Late at night, I was sitting by the dim glow of my study lamp, immersed in the pages of a history book. It was an account of Europe in the aftermath of the First World War, a time of turmoil, resentment, and shifting alliances. As I read on, the narrative took me closer to the brink of the Second World War—a world gripped by uncertainty, fear, and the ominous rise of dangerous ideologies.
A cloud of smoke rose from the tobacco in my hand, swirling lazily in the still air, adding to the weight of the moment.I was alone. But then again, I had always been alone—even in the presence of others. The solitude I carry within is a world of its own, untouched by the noise of those around me. My room, though filled with the quiet hum of life, is more than familiar; I knew every mark, every dent on its walls. Even in my isolation, I am never truly alone. Colonies of spiders wove delicate threads in forgotten corners, wasps, and hornets claimed their own spaces, each creature carving out its existence within mine.
If thoughts and emotions could leave traces behind, like whispers in the air, then surely the walls of my room is filled with them. They clung to every object and rested in every shadow. Yet, I never grew tired of my solitude.
Outside, the world was shifting. Winter stood at the threshold of departure, making way for the quiet arrival of spring. Here, in the hills, spring is not a short visitor as it is in the vast plains of India; it stretched itself leisurely, filling the valleys and ridges with its gentle warmth. The trees, standing bare in the merciless hands of winter, stood like silent sentinels. Even the magnificent peepal tree, rising just above my house, had surrendered almost all its leaves. Its skeletal branches reached skyward, naked and cheerless, waiting. But the turning of seasons is a rule of nature, an unspoken wisdom that even my solitude acknowledges.
Then, all of a sudden, the words of Hitler’s Reichstag speech, delivered on January 30, 1939, echoed in my mind:If international finance Jewry inside and outside Europe succeeds in plunging the nations into another world war, the result will not be the Bolshevisation of the earth and thus the victory of Jewry, but the annihilation of the Jewish race in Europe.
A statement that foreshadowed the horrors of the Holocaust. A speech that laid bare a chilling threat—the systematic destruction of an entire community.Just then, my phone vibrated. A WhatsApp notification flashed on the screen. Curious, I tapped it open. It was a link to a video accompanied by a brief message.It was the story of a man from the serene hills of Darjeeling—landscapes painted in hues of mist and green, a place known for its beauty, its harmony. And yet, in that very video, he had unleashed a storm of venom, his words dripping with hatred against a particular community.
I exhaled slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night. History has shown us the cost of such hatred. And yet, here it was again—repackaged, retold, and reignited. And I could not accept it—could anybody? The message he seemed to convey stood in direct opposition to the very foundation of our society, however imperfect it might be. At its core, our social order is built on mutual respect, tolerance, and acceptance, however fragile these ideals may sometimes feel.
Within me, a conflict raged. Frankly speaking, I was torn between rivalry and tolerance, uncertain of where to stand. I could see clearly that his words had the power to disrupt the delicate balance of our social fabric. They were not just personal grievances; they were a reflection of something much deeper—an invisible barrier that had always existed among us, lurking beneath the surface of our interactions. His rhetoric, filled with aggression and hate, was not born in that moment. It was merely the sudden eruption of long-suppressed prejudices, hidden resentments, and unspoken divisions that had existed for far too long.If these thoughts were truly new, he would not have spoken with such fluency, or with such raw, unfiltered emotions. No, these sentiments had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free. And now, they had found a voice.
