Dr. Mohammad Younis Dar
The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the winding road as I drove home from the hospital. The hum of my car stereo filled the silence, and a haunting melody began to play—a song that carried words both simple and profound:
“Panchi, nadiya, pawan ke jhonke
Koi sarhad na unhein roke
Sarhad insaanon ke liye hai
Socho tumne aur maine
Kya paaya insaan hoke”
*(Birds, rivers, and the breeze—
No border can stop them.
Borders are only for humans.
Think—what have you and I
Truly gained by being human?)*
The words pierced through the humdrum of my evening commute, pulling me into a deep reflection. I thought of the world we inhabit—a world where conflict seems to have woven itself into the very fabric of our existence. From heated family disputes that fracture homes to geopolitical tensions that shake nations, from ideological clashes to religious divides, we humans are relentless in drawing lines. Borders, both physical and invisible, carve up our world, our hearts, and our minds.
As a psychiatrist at Government Medical College in Anantnag, I’ve seen the toll of these divisions up close. I’ve sat with patients whose eyes carry the weight of unseen wars—mothers grieving sons lost to violence, children haunted by the echoes of conflict, and young men wrestling with the anxiety of a world that feels like it’s unraveling. It’s heartbreaking to witness humanity—so often called the pinnacle of creation—choose hatred over harmony, pride over peace, and war over wisdom.
Another verse drifted into my thoughts as I drove:
“Zindagi hai ya koi toofan hai
Hum to is jeene ke haathon marr chale”
(Is this life, or some relentless storm?
We’re being worn down by the act of living itself.)
This is the pulse of our times. Millions across the globe feel like they’re caught in a storm—tossed by forces they cannot control, battered by chaos they didn’t create. Whether it’s the personal strife of a fractured relationship or the collective trauma of a war-torn nation, the weight of conflict strips us of our empathy, leaving us numb, divided, and weary.
But I believe it doesn’t have to be this way. History whispers to us that even in the darkest moments, peace is not a distant dream—it’s a choice, a powerful act of courage.
Let me take you back to a battlefield in ancient India, where the air was thick with the stench of blood and the cries of the fallen. Emperor Ashoka, a warrior-king, stood amidst the carnage of the Kalinga War. He had conquered lands, expanded his empire, and claimed victory—but at what cost? The ground was littered with the bodies of soldiers, families torn apart, and villages reduced to ash. In that moment, something broke inside Ashoka—not his ambition, but his heart. Overwhelmed by the scale of suffering, he renounced violence and embraced *Dhamma*, a path of compassion, tolerance, and moral responsibility. His transformation wasn’t just personal; it reshaped an empire. Ashoka planted trees, built hospitals, and spread messages of peace across borders, proving that even the mightiest can choose a different path.
Now, let’s journey to a more recent chapter—1954, when two nations, India and China, stood at a crossroads. Instead of drawing swords, they signed the *Panchsheel Agreement*, a beacon of hope rooted in five timeless principles for peaceful coexistence:
1. Mutual respect for each other’s sovereignty and territorial integrity.
2. Mutual non-aggression, choosing dialogue over destruction.
3. Mutual non-interference, honoring each other’s autonomy.
4. Equality and mutual benefit, fostering fairness in every interaction.
5. Peaceful coexistence, a commitment to harmony over hostility.
These principles weren’t just for diplomats in grand halls; they hold wisdom for every one of us. Imagine a family feud where siblings respect each other’s boundaries, choose words over wrath, and seek fairness instead of victory. Picture a workplace where colleagues honor differences rather than fueling rivalries. These five pillars, when lived, can transform not just nations, but neighborhoods, homes, and hearts.
Yet, the allure of conflict persists. We see it in the headlines—nations arming for war, communities divided by ideology, and individuals torn by pride. War, even when deemed necessary for self-defense, must always be the last resort. Its costs are staggering: cities reduced to rubble, families displaced, children robbed of innocence. I think of Aleppo, once a vibrant mosaic of cultures, now a ghost of its former self, scarred by years of conflict. I think of the Rohingya, fleeing persecution, carrying nothing but trauma and hope. These are not just stories—they are wounds that will take generations to heal.
Peace, on the other hand, is a garden where hope takes root. It’s the story of post-war Germany and Japan, who rebuilt not just their cities but their spirits, fostering innovation and prosperity through reconciliation. It’s the quiet heroism of communities in Rwanda, where survivors of genocide chose forgiveness over vengeance, weaving a fragile but resilient peace. Peace doesn’t erase scars—it gives us the strength to heal them.
As a psychiatrist, I’ve seen the hidden casualties of conflict—the battles fought in the mind. I’ve held the hands of patients grappling with anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress, their stories a testament to the enduring cost of violence. One patient, a young woman named Aisha, fled a war-torn region with her family. She spoke of sleepless nights, haunted by the sound of bombs she no longer hears but cannot forget. “Peace,” she told me, “is not just silence. It’s feeling safe enough to dream again.” Her words stayed with me, a reminder that peace is not merely the absence of war, but the presence of justice, dignity, and hope.
So, what can we do? We stand at a crossroads, where the winds can either howl with war or whisper with peace. The choice is ours, and it begins with small, deliberate acts. Raise children who see differences as treasures, not threats. Amplify voices that call for compassion, not confrontation. In our homes, choose kindness over conflict—listen to understand, not to argue. In our communities, build bridges where others erect walls.
Imagine a world where media tells stories of unity, where politics prioritizes people over power, and where every conversation is a step toward healing. Imagine teaching our children that borders are lines on a map, but humanity is the thread that binds us all.
The song on my stereo faded, but its message lingered. The birds, the rivers, the breeze—they know no borders. Why should we let them define us? Let’s dare to dream of a world where peace is not a fleeting hope, but a lived reality. Let’s talk. Let’s listen. Let’s heal.
And let the winds, at last, whisper peace.
(Note: Dr. Mohammad Younis Dar is a resident doctor in the Department of Psychiatry at Government Medical College, Anantnag. With a passion for mental health and human behavior, he explores the intersections of conflict, empathy, and coexistence, advocating for a world where compassion triumphs over division.)
