R.I.P: REST IN PIECES?

“What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or in the holy name of liberty or democracy?” 

― Mahatma Gandhi

The only child to survive, standing in the middle of ruins, searching eagerly through the rumbles; dusts, dirt, smoke and blood. She is searching for her brothers, who took care of her. Her mother; where was she? She was supposed to serve lunch. After all, Ma had promised to cook her favourite dish. She doesn’t search for her father; she knows he is in a place she can’t go to. Crying and frightened, she’s going in circles. Searching for anything she can find; aimlessly, madly. She finally finds a hand sticking out in the ruins, and she runs for it. Her mother’s hand; she holds it, she feels safe. But something was wrong. Why wasn’t Ma holding her back? She carefully bends down, to look at Ma’s face, and ask her why. But she doesn’t look at her mother, she looks at a face; eyes open, staring back infinitely, cold… dead. The girl screams. She falls back, stands up, and screams; there is nothing else she can do. This place was her home; now, a graveyard. She turns to run, but she freezes at the sight of a rifle pointing at her. Her killer looks at her, forgets her innocence; forgets his. He aims at her, searching for a blank space. Ah, her forehead.

She breathes her last.

Now, go back to the first sentence. What if that child was you? What if you were the one instead of her? What if it was your child in that place, and you could do nothing about it? How would you feel? 

Trying to think of an answer? Don’t bother, because you are no way near to what it actually must have felt like to the thousands who face such situations every day when their countries go on wars for peace. What you know, is how it feels to be still sitting on your couch, reading this article, a roof above your head, and some food to eat. But not everybody lives a blessed life like yours. 

Perhaps the biggest irony that was ever existed lies in the famous quote, “War for Peace”; none of us truly understand it though. No, I’m not saying the Defence isn’t necessary. After all, to a soldier, what’s standing in front of him doesn’t matter; he’s fighting for what is behind him. And there must be a reason. But funnily enough, nobody can understand what that reason is. No one can see the reason. Thousands of Dollars/Rupees/Euros go into building the army of a country; even quarter of which doesn’t go the poor and starving of the same country. Personally, I don’t understand the point of this. Each country invests millions of Dollars in nuclear weapons. Thousands of weapons lie around; some are not even accounted. There are an estimated total of 20,500 nuclear warheads in the world today. If the average power of these devices is 33,500 Kilotons, there are enough to destroy the total earth landmass." And why do we need so many of these things again? Who is going to stand here and witness the amazing after effect of war, and everything you’ve conquered if there is nobody alive? No, I’m not going to talk about war, and the causes of war, because we know there are many; religion, land, oil, terrorism, ‘combating terrorism’, the list goes on. Name the causes of peace? The one and only cause is war itself. Without rain, there wouldn’t be sunshine. Without dusk, there wouldn’t be dawn. Without war, nobody would ever know what the value of peace is. And today, we’ve had enough wars to show us that now is the time we need to start respecting the place of peace in our lives. I’m not here to talk about war and its effects. I’m here to talk about peace.

It’s not easy as you think it is; peace is harder than war. The day you drop those rifles, the day you give your children flowers instead of guns; that is the day you’ll find peace. But who would make them drop the guns in the first place? Nobody. Everyone wants change today; nobody is ready to change though. We see war on television, we see number of deaths, number of injuries, but not once we do think of what happens after the war has ended? Those who survive war do not see life the way we do; they’re scarred forever. You think terrorists are born? No, terrorists are made! And situations make them that way. Wars make them terrorists. Their parents were innocent people, killed in war for oil, killed due to religion, killed in search of one man, who wasn’t related to them in any way. If you hadn’t invested on war, but instead invested on their education, they’d know what their religion truly meant. They’d have the power to sit and think straight, like you and I. The war for peace is itself a form of terrorism. By killing millions of innocent people every year, how are you restoring peace? By not feeding the poor, the needy and the backward, how are you restoring peace? By not providing education, by not showing what love is, for not letting them live to feel love, how are you restoring peace? 