Our society is often seen as being centred around community identity and religion above all else. People from various ethnic and religious groups—whether Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, or others—take great pride in their faith and heritage. At times, this pride even leads to conflict.The way organised religion and ethnic communities function has deeply troubled me. I have often criticised it and wished for a society free from such divisions. To me, these structures often promote blind beliefs, rigid traditions, intolerance, and superstition. Worse, they are frequently used to serve the interests of those in power rather than the well-being of the people, and yet I knew well that there is something else in it, something which supplied deep inner cravings of men. Perhaps Marx also once said, Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions, before stating that it is the opium of the masses.[1]
How else could it have been the tremendous power it has been and brought peace and comfort to innumerable tortured souls? Is the peace found in religious and community identity merely a result of blind faith and absence of questioning—a sense of security, like being in a safe harbour, protected from the storms of the open sea? Or is it something deeper? In some cases, it is indeed something deeper.Many of its votaries are undoubtedly people of great character. However, it is striking how self-seekers and opportunists have used it to serve their own interests, providing a moral and ethical covering to their vested selfish deeds.Nevertheless,I find it impossible to seek refuge in such blind faith or unquestioned beliefs. I would rather face the open sea, with all its storms and challenges, than stay sheltered in a safe harbour. I am also not particularly concerned with the afterlife or what happens after death. The complexities and struggles of this life are more than enough to occupy my thoughts and efforts. I’m drawn to the traditional Chinese perspective, which is deeply ethical yet sceptical. Though I may not fully agree with its application to life, I appreciate its focus on the Tao—the path to be followed, and the way of lifeas taught by Lao Tzu. What interests me in it is how to understand life, not reject it, but accept it, adapt to it, and improve it. However, most religious outlooks do not focus on this life. Instead, they seem to hinder clear thinking and focus more in the afterlife, they rely on rigid, unchangeable beliefs and dogmas, often driven more by emotions and sentiments than by reason
To me, this approach is far from what is truly spiritual. Instead of seeking truth, it often ignores reality when it does not fit preconceived ideas. It tends to be narrow-minded, intolerant of different perspectives, and focused on itself. Worse, it frequently becomes a tool for self-seekers and opportunists who exploit faith and community sentiments for their own personal gain. Such men's moral standards have no relation to social needs but are based on highly metaphysical doctrine of sin and afterlife. Even this, they are willing to compromise if they see the opportunity to grab some personal benefits.
To better understand that religion has often failed to help those who need it the most, let’s look at an example from history. It is well known that in its early days, the Christian Church did not assist slaves in improving their social status. Instead, due to economic conditions, many slaves eventually became the feudal serfs of medieval Europe, remaining trapped in a system of oppression.Even as late as 1727, the Church maintained this stance, as shown in a letter written by the Bishop of London to slave owners in the southern American colonies. The Bishop made it clear that converting to Christianity did not change a person’s legal or social position.
He wrote:"Christianity and accepting the gospel do not alter a person’s civil status or their duties in society. In all respects, people remain in the same state as before. The freedom Christianity offers is not freedom from slavery or social inequality, but rather, freedom from sin, Satan, and human desires. Whether a person was a slave or free before baptism, becoming a Christian makes no difference to their status in the world."[2]
This example highlights how religious institutions have often supported the existing social order rather than fighting for justice. Instead of challenging oppression, they have, at times, justified it, offering spiritual comfort while ignoring real-world suffering.No organised religion today will express itself in this outspoken manner, but essentially, its attitude to property and existing social order will be the same.
Now again if we go back to Hitler’s Reichstag speechwhich was openly hostile toward the Jewish people. He directly spoke about eliminating the entire Jewish race in Europe. Similarly, this man from Darjeeling also made an extreme statement, calling for the complete removal of a particular community from their homes wherever they are found.Just as Hitler spoke of the annihilation of the Jewish race in Europe, this man talked about forcefully driving people away—loading them onto trucks, using police lathies,and even stripping them of their clothes, leaving them covered only with banana leaves.
His statement is deeply harmful, poisoning the very fabric of our society, which—though fragile—is built on mutual respect, tolerance, and acceptance.Although the words spoken and the harm they have caused cannot be undone, steps can still be taken. The administration andjudiciary can ensure justice is served, and alongside legal consequences, our system should also provide him proper counselling to help him unlearn the hatred he may have absorbed from certain extremist ideologies. Both Hitler’s Reichstag speech and his hate speech targeted specific communities, promoting their exclusion and dehumanisation. Hitler’s words led to the Holocaust, justifying genocide against Jews, while the Darjeeling man called for the violent expulsion of a particular group. Both speeches reflected deep-seated prejudices, weaponising hatred to divide society. History warns us that unchecked extremism spreads beyond its initial targets, ultimately consuming entire communities. If hate is not confronted, it repeats itself—bringing destruction, just as it did in the past. So, all of us must learn someimportant lessons from this incident.
