Kerala to Krakow: An Indian’s Reflection on Resilience at Auschwitz & Birkenau.

As a Doctoral student studying and living in the State of Israel for the past Two and half years, deeply immersed in the study of history and migration of Indian Jewish communities, my academic pursuits had always been shaped by the vibrant, multicultural tapestry of my homeland, Kerala. The lively sounds, rich traditions, and dynamic history of Kerala, where the Cochin Jewish community once thrived without any antisemitism provide a colorful backdrop to my research. However, my journey to Krakow, Poland, and the subsequent visit to the Auschwitz and Birkenau concentration camps, marked a significant departure from the familiar academic environment. This was not merely a physical journey; it was an emotional and intellectual pilgrimage that profoundly reshaped my understanding of humanity and history. The experience was a reminder of the darkest chapters of human history, juxtaposed against the vibrant heritage of my own roots, compelling me to reflect deeply on the complexities of human nature and historical memory.

The Journey

The journey from Israel to Krakow was long and filled with anticipation. As I boarded the bus, having just attended a Three-day conference in Prague, I could not help but reflect on the contrasting histories of my home Kerala, and the place I was about to visit. Kerala, with its dynamic present and ancient heritage, seemed worlds apart from the cold, somber history of Auschwitz. Yet, as I disembarked in Krakow, I felt an overwhelming sense of purpose. I was here to witness, to understand, and to remember.

The drive from Krakow to Auschwitz was silent, as if the weight of history hung heavy in the air. Upon arrival, the sight of the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei” gate sent chills down my spine. It was a phrase that promised false hope to the millions who passed through it. Walking through the gates, I was struck by the starkness of the camp. The barbed wire fences, watchtowers, and barracks stood as silent witnesses to the horrors that had occurred here. The weight of history felt palpable. I suddenly remembered the clear-cut contrast between the lively streets of Israel and the haunting silence of the camp. This contrast made me recall the recent horrors of October 7th, when the peace of everyday life in Israel was shattered by a violent attack. The images of destruction and loss from that day echoed in my mind as I walked through the remnants of Auschwitz, a place synonymous with immense suffering and cruelty.

For me, both Auschwitz and the October 7 incident serve as poignant reminders of humanity’s capacity for cruelty. The attack on Israel was a reminder of the ever-present threat of violence and the fragility of peace. Yet, amidst these horrors, there is also a profound story of resilience. The survivors of Auschwitz, those who endured unimaginable suffering, went on to rebuild their lives, many finding new homes in Israel. I was also fortunate to read and hear the stories of survivors, and how their strength was mirrored in the resilience shown by the people of Israel in the face of the October 7 attack. Both instances highlight the enduring spirit of those who refuse to be defined by their victimization, choosing instead to rebuild and remember.

As I walked through the camp and observed the exhibits, one image affected me profoundly. An exhibit displayed the dresses worn by the camp inmates. As I tried to capture it with my camera, the glass reflected my own image, and I saw myself in that uniform, stripped of name and identity. For a moment, I felt a wave of dread wash over me—what if it had happened to me? How would I react? I had no answers. The emotional impact was overwhelming. I realized that for all the lives lost here, their only “mistake” was being born Jewish. This stark reality hit me with a force I had not anticipated.

My sensory experiences were overwhelmed and cold wind seemed to carry whispers of the past, and the silence was deafening. The barracks, where prisoners were packed like sardines, still smelled of decay and despair. The images from the barracks reminded me of the frames from the movie Schindler’s list. The gas chambers, now empty, echoed with the silent screams of those who perished within their walls. Standing in the gas chambers, I could not help but reflect on the nature of humanity. How could such cruelty exist? How could ordinary men and women participate in such atrocities? Was it ideological, Was it out of fear for the establishment?

Continuing the journey to the Birkenau camp, the first sight that struck me was the railway line leading directly to the camp. This railway was the very one used to transport countless victims to their deaths, a grim testament to the atrocities committed within these fences. The vast expanse of this camp was unimaginable; I could scarcely comprehend the extent of the border fencing—it stretched far beyond the reach of my vision. Another haunting image was the railway track itself, resembling the gaping maw of a giant monster. The track seemed to offer only one path: a one-way journey into the camp, with no exit possible.

As I left Auschwitz and Birkenau, I carried with me a heavy heart and a renewed sense of purpose. The visit was a sobering reminder of the depths of human cruelty but also a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. The haunting echoes of its past lingered in my mind, interwoven with the recent memories of October 7. This journey, from the dynamic present of Israel to the somber history of Auschwitz, underscored the critical importance of resilience and remembrance in the face of humanity’s darkest moments.

“From the peaceful backwaters of Kerala to the haunting echoes of Auschwitz, this journey was a profound exploration of humanity’s capacity for both evil and goodness. It is a journey I will never forget, and one that I hope will inspire others to remember, reflect, and act. The recent initiative by the Indian Government to include Holocaust education in the syllabus of secondary schools (Grades 9 and 10) is a new step towards giving awareness about past atrocities but to think of the values of diversity, inclusion, global citizenship, and pluralism in present-day India and the world. The visit to Auschwitz and Birkenau is not just about looking back at the past; it is about understanding the present and shaping a future where such atrocities never happen again. It is a call to action for all of us to remember, to educate, and to stand against hatred in all its forms.