For weeks, I had something to write of other than Gaza. I could afford to look away. On each of those weeks, I felt guilty, and on each told myself: does it matter if one less writer said something, when words cannot be enough anyhow? In this and any other such place, at this and any other such time: it is public policy modification, systemic redressal, reparative justice and, above all else, immediate relief work and military withdrawal that matter. A ceasefire – now – will provide reprieve. Nothing less will do. The changing of hearts and minds is tasked to teachers and artists – yes – but as a genocide unfolds, the work of artmaking, reading and discourse feels like throwing paper planes in a drizzle.

            A moment for these lines by the Palestinian poet Marwan Makhoul, which have been shared these past weeks on the Internet: “In order for me to write poetry that is not political, I must listen to the birds & in order to hear the birds, the war planes must be silent.”

It is a privilege to make metaphors about paper planes when speaking of people far away, threatened daily by war planes.

            I will tell you the truth, dear reader: I am heartsick from seeing how little impact words have in this country today. They make me wonder whether we can have any impact on the world, when appealing to reason, compassion or ethics seem to have yielded so little right here.

Still, in the words of the poet Rupi Kaur, who declined the Biden administration’s invitation to a Diwali party to affirm her stance against US support for the Israeli government’s war on Gaza: “The privilege we lose from speaking up is nothing compared to what Palestinians lose each day because this administration rejects a ceasefire”.

            This column is peppered with the words of others, others whose stakes are higher: life, livelihood and loved ones, or prestige and recognition. Elsewhere in the world, people are losing jobs and opportunities, being disinvited or having awards rescinded, and being doxxed for expressing sentiments that support the rights of Palestinians to be free of siege. What are the stakes for me or indeed for most in India now, to speak out on their behalf? They are much lower. Historically, administrative India has favoured Palestine. Even as the tide may shift now for reasons of religious bias, trade and power, it isn’t as dangerous as dissent for people within our official national borders who are also under siege. Perhaps we have our own battles, and our own battle-weariness. But.

But if we don’t speak now, we simply watch. Silence turns habitual, deadly.

            One more quote, because in times of great learning, confusion, sorrow and helplessness, repeating and sharing can be as or more important than saying anew – the writer Omar El Akkad: “One day, when it’s safe, when there’s no personal downside to calling a thing what it is, when it’s too late to hold anyone accountable, everyone will have always been against this.” El Akkad speaks specifically in the now, about Gaza. But these words could echo in either direction of time, and place.

An edited version appeared in The New Indian Express in November 2023. “The Venus Flytrap” appears in Chennai’s City Express supplement.