Syria. What comes to your mind when I mention the country?
Is it the confusion on why there is a war going on in Syria in the first place? Or is it the disbelief that the war is in its 11th year and still shows no signs of ending?
Is it the Instagram campaigns calling for justice? Or is it this picture of Omran Daqneesh — the boy in the ambulance?
Injured, blood smeared across his face, covered in dust that is the remnant of a bombed building, from the rubble of which he was rescued — the image of this little child haunts me.
Silent, tearless, bewildered, Omran’s reaction in this picture is an indictment of the rest of humanity. No brave president, no chest-thumping politician, no military general, no religious leader will ever be able to wipe off that blood-smeared face, nor the terror he witnessed.
There is something in his eyes. Something more than a shock that we so often see in the eyes of war victims. It pierces my skin. It punches me in my gut.
I can find no words to justify it to myself, no matter how much I try. But the shameless lens of our cameras caught the moment. Humanity doesn’t deserve this picture imprinted on its memory. But it is. And we are all witnesses to these horrors.
I was 21 when this picture surfaced, and I first heard anything about the Syrian war. Unaware, ignorant and unexposed to the reality of a Syrian civilian. I was working with AIESEC — an organisation formed after World War II to work toward cross-cultural Peace. Yet, I remained in the privileged bubble of my reality. When Omran’s images surfaced on media, I was in Poland to attend a conference that the organisation hosted once every year, with delegates from 120+ countries & territories.
Exactly two years later, the same conference happened in a small coastal town of Hurghada in Egypt. I was privileged and honoured to have been elected the President of AIESEC in India at the time.
During the conference, the organisation curated an event in the local schools of Hurghada with the question, “What would you teach a child if you only had 60 minutes?”.
My group set out to a local school intending to teach the kids about the Sustainable Development Goal no. 5 — Gender Equality. Even though a lot may have been lost in translation, I felt humbled to have gotten the chance to speak with such wonderful young kids from the classroom.
After the event, many of us took pictures with the kids and spoke to them about their dreams and what they wished to do when they grew up. Then, amidst the hundreds of kids and people from our organisation, a group of students approached me.
In their broken English, they asked me if I was from India. And they went on to introduce themselves as a group of Syrian refugees who had found a base in this little town. They didn’t have any other family. So they took care of each other in this foreign land.
I couldn’t fathom what I felt at that moment. I knew nothing about the Syrian people or their torment. I had learned nothing about the thousands of refugees seeking foreign asylum, nor ever understood what this war was about in the first place. Until I saw Omran’s pictures two years ago.
They were thrilled to meet somebody from India. They never had before. They asked me if I lived in Mumbai and if I watched Bollywood movies! A spirited conversation followed as they excitedly asked me about Hrithik Roshan, Kareena Kapoor, Deepika Padukone, Amitabh Bachchan, and Shah Rukh Khan. They told me about some of their favourite Bollywood songs to sing & dance to. Yep, they knew all about them!
As much as I wanted to continue that conversation, I had to leave. So we took a picture together, and I sent it to one of them who had a phone. It has been 3.5 years to that day now, and I still can’t forget the sparkle in their eyes at the mention of Bollywood and their smiles.
I knew nothing about their country, barring things about the war as shown in the media. I knew nothing about their people, their culture, food, art, or songs — nothing at all.
It brought tears to my eyes to think that even after living through a war-torn past, escaping the country as refugees, losing family in the war — they could look for little moments of joy in the movies created in a foreign country. What do those few moments of dancing to those songs mean to them?
It pained me to think about the thousands of children who never got to break away from the trepidations of this 11-year long war. It pained me to think about the millions of people displaced from their homes, seeking refuge in foreign lands. It pained me to think about the atrocities that “Peace Keepers” bring upon civilians under the pretext of Peace.
It pained me to think that any of these children I met could have been in the rubble of the building, as was Omran.
But their smiles brought me a semblance of joy and gratitude that I was blessed to have met them.
Their togetherness taught me that deep under the ruins of war still lies the essence of humanity — love. Despite the daily trials & tribulations, people could still find each other, love each other, care for each other, and find reasons to laugh, sing, or dance.
Wherever they are, I hope that they still find solace in a Bollywood movie or a song
There is more love in the world than we think we know. One has to look for it. I do not appeal to you to ignore the dreadful events around the world but to acknowledge that love overpowers hatred & fear in the worst of circumstances.
Inch by inch, relentlessly, persistently, in ways we do not see and sometimes in ways we do, with all its might, giving reason to fortitude in people worldwide, every single day — love triumphs.
I hope that you intentionally look for that love in people — from countries you may know nothing about, from different religions, different sexual orientations, different genders, and speaking other languages.
I hope that if you feel pain as it pierces your skin and punches you in the gut, there is love to comfort you.
I hope that if you ever feel like all else is lost — as you try to recover from the rubble of the ruins around you, blood smeared across your face, bewilderment in your eyes — there is love to embrace you.
I hope you find it in you to laugh and sing and dance in the face of adversity.
I hope that you find it in you to love.
I hope that you become love.
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