The scars of landmine accident victims take a long time to heal (‘The land remembers’, January 11).

 

In Sri Lanka, many innocent lives were lost in a conflict that could have been avoided. Survivors of landmine blasts endure not only severe physical injuries but also socio-economic trauma, making recovery a harrowing process.

 

While the Tamil community in Sri Lanka rightly deserved assertiveness, dignity and equal treatment, these goals could have been achieved without war. Even without armed conflict, justice and reconciliation were possible.

 

Komala Nagaraju,

On email.

 

The stories of landmine accident victims made for a poignant read. It is shocking to know that civilians account for 86 per cent of landmine casualties across the world. The very idea of landmine is terrifying. One is left wondering why landmines are built in the first place—and what, if anything, anyone truly gains from them.

 

Surabhi Singh,

On email.

 

Landmines are, perhaps, the worst way to deal with an enemy. If force is inevitable, direct combat at least involves intent and accountability. Landmines offer neither—which is one reason they have never been popular in the US.

 

Mines don’t distinguish between enemy soldiers, civilians or even one’s own troops. The US military has traditionally favoured precision: weapons that can be guided, recalled or clearly controlled. Landmines don’t fit that logic.

 

Mayank Sharma,

On email.

 

Your photo-feature on landmine accident victims made for a deeply painful read. There is no point in deploying landmines anymore. With advances in technology, landmines, as a means of warfare, are no longer necessary.

 

L. Mohan Kumar,

On email.

 

Not a seasonal inconvenience

Your story on Delhi’s pollution exposes the futility of symbolic fixes in the face of a life-threatening crisis (‘Capital’s punishment’, January 11). Announcing ad hoc restrictions merely creates the illusion of action, not solution. What it underlines—uncomfortably but honestly—is a deeper malaise: a lack of scientific temper, weak civic sense and a troubling tendency to normalise hardship instead of demanding accountability.

 

Pollution continues to be treated as a seasonal inconvenience rather than a public health emergency, despite overwhelming evidence of its impact on life expectancy. Unless policy is driven by data, enforcement is fair and consistent, and citizens begin to see clean air as both a collective right and a shared responsibility, Delhi will keep choking—one winter at a time.

 

Sanjay Chopra,

On email.

 

Delhi’s air pollution is serious, but not uniquely so, nor does it render the city unliveable. There are cities across the world that are more polluted, yet attract far less attention. The fixation on Delhi often ignores the fact that air quality has shown periods of improvement, and is likely to improve further with sustained measures.

 

One should understand that pollution-driven spikes in illnesses create commercial opportunities for companies that manufacture and sell medical equipment. This raises questions about vested interests and the incentives that shape how prominently the pollution narrative is amplified in public discourse.

 

Garima Bhandari,

On email.

 

They taunt, we return

A cursory look at social media is enough to see the scale of misinformation and mud-slinging Pakistan directs at India. Yet, the moment the conversation turns to Pakistan’s own internal mess, Anuja Chauhan will object. Or so it seems (‘Schizo-Nation’, January 11).

 

No one is calling for hatred towards Pakistan. But if Pakistan persists in taunting India and spreading falsehoods, it cannot expect silence in return. Lies invite rebuttal, and provocations, certainly, has consequences.

 

Aditya Dhar and his team deserve credit for naming and shaming Pakistan without equivocation (in Dhurandhar). Pakistan is in deep trouble—and exposing it is neither hatred nor jingoism, but a response to sustained propaganda.

 

Pradeep Verma,

On email.

 

Empathy isn’t artificial

Last Word by Shashi Tharoor (January 11) was ominous and solemn as it was amusing. However efficient and effective artificial intelligence may be, the day robots replace drivers, tree climbers or mahouts—among others—fills me with unease.

 

Mobile phones, in particular, quietly erode a young person’s intellect, often without his or her realising it. People in their 20s must remember that life existed long before social media and WhatsApp made their dramatic entries.

 

As Tharoor rightly observes, AI has no place in emotions or empathy. Can it sing like M.S. Subbulakshmi or Mohammed Rafi? Can it play cricket like Sir Garry Sobers? Can it give the world another Gandhi? Are we truly prepared to accept that the artificial in intelligence is more honourable than the achievements of great Indian minds?

 

T.S. Sanath Kumar,

On email.

 

Agatha’s sense of humour

Your article on Agatha Christie was fascinating (‘Death by ink’, January 4). As always, Anjuly Mathai has done a commendable job capturing the character, psyche and personality of the celebrated author.

 

Though somewhat shy by nature, Agatha also possessed a devastating sense of humour. When asked why she married her archaeologist husband, Max Mallowan, she famously quipped, “An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets, the more interested he is in her.”

 

T.M. Vallikappen,

On email.