I wouldn’t say war isn’t necessary; but how long? Do we- the civilized people, the ones who know how to care, nurture and cherish- need war for this long? Is it really victory? In war, the only victory you claim is over a million dead bodies, which will rot eventually. What was the use of war all along, if the result doesn’t last even a few days? But peace; it gives you the power to let a person live. You are gifting a person the most precious thing on earth: life. Peace is not a philosophy. Peace is something that has to be experienced. No matter what you have achieved in life, if you have not experienced peace, then everything feels empty; incomplete. This is not for someone else. This is for you. You need peace, and the person next to you does too. Every human being can fulfil their heart, can fulfil this life. Gift a mother another day with her child. Gift a young girl another day with her brother. Gift a father another day with his family. Gift a lover another day with his reason to live. Gift a baby another reason to smile, to grow up, and to look forward to being a part of this world. It is the most beautiful thing possible in this short life. Why can’t we be a part of it?

SINCE WHEN DID SPILLING INNOCENT BLOOD BECOME THE ONLY SOLUTION?

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.” – Mahatma Gandhi

We come across this quote more than often. We see it, we hear it, but do we understand it? The answer we received came as no shock when we saw the headlines read out “132 children killed as Taliban gunmen storm Peshawar school” on the 16^th of December, 2014.

And that answer is ‘No.’

When one talks about the gruesome killing that took place in Peshawar, Pakistan, we are immediately reminded of the headlines the news show us, the information they provide, the statistics showing the number of deaths, and probably a moment or two of sadness that we are duty bound to express. We post statuses, write blogs, discuss all about these killings, but do you really think the terrorists groomed by Taliban care about your opinion? No, they don’t. But do you think you can change one human’s view about revenge, about terrorism? Then don’t think twice before posting a status against it. The slaughter, carried out by six Taliban terrorists, is the single worst terror attack in the country's history and one of the most brutal assaults on a school anywhere. Even in conflict-driven Pakistan, it came as an unprecedented act.

The Pakistani Taliban took responsibility for the massacre, calling it retaliation for the military's ongoing campaign against the Taliban militants' strongholds in the tribal areas along the border with Afghanistan. Mohammad Khurasani, the spokesperson of Taliban, accused the Pakistan Army of killing innocent children and families of Taliban fighters, and warned the world that more is yet to come. For the Pakistani Taliban, schools are vulnerable, or often called "soft targets." By some accounts, Taliban has struck at more than 1,000 schools in the country since 2009. All of this is merely to feed one word; revenge. Revenge is an immortal word with its root dug deep into our minds. Often, it is worse than the word ‘terrorism’. The description of terrorism is vague, because to the world, Taliban are terrorists; to them, we are. But the meaning of revenge stays constant throughout. As hard as it is to ignore the fact- even for a split second- that the Peshawar killing took innocent lives of children who deserved to live a beautiful life; we cannot overlook the hundreds who suffer and die due to public health crisis. Polio has paved its way back among children after the Taliban militants banned health workers from distributing vaccines, which was a consequence of the vaccination gambit by the CIA, in its search for Osama bin Laden. This has not only affected the civilians of Pakistan, but has also taken its toll on the Taliban families.

The Pakistani Taliban came into existence as a loose coalition of militant factions in Pakistan's restive border areas around 2007. It is an indigenous movement that largely targets the machinery of the state and Pakistani citizens, and its motive is to impose Shariah law on the country. Defeating the group, though, has proved to be extremely difficult. Complex geopolitics and funding from other terrorist groups, political appeasement, conspiracy mongering and denial serve as factors that feed the existence of Taliban.

In a world full of hatred and misery, bloodbaths and seclusion, helplessness and loneliness, one can only hope for a ray of happiness or a fragment of peace to settle on their lives; not the ashes that are carried in the air- ashes from the thousands of innocent human beings killed every day. Ashes of people who didn’t deserve what they got. Ashes of people who looked at the killer, right in the eye, and hoped for nothing except a peaceful world. Another day to look forward to; but were never granted their wish.

