Recently, I came across several disturbing videos showing how animals are slaughtered before eventually appearing on the plates of humans as food.
One particular video showed baby goats being roasted whole. Another showed animal brains being prepared as delicacies. I have also seen videos of sea creatures being cooked alive because it is believed to preserve the taste and texture of the meat.
As I watched these scenes, I felt a deep discomfort—not because I wished to judge those who eat meat, but because I found myself asking questions that I could not easily answer.
Around the same time, I was reading discussions online surrounding the much-publicized and controversial Epstein files and the many rumours, allegations, and speculations that have circulated around them. While much of this information remains unverified and should therefore be approached with caution, one recurring theme in these discussions was the universal horror people expressed at the thought of vulnerable human beings and human babies being exploited, harmed, or sacrificed for rituals.
That reaction is natural.
Any compassionate human being would be horrified.
Yet this led me to a troubling philosophical question:
Why do we instinctively recognize the suffering of our own species while often remaining indifferent to the suffering of other sentient beings?
If another species possessed greater intelligence, greater power, and greater technological advancement than humanity, and if they bred and farmed humans the way we farm animals, what moral argument would we make against them?
Suppose they bred human infants for consumption.
Suppose they slaughtered humans because they enjoyed the taste of human flesh.
Suppose they harvested human organs, brains, and bones as culinary delicacies.
Would we not call this barbaric?
Would we not demand justice?
Would we not insist that our lives have value beyond their utility?
The uncomfortable reality is that many of the arguments we would make on behalf of ourselves are precisely the arguments animal advocates make on behalf of animals today.
This is not an accusation.
It is a question.
A question worth reflecting upon.
Human beings often describe themselves as compassionate, civilized, and morally evolved. We campaign for justice, speak about human rights, and condemn cruelty wherever we see it.
Yet billions of animals live and die each year within confined and secretive systems that exist primarily to satisfy human appetite.
Many of these creatures experience fear.
Many attempt to escape death.
Many cry out when separated from their young.
Many display emotional bonds with their families.
Science increasingly recognizes that numerous animal species possess complex emotional lives, social structures, memory, and the capacity to suffer.
If suffering matters, should it only matter when humans experience it?
Another thought crossed my mind.
Imagine the terror an animal feels in the final moments before their planned slaughter.
The confusion.
The panic.
The desperate instinct to survive.
Every living being clings to life.
Whether human, goat, lamb, cow, pig, chicken, sheep, fish, or pig, the desire to live appears universal.
No creature willingly walks toward death.
As I reflected on this, I found myself wondering about something that many spiritual traditions have contemplated for centuries.
What happens to the emotional and energetic state of a being at the moment it realizes its life is about to be forcibly ended with extreme violence?
An animal awaiting slaughter is not experiencing peace, gratitude, or serenity.
It is experiencing fear, turmoil, confusion.
It is experiencing distress.
It is experiencing the primal terror of a life that senses its imminent end.
For those who believe that all life is interconnected through subtle energies, consciousness, or vibrations, an important question arises:
"When we consume the flesh of a creature that spent its final moments in fear, distress, and resistance to death, are we consuming only its physical body, or might we also be absorbing the consequences of the conditions under which that life ended and willingly inviting traces of that energies of deep suffering into our own system?"
Ancient sages, yogis, monks, and mystics across many traditions often taught that food carries more than nutrients. It carries the energetic imprint of the conditions under which it was produced.
A meal prepared with love feels different from one prepared in anger.
A peaceful environment affects us differently from a hostile one.
If this is true, then it is worth contemplating whether the fear, stress, and anguish experienced by animals before slaughter leave an imprint upon the very tissues that are later consumed.
Whether one interprets this spiritually, energetically, or psychologically, the question remains profound.
What kind of consciousness are we nourishing within ourselves?
What kind of energies are we inviting into our bodies?
And what effect might this have, not only on our physical health, but on our emotional, mental, and spiritual well-being?
