The anatomy of hate

It has been a terrible few days for the brave hearts that keep the nation secure. We grieved and mourned the untimely death of 40 CRPF personnel killed mercilessly by a Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM) suicide bomber in Kashmir. Four more were martyred in an encounter with JeM operatives, who were also killed. Few more deaths unrelated to terrorism also saddened us this month with the crashing of Mirage 2000 and Surya Kiran aircraft. These deaths collectively thrust the entire country into a deep sense of bereavement. Processions, rallies, and candlelight marches streamed out from every state as people protested, wept, and condemned terror attacks in unison.

It was also a time to ask for answers of the government about the value of the lives of our security personnel. The intel regarding possible IED use in Kashmir had gone unnoticed. The pilots who died while testing Mirage fighter aircraft were a shame too. I cannot forget shots of a pilot's young wife whispering 'I love you' to his mortal remains or the numerous pictures of weeping families and children. These pictures cannot be unseen, and they will remain with us forever.

It has been an emotive week with patriotism running high. Unfortunately, instead of demanding better answers (or any answer for that matter) from the government in power, we faced the anatomy of hate. First, against neighbouring Pakistan, who undoubtedly played a role in the Pulwama massacre as they continue to shield extremists such as Masood Azhar on their soil. We also witnessed anger against hapless Kashmiris, since the suicide bomber was an indoctrinated youth from that valley. Kashmiris, especially in northern India, faced the wrath of some angry Indians. And it was only thanks to some good Samaritans and non-profit organisations such as Khalsa Aid that these Kashmiris were able to get home safe.

But I find myself questioning this hyper nationalism. I too, condemn Pakistan's role and want to see the Pakistani government pay for the repeated terror attacks that are unleashed on India. I support the economic sanctions on Pakistan such as the Most Favoured Nation (MFN) status being removed (something that they never reciprocated to India) and customs duty being bumped up to 200 per cent.

But what I don't understand is this deep hatred against all Pakistanis that has occupied our prime-time television news, WhatsApp forwards, and every conversation in social circles. How can we, for the folly of a few, incarcerate the lakhs that are as innocent as the rest of us? They look like us, speak, eat and dress like us, and a long time ago, were a part of us. How can I— who understands politics fairly well, and knows that there are innocents on the other side of the border too, some of whom I call my friends and who also condemn terrorism — ask for complete annihilation of another nation?

How are some of us built to veer towards hatred instead of compassion, vengeance rather than rationality? I want the killings to stop, I want the terrorists to pay, I want the Pakistani government to deliver on its promise to fight terror but I cannot hate the common masses of another nation that is stuck in the middle of a larger national crisis of underdevelopment, poverty, and religious fundamentalism. How are we teaching our children to hate rather than believe in the tenets of humanity?

For all who seem to be gunning for more innocent lives to be lost, here is a thought: First ask yourselves, are we worthy of the numerous lives of our security personnel routinely lost in protecting us? Are we good citizens when we spit, urinate, and destroy public property and newly inaugurated trains? Have we been citizens worthy of this great sacrifice that has been made for years to give us the freedom that we should gratefully cherish? Only if you have, should you cast the first stone.

(The writer is a journalist and media entrepreneur. The views expressed are strictly personal)