When the photos of the terrorists who carried out the massacre were released, the terrorists were seen holding automatic assault rifles and rocket launchers. We can never imagine what it must have felt like, but we can surely imagine the gaze of those cold eyes fixed on the child. The child, helplessly looking at his killer, with hopes to find mercy in those eyes, hopes to see his parents again, hopes to play with his sister after school, hope that he would survive. Instead, he was shot in the head at point blank range, and was tossed into the pile of other children, lying drenched in blood; cold. Dead. We can imagine the pain of the teacher who was burnt alive. We can imagine the state of the children trying to escape the militants, who went from one classroom to another, shooting indiscriminately. We can imagine the horror one boy has to live with, because he was the only one to survive out of the 10 friends who tried to escape. We can imagine the terror on the face of the woman whose daughter had escaped because her clothing was covered in blood from those around her and she had lain pretending to be dead. We can imagine the scores of survivors who were being treated in hospitals as frantic parents searched for news of their children. We can only imagine the same happening with the families of the Taliban militants. 

We can never feel it, we can only imagine.

It is harder to keep someone alive, than to kill them. It is harder to instil peace, than to declare war. It is hard, but not impossible. We may not be able to stop Taliban today, but we can teach our generation to value human life. We can teach them that love is a greater weapon than hatred. We can teach them that issues can be solved without violence if one can listen to the problem and search for a solution. We can try, not by telling them what or how to think, but to just think.

We can teach them that the best revenge is to not be like your enemy.

THE DIARY OF A SINGLE CHILD

Is being the only child really an issue?

“So, you have a brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s such a pain in the ass!” She said.  

“It must be fun though, right?”

“Oh let me guess, the only child? No siblings?” she asked.

“Yeah”, I tried my best to hide the disappointment.

“Typical spoilt brat you must be then!”

What? I mean, what just happened? It was the first day of college, and hello, I barely knew this girl for 5 minutes! I mean, out of all the people, I hadn’t judged her yet, and in less than 5 minutes I was moved from “She seems like a nice girl” to the “She’s a spoilt brat” category! Trust me; I just don’t know how that happened. And it wasn’t the first time either.

Till my 4^th grade, I’d never really felt bad about being the only kid. To be honest, it was fun! I got the attention; I didn’t have to share my toys, my books. I didn’t have to borrow anything. Basically, I thought being the only child was amazing! And my belief just grew stronger when I hung out with my friends. Note this, all of them had siblings! And every single time, all I heard was “You’ve no idea how lucky you are!” and I thought I was. Now, I won’t completely deny the fact that I’m lucky, because I never ever EVER had to fight for food, or even worse, share it. Until one day, I was alone in my home, locked in for my own safety, and I heard my neighbor laughing. She was younger than me, her brother was my age, and they were playing. I wanted to go out and play with them like I always had, but I realized that they didn’t ‘need’ me there! They were happy, spending time together, and I was home, locked up, and bored. When my mom returned, I decided to go and tell her what I’d been practicing all afternoon. “Mom, I want a baby” I barked out. “What?” “No no, I mean, I want you to have a baby. I want a brother!” Of course, this came as a shock to my mom, because I had never brought up this topic before! But I didn’t stop there. I told my dad, I told my cousins, and I told everybody I knew, that I wanted a brother, or I was going to bring my cousin home and keep him. “Keep him”, can you imagine? Like he was a toy or something! My parents didn’t take me seriously, until the 7^th grade. I came back home one day; crying. I’d seen my classmate take help from her elder brother who studied in the 11^th grade. It wasn’t a big deal really, but I came back home with a cloud of depression hanging over me. And, it lasted for days. Every time I’d see siblings, I’d get really emotional and start wondering how it would be if I had a brother. Would my life be better? Hell yeah. Would I have fun? Yes, obviously. Would my life suddenly have a rainbow over it? Yeah, is that even a question? This continued till my parents considered adoption seriously, and started off with the paperwork. And man, was I happy or what? I imagined a completely different life, like; I don’t even think I can explain it to anybody! Until one day, I just woke up to feel nothing. It was sudden. I just didn’t feel anything. I walked up to my parents and told them I didn’t want a brother. That’s all. I think my parents did hate me for a few minutes there because I was barking out bullshit. But I made it final, I didn’t want siblings. “Why?” they had asked. “Because I want all the property for myself.” I had answered.

