On the death of 22 fellow humans

Back in 1987, it was my first flight out of the country.  It seemed never-ending.  I was one of the many passengers who couldn't sleep--I was way too excited about the travel and the life ahead.  Nor did I find the movie to be interesting.

I wandered over to the magazine/newspaper rack.  I don't remember now whether it was Time or Newsweek that I picked up.  I started leafing through that issue.

I was shocked when I read one report.  It was about freeway shootings in Los Angeles.  I was headed to Los Angeles for graduate school.  Shooting on a freeway?

That, too, was my "welcome to America."  

The land of guns and violence.  The wild, wild, west of the movies was also a real thing and not a part of history.

My friend picked me up from the airport.  It was a long drive to his home, mostly on freeways.  I asked him about the shootings.  He laughed it away.

I was excitedly looking all around.  I was impressed with everything.  I had never seen such an uninterrupted flow of traffic. In India, cows and goats and humans all claimed the road at the same time.  But, not here.  And, all the vehicles were speeding in one direction within well defined lanes, and across the barrier on the other side there were vehicles speeding in the other direction.  What surprised me the most was that everybody stayed within their lanes!

And then the big trucks.  I had never seen such humongous trucks on the road, except the couple of monstrous heavy-engineering trucks used in the mines in Neyveli.  Whenever those trucks appeared on our street, my brother and I rushed to look at them.  And we always counted the number of tires that rolled past us.

But, here were trucks speeding at sixty miles an hour, and there were plenty of trucks.  Every truck that we passed, I kept staring at it and I always tried to get a view of the driver.  How could just one tiny human drive such a giant with ease and at such speeds!

At one point, my friend mildly suggested that I stop doing that.  He advised me to not make eye contact with the truck drivers.  Ah, yes, the shootings on the freeways of Los Angeles!

A few weeks after my arrival, there was buzz among the Indian students about a group called the dotbusters that had killed an Indian on the east coast.  They shot an Indian?  Was it a continuation of the wild, wild, west, in which they found a new kind of an Indian to kill?

In those first few weeks, I came to understand the American obsession with guns. 

Years have gone by.  Decades have gone by.  Through the years, I have read way too many news reports of mass shootings.

I did the only thing that I know how to do--I wrote a newspaper commentary.  Seven years ago, after the senseless killings at Umpqua Community College, which is not far from here, I wrote in the commentary: It is beyond surreal that a powerful lobbying group that shall not be named has effectively preempted any political discussion related to guns and violence.

Not only have we not had sincere political discussions on guns and access to them, the American fascination for guns has ramped up, and with far more deadly weapons.  Guns have been made accessible to practically any adult who wants one.  In some states, they can walk around openly displaying their firearms.

A few days ago, an 18-year old shot and killed 10 shoppers at a grocery store.  Yesterday, another 18-year old shot dead his grandmother, and 19 children and 2 teachers at an elementary school.  Just like that 22 lives were extinguished.  Just.Like.That.  Two more days and the kids and teachers would have joyfully taken off on a well-deserved summer break.

This, too, is America.  It didn't have to be so!