The question is, why are societies falling apart? Perhaps because we have stopped looking around. We have to keep an eye on our neighborhoods, our relatives, our friends, especially those in white who cannot ask but are falling apart from within. Businesses have to consider employees as human beings, institutions have to stop criminalizing weakness, and the state has to turn policies into practical relief. Finally, one thing must be remembered: breathing is not just a physical act. Sometimes it is the greatest achievement of the day. Breathing, even when there is no respect, no support, no sympathy, is bravery. And if we recognize this courage, then perhaps a person does not need so much courage to survive. And carry this feeling forward, because awareness is also charity. Sometimes breathing is the only courage left.
It is a common belief that humans do not die of hunger, but history silently but decisively refutes this idea. Millions of people in the world have died not because food was not available, but because access to it was blocked. Sometimes in the name of scarcity, sometimes by force of will, sometimes under the guise of war, and sometimes under a system that remains silent even when it sees the weak.
Whether in the famine-stricken regions of Africa or the shanty towns of the recent war in Gaza, hunger has never been just a physical problem. It has always been a political, social, economic, and moral question. Science tells us that the human body can survive for days without food, but history also tells us that no society can survive for long without a conscience.
But this writing is not just a lament for hunger. It is about that moment when a person has nothing left but breath. Sometimes a person comes to that point in life where his pockets are empty, his future is jobless, his relationships are shattered, and he has lost the courage to ask for help. There is no job, no business, no room for borrowing, but rent is hanging over his head. The children’s fees become a question in his eyes, the mother’s medicine is stuck in his breath, and there is such silence in the house that it screams more than hunger. And yet a person breathes. Not because life is easy, but because he cannot give up.
This scene is repeated every day on the streets of Pakistan and India. Early in the morning, workers stand on the roadside with tools in their hands and hope for a day in their eyes. Often, no one comes. The sun sets, the day passes, and they return home empty-handed. Where children have stopped asking questions. The same scene can be seen in neighborhoods in Africa, Latin America, and Europe.
In such situations, honor itself becomes a burden, and asking for help feels like another defeat. Still, a person breathes, and this very breath becomes courage. When all material resources are exhausted, faith often remains. Faith in God, faith in the meaning of life, and faith in the conviction that this breath is not in vain. Breathing in despair is not weakness but resistance. Repeatedly failed exams, the decline of a business built on years of hard work, the separation of a loved one, the indifference of friends, prejudice, injustice, and the silence of institutions, etc., all combine to break a person, but still the breath continues.
There is patience in Sufism, tolerance in other religions, and the natural decision to save life in science. Languages are different, but the truth is one: even if the world takes humanity back, it is necessary for a person to remain human. We must also look at the silent tragedies from which we turn a blind eye. Violent marriages, social ridicule over the deprivation of children, those respectable women who are forced to make such compromises for hunger, illness, and children’s fees that are not even easy to mention. This is not moral weakness, this is systemic oppression. Similarly, old age without pension, without treatment, without support becomes the toughest test of life in many parts of Pakistan, India, and Africa.