Of endurance & other virtues in a world of glaring hierarchies
Turning and turning in the widening gyre/The falcon cannot hear the falconer/Things fall apart/The centre cannot hold/Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world/ The blood dimmed tide is loosed and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned/ The best lack all conviction while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity. — WB Yeats
Preeti Gill
These lines from ‘The Second Coming’ by WB Yeats resonate deeply with me amidst the tumultuous landscape of our present day world. For it is poetry and literature that help me make a sense of, and endure, a world that seems to have become violent and full of hate. Yet, what does endurance truly entail? Is it simply about growing a thick skin or cultivating indifference? Or does it embody a profound transformation in perception and action—a journey towards developing capacities to see and be in the world differently, to adapt and improvise in the face of glaring hierarchies, to constantly learn and seek and transform, to embrace alternative perspectives and foster resilient social bonds and nurturing social spaces.
Each day, headlines bombard us with stories of brutality, of genocide, of extreme violence against women and minorities and of political wrangling of the most shameful kind. What we should debate and discuss is hidden out of sight, and what we hear instead is a barrage of shrill noise about inconsequential nonsense. We no longer care about what’s happening on our peripheries unless it is to spew hatred and vilify neighbours, the killings, rapes, arbitrary shootings that continue in Manipur, or the 200 odd people sitting in freezing temperatures in Ladakh demanding a stake in state, or the farmers who are once again at Delhi’s doorstep, or even the contentious questions of citizenship that is threatening to reopen old wounds and divides. What is wrong with us? Are we blind that we do not see the genuine crisis that fester and escalate, ignored by a people consumed by shallow distractions.
The fragile edifice of what one knew as truth is eroded, the things that one took for granted like accountability and responsibility, democratic values, rule of law, equality, inclusiveness, empathy, independence of media, judiciary, these have faded into oblivion. And we are happy to stay quiet, maintain the status quo, unmindful of the toll exacted by the relentless pursuit of so-called progress. Do we stop to think: progress for whom and at what cost. Will the elites define progress and development, will they neglect to see the constant erosion of our lands and forests, of mineral wealth as hills and valleys are ravaged and denuded to build four-lane highways till we have climbed the farthest mountain and plumbed the most remote water body without a thought to the increasing load on the ecosystem?
Our fractured selves, living in these troubling times, eyeless and voiceless, make me want to weep with anger. How do we break free? When I look westward at the trials of the Palestinians, the starvation and ceaseless bombing of civilians, I am absolutely appalled at our indifference (and this is not to condone the acts of Hamas or any other terror group). How can we sleep at night knowing what we know, of families wiped out, of homes and lands lost, of a people forced to be eternal refugees?
Nearer home, in Punjab, there are other critical challenges—our land and water is poisoned, there are farmer suicides and acute agrarian distress, young people from cities, towns and rural hinterlands are leaving in larger and larger numbers because they have lost hope in a system that offers them a worthless education that can never equip them for the job market. Punjab has been known for its spirit, its courage to fight against all odds, for its resilience, our land mass may be small but our footprint is big and very visible. Glimmers of hope emerge when I hear stories of the farmers’ andolan, of the selflessness with which the Sikhs helped with langar and oxygen and even cremations during the terrible years of Covid, when I see people open their homes and hearths to strangers and I feel the spirit of chardhikalan that never allows hope to die is indeed intact. These acts and practices exemplify the essence of endurance. For endurance is not blind optimism but a steadfast commitment to transformative action, to envisioning and enacting alternative futures.
Endurance finds sustenance in the embrace of empathy and solidarity, in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding across divides of identity and experience. It thrives in the warmth of familial bonds, the generosity of friends and the courage of those who dare to challenge prevailing injustices. As I immerse myself in literature, engaging with diverse voices and narratives, I find sustenance and strength. I endure as I appreciate the complex mosaic of our multiple identities, as I navigate to be at once ‘the minority’ as well as ‘the majority’, the ‘insider’ as well as the ‘outsider’. Endurance then is a conscious endeavour to forge connections and build on our shared humanity.
The writer is publishing professional, founder, Majha House, Amritsar
