There was a time when peace meant something beautiful. It meant neighbours chatting at the gate. It meant children playing cricket without worrying about which side of the street they lived on. It meant laughter floating out of living rooms and chai shared between people with different ideas and beliefs. Peace was harmony.
It was warm and alive and noisy, in the best possible way.
Today peace has become suspiciously quiet.
No arguments. No protests. No loud disagreements. Everyone is calm. Everyone is smiling politely. Everyone is silent. Completely silent.
And that silence is deafening.
It reminds me of a school classroom. The teacher glares at the children and the naughtiest becomes an angel. Not a whisper. Not a cough. Not a rustle. You could hear a pin drop. This silence is not respect, it is fear.
Our country today feels like that classroom.
People who once debated passionately now sit quietly. Friends who once argued happily now avoid each other. Newspapers that were once bold, now have nothing to say.
Everyone terrified that an opinion could bring trouble.
Now peace is measured by the number of closed mouths.
I remember a time when voices rose against injustice and those voices brought change. Today voices rise only in praise.
Criticism is treated like crime.
And instead of clapping hands many of us fold them anxiously and pray that no one asks us what we really think.
The saddest part is that silence is being sold to us as peace. Just like a shopkeeper selling stale bread as fresh. Very many are buying it happily, saying all’s well because there is no conflict. But sometimes the absence of conflict is not peace.
It is paralysis.
True peace is not the quiet of a cemetery. It is the music of a marketplace. It is the sound of people living without fear. It is the hum of democracy where voices rise freely and fall freely. It is argument. It is disagreement. It is forgiveness. It is unity in diversity.
If silence is the price for peace it is far too high.
Real peace has never needed guns pointed at backs or laws pointed at throats.
Real peace is born when truth is welcome, when criticism is respected and when those in power are strong enough to listen rather than silence.
Let me return to that classroom.
The teacher stands rigid, arms folded, daring someone to speak. The room is quiet. Too quiet. And then suddenly a hand moves. A chalk piece flies through the air. It hits the teacher squarely on the back of his neck.
For a moment there is stunned silence.
Then the classroom erupts in loud vengeful laughter. Desks shake. Children howl. Days of forced silence explodes in joyful chaos.
The teacher is livid and complains to the headmaster, who looks up from the Constitution which he is reading, and tells him, that all this could have been avoided, if true peace, instead of fear filled quiet, had been allowed to live…!
The Author conducts an online, eight session Writers and Speakers Course. If you’d like to join, do send a thumbs-up to WhatsApp number 9892572883 or send a message to bobsbanter@gmail.com