But that’s not why I told them I didn’t want a brother. Of course, I’m happy about the property and the food, but really, that isn’t the reason! I’m never going to say I’m lucky for not having a sibling. I would have had someone to look up to maybe. I would have had someone to drive away my boredom with. I would’ve had someone to share my thoughts and feelings with. I would’ve had someone to be there for me even when my parents aren’t around in this world anymore. I would have, but I don’t. And that’s my life. But I would never say I am unlucky for not having a sibling either. And this is why. All my life, I’ve heard the stereotypical comment “You must be a spoilt brat!”, but I can assure you, at this very moment, that almost none of the kids who’ve had no siblings are spoilt brats! People often think that we get everything we want, and that we are pampered beyond belief, that we live life on our terms. It isn’t true. Our parents are well aware of the consequences, and they make sure we beg around 10 million times for something before we actually get it. In cases like mine, I actually have to wait for a teeny achievement or my birthday, to get stuff. Yes, we do get things in an easier way, compared to the kids who have siblings, but hey, we didn’t get what they will always have; a playmate in the form of a sibling! I agree that we don’t have to share things, but instead of making us arrogant, it usually makes us more considerate because we were never forced into sharing against our will. Sometimes, it’ almost like we don’t know how to say no to people because we’ve never had to do that! I never had to compete for my parents’ attention, and because I didn’t have siblings, my parents became my best friends. And believe me; I’d never be more thankful towards anything than that! We end up extra responsible because our parents don’t have anybody to expect from except us. We are the eldest kid in the house, and the youngest, and we never have anybody to blame except ourselves! No partner in crime! Our best friends become our brothers/sisters in all but blood because we see the ideal sibling in them and we cherish them! Often, single kids end up becoming more confident because they don’t really know what it is to be compared with a sibling. The other reason is that we’re often eager to get some company of our own age, that we push ourselves to go ahead and talk to strangers, make friends, find company, and this is one trait that will help us throughout our lives. But the one I love the most is that I can be an introvert or extrovert by choice! All my life, I’ve had no choice but to mingle with people, which I do enjoy, but at times, when I’m alone, I never feel lonely, because, over the years, I’ve learnt to appreciate and enjoy my own company, which was the reason I decided I didn’t want a brother. I could go on listing different reasons, but that’s not the point. The point is, we need to break the “single child” stereotype. No, life isn’t what you think it is for us! We’re not all brats, and we’re not sitting on a bed of roses! Personally, I would never want my child to be the only child, but hey, if you are one, just like me, and if you think it sucks being alone, then lean back, take a deep breath, go in front of a mirror, and say “Life is awesome!” because trust me; there will come a time when you know you are the best sibling you can ever get, and that you don’t need anybody else to face the world. There will come a time when you know things will be fine, and life will go on. And, also, you have a great chance of getting all the property! Till then, lean back and enjoy that slice of pizza, which you don’t have to share. Not everybody’s that lucky! 

THESE SCARS WILL STAY FOREVER

“SHE WAS RAPED AND THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO. THESE SCARS THAT STAY FOREVER HELP ME FORGET THAT.”

Never give in to self-harm. Always ask for help.

Long walks help.

Especially if you've had a bad day, and you enjoy your own company, then take a long walk alone. That’s what I do. Keep your phone away; keep that iPod on your table. Go out, empty handed, and look around. Think. Or don’t think, it’s up to you. But long walks help. Few change your mood. Few change your day. Few change your opinions and judgement forever.

