

Because questioning the cause

makes you complicit.

But donating money

makes you look clean.

BASU:

So we robbed them,

called it economics,

then gave back a coin,

and called it compassion.

MADHUKAR:

Exactly.

If justice was served,

charity would go extinct.

But charity survives because injustice is profitable.

BASU:

Even the food packets had the donor’s photo on it.

As if the poor should remember who saved them with rice and dal.

MADHUKAR:

Ah yes — Rice brought to you by Rajiv Bhai, in memory of his Labrador.

We’ve turned hunger into branding.

Poverty is now an advertising opportunity.

You don’t help the poor—

you market through them.

---

III. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE GIVER

BASU:

And the rich?

They feel saintly.

They give 0.3% of their income

then name schools, hospitals, water filters after themselves.

MADHUKAR:

Because charity soothes their existential dread.

They don't want to dismantle the system—

they want to sleep well in the middle of it.

BASU:

But they still go back to imported wine,

servants, private hospitals, gated gardens—

they never sit with the people they “help.”

MADHUKAR:

They don’t want connection.

They want credit.

If charity didn't come with recognition,

most people wouldn’t even give old clothes.

---

IV. THE RECEIVER’S BURDEN

BASU:

And the worst part?

The poor are taught to be grateful.

They fold hands, bow low, say “thank you Saab”…

for what?

Leftovers?

MADHUKAR:

That’s the cruelest clause of charity:

the receiver must look thankful,

or the giver feels insulted.

Gratitude is demanded

for what should’ve never been stolen in the first place.

BASU:

No one thanks the system for keeping them hungry—

but they thank a man for feeding them one meal.

MADHUKAR:

And if the poor get angry?

Speak truth?

Reject help?

They’re called “arrogant” or “spoiled.”

They’re only lovable when they’re weak, barefoot, and smiling.

---

V. ALTERNATIVES TO CHARITY

BASU:

So what should we do?

Should I never give again?

MADHUKAR:

You should give like you’re returning stolen goods.

Quietly.

With your head down.

Without announcing it.

And without making it your identity.

Don’t feed the poor.

Eat with them.

Don’t donate old clothes.

Wear the same kind.

Don’t just build schools.

Dismantle the world that made schooling a luxury.

BASU:

That’s hard.

That means… I’d have to change how I live.

MADHUKAR:

Exactly.

Real giving costs you comfort.

Charity only costs you leftovers.

---

VI. THE FINAL BRUTAL TRUTH

BASU:

So why do we keep doing it?

This whole world, this circus?

MADHUKAR (laughing bitterly):

Because it feels better to be a god

than to live among equals.

Charity is the ego’s final temple—

where you worship yourself,

while pretending to save the world.

---

Basu takes off his kurta.

He walks toward the stream, barefoot.

He doesn’t speak.

He just sits beside a farmer’s son and breaks a raw guava in half.

No one takes photos.

No one thanks him.

---