Mrinal Pande writes: On the ground in Israel, I saw the darkness descend

The three days that followed were a nightmarish blend of fear and shock as news and images from southern Israel surfaced. Waiting to find seats on the limited number of planes that ferried tourists out of the war zone, to our great shame we found that Air India was one of the first airlines to pack their own officials and crew in an Air Ethiopia plane and flee without so much as a by-your-leave to passengers like us who had bought two-way tickets and expected at least to be informed and counselled about alternate flights.

But this write-up is neither about the history of the region’s conflict nor a prediction of how things will eventually pan out. Those on ground zero and in academia are better equipped to do that, and so, I shall resist the urge to make forecasts that are of secondary importance now. What I wish to focus on is the tragedy and the pathos that have hung over the area since November 29,1947, when the United Nations adopted Great Britain’s Partition Resolution, dividing Great Britain’s former Palestinian mandate into Jewish and Arab states in May 1948.

This partition is what set the trajectory of violent retaliations and counter retaliations that has not changed since 1948. What is happening in the region has happened to other warring regions as well and it will continue to happen. The Bosnians have faced it, as have the people in the Subcontinent. So, the question we must ask collectively is not when and how, but why. Why must wars tacitly permit acts of violence, plunder and murder in the name of “higher interests”?

It is true that within most nations long-concealed fault-lines of political tension, business rivalry and religious intolerance have existed between cohabiting communities. But we have also experienced courage and fellowship. All of us harbour within us a deep need for restoration of a just and humane order so we may continue to live as civilised nations with long, rich cultural heritages and institutions representing various beliefs. Just before the war broke out, we met a man calmly sweeping the streets of the holy town on a hot day with men and women from across the world milling around the historic buildings in its city centre. He had a jowly face, at once old and innocent, and a pot belly beneath his grimy t-shirt. “Shalom,” he nodded to us, as we made our way to the shade of the trees. “We have always lived here like a big family,” he said, “Muslims, Christians, Jews, we don’t look for differences. You know people do not want to fight. They want to live like this, have babies, bring out the missus and family to fairs, have ice cream and give the children rides. No, the need for war comes from rulers always. Look for the persecutors among the kings that built these ruined walls and towers and fountains. From us? No! Never!”

Time travel in Israel, I learnt, is involuntary.

The old man was not wrong. The week-long celebration of the Feast of Tabernacle, of good harvest and plenitude, was a day when the wretchedness that broke all around us just three days later was unimaginable. It was as though we lived in sunshine when just a few kilometers away, in an area of darkness, there were people lurking to wipe out that joy and perpetrate the most horrific of crimes against fellow men and women – gunning down young people enjoying themselves at a music festival, dragging women and children by the hair and shooting them in cold blood.

One of the mysteries of this war is why so many good people stand by and choose to sing along with their politicians, apportioning blame on grounds of religion and ethnicity. With their dead eyes, these politicians appear on television, holding deep conversations full of historical whatabouteries. Just as resistance is natural, so unfortunately is radicalisation. Why are so many of our media anchors, sitting a thousand miles away from this war, getting all worked up about Mumbai terror attacks and rolling their eyes suggestively with a certain hellish delight and constant “I-told-you-so” analyses? Why are politicians informing voters about their telephone calls to leaderships on either side? This, one has to say frankly, is classic war porn. Most viewers want neither to watch, nor to listen to it, but are attracted by the rhetoric nevertheless. In a war that has killed many more civilians including a horrifically large number of children – the weakest of all civilians – are we saying we’ll condemn only what the politicians deem condemnable and/or worth saving?

Having been present there that day when a happy Sabbath ended with so many deaths and bereavements, one is now, more than ever before, aware of the fragility of human relations. There are so many vulnerabilities that can undo joy and ruin millions of lives, when managed by political manipulators out to settle scores and save their falling ratings. These are the lessons I have carried back from Jerusalem.

The writer is a freelance journalist and former chairperson, Prasar Bharati