Some Die From Obesity, Others Die From Starvation: What if Thanos was right?

He sat by the window, watching the world scroll by, not outside, but on a cracked phone screen in his hand. His eyes moved from a woman flaunting a plate of golden pancakes topped with whipped cream, to a gaunt child sipping muddy water under the sun. Just two thumb flicks apart. Just two lives. On the same Earth. Different worlds.

It was confusing. It was maddening. It was normal.

He leaned back in his creaky chair, closed his eyes, and asked the question that had haunted him for years: How did we get here?

He remembered a time, not in this lifetime maybe, but in some deeper, ancient memory, when people didn’t pass each other like strangers in pain. A time when the village was more than geography. It was a soul. A body. One heartbeat. One family. The phrase echoed in him like a song buried beneath noise: “The village is us.”

There was no electricity then. No democracies to vote in. No Google to ask “how to be kind.” Yet somehow, people were deeply, undeniably human. They ate together, wept together, and buried their dead with hands that trembled in unity.

But now, some people eat until they must be hospitalized. Others starve until they’re buried in silence.

One group of humans prays for weight loss. Another prays for just one meal to eat and survive. Some dream of abs and filters. Others dream of surviving just one more day.

And the craziest part? It’s the same species. The same planet. Just a different street. A different time zone. A different fate.

He thought about Thanos, yes, the purple-skinned villain from a fictional universe. A monster, they called him. A genocidal maniac. What if he was right? What if his argument carried the correct answer which could address the mistakes of this broken world?

What kind of world has both diet pills and starvation camps?

What kind of world has some people dying because of obesity and others dying because of starvation?

What kind of civilization creates weapons that cost billions, but struggles to feed children?

What kind of democracy allows peace to be a luxury, and war a daily routine?

He opened his eyes again. The screen was still glowing. Still showing him the worlds colliding like broken puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit.

He remembered the old man from his village. Wrinkled, barefoot, always smiling. He used to say, “Even the tree stands because roots hold each other.” The old man believed suffering was never to be endured alone. He said, “the worst pain wasn’t hunger, it was indifference, unfairness and hypocrisy.”

Now, we pass each other with headphones and blinders on our hearts. We hear bombs in another country and say, “That’s terrible,” while enjoying a glass of wine, we even stop minding about the lives lost and begin creating comparisons, “which country made the best strikes?" As if it’s some kind of a video-game.

We watch a mother bury her child and swipe up.

We claim we are civilized, yet numb.

Educated, yet lost.

Connected, yet lonelier than ever.

Where did we go wrong?

He stood up, walked to the mirror, and stared at his own reflection.

This is the human we’ve built, he thought.

A creature of convenience. A creature that can cure disease with science, but not with compassion. A creature that claims to believe in democracy but lets some humans live like gods while others die like insects. A creature that forgets how equal we are when the lights are off and the titles stripped away.

Because truthfully?

The president farts just like the prisoner.

The billionaire cries in the dark just like the beggar.

Strip away the suits and the naked body looks the same. The blood is red. The heart, beats the same.

He turned back to the window.

Maybe it’s not too late.

Maybe the village isn’t dead, just sleeping.

Waiting to be remembered.

He picked up a notebook. Began to write. Not to accuse, not to scold, but for you, who is reading this essay to understand.

To remind you that being human is not just breathing. It’s feeling.

It’s holding someone’s pain when they can’t carry it alone.

It’s sharing food not just to look generous and more famous, but because you have enough.

It’s realizing that no life is worth more than another.

He wrote, “Let’s bring back the village.”

He wrote, “Let’s not just talk peace, let’s share it.”

He wrote, “Fear God, because power without God is cruelty, intelligence without God is manipulation and faith without God is betrayal, but when we fear God, we obtain morality and humility. Quote this, “only humility keeps us human.”

And finally, he wrote one line, and circled it:

“The village is us.”