Desensitised

The girl who lost her father in 26/11 says “Keeping him alive isn’t doing anything… if it made us safer, I would say keep him alive!” I wonder if she ever thinks of the same thing in reverse. She goes on to say to others like her with a loss, “Someday we will get justice, and if not we will have to fight!”
“Why wait?’ says the former police officer sitting next to her, “Why not fight now?’ She falters but fires back, “Because I still have faith that the government will act. The moment we lose that faith, we will fight”

And if they fight, my friends, they will fight with anger and hate, the anger and hate that slowly seep in and have been doing for some time now. The anger and hate that do not dissolve in understanding. It will see no sense, it will be insane. Because we are ignoring the ideological aspects of the fight. Nobody is discussing that.

The anchoress asks repeatedly, “But how will hanging him help? Terrorists have an agenda and individuals won’t make a difference to it.” I admire her. My heart goes out to the way she tries to bring up and let people see the issue of capital punishment. But the question wavers in the air and then just gets lost in the hate, no answers given.

There are fears expressed. Valid, all of them. We got used to corruption, and it is now part of our lives. We got used to poverty, we barely notice it now. Will we soon get used to terrorism too? Make our lives uglier day by day and get immune to it, immune and unfeeling?
We make a noise, yes. “Happy Birthday, Kasab, have a blast!” was on the web a mere half hour after the blasts. And fact is, it wasn’t even his birthday. A rumour tweeted by some celebrity. A sick hoax or a gruesome joke, it proves how easily we shift focus. It shows how cynical we are, not even a moment of shock or sadness before we could make fun of it, before we even knew all the facts of the blast. “Hang him!” we screech at our loudest. We hurl curses at politicians, we revel in cynicism and contempt.
Drama, really, isn’t it?



How many of us, who haven’t lost anybody to the attack really feel the loss? How much of our ‘anger’ is real, and how much just seasoned reaction? All we do is place blame. Because it’s the easiest thing to do.

South Mumbai, who made a lot of noise the last time around, proved their indifference by their abysmal voter turnout. How many of us know what our local police station does to protect us? How many of us know the nearest blood bank? How many of us know basic first aid?

Even more importantly, how many of us have mature solutions to the problem. Do we know why terrorism exists? What’s the root of it that needs to be weeded out? Ways to stop it before an attack? Practical solutions that can and should be implemented? Except the chant of “Hang him!” what have we got?
We’re in this together. The people who help the most in such situations are ordinary citizens. They carry the injured, they spread messages, they help out. That’s not ideal, but that has helped us.

The former police officer makes very clear points about our response… police beats, he says, are simple ways to feed intelligence… but police personnel are busy escorting politicians, when they should be patrolling areas, befriending shopkeepers and keeping an eye out, but keeping in touch with a well networked group of normal citizens in the area. Do we know the state of our police forces well (in a non-filmy way, rooted to reality)? Start with basics, shouldn’t we?

Blame the politicians, yes, but force them to see the solutions. You want to show them the strength of the masses, show them that masses can think and know how to fix the problem. Show them that you care by thinking of preventive measures in your own area, and push for it to happen.
We live in a democracy, not a dictatorship. It is designed to give us control over the government. Beyond just votes. Use that control! If the government is failing, it means we, as people of India, atleast the educated and aware ones, are failing.

The reasons we’re not driven to do all this, is not because we don’t have time (we have enough to spend many whole days on facebook), or because we don’t have the capacity, it is because we don’t care enough.

We’re desensitized. Accept it, and we might have a chance to change.

Chant

“Hang him, hang him!” chant the crowds, not knowing why, not seeing how it will keep them safe. The only thoughts furiously coursing in them are those of revenge, the revenge they name justice. They are wronged, oh yes. His blood would be what would have to pay for that. Not today maybe. But they cannot rest till it is shed. Or until they see sense.

Do they not see that he is a soul condemned? He was meant to die. He was meant to die like the others who accompanied him. His blood means nothing to the killers. If anything, keeping him alive has said something to the teenagers who can be like him. Something that would make them see… mercy exists. Because in their worlds, it most likely doesn’t. In their worlds, you hit and one hits back. An eye for an eye. They don’t know otherwise. Hang him, sweet crowds, but you would only reinforce their belief. You think they are afraid of death? You thing a hanging will scare them off? It will just prove to them that blood is returned by blood. And they’re not afraid to have the last word on that.

It is much more, much deeper what they look for. It is distorted meaning. An answer to ‘what am I meant to do?’ It is the wrong answers that are causing this pain. Your chants don’t solve that.

And you.
Volatile, explosive, restless, you. But also, indifferent, cynical, hardened, you.
If I could I would make you see. Your explosion seems not to last, your restlessness seems not to find purpose. Your indifference grows, and yet you know it not. Your cynicism cuts, it is much sharper than any blade. But it the way you have been hardened, that makes me cry.

But the anger swells, the crowds chant louder. For years, all they do is chant. No thought, no sense.
And then the hate pours out. It is ruthless, emotionless, because all feeling has been numbed. All that has remained is hate. Pushed too far, wronged too long, and left with an inability to forgive or remedy.

Insanity arrives, and following it closely, bloodshed.