We can keep crying, we can keep getting shocked, we can fly our flags at half-mast, write little poems of sadness and pin them to flowers, light candles and march in silence, tie ribbons on bridges, hear our leaders express sorrow and decry the inhumanity of it all….we can keep doing this and more. Again and again. But ribbons and papers and cloth and candles never won wars. Nor will we. Nor will we.
I cannot act shocked and stunned by Paris…I’ve grown up with a dozen Parises occurring all around me. I’ve lived through them all my life. My first Paris was Delhi in 1984, my latest is Paris 2015. I try to feel if it’s any different who’s doing the killing. Hindus, or Sikhs or Muslims or Christians. I don’t. It doesn’t. But 33 of 39 years of bloodied headlines has numbed me to it. There’s just a cold anger that runs through me when I read the latest religious exploit. Anger and a sense of frustration at those who think words alone can win a war.
Talking won’t help, any more than making placards will. Wars are won by those most willing to shed blood, their’s and their enemies. Any guesses as to who that is in today’s world?