Born Without Consent

In the beginning, darkness was all around. Nothing existed except for nothing. Then somehow, Space and Time began to coexist. The universe began from a singularity, a point of infinite density and temperature. Eventually, quarks paired, creating atoms, which under immense pressure gave birth to stars. On a certain blue star named Earth, something happened to exist called life. And one particular form of life was burdened with consciousness. These beings are generally referred to as humans.

But consciousness isn't really wisdom, and intelligence doesn't really entail morality. As time passed, humans evolved. They built empires, created languages. Humans divided themselves by borders, religions, castes, colours, and riches. This would eventually lead to destruction.

Struggling to survive in this destruction was a young boy limping forward, carrying a little baby girl. Weary eyes, pale skin, tiny limbs with bruises all around her body. The alarms had turned off, but the mushroom cloud was still right above, and ash rained all around. 

His sister tugs his hand. She says,"Brudder... boom over? Mommy come back now..? I hungee… I want the candy... from shop, remember?" He fed her lies instead of food. Slowly, she stopped asking for mom. Her voice had grown quieter. Last night, she slept with her head on his lap, he ran his thin fingers through her tangled hair, assuring her that tomorrow would be better.

She never woke up.

The war was never about him or his family. It was about some well-dressed men in rooms far away, drawing lines on maps and calling it strategy. It's about flags, It's about land, It's about power. But the kid is the one who got stuck in the middle, too young to understand global politics, too old to pretend to not understand death.

This is not some rare tragedy. It is a human ritual that is repeated in different times, in different lands, under different flags, in the name of different gods. 

Humans are so bored that they've made creative problems to suffer from. They really desire to divide themselves. By Border. Religion. Caste. Colour. Language. Wealth. And Ideology. The face of the earth is covered with darkness of injustice. People die crying for justice while being crushed under the feet of unrighteous men. And gifted death, for not chanting some religious slogan. 

Somewhere, a single mother walks miles for water that still carries disease. Somewhere, a father works 110 hours per week but is still unable to provide basic living for his family. Somewhere, children with hollow eyes and starving stomachs are crying for hunger while the privileged are crying for having to eat their broccoli. Some people are thrown out by their own family, some swallowed by debt, some crushed under the weight of responsibilities they hold, and some are never born.

Somewhere in an apparently ‘rising nation,’ a boy studies 14 hours a day in the hope of passing an exam that was rigged before he even picked up a pen. But thanks to his parents, who constantly remind him that he’s a failure, that he ruined their dreams with his third attempt. As if he ever chose this life to begin with.

Somewhere in a distant city, a Porsche runs through a street at 3 A.M. And two people don’t wake up the next day. But, thanks to someone's English teacher. Who would have guessed that an essay could save the day.

But the world spins on. 

A cricket team finally wins. Stampede crushes eleven fans. They are mourned with Instagram stories. Then forgotten by lunch. 

A flight crashes. Two-Fourty-One lose lives in the tragedy. They are mourned with Instagram stories. Then forgotten by the following day.

A terrorist attack occurs. Tourists are killed for not following their religion. They are mourned with Instagram stories. Then forgotten by a week.

We’ve truly mastered the art of forgetting.

Here, numbers scream louder than names. 2 crore unemployed. 5,207 farmers die in a year. 1 rape every 16 minutes. But thanks to our “well-qualified” journalists who keep the fourth pillar of democracy sturdy by broadcasting about cricket scores, celebrity weddings, and praising the politicians who believe they are reincarnation of a deity. We are meant to accept everything, or question it and die.

The moment we’re born, our very existence becomes a decision we never made. We don’t choose the family that names us, the language that shapes our first thoughts, or the body we learn to inhabit. From the shape of our skull to the color of our skin, we all live lives we never asked for. Expectations are thrown to our face, right from our first breath. Yet humans long to live something which looks absurd from initial glance.  For life entails inevitable pain, suffering, and death. The choice of "to be or not be" was never made by any. We all are born without consent.

Funny me speaking of consent while a teenage girl hides in the corner of her room, afraid of her very own father. The man who was meant to protect her has taken her innocence. She can’t tell anyone, for no one would believe her. Even if they did, they'd let him walk free.

Humans are slaves. Slaves to Kings and Rulers. Some are slaves to money. Some to wine. Some to women. Some to gods. Some to dreams. Some to children. Some to power. Even the ones who think they’re free are just slaves to their own desires, fears, pride, and freedom. Everyone is a slave to something. 

So, is living vanity? Is existence pointless? Is it ethical to take a chance, if pain outweighs joy even for a single child who starves, or a body that rots in disease? Many anti-natalists argue that life itself is the root of suffering and would yield no good, for without life, pain and suffering couldn't exist.

I do not induce this view to anyone, nor do I prescribe myself to ideologies such as nihilism or absurdism. Existence could be a curse, or it could be a blessing. Even though we are born without consent, we can choose our attitudes and projects afterward. Maybe that’s the only thing we ever needed consent for is not to be born, but to keep going.