Rage and Civilisation

The news today carried something that chilled me. I sat for a few minutes holding down the bile of feeling someone else's pain . Dated news ,but still wrenching and numbing . And trying to move on quickly from the feeling , avoid the recurring thought . Not succeeding , as images kept chasing through my head. .

A three month puppy was tied up , mouth and hands duct taped , tortured and tossed into a gas oven by a couple of teenage boys in Atlanta. They got in neighbouring children later at the Community Center to come in and have a look at the grisly sight - must have been delightfully entertaining . The Moulder brothers 16 and 18 years old, have been sentenced to 8 years prison .

The news piece was matter of fact but the bare facts was gruesome. Doused with paint , hog tied , unsuccessfully set on fire , and then stuffed into a gas oven, where the trussed up little thing bloodied her self trying to claw her way out of the burning hell she found herself in . I am thinking of the puppy bouncing its nose, tail, back and feet against the searing metal in a futile attempt to escape. She struggled , suffered and frantic-eyed, slowly , lingeringly and painfully , she died while they smiled. They must have wished there a replay button , or ghoulish thought , perhaps it could be their neighbours 2 month old child the next time. (Put them away for God's sake ) I am sure the brothers must have enjoyed the sight . Pitiful struggling is no use , you little helpless, foolish thing, you . But it does make it f u n . I hold the oven door , and your eyes can cry , but, remember I hold the oven door. I hold the key to your suffering , and someone appointed me the life and soul of the party . And oh , what a time we are having .

What is it about this that chills my blood?
The sheer uselessness of it . For another person fleeting joy ? Someone who holds the key because they are bigger and stronger . I see the painful parallels - and I don't really care how pretentious and trite it sounds . Am I just replaying the whole brute strength of history here ? Of wars and killing , of genocides and religious uprisings .
I will, because I can .
And I must , because I feel the drug of power rushing into my blood.

Here's another thing that chills me - my own senseless rage . My desire to have those maniacs suffer the same way - I spent a good five minutes lingering on the thought - and I am not ashamed to say I enjoyed dwelling on it - it was my twisted Obsequies to the little puppy girl , a Shalom to a bruised and bewildered entrant to Doggy Heaven and definitely a better world . A tiny thing who came in to a world, to a room , with trust. She has no name and she is already a blackened , charred little shell. But that is my senseless and uncivilised tribute to your suffering, and I don't care if its wrong . I wish I could do more, but I don't know what.

And then there is the subtle but significant war between protectiveness and domination that rears its head. I am fair , and I can think of that , too. I know best , and you hold a child in the water , teaching the child to swim. Squirming and helpless, but you keep at it , you know best. Chilling to think about , but we all know the feeling - and I know whats best for you , can move from protection to domination, from obsessive care to destructive control in just an instant . And those are the demons we must confront within us.

For me, the worst pain I feel is knowing the fight that the truly vulnerable need to put up with paper bullies like this - tiny babies or little children, very old and helpless people, and animals who cannot speak for themselves. I feel such helpless rage for those who have only the courage to exploit these segments , rather than have the guts to get into a boxing ring , a hockey match , go into the war . Whatever.

Don't give me reasons and stories of abuse , a bad upbringing and childhood trauma that explain away everything . I know its real and I am sorry its happened . I am really sorry anyone has to endure pain . I wish someone was there to protect them from/through what they underwent . Does that justify doing this to other people so one can keep the vicious cycle going? And then the obvious extrapolation to wars, and political games where the master puppeteers just move the strings from up high , probably stopping for a sustaining cup of tea now and then , and hundreds of little figures on the ground scamper around ant-like , away , under , inside, to escape bullets, bombs, fear , hatred, themselves.
C'mon.

Right now , I feel such rage for the puppy , I feel for someone who trusted . Someone who probably licked their hands, submitted bewildered-ly to them picking her up, the rough games they played , suffocated with the duct tape on her mouth , her feet , because she didn't know anything else, and she had no benchmarks for pain, hurt and experience as we do . Can you picture her eyes clouding while they did all that to her ? As much as I feel for a child who lays its head trustingly on your shoulder while someone minds works ghoulishly on horrific things to exploit the child's vulnerability , break yet another chain of trust.

The Nithari Killers and the system that allowed it , make me violently angry too. And sick . They make my bile rise and I find myself battling with the same rage . And I am not sure what to do with that . I want to shift to something banal . An email or folding a shirt. I feel out of control , my forehead knotting up , I feel uncivilised and primeval. And I feel I must read up and educate myself of how civilised, evolved society behaves to its errant and prodigals . I feel I must do the right thing, and feel proper gentle forgiveness for them - 'forgive them for they know not what they do' . They do know , they do dammit, and they must pay . I feel lost with my own clenching anger , and my desire to remove myself , protect myself , and inability to forgive. I am grateful for geography and distance, because I want to be as far away as possible. I am grateful to a day at work that allows commerce and deadlines to focus on what is really important , the business of living . Or isn't it ? I recall that nothing is served by retaliating with violence, but its hard not to linger on punishment , of seeing the very same abuser feeling the same pain , of feeling the pain of having the strings pulled by another master puppeteer, and feeling Hell on earth .

I realise I am not the person I should be .
I am only vaguely remorseful .
Gandhi said that an eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind. True as it is, its hard not to take a few minutes , or more , lingering on punishment . Being both judge and jury . And even better, Executioner . And then feeling your jaws clench and unclench with satisfaction .

There is enough going on in our backyard, our state and country , to keep one raging . Don't please tell me about it . What one does not see , one cannot react to or feel. Helplessness, Misplaced Protectiveness , delayed responsibility . I am more peaceful that way - what I don't know won't hurt me . Please stay out of my backyard . That is why I sometimes hate opening newspapers, preferring to read about City News, Business or Round the World, where Takeovers and Tarmac , Celebrities and Conmen take center stage. A cerebral, superficial skating I can deal with .

Mess with my mind, and I can cope, just don't get to my gut .