How is it that people have become so callous and unbothered that they turn someone’s death into content? Society does not contemplate how fragile and vulnerable the family becomes, nor does it realise the immense pressure it collectively adds onto the bereaved family.
Rutba Banday
Imagine losing a beloved and having people act preposterously—acting as if your grief is trivial. Is this what humanity is? Is this what we call Kashmiriyat?
The day I lost my beloved is the very day I lost faith in humanity and humility. Visualise encountering a moment of grief that quivers you to your spine, and having people giggling, complaining, and side-talking the very same day. Every day, I ponder the same question: have we really become like that? When did we transition from humans to absolute monsters?
People really have the chutzpah to complain about how there is probably scarce or no water in restrooms, how their nun-chai had less salt and poor taste, and how they were starving and no dinner was served. Blunted to an extent, they turn deaths into accusations even before the body reaches its grave—questions that wrench the kin and all when a family has lost a part of their existence: maybe a lovely child, an earning father, or a nurturing mother.
How is it that people in Kashmir have become so callous and unbothered to the extent that they turn someone’s death into content, a matter of likes and views? Society becomes so heedless that it does not contemplate how fragile and vulnerable the family becomes, and does not even realise the immense pressure it collectively adds onto the bereaved family, even when those days of affliction, loss, and grief are entirely theirs to process and endure.
People certainly mould the days of affliction into a series of events for the family, where they are obliged to practise the culture of serving tea and special rotis, fruits, juices, dinner, and whatnot—rather than guests having the conscience to step forward as volunteers, ready to extend any help of any kind.
Kashmiris claim to be rooted and immersed in religious teachings; however, they go entirely otherwise when it comes to advocating and backing the bereaved family. Our religion strongly prohibits being a burden on the family, instead encouraging us to show humanity and humility, which our society has failed miserably.
There is a saying that you cannot feel someone’s grief until the same grief befalls you. It is despicable to note that people feel no remorse and even indulge in the act of stealing things at such places. Has their conscience stooped to such an extent? How is it that they do not consider the atrocity the family is already facing and decide to add a cherry on top? When will all this stop? Why do such people not feel accountable for their actions that break the bereaved family even more? Will it cost them a life too to understand the same?
It is high time our culture stopped taking deaths as celebrations. We no longer stand on the principles of Kashmiriyat—what made us unique and unexampled worldwide. Generous hearts have withered; caring souls have vanished. What is left behind are ruthless people making this heaven suffocating for one another.
The only takeaway from the lesson of death is to be empathetic and considerate of others’ circumstances, and to be humbled before death humbles us.
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