The procession of being

We are taught that the thing that differentiates us from the rest is our free will. Coupled with that is our ability to reason and something within us that helps us differentiate between right and wrong. As if there was a universal good and evil. Goods and evils that go beyond the petty differences generated though differences in religious beliefs, social backgrounds, skin colours and cultural inclinations. Goods and evils we would all agree upon, powered by free will and the immense ability to reason. Yet these realizations always seem beyond us, while we are caught up in desecrating everything that is not in agreement with our smaller rights and wrongs.

An existentialist sits and preaches personal responsibility driven through free will, all the while saying that we cannot escape our surroundings, while the realists just accept everything around them and try to mould themselves accordingly. Idealists follow their ideal notions and shelter their existence from the practicalities of our existence. All of them are in one way or another trying to figure out existence and more importantly the puspose behind it. Religion makes that easier for us. It starts us out by handing out a few ground rules and gives purpose to existence. Where every good is given to test how grateful and sharing you are, and every bad that is given is a test to your endurance and patience.

sabhi kuch hai tera diya hua sabhi rahaten sabhi kalafaten
kabhi sohbaten kabhi furqaten kabhi duriyan kabhi qurbaten

Where there are religions that teach us to live our lives within this world, never taking leave as long as we are bound by existence, there are those that preach leaving everything behind and pursuing a higher state of being through meditation. No matter what the religion, the basic definition of the right and wrong don't change. The notions of good and evil remain the same.

No matter which extreme the religion advocates, there's always love for something. Love for people, love for a deity, love for freedom from needs, love for that special someone who shares your life, and above and beyond all, the love for the creator who created. But love is considered a necessity to keep us alive, to separate us from the dead. Love, which can be found in the smallest of animals, and love that can be found in the sonnets of Shakespeare.

ye sukhan jo ham ne raqam kiye ye hain sab waraq teri yad k
koi lamha subah-e-wisal ka, kai sham-e-hijr ki qurbaten

Yet in the pursuit of our loves we tend to forget that everyone is pursuing their own love. In the quest of our one true love, all other loves become secondary, less important, expendable...we become horses drawing their carts that can only look ahead blinded by leather pads shielding them from the rest of the world. In our own quests we run over anything that comes in our path, for everything is justifiable. Teenagers dispose off their parents for their love, and parents crush their kids to enforce their own higher notions of love. Masses in love with their own set of beliefs collide with masses that are in love with a different set of beliefs.

Somehow the love that was supposed to bring us together hones our skills at identifying differences and bringing down bridges. Our love makes it a battle for the ends, and the means to those ends lose importance. Irony seeps into everything for even though the eventual goals are the same, it's actually the routes to those eventual goals that we start fighting over. The love of people, life, and beliefs is replaced by love for revenge. History is written down in huge volumes by holders of perspectives and the volumes are stacked in shelves and forgotten. The voices of reason and sanity are relegated to the back seat.

jo tumhari man len nasiha to rahega daman-e-dil main kya
na kisi udu ki adawaten na kisi sanam ki murawwaten

Soon everywhere there is smoke and the smell of burnt souls; souls that are damaged beyond repair. No more is there a possibility of acceptance and no one is willing to adjust with another. The love for revenge blinds us to all realization of rights and wrongs. Collateral damage becomes just another phrase, and body count is just like learning how to count. The love of revenge leads us to the love for death. No more is life appreciated, but only death of the enemy is valued.

Generations are crippled as the stack of bodies grows. A side can only see the losses on their side for the stacks are so high that you cannot look beyond them. Every side now has stories that gut you with a blunt knife. A global gang war is launched where whoever has the strength inflicts damage that reeks finality. Blows aren't meant to hurt anymore, they are meant to obliterate. Current affairs just become a never ending obituary.

chalo aao tum ko dikhayen ham jo bacha hai maqtal-e-shahar main
ye mazar ahal-e-safa k hain ye hain ahal-e-sidq ki turbaten

In the middle of all of this, there is always the optimist. Someone who somehow sees beyond the smoke and hopes that even this will end. That there would be a tomorrow where people would step out of their circles to take in the smell of dawn. When eyes will be serenaded by the sight of a flower in blossom, and a tree in swing. Where ears will dance to the sound of innocent laughter and mindless chatter.

A tomorrow where acceptance will be the most important virtue, where the earth will be big enough to house us all. Where people would step out and won't need to look behind their shoulders. There would be a jump in every step and a whistle on every lip. A hand in every hand, and love for love...

meri jan aj ka gam na kar, k na jane katib-e-waqt ne
kisi apne kal main bhi bhul kar kahin likh rakhi ho masaraten