Gladly Beyond Any Distance

What an annus horribilis 2008 was. Clinical depression of every kind: economic, political, personal. India was bombed repeatedly - and with precise geographical equity: north, south, east, west. I was in both Bangalore and Delhi over the summer, and missed the bombing of N block market by a couple of hours. Similar just-misses reported in from friends in Bombay, but the overall horror of it all goes far beyond close encounters of the worst kind. Between the escalation of rhetoric on the India-Pakistan front, and the egregious escalation of far more than rhetoric on the Israel-Palestine front, the new year feels shop-soiled and already ready for return. But since I have been accused of growing tendrils of Pollyanna-like optimism in the midst of utter despair, I leave you with an image from an India-Pakistan peace vigil I attended early last month, and a poem inspired by that, and this week’s protest against Israeli attacks on Gaza.

We refuse to be enemies.
We refuse to use your words, claim your politics,
accept your versions of history.

We will wear our anger like a shroud,
we will hold our defiance like a shield,
we will carry our compassion like a sword.

We refuse to be enemies.
We refuse to believe that hate is justified,
that peace is weak, that conflict is endless.

We will sing across the borders,
we will march across the divisions,
we will fly our peace like a flag.
We refuse to be enemies.

Oh no, not again. Not as bad as in 1993. Worse than in 2003. Can we actually compare suffering by numbers? Can we compare suffering at all? Only when the world forgets some 7/11s and remembers others. We’ll see how long this memory lasts.

And Mumbai awakes to another day, another journey by local train, another round of fear, cheek by jowl with resilience and courage: the extraordinary strengths of ordinary people.

While the politicians, the terrorists and the TV channels plan in separate conclaves (we presume), how best to maximise the impact for themselves.