Perhaps this is one reason why so many spiritual traditions dedicated to liberation, inner peace, compassion, and self-realization encourage a diet rooted in non-violence.
The principle is not merely dietary.
It is philosophical.
It is energetic.
It is an invitation to cultivate a way of living that minimizes suffering, both within ourselves and within the world around us.
It asks us to expand our circle of compassion beyond our own species.
It challenges us to consider whether strength should be used to dominate the vulnerable or to protect them.
It asks whether justice can truly exist if the rights to justice applies only to those who resemble us.
I do not write these thoughts to condemn anyone.
Most of us inherit our dietary habits from family, culture, geography, and tradition.
Many good, kind, and compassionate people consume animal products without ever intentionally reflecting on the ethical implications.
I was no different.
But sometimes a single question can change the way we see the world.
For me, that question is this:
"If I would consider it monstrous for a more powerful species to treat human beings the way humanity treats animals, what does that reveal about my own relationship with the beings who share this planet with me?"
Perhaps each of us must answer that question for ourselves.
The purpose of this reflection is not guilt.
It is awareness.
Because every meaningful transformation begins when we become willing to see what we previously preferred not to see.
And perhaps true compassion begins the moment we recognize that the desire to live is not uniquely human—it is the silent prayer of every creature that breathes.
I am sure there will be many advocates of the familiar argument:
"Lions eat buffaloes. Snakes eat rats. Bigger animals prey upon smaller animals. It is nature."
This is true.
Predation exists throughout nature.
A lion does not commit a moral crime by hunting a buffalo.
A snake does not sin by eating a rat.
A hawk does not accumulate bad karma for catching a mouse.
Why?
Because they are acting according to their biological design.
They are driven primarily by instinct and survival.
But human beings often claim to be something more.
We call ourselves civilized.
We establish courts of law.
We create law and constitutions.
We debate ethics.
We speak of justice, compassion, human rights, and morality.
How many courts of lions do we know of?
How many parliaments of hyenas?
How many snakes are discussing ethical treatment of prey?
How many tigers are campaigning for justice?
The point is not to ridicule animals.
The point is that animals are not claiming moral or intellectual superiority.
Humans are.
Animals do not write books on compassion.
Humans do.
Animals do not preach non-violence.
Humans do.
Animals do not hold conferences on ethics.
Humans do.
Animals do not speak of enlightenment, liberation, consciousness, or spiritual evolution.
Humans do.
Therefore, when we justify our actions solely by pointing to what happens in the wild, we must ask ourselves a difficult question:
"If the behaviour of wild animals is sufficient justification for human conduct, then should we also justify territorial violence, infanticide, forced mating, abandonment of the weak, survival of the fittest and countless other instinctive behaviours found throughout animals in nature?"
Most of us would say no.
We selectively appeal to nature only when it supports our preferences.
The deeper question is not:
"What does a lion do?"
The deeper question is:
"What is the most compassionate choice available to me?"
For a lion, hunting may be the only available choice.
For many humans, it is not.
A lion does not have access to agriculture.
A lion does not have supermarkets.
A lion does not have nutritional science.
A lion does not have the privilege of choice.
Many of us do.
And perhaps that is where responsibility begins.
The spiritual traditions that advocate non-violence are not asking us to behave like animals.
They are asking us to rise above instinct wherever possible.
Not because animals are wrong for being animals.
But because only Humans have the unique capacity to consciously choose compassion over necessity, mercy over power, and awareness over habit. For those who seek higher consciousness, that distinction may be worth contemplating.
AND perhaps this is precisely why so many ancient spiritual traditions regard human birth as a rare blessing rather than merely just another biological event.
In many Hindu traditions, the human birth is described as difficult to attain and easy to squander, because it is one of the few states of existence in which a being can consciously choose the direction of its own evolution - towards light or towards darkness!