*The first lesson we must learn is that caste has been deeply embedded in our society since time immemorial. The recent hate speech was particularly directed against one specific caste, as reflected in the use of words like Brahman and Taparay, Dalit and Adivasi—a clear indication of hatred towards a community that practices the caste system. Despite his hate, the caste system is still a fact, and this deeply flawed and discriminatory system must be completely abolished. Once the caste is annihilated only then such hatred will disappear. Although, like many other communities, an organisation has been formed for representation and support, but there is something unique—and troubling—about how caste operates within this own community. Even among members of the same caste, there exists a rigid social divide. A striking example of this is that, in many cases, forget about not eating the food touched by the so-called lower castes, members also refuses to eat food cooked by another from the same caste.No matter how united we may try to appear on the surface, these internal divisions still run deep, and this is an undeniable fact. The contradiction is clear—No one can claim to be part of a tribal society while simultaneously upholding the caste system, which was created and enforced by those at the top. If we truly seek unity and progress, we must first address and dismantle these divisions within ourselves.
*The second most important lesson to learn is that his hatred is the result of an extremist ideology he has been taught—one as extreme as Hitler’s hatred toward the Jews. Whether or not this fact will be proven in court, it is clear that someone or some group has influenced him, feeding him such hateful beliefs.History shows that such extreme views are rarely formed by a single individual alone. They are usually shaped by long-term experiences or by powerful figures guiding them from behind the scenes. Again, this may or may not be proven in court, but we can recognize the truth with our own conscience as Gandhi once said, There is a higher court than the court of justice, and that is the court of conscience. So, we must be very careful and not adhere to any such extremist ideologies which can lead to negative consequences and dangerous outcomes.
*The third and most important lesson we must learn is that history has shown that fascism and Nazism do not simply disappear—they complete a full cycle before they collapse. This means that, in the end, no one remains unaffected. Just as Germany and Italy in the past only realized the full extent of their peril after their entire nations had been devastated, unchecked extremism will eventually impact everyone.The same applies to the hate-filled speech directed at a particular community. No one should believe that what happened was justified or feel satisfied that, even if the speaker is punished, the community he targeted somehow "deserved" it. Such an attitude is dangerous because fascism does not stop at one target—it continues until it has completed its cycle.Today, if we remain indifferent—or worse, pleased—when another community faces hatred, there are no guarantee that tomorrow the same hatred will not be directed at our own. We must recognise this reality before it is too late.
Mahatma Gandhi, one of the greatest Hindus of his time, was assassinated by a fellow Hindu consumed by communal hatred. Similarly, while we may belong to the same community, failing to stand in solidarity against injustice to someone today offers no assurance that we won’t become its victims tomorrow. This is also a lesson we must learn—and one we are still learning.
What is done is done; it cannot be undone. Yet, despite the immense suffering of the past and present, our future must be built on hope, even as we face challenges ahead. Our lives must have purpose and direction.Today, while we may appear united on the surface, deep divisions still exist within us. We must gradually break down these barriers and stand together—not as separate castes, creeds, or ethnic groups, but as human beings. True progress lies in unity, the pursuit of knowledge, and scientific advancement, all working toward the well-being of all, not just a privileged few at the expense of millions.The heavy burden of poverty and suffering can only be lifted through progress, not by clinging to the restrictive chains of ethnicity and identity. Loyalty to one’s own community has long been upheld, yet history has shown it has not solved the problems of human suffering; the poor have remained poor, while the rich above have continued to exploit their’s own. If we remain consumed by these divisions, we will lose sight of what truly matters. The history of mankind is a history of struggle, and every great struggle, no matter how slow, paves the way for something better.
As the night grew old and the smell of the midnight lamp lingered in the air, I finally retired to sleep.A few days later, as time moved forward, I sensed a quiet yet undeniable shift—as if summoned by an invisible call, the wind carried with it a new whisper: spring has arrived. The air grew softer, warmer, carrying life in its breath. The once lifeless trees, stripped bare by winter, began to stir. A secret operation had begun—hidden from the eye but felt in the very fabric of existence.One morning, I stood beneath the same Peepal tree that had stood naked through the cold months only to find tiny bits of green peeping out all over them. The change had been silent, yet it was inevitable. The world had awakened, answering the gentle call of spring.
History warns us, but liketiny buds emerging from the peepal tree,it also offers hope—reminding us that compassion, unity, and reason can break the cycle of division. If we choose to learn, to stand together, and to embrace our shared humanity, then hate shall pass—La hainepassera.
(Views are personal)