A cat followed me the other night and proceeded to enter through the gate as our car sprinted into the garage, then she stood patiently in a corner as I searched for my keys to make it inside. It was well past midnite, I lodged my keys into the door, moving my hand hurriedly that had my purse and plastic bags of leftover dinner knitted thru the fingers. As I dashed in, the cat brought her face to the mesh screen door and started meowing-her cry getting louder each time. This stray animal who was a stranger to me had hunger written all over her face, I had never spotted her previously. Lapping up the small offering of milk mixed with sugar that I placed before her, she cried more, demanding a second helping. Perhaps she had gone hungry for days-human beings can beg for food, animals don’t have the luxury of language-non domesticated animals survive on the mercy of humans in their locality. They rummage through garbage looking for scraps and sometimes can be lucky enough to find chicken bones from last night’s karahi to feed their stomachs and that of their babies. While birth discriminates largely in bestowing fortune, death and hunger embrace all with the same passion, the cat’s exigent approach moved me to tears that also brought upon embarrassment; in our society we aren’t supposed to feel for other beings, let alone animals. These cats and dogs are as much a part of Pakistan as anyone else; Pakistani donkeys have been more resourceful, performing well beyond their capacity, servicing others and adding more to the economy than most of our politicians sadly. This write up however isn’t about animal rights, in a country grappling to deal with human rights, four legged creatures are not a priority, but this is about compassion for all. It is about empty stomachs that growl, about bhook (hunger), that one aspect of our existence that urges people to do anything and everything; and what a shame that so many humans within kilometres of our range go to bed hungry at night, while more restaurants offering exotic cuisines continue to spring up. One can throw light on the various surveys and studies done on hunger, one of them even states that over 42 percent of Pakistanis are food insecure, but what good are these statistics when well-fed people refuse to get off their high horse of behisi (indifference)? At traffic signals most people turn a deaf ear to the fakeer’s cry of Baaji subah se kuch nahin khaya hai the reason being their professionalism and our acute awareness of it. Yet at the same time people inside tinted windows will also avoid eye contact with hawkers selling rose gajras, toys, incense sticks; the discomfort shared between those zigzagging thru stopped cars and those sitting comfortably inside is hard to miss. A lack of empathy is the culprit here, numb attitude towards people who are doing whatever they know how to survive, in order to nourish their bodies each day, is appalling. Free access to basic food grains ought to be the moral right of all humans, the end to hunger shouldn’t just be discussed at the level of beauty pageants or in primary classrooms. Hunger pangs are real-time clocks fitted within us, even inside criminals, drunkards, beggars, drug addicts whom we consider to be outside of society. In December last year, chief minister to the state of Tamil Nadu in India Ms. Jaya Lalitha passed away after suffering from multiple ailments, her funeral was attended by people from all walks of life. They mourned, howled and beat their chests; with multiple charges of corruption on her, Jaya Lalitha fondly known as Amma, had managed an entry into the hearts of the poor. In her tenure as the head of the state she had started a food subsidization programme known as Amma’s canteen where basic items like rice and chapati were available for 3 rupees and 1 rupee respectively, amongst other extremely low-priced items. These centers, which grew to about 200 in her state in a matter of couple of years, were her way to curb hunger and also earn blessings. Food stamps are a reality in the western world, in Pakistan however the economically disadvantaged section depends on the generosity of private individuals to think of their needs. For building a cancer hospital we needed an Imran Khan, for running ambulance service there was an Edhi, our government since the inception of Pakistan has always been self-consumed with its own promise of non-deliverance. I need three hot meals, an equal number of snacks and many cups of chai daily to function at my normal best, anything lower than that and I turn into zombie, unable to focus or maintain a pleasant mood. The message behind Ramzan, a month where we get into the shoes or rather stomach of the hungry was essentially to give believers a taste of starvation. It has now evolved into a period of gluttony, of lavish iftar dawats and delectable sehri parties. Many people indulge in charitable acts as well during the holy month but the rest of the year remains pretty dry for the have-nots. Free meals are not a foreign concept, langars have been associated with South Asian Sufi saints for hundreds of years. Generosity or as we like to term it bada-dil may have had its beginning in our towns and villages but now has been shipped overseas. At a tandoor there is two kinds of traffic, servants from palatial, comfortable homes queuing up to buy naan for their sahab or madam, and daily wagers, rickshaw drivers, thehle-wale buying their roti. The cost is the same to both the parties for this basic food item and that is where our tragedy lies. Subsidized food programmes can be a game changer. They would ensure that someone with low income can save on basic food cost and put the same amount towards procuring a better life for their family or a more refined education for their kids-giving them a chance to move up the ladder in life. Until that happens the hungry will keep filling their stomachs with disappointment and grudges. The writer is a freelance columnist with a degree in Cultural Studies and a passion for social observation, especially all things South Asian. She tweets @chainacoffeemug