The Disquiet Within: Is Ignoring the World’s Pain True Peace?

Zindagi With Richa

Written by Ashutosh Agnihotri

I woke up early today. I looked at the watch. I could sleep for two more hours, I thought. With this comfort, I remained in bed for ten more minutes. Then I sprang out almost involuntarily. There was no trace of sleep in my eyes and no desire to laze further.

As is the wont, I sat in my backyard, looking at the trees, watching and hearing the birds. They add to my peace and joy. Sometimes some thoughts cross the mind. They come and go. Some images flash. They appear and disappear. What remains is my own quiet, awakened by the sounds of the birds.

But there is some disquiet too, carried by distant beings, whose pain still finds an echo in an otherwise still and peaceful heart.

The Burden of a Failing System

There are children, engulfed by a fire somewhere, their lives and dreams, smiles and possibilities consigned to ruthless flames. The system that was supposed to protect them looked away. I am part of such a system. I cannot absolve myself of a distant share of the responsibility. It pains me.

The Tragedy of Facetious Love

There is a young man, devoured by a hungry gorge. The hand that pushed him off the cliff was the same hand he had sought in eternal companionship. He was young. He died under the weight of facetious love. I am a part of this society. I must have contributed to it in some way, for it to be so vile. It fills me with anguish.

Tradition, Ritual, and the Loss of Compassion

And then there are the silent shrieks of a kid goat in a temple, as the bigger ones roam around, mindful or oblivious of their fate. The kid was sacrificed. The blood was still fresh. I had tried to avoid looking at it as I moved with hurried steps, half-closed eyes and tormented compassion, to have a glimpse of the Mother Goddess, who was supposed to be pleased with the sacrifice.

I am deeply religious. And yet the temple pulled and repelled at the same time. I am a part of a tradition that has, at times, allowed ritual to overshadow compassion. It amazes me. I am not sure the Divine asks for this.

Death is inevitable; what pains us is not its certainty but its untimeliness, and the terror with which needless cruelty often clothes it.

Have We Become Numb?

There are moments when one is filled with a deep sense of remorse. There is a shame one has to contend with—the shame of belonging to a world so greedy, so selfish and so insensitive that it cannot allow children to live and dream, or love to survive, or compassion to breathe.

I had once read a quote and found it rather amusing: “Every sensible man is selfish.” But is it sensible to be so selfish that one tramples upon one’s own sensibility and delights in the loud, painful cries of others?

Somewhere, an anaesthesia has engulfed our sensitivity and our consciousness. We no longer feel what we must feel.

Why the Disquiet is Necessary

I feel this disquiet is necessary. Even though I value my peace, I must continue to be moved by the pain of others. Peace that has insulated itself from the world’s suffering is not peace. It is numbness.

Even as the birds chirp and the trees sing quietly, I look at the soft, benign rays of the sun piercing through the maze of leaves, meeting my half-lifted head, reassuring me of the tenacity of light, its desire to travel to the deepest layer where darkness reigns.

Light, Love and Life will continue their quiet struggle, even if Death, Darkness and Despair celebrate an ephemeral victory.