Dr. Priyanka Saurabh
Human life is shaped by the fabric of relationships. Family, friendship, love, support, and social connections all give meaning to our existence. But the greatest irony of our times is that selfishness has replaced sensitivity in relationships, and emotions are now considered a weakness. The person who strives to be wholehearted is often the one who ends up hurt and betrayed the most.
When a person gives their best in a relationship—considering the other’s comfort, trying to understand their feelings, yet repeatedly placing themselves last—this sacrifice is not always respected. Often, the other person interprets such behavior not as love or affection, but as foolishness. This is where imbalance in relationships begins.
Some people inflate their ego by feeding on the emotions of others. Gradually, they begin to consider themselves overly important. They fall into the delusion that they are the center of the relationship, the sole decision-maker, and that the other person is incomplete without them. This mindset leads them to deliver unnecessary sermons, declare their opinions as absolute truth, and mistake constant speaking for intelligence.
The problem is not in giving advice; it begins when advice turns into a tool of control rather than respect—when communication becomes domination instead of dialogue. Such individuals fail to understand the language of love, affection, care, or empathy. They evaluate relationships only through the lens of profit and loss. For them, relationships are a means, not a bond.
People with this temperament often live under the illusion that the other person is dependent on them. They see politeness, tolerance, and understanding as compulsions rather than conscious choices. They assume the other person cannot leave, cannot question, and lacks the courage to resist. This is where emotional exploitation quietly takes root and gradually becomes normalized.
But every tolerance has a limit. When the other person becomes aware, introspects, and realizes that their existence has been reduced to a utility, they begin to protect themselves. This moment is deeply unsettling for the selfish individual, because their control now stands threatened.
As soon as they notice questioning, independent thought, or emotional distance, they adopt a new tactic—accusation. The same person who once projected themselves as wise and knowledgeable now begins to question character. They narrate the story selectively to outsiders, portraying themselves as the victim and the other as the offender.
This marks a complete shift in the relationship. Dialogue gives way to allegations. Understanding is replaced by hostility. Conversations echo with familiar refrains: “You’ve changed,” “You weren’t like this before,” “You’ve become arrogant.” In reality, this is not change but self-realization—something the selfish mind cannot tolerate.
Gradually, relationships turn into a Kurukshetra, where the objective is not resolution but victory. One side protects itself through silence, while the other grows louder, seeking sympathy. Such individuals are often adept at shaping narratives and attracting public support.
In these situations, the sensitive, ethical, and emotionally grounded person suffers the most. They know that responding to every allegation is futile. Publicly countering lies goes against their values and upbringing. Silence becomes their shield—but it is frequently mistaken for weakness.
The obvious question arises: whose fault is it? Is sensitivity a crime? Is sacrifice foolishness? The answer is clear—no. The fault lies not in sensitivity, but in imbalance. Trouble begins when relationships become one-sided, when one person keeps giving while the other only takes.
This is why balance must be established early. Losing oneself entirely—whether in love, friendship, or companionship—is never wise. Repeatedly crossing personal boundaries to please others ultimately erodes self-respect.
Self-evaluation is essential. We must ask ourselves: Does this relationship offer peace or only exhaustion? Are we heard or merely tolerated? Are our emotions respected or exploited?
If the answers are negative, staying becomes the greatest mistake. In such cases, quiet distance is wiser than constant self-blame. Distance is not always hatred; sometimes, it is self-preservation.
Society must also learn that every story has two sides. The loudest voice is not always truthful, and silence is not proof of guilt. In an age where presentation often outweighs truth, this distinction matters more than ever.
Protecting self-respect is a moral duty. If a relationship breeds fear, guilt, and inferiority, sustaining it is neither healthy nor ethical. True morality exists only when both individuals acknowledge each other’s dignity.
Ultimately, relationships endure only when rooted in equality and respect. Where there is love, there is respect. Where there is belonging, there is freedom. And where neither exists, distance is not defeat—it is a victory for self-respect.
(Note :Dr. Priyanka Saurabh Research Scholar in Political Science is Poet, Independent Journalist & Columnist from Arya Nagar, Hisar)
