To be or not to be: An existential paradox

The other day, we visited a gaushala in a private institution. At the gate, we were greeted with cows thrusting their noses and long tongues through the barricades and the gate to grab the bananas we were holding out to them. Because of its lack of height, a calf wriggled vainly to stick her tongue out but couldn’t edge out her bigger shed mates. We grinned and kept feeding them till the cowherd opened the gates to let us in, all the while shooing them away.

Inside, the cows were unfettered and housed in a spacious shed open to the sky but they had been trained to remain within their designated areas, within a few feet of one another. As I knew this place fed the cows well, I asked the caretaker why they were so desperate for food. He said, “They eat the same thing every day; they long for variety.” Ah! Of course. When I left, I did not feel as warmed by the experience as I always did. A sense of unease got me thinking. 

Right from my childhood, I have been exposed to the idea of giving back to society to whatever extent we can, thanks to my mother who was actively into social service and philanthropy. Over the years, I have seen dozens of animal shelters where the inmates are well cared for. They are fed, bathed and brushed, and let out of their sheds for an hour of two in the morning and evening. In many of these gaushalas, the cows are tethered, although with liberally loose chains, to keep them from straying and hurting themselves or others.

Make no mistake. I applaud these countless sanctuaries for their tremendous spirit of service and compassion. But the larger questions keep nagging me: are we providing them with safety and food security at the cost of their freedom and quality of life? Do we have the right to interfere with the lives of other beings in this controlling manner merely because of our intellectual superiority? Can we  simply crush their equitable right to the planet by taking over every inch of civilizational space? 

How would we feel if we were confined – chained or otherwise – in a crowded room where we are fed, nursed and loved but have no say in what we eat or how we live within our defined boundaries? Would we embrace such a life? To be sure, we would be remain protected from all harm. We would not starve; we would not be vulnerable to the elements or the vagaries of existence as we would be well cared for. Would we welcome it or would we prefer being left to our own devices but free? 

I am never sure of my answer but the idea of having no say over my life frightens me every time. I guess I would infinitely prefer to be spared the spells of anxiety that probably comes from the perpetual uncertainty over the next meal and my very survival and safety. That said, the prospect of living like an inanimate creature, stripped of all decisions and even the illusion of autonomy, day after day to no end or purpose fills me with dread.   

These gaushalas protect animals from all conceivable and inconceivable threats such as slaughter and accidents, which is a huge step-up from the straying cows commonly found either starving or eating plastic from litter bins at railway stations and hospital dumps.

That brings me to my larger question: Why have we created a world where such sanctuaries become necessary? On what grounds do we subject animals sharing our planet to such abject abuse and harm? How have we brazenly appropriated all resources such as land, water and food that we could lay our hands on, and deprived them of their right to natural food, environment and safety? Why have we compelled them to survive on our waste – organic or synthetic? Why have we taken over their habitat and transformed it into a degenerate  world where they have to breathe polluted air, drink contaminated water and consume rotting refuse, all the while under the fear of being whipped, kicked, displaced or even shoved into a truck to be slaughtered?

Human nature is a paradox. There is nothing human about it. We have simply swooped down on all that we can claim ownership on. As the dominant domestic species, we not only survive but take over everything in an unsightly rampage. 

Whenever the idea of charity seeps in, we trudge to these sanctuaries and offer  time and money to take care of them. What we do not do is acknowledge the equal rightful claim of other living beings on the planet and its resources. Our compassion operates within a narrow self-serving band that leaves no room for questioning human domination. By virtue of being superior to others, we, the homo sapiens, will always remain the arbiters. As long as we can help it.

At this point, many will counter: how do we give equal right to all? Nature never intended us to co-exist. It intended the weaker species to be servile and subservient to the stronger ones. Predatoriness is an instinctive tool of survival.  If we try to be equitable, we will reach a farcical plane where parasites, mosquitoes and pathogens will seek to co-exist with us. 

These are logical points that do not address the frightening inequity humans impose on others. Being of a superior intellect, we are endowed with the faculty of discrimination and moral reflection. Defending ourselves against species that threaten us is one thing. Aggressively consuming, displacing and controlling them simply because we can is another.

While allowing for the natural process of elimination of species that hurt and harm us such as the creepy crawlies or marauding animals, we need to debate whether we have the right to determine the future of every species in this devouring, devilish manner? And, when we consume natural resources, can we not assure them of an equal or equitable stake and leave the planet the way we found it? Like humans. 

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