My writing gave me solace from the pain, the suffering

What does an ordinary citizen without position, power or money, do when he sees something wrong or unjust? What money or position can a person whose father slept on a street in Amritsar, with a brick as a pillow have? The father had lost his parents at the age of 27, when India was born in 1947. This dilemma confronts millions of common citizens like me. All of us witness events around us, which seem unfair or inappropriate, as we live our simple daily lives. Since my school days, I have been writing letters to the editor of newspapers or journals if an issue needed focus. I have continued to raise issues of public concern over the past 50 years. My three decades of service with a multinational company and later with organisations in the Middle East, took me to over 40 countries. And letters have been written by me if an issue needed debate or reparation.

The deprivations of slum dwellers in India, Latin America and South Asia, intense poverty in villages in Africa, trauma of global refugees, the role of religion, caste, community and colour of skin to seek power, plight of orphans of Syria, all these have mauled my soul. I have visited villages, towns and countries where bullets spoke more loudly than the ballot box. And, as I travelled through the streets and villages of the world selling soaps, detergents, cooking oils, perfumes, cakes, apparel and electronics to earn my daily bread, I witnessed horrendous levels of poverty, hunger and injustice.

Then, I thanked God that I have a family, a home, a country, a job, food to eat and water to drink. My notes also covered the holiness of Mahatma Gandhi, vision of President John Kennedy, sagacity of Indira Gandhi, guts of President George Bush, melancholies of Saddam Hussein, nobility of Martin Luther King, steadiness of President Obama, passion of Benazir Bhutto, anguishes of Aung San Suu Kyi, leadership of General Patton, the artistes in Raj Kapoor, Rajesh Khanna, Al Pacino, Sean Connery and Meryl Streep. The letters covered global pains like poverty, hunger, corruption, wars, deaths, refugees and also giddy subjects like films and music.

My writing exorcised me from the demons that troubled me. All the issues I raised were not necessarily resolved. But it gave myself solace, however miniscule, that as a commoner I had done my duty.