A sin called Profiling.

How fascinating it seemed to watch Arnold Sch(watevr) in Terminator. I used to sit unstirred for hours to watch the brawny cop going around the town, unleashing hell. As soon as he would sight a poor chap running across, the sci-fi magic would make a series of bullets appear on the screen. What followed was just TARGET SET, SHOT and DEAD.
Honestly, you don't have to be a Terminator to unleash the sci-fi action mayhem. It's a default setup in the human brain. It's a sin... called profiling.
What is the first word cloud that pops in your little head when you see orange pants? The instant profiling that starts and ends in our head doesn't even wait for the man in orange pants to utter a word. His pants say it all. This categorizing is no less fatal than Arnold's "Target set, shot, dead" action.
The four lensed eyed girl in the class, the guy who smelled versace or the geek in the front bench who looks perplexed no matter what... we may have never talked to them but they acquire a bit of our mental space wherein they ,like the Madame Tussauds, are created and maintained forever. This dreaded profiling was so rigid that it never melted though a thousand suns passed.
Lately i saw a movie Precious.. though the movie dealt largely with AIDS awareness and many more serious issues but what tormented the girl in the movie was not her illness but the social acceptance as a black girl who looked not so pleasing to the eye. She fought but not everyone has the heart to do that.
I could find no reason when I questioned myself about the girl in my class, who I thought could never match my IQ level just because she had weird sense of dressing + she carried a fluorescent bag. I always thought that we could never have common topics to talk about. But it was harsher because I wasn't the only one who thought this way. The girl used to rarely talk, used to go home alone after school, her seclusion used to be evident during the lunch breaks and I also remember that she didn't attend the school farewell. And never in my life I ever thought that her life would ever torment my brain.
How I wish that I could go back in time and probably not befriend her but just talk to her for few seconds. Perhaps that would give me some peace of mind. She had been profiled once in her life and victimized forever.
So next time don't let the orange pants say anything at all.