We stand at the brink of what can unanimously be termed one of the most monumental decades. From the boundless casualties that have befallen Syria, to the political instability in nations like Pakistan, mankind has, in this decade, faced quandaries unbeknownst to many a people before us. Within these quandaries, however, we’ve vied to establish novel identities both for ourselves and for our inner-selves, upholding the coherence between the two. Presented with the most convoluted dilemmas—ranging from world peace to sporting challenges to challenges pertaining to Global Warming—our overt identities and our inner-consciousness’ have often found each other to be in stark contrast, debilitating the coherence that ought to persist between the two. One of the cornerstone maxims that have been etched on my mind, and one that has come with an undeniable grain of salt, is that this decade has seen us compromise the homogeneity that is pivotal to galvanising an entire nation, race, or creed into an active conformation. Within India, for instance, the Muslims have grappled with unscrupulousness in all the facets of life, ranging from their legal status in their motherland and spanning across to the discrimination they must face on a regular basis. At more macroscopic and panoramic stead, inflation has plagued every nook and cranny of the world, inflicting all and sparing none of the nations. But then again, one cannot help but excessively ponder over the implications that these developments have had in our personal lives. Relationships have crumbled. Sensitivity and empathy, amongst a myriad of other traits, have taken a plummeting downward spiral. Moral scrupulousness has dwindled; personal integrity has also, no less, ceased to bear the pressing effect on one’s consciousness that it once did. In effect, all the traits that define humans as higher mammals have meshed into blurring continuity with our newfound sense of callousness, apathy, and morose outlook. Why is it, I often introspect, that we now tend to often embrace the Buddhist creed of no attachment? Why is it, dare I ask, that we passively allow our loved ones to suffer, our fellow Uyghur Muslims toil in utmost agony, while we wax voluble over the subpar cup of Latte Macchiato that we just devoured? I have no pretensions to saying that individualised efforts, of any magnitude and nature, would or can have a permeating, pervasive bearing on world peace; that is beyond anyone’s purview of responsibility. I do, however, strongly believe that even amidst our 21st-century world of optic fibres, we must hold dearly the moral compasses that have allowed us to come thus far, and which separate us from our lesser mortals. From Roald Dahl’s Matilda to Khaled Hosseini’s Layla, we notice that humans are predisposed to inveterate suffering throughout the world, but they always emerge stronger. Before we see the first eve of 2020, we must introspect. We must consider forgiving, uphold loving, and commence caring, if not about the quintessential worldly matters, at least for those who’re the closest to us. Granted that global urbanisation has often implied greater travelling distances and expanding time-zone differences, we must appreciate, in its veracity, that distance matters so little, so less when those who we care about the matter so much, and are so focal to our being. I glance outside, and appreciate the boundless hues that the winter symbolises; the frivolous chirping of the birds, against the breathtakingly brazen blue sky, provides a respite from overarching interpersonal and global conundrums. I am now reminded of a Dylan Thomas saying: Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. As this decade draws to a close, we must rage towards rekindling all the traits that separate us from the lesser mammals; we must continue to defy the entropic and transient nature of our suffering. It is only then that we will part our ways with our Buddhist creed of no-attachment.