First day of the school year. The joy that this event brings to the lives of adults and children is tarnished with the sorrow, tragedy and grief of Beslan, which struck a chord in the heart of our nation. It’s hard to talk about that tragedy, about the helplessness of children living alongside us…But I’d like to say a few words about something else – about our attitude to life in general.

This spring, when we had the terrorist attacks in the metro, there were so many people who came to the aid of the victims! Some just dropped what they were doing and drove the victims home or to hospital; others took them into their own homes and helped them get over the shock; and some, with no thought for their own pain, carried out those who were unable to walk. People came together and became very sort of genuine. But that was in a moment of difficulty…in normal times, we’re more and more obsessed with ourselves. We don’t trust one another and don’t really help one another; all we see is our own problems. We often can’t be bothered with other people; we don’t know and don’t want to know who our neighbours are.

I grew up in Tashkent. It wasn’t all that long ago, but times and attitudes were completely different. We all got along well and spoke to one another, we could visit a neighbour to borrow some salt or sugar and we knew that the neighbours would always be willing to share. If there was a celebration in our apartment block or someone was getting married they used send round some plov – the Uzbek national dish – to every apartment. A celebration in your neighbour’s house really was a celebration for everyone. I’m not saying they still live like that in Tashkent now – lots of things have changed there too. All I’m saying is that so many good things are disappearing from our lives, being lost through our own fault.

There used to be a Greek quarter in Tashkent, and a Jewish one too - people of all sorts of nationalities were friendly, socialized and were interested in one another. No stranger could appear in our courtyard without us asking who he was: we knew our friends’ friends and our next door neighbours’ friends. And we didn’t know them just out of curiosity, but because we were friends and loved one another and projected those feeling on to those around our friends and neighbours.

I’m not idealizing that life: we used to have arguments and trouble in those days too, but they were never the most important things. We lived for what united us, not for what divided us. We understood the familiar saying “My home is my castle” in a much broader and more selfless way, and our castle was our district, our city, our country.

Nowadays, we don’t even know who lives on the other side of the wall from us. And when you don’t know who your neighbour is, how can you ask him for help or go to him with a question? In fact, he wouldn’t even open the door, because he doesn’t know who you are.

We’ve probably got lots of problems and are always rushing to get somewhere or do something. Life seems to set a crazy pace and we absolutely have to get everything done. But there are some days when we realize (though not for long) that this pace is just a rate race that’s making us miss something very important. We’re letting the most important thing in our lives pass by or we’re rushing past a place where we need to stop. We’re ceasing to value life and planning it too rigidly. We’re forgetting that it’s unpredictable and complex and that whatever we plan could just disappear in a single second.

P.S. I keep using the word “we” because indifference has almost become an epidemic. But – and I particularly want to emphasize this - if some people have the strength ALWAYS to act not out of indifference, but out of love, then THANK YOU to those people! Perhaps we still EXIST because there ARE such people.