There are many, including me, who have misgivings about Donald Trump, but today, as we watch emotional reunions of hostages returning home and nations embracing after decades of distrust, one can't help but feel admiration for the man who, despite his bluster, managed to broker peace where others only postured.

And as I watched the scene on television — the handshakes, the smiles, the tears — I wondered why our Prime Minister, though invited, didn't attend the peace gathering. It would have done him, and us as a nation, a world of good to be seen among those who chose peace over pride. Because in our country, we seem to have mastered the art of talking about a Clean India, a Corruption-Free India, and even a Digital India, but when it comes to a Peaceful India—we suddenly go silent.

We clean our streets before festivals, but not our hearts. We build smart cities, but not kind citizens.

Compassion, in our land today, has become a form of weakness. A few days ago, in a housing group, I shared about a blind man whose flat had been badly damaged by the negligence of a neighbour upstairs. I took photos, I wrote about it, and I appealed. The message was seen by dozens.

Everyone saw the suffering. But only one man responded — he visited the place, promised action, and showed that rarest of modern virtues: empathy.

That, dear reader, is where peace begins — not in global summits, but in our local societies.

It's easy to clap for peace when it's televised, but much harder to practice it when it means standing up for someone weaker, poorer, or voiceless. We've become spectators of compassion instead of participants. We watch suffering as if it's a serial and move on to the next episode.

Two years ago, I wrote a play titled The Blessed and the Chosen, which, I am humbled to say, has been bought in Australia. It's about the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, told through the story of a Jewish girl who grows up in India and later becomes the President of the United States. Her leadership is not forged in political theory or military strategy, but in the compassion she absorbed as a child in India — a compassion she carries into the White House.

But looking around today, I wonder—are we still the people who influenced her?

When we stay away from gatherings of peace, are we making a quiet statement that peace is someone else's business? That compassion is an optional virtue? I hope I'm wrong. I hope our absence doesn't speak louder than our words.

Because ultimately, peace is not a Trump achievement, nor a presidential photo-op. It's a reflection of the human spirit. And if we, the land that once taught the world non-violence, cannot stand up for peace, then we've forgotten the greatest message our own history ever gave the world.

So maybe, just maybe, it's time to clean not just our streets—but our hearts...