It wasn't a very warm day, as it usually is in Manipal. The rains had lowered the temperature noticeably, and I decided to do what I do very often. Take a walk alone. After what seemed like an hour or so, I ran into one of my friends from college. No, she was not a friend at that time. I did a quick math in my head, if I should acknowledge her presence or not. Usually, I wouldn't think so much. I’d just wave at the person and walk past them if I recognized them. If I knew them well, maybe I would stand and talk to them for a while. But I didn't want to do either when it came to her. I don’t think anybody did. What was so weird about her? I had asked myself the same question few times; I’d asked the others the same question too. “She seems to be a bit… off? Don’t you think?” was the usual reply. “She’s a creep!” was the other reply, which was a bit rarer. So, being one of the people who considered her a bit “off”, I decided to ignore her. I walked two steps ahead, maybe three, and I heard a voice call out my name. It was her. “Hey, oh wow, hi! My eyesight sucks! What are you upto? Going somewhere?” I blurted out (God, the random things that came to my mind out of guilt), quite surprised because this girl qualifies to be an introvert, very silent, very shy. “No, not going anywhere bee! (That’s what they call me!) Too lazy, join me?”

Oh no, please, not her. “Sure”, I managed with a smile and sat next to her on the pavement.

“How’s life bee?”

“Not all that bad! Manageable! What about yours? And hey, why have you been missing classes? You’ll run low on attendance and the semester’s gonna get all fucked up!” (Now this was what I have to tell my classmates and fellow college goers. I am one of the representatives, and it was my ‘duty’, but frankly, I enjoyed the responsibility, and I do care.)

“Yeah, about that, I've been sick, so, I guess I’ll just try to find a way out of it!” She said, fidgeting.

My gaze automatically went down to her hand, and I noticed something. Something I just couldn't ignore. “What’s that? Have you been cutting yourself? Hey if there’s anything you need to talk about, anything at all, I’m here!” I said, shocked that this girl, who seemed to act all strong when spoken to, was actually a victim of self harm.

“It’s nothing. Don’t tell anybody, I beg of you! Please!”

“Are you mad? Of course I won’t tell anyone, but why this?”

And she began. She had been missing all those classes because she had to visit a shrink every other day. To erase all those memories and to get rid of those nightmares, she went. When she was not even old enough to know what ‘rape’ meant, her mother was raped. And what’s worse, she was raped by her husband, in front of this girl. You and I can probably never imagine how horrific that moment must have been for her. Marital rape is still not considered ‘rape’ by a lot of people in our country, because the husband has ‘rights’ to use his wife if and when he wishes to, according to them and vice-versa. But that isn't true. Marital rape is a serious crime that needs to be spread awareness about, more in the rural areas than in the urban. Nobody has the right to force themselves upon a person; emotionally or physically. Nobody can violate your privacy without your consent, please remember that. If you are a victim of any abuse, then talk to somebody about it. Get help. Remember, you deserve better than that. At the age of 11, her father left. He left his two daughters, and his unemployed wife, and went to live on his own. In such a situation, her mother had to come up with an immediate alternative to support the family, and she started off as an assistant tailor in one of the small Boutiques in the city. Seeing her mother being mistreated by her husband, by her family, by the society and by her own sister, she never had anybody to confess to. She slipped into depression by 10^th grade, and became a victim of self harm by 12^th grade. Not just self harm, but suicidal attempts. And this change in her emotional capacity has actually scarred her for life, and the truth is that she will never be able to get over it. Every minute, every second, someone becomes a victim of self harm. Someone is fighting a battle with themselves, but what they don’t know is that they will never win against it. These scars, which are supposed to relive them from pain, are marks of those memories that they want to forget, but how are they forgetting it, when they are carving it on themselves forever? Anybody who is reading this post, who is going through this, remember that you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem to be, and smarter than you think you are, and that things will be okay if you talk to someone about it. If she hadn't told me her story that evening, she would still be the “creep” whom I wanted to ignore. We often judge people so easily by how they appear to us and not by how they actually are. We classify them into good or bad, sane or insane, fun or boring the very first time we speak to them. That is a fact about them. But not all facts are the truth. Every person has a story. Every person is fighting a battle of which we know nothing about. Every person has something to show, and a lot more to hide. And everyone has something good about themselves, just waiting for us to notice it. Be kind.

Go on long walks, look around and you’ll see things. See them even closely, and you’ll notice them. Notice them to find something different. Let that difference influence you. Let that influence change your perspective. Let that perspective change your way of life, and let your way of life change the world.

Lean in; maybe you’ll hear her whisper. Maybe that’ll change your life.