One random day, while scavenging for books online, I stumbled on Martin Luther King Jr.’s (MLK) biography. This book, with its revelations about MLK’s personal life, challenged my perception of morality and human behaviour, leaving a lasting impression on my moral compass.

As a child, I was obedient to a fault. I remember walking to school alone in nursery school because I wouldn’t board the motorcycle of a “stranger.” The man in question was a regular at my mother’s provision store. As such, he wasn’t really a stranger. But in my tiny mind, since he wasn’t family, he was automatically a stranger, and my mother instructed us not to board strangers’ vehicles. I took this very seriously.

When we got home that day, I happily narrated the story to my mom, making sure to state how the nanny didn’t think twice before jumping on the motorcycle. After laughing at me, she explained the nuances and exceptions to her rule.

I saw the world in black and white – bad or good only. I followed every rule to the T. There were no in-betweens. My innocent mind had not yet conceived the world as capable of having grey areas.

Before reading MLK’s biography, I had surface-level knowledge of the man and his work as an activist. At first, I was deeply inspired by all that he was able to achieve before his life was cut short. A towering figure in history. Bold enough to fight for the highest of ideals – freedom. Not just for himself but for everyone who looked like him. I couldn’t have asked for a better hero. Boy! How wrong I was.

As my reading progressed, I began to notice traits of rebellion, which I admired very much. The son of a Baptist preacher, schooled in Theology but with a different philosophical view of biblical teachings from his father. My conservative mind was intrigued!

Though some of his views were considered radical at the time, he continued to be vocal about them.  My hero-worshipping became more intense as I continued learning detailed accounts of his activism and close brushes with death. But, sandwiched between these lofty tales was something unsavoury and unfathomable.

This man who I saw as a god – almost infallible – was, after all, a human being with many flaws. The last part took me years to realize.

He had extramarital affairs!  A preacher of God’s word! Someone who was meant to draw people closer to God through his actions and words. This revelation shook me to my core, shattering the image of a flawless hero I had built in my mind.

The worst part about this discovery was the lack of discretion in these affairs. I remember reading that he often phoned his side pieces from his home line. And many a time, during his travels, he would branch to their houses first before getting home. His callousness was made even more obvious by the fact that his wife and everyone in his inner circle knew about the affairs. It was very appalling, to say the least.

I could not wrap my little mind around it. How could someone who knew God and preached His word do something so callous? I simply could not understand it. And I tried very hard to. Something in me refused to reconcile the man and the acts for a very long time. 

I don’t remember finishing the book. I probably did not. 

As I continued to mull over what I had read, I became disillusioned. My views about an upright man:  a man who stood for family, societal, and godly ideals, faltered. I began to think deeply on how people could be different things to different people. How they could teach one thing while being the opposite of that. I really struggled to reconcile the image of my hero and the man who did these things to his family. 

Till date, I don’t think I ever fully recovered from the shock. These days, I rationalize it as one of the failings of being human. As humans, subject to the whims and caprices of the flesh, many of our actions can be explained away, justified even. But, does that mean we can’t be upright if we so desire or aspire to?

Does being human give us permission to have fluctuating moral compasses and spit on virtues?

As I grow older, events continue to unfold. The places where I once saw a clear demarcation between black and white now bear a widening line of grey. I continue to discover the different facets of human behaviour and morality, a journey that is far from over. 

Yes, the innocent child is long gone and even I have taken paths that are miles different from what the child considered morally ideal. She thought the world was ideal but alas, it isn’t.

I sometimes wonder what such a world would be like. A world where our moral compasses are unwavering and our actions always align with our ideals.