The day after Bindra won the gold at Beijing, The Times of India read, “First gold in 112 years” and “Curfew in Kashmir“, both headlines, separated by a mere column of newspaper spacing.

Now, after some of the euphoria of the 25 year old’s brilliant victory has died off, and the curfew has been lifted in Kashmir, one thing comes to mind-how many of those, stuck in the curfew, ailing in the hospitals, or mourning their loved ones would have even once considered Abhinav’s win of any importance to their lives?

Normal Indians, in their homes, in front of their TV sets, in parties, dinners and gatherings, are discussing how big an achievement it is for Indian Sport. I found it extremely ironical, how this discussion was going on, parallel with that of the riots in Kashmir, Lucknow, Patna, the confusion regarding the Amarnath Yatra, the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, and all those who have a part to play in the Kashmiri Politics…

TV News channels these days cash in on whatever is the latest fad, not much of relevant news is on air, but sometimes they do stumble upon things that touch your heart. Why do two people die due to grievous injuries and medical conditions because the government has decided they are not going to allow people of their country to move around on a particular day? It makes quite a lot of sense that people should die, just because they happened to fall sick, or got injured on a day our leaders found most opportune to impose their wanton ideals on their nation and its people.

In such a time, when the people of Kashmir, and other places, are either being ransacked by riots, or bombarded by the blasts, how much importance does Bindra’s Olympic Gold Medal hold, for the average Indian? Have we gotten so used to these scandals, killings, terrorism and politics, that curfews in a couple of cities, a dozen odd dying here and there, a few hundred injuries, and a tad bit of bloodshed has no effect on us anymore? Have we gotten so morally immune, and mentally so callous, that it would take much more than a couple of people dying at the hands of a group of masked rebels, who call themselves religious warriors, to look away from the protective bubble of our existences which take into full view only what Bindra wins, or Rathore loses, what Shah Rukh Khan wears, or Rakhi Sawant doesn’t wear?

It was an unprecedented height of Indian History, an Olympic gold in a singular event. But had I been a victim in Srinagar, who had just lost her mother and was praying for the life of a critically wounded brother, would I have lent any thought to patriotism?

Circumstances make us what we are, and they alone drive us to do what we do in life. When life treats you well and you have nothing to shed a tear over, you can enjoy and bask in the glory and joy of all the positive things happening in life. But one who goes through the
most traumatic time of his life would see nothing but the negative around him and in the world.

Call me sardonic, but it makes me shudder to feel that soon a time will come, when we will become used to violence and deaths, it would have to take a lot more than a few hundred casualties for an event to be recognized as a tragedy. Terrorist attacks would mean no more to us, than an average act of crime, in an average Indian city, affecting an average crowd of average Indians. In fact, we are almost already there.

Omar Abdullah’s poignant speech in the Parliament was heart-wrenching. It made you want to feel the pain of being an Indian minority, the subjugation faced inspite of no fault of your own, he promised that Hindus would carry out their Amarnath Yatra, and every Kashmiri Muslim would respect their pilgrimage. He spoke from his heart, but at the end of the day, the promises remain unfulfilled, and the Indian still suffers.

For the leaders it’s a question of being in or out of power, but for Him, it’s a question of being in or out of breath, life, and the chance for survival.

These questions will never warrant a clear answer, this topic will remain as diffuse as ever, life will go on, or in many cases, come to a rude and abrupt end. Is this the question we come in search for from wherever it is before this world?

You cannot be born unless you die, and you cannot die unless you be born.

I love the concept of the phoenix. It always gives me immense strength to think of ‘life from the ashes’. You reach the all-time low, the ultimate dump, and when you think life couldnt get any worse, it takes a u-turn and things start getting better. That’s the only way you can reach the pinnacle, not just of success, but of life as a whole.

I hope this Paradise, though endrenched with the blood and bullets of religious violence
revives its identity, and the long lost beauty resurfaces, better than ever before, a vision to behold.

After all, in the words of Abul Fazal, “agar firdaus bar rooe zaminast, haminasto haminasto, haminast“…(“If there is paradise on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here“)…