‘The Book Of Compassion’ And The Art Of Living Beyond Binaries

The Book of Compassion is based on the experiences and beliefs of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Kailash Satyarthi, as told by Pooja Pande. I was drawn to the book after sharing the dais with Pooja as a co-panellist at a discussion on media and disability at a United Nations event, linked to the International Purple Fest 2025.

The title itself is very bold and evocative as compassion is a wide, deep and multi-dimensional subject. Ranging from discourses in religious and spiritual texts to basic articulation of social and individual values. So, when you see a title that almost seems to claim to be the book on compassion, it grabs attention and spurs curiosity.

Although Buddhism cautions against a mind filled with doubts and preconceived notions, having His Holiness and Kailash ji in the same book initially seemed like an incompatible choice. Yes, that is because, at first glance, spiritualism for a lay disciple and radical social activism do not seem to be organically aligned. But as you start turning the pages and empty your mind, the reasons become apparent, and that itself is, in part, an exercise in compassion.

Compassion isn’t about binaries but about connectedness and commonalities. It goes beyond the two protagonists of the discourse being recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize. It connects critical aspects of compassion – theory and practice, personal and collective and spiritual to political. The Chapter – Same Sun, Same Moon – establishes why the narrative and lives of the two complete the theory and praxis of compassion.

Like the Prologue, which brings together the biographical milestones of the two, one of hope for people prosecuted for their beliefs and the other’s decision to commit to offering care to those who need it the most, almost as a translation of an act of compassion being akin to experiencing God.

I will not even try to summarise what is in the book that Pooja, as an author, has made her own journey as she navigates reflections and memories from the lockdowns and a world disrupted by the pandemic. Most of us working on rights and social change often need a deeper and more emotional outlook to make sense of failures, dilemmas, and existential issues.

The separation of human values from professional and public spaces has undermined the best aspects of collective living, which is not just a validation of the competitive but flawed way of life and our insular ambitions. The decline of the moral framework is evident. It has intentionally dulled our senses as we not only turn away from uncomfortable questions but actively pursue a self-centred existence in denial. Education and learning systems no longer foster compassion, empathy, coexistence, and love. The sermons streamed on devices focus on detachment and submission, rather than engagement, and have become bite-sized spiritual snacks.

The book makes a fundamental point about how the value of compassion can be acted upon as a collective outlook and turned into a bedrock for creating a world that can heal itself and stop cannibalising itself through greed, conflict, aggression, and the appropriation of vulgar power.

This is not utopian wishful thinking, but has happened before, and on a scale that drove a mobilisation of masses with no parallels in modern history. Ahimsa and Truth were turned into tenets of social movements by Mahatma Gandhi during India’s struggle against colonialism. The vision that Mahatma had co-created through his encounters and critique of what was termed the Western Civilisation was built around the values of compassion.

Your thoughts are likely to wear towards Mahatma’s favourite prayer ‘Vaishnava Jan To’ (Someone who deeply empathises with others’ suffering, performs acts of selfless service)

Bhajan has been a personal code for Mahatma Gandhi, who was deeply inspired by its message of honesty, compassion, and service.

I loved the fact that the book is replete with quotes, and you could pick one every time you struggle with faith and hope.

ENDS –