By Shalini Masih
The war back home between India and Pakistan escalated, each news report intensifying the heaviness in my chest. Living in England, I was constantly reminded of the enduring legacy of colonialism, a historical force whose fingerprints shaped conflicts and constructed divisions. Yet my life now in this country has much beauty in it. The paradoxical coexistence of beauty and destruction was starkly visible to me today, yet difficult to reconcile.
Each piece of distant news was magnified by the mind, fueling paranoia and fear for loved ones thousands of miles away, occupying my thoughts incessantly. This heightened sensitivity to distant distress exemplified what my supervisor, Michael Eigen, insightfully described during our recent supervision: “Many spend much of their lives learning how not to connect, and this impossibility makes us do crazy things, like going to war.”
After a taxing day at my clinic, I hired a taxi for home. I noticed the driver’s name and wondered if he was from Pakistan. We exchanged greetings and a quick glance through the rearview mirror, our silence charged by the unspoken tension of our nations’ current hostility. The mind, once again, magnified this discomfort.
As I bore the weight of this silence, eventually, unable to tolerate the heavy quietness, the driver spoke first, inquiring politely about my profession. Upon learning I was a psychotherapist, he ventured cautiously into a conversation about stress—first in England.
“There is so much stress in this country”, he said. I wondered if his stress in ‘this’ country was also compounded by his distance from his home country, as it was for me. Then inevitably shifting to our shared distress over the conflict back home, “Do you think talking really helps?” he asked hesitantly.
I affirmed gently, adding, “If people could sustain conversations, perhaps we wouldn’t need to resort to wars.” The thought lingered between us, a silent echo resonating deeply. Freud’s words to Einstein surfaced in my mind, reminding me of his profound reflection on war: human beings harbor dual instincts—Eros, the drive for connection, and Thanatos, the drive towards destruction and aggression. This balance is fragile. Wars erupt when the destructive drive overwhelms this fragile balance.
Approaching my destination, I felt moved to share a poem by Nida Fazli, its verses capturing the universal suffering that transcends borders:
“yahan bhi hai wahan bhi”
insaan me haivaan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi
allah nigehbaan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi
khoonkhaar darindo ke faqat naam alag hain
shehron mein bayabaan yahan bhi hain wahan bhi
rahman ki rahmat ho ya bhagvan ki murat
har khel ka maidaan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi
hindu bhi mazay se hain aur muslmaan bhi mazay se
insaan pareshaan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi
uthta hai dil-o-jaan se dhuaan dono taraf se
ye Mir ka divan yahan bhi hai wahan bhi”
“Here, as well as There
The beast within the human is here, as well as there
Allah is the protector here, as well as there
Only the names of blood-thirsty monsters are different
Wastelands within cities exist here, as well as there
The Hindus are at peace and so are the Muslims
Only people are distressed here, as well as there
Whether it is the blessings of Rahman or the idols of Bhagvan
All these games have an arena here, as well as there
Smoke rises from the hearts and souls on both sides
Mir’s court is assembled here, as well as there.”
The driver smiled softly, and suddenly, the air shifted—a subtle victory of life drive over death drive. He asked eagerly about where in Worcester I went for authentic Indian cuisine. This shift towards food—a shared sensory pleasure—was our small rebellion against the learned impossibility of connection. A brief, meaningful conversation about Nihari transported us both momentarily to happier, distant memories of dipping our fingers into and relishing Nihari in overflowing eateries in narrow and bustling streets of home.
As the journey ended, we parted cordially, two individuals momentarily connected amidst the chaos of global conflict, exemplifying Freud’s hopeful proposition to Einstein: that perhaps true dialogue and human connection could temper the instinct for war.
References
Freud, S. (1933). Why war? In J. Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 22, pp. 197–215). London: Hogarth Press.
Shades of Becoming 