In several traditions, there exists the concept of 84 lakh yonis — the idea that the soul journeys through countless forms of physical / etherical existence before attaining a human birth. Whether one interprets this literally, symbolically, or spiritually, the underlying message remains profound:
Human life is precious because it offers something that few other forms of life can fully exercise — conscious choice.
A lion follows instinct.
A snake follows instinct.
A hawk follows instinct.
Any animal follows instinct.
But a human being possesses the remarkable ability to pause, reflect, communicate, record data, analyse, question, derive results and choose.
We can examine our desires rather than merely obey them.
We can challenge inherited habits rather than blindly continue them.
We can choose compassion even when power permits us otherwise.
Not because humans are superior to other creatures.
But because humans possess the unique opportunity to consciously evolve.
The lion is not striving for enlightenment.
The lion is not studying compassion.
The lion is not praying for liberation.
The lion is not asking moral questions.
Human beings are.
That is why traditions such as Jainism, many schools of Hinduism, Buddhism, and certain mystical traditions place such emphasis on ahimsa (non-violence). The question is not whether killing exists in nature. The question is whether a person consciously seeking spiritual evolution wishes to participate in avoidable harm when other alternatives do exist.
Jainism places ahimsa—non-violence—at the very centre of spiritual life.
Buddhist teachings encourage compassion for all sentient beings and recognition of our interconnectedness.
Many Hindu scriptures remind us that the highest purpose of human life is not merely survival, pleasure, or accumulation, but self-realization and liberation.
If these traditions are correct, then the true significance of being human lies not in our intelligence, wealth, technology, or dominance over nature.
It lies in our ability to choose.
Every day, in countless small ways, we are given opportunities to decide whether we will act from instinct or awareness, from habit or consciousness, from power or compassion.
Perhaps that is the real test of human birth.
Not whether we can dominate other forms of life.
But whether we can transcend the impulses that make domination seem necessary.
And perhaps that is why the sages considered human birth so auspicious—not because it guarantees enlightenment, but because it offers the possibility of it.
Another common argument is that predators maintain ecological balance:
"But Animals Are Needed To Be Killed For Ecological Balance"
Predators play a crucial role in natural ecosystems.
However, most modern meat consumption does not come from wild ecosystems.
The chicken, goat, sheep, pig, and cow on a dinner plate were usually not hunted by predators to maintain ecological balance.
They were intentionally bred, confined, traded, transported, and slaughtered cruelly just to satisfy human demand.
The ecological role of a lion hunting a buffalo in the wild is very different from industrially breeding billions of animals for daily consumption.
These are separate questions.
One concerns nature and instincts out of no other choice.
The other concerns a conscious human choice made in a world where alternatives may be available!
Another concern that is frequently raised is this:
"If everyone became vegetarian, would there not be a shortage of food? Would humanity not face food scarcity?"
At first glance, this appears to be a reasonable question.
However, it may not be as simple as it seems.
Many people assume that animals somehow produce food for us.
In reality, most farm animals consume enormous quantities of food, water, land, and resources throughout their lives before eventually becoming food themselves.
The grains, soybeans, corn, and other crops grown to feed billions of chickens, pigs, sheep, and cattle do not appear out of thin air.
They are cultivated using vast tracts of agricultural land.
This raises an interesting question:
"How much plant-based food is currently being grown to feed animals rather than directly feeding humans?"
Whether one examines the issue from an ethical, environmental, or economic perspective, it becomes clear that modern food systems are far more complex than simply "vegetables versus meat."
The debate is not merely about how much food is produced.
It is also about how efficiently resources are used.
Agriculture, economics, livelihoods, geography, and cultural traditions all play important roles.
But the existence of practical challenges does not necessarily invalidate the ethical question.
The deeper question remains:
If a more compassionate path is available, should its difficulty alone prevent us from exploring it?
For me, this reflection is not primarily about economics, environmental statistics, or agricultural policy.
It is about consciousness.
It is about examining whether our choices align with our values.
A Note About the Videos Shared Below
At the end of this article, I have included several videos depicting practices that many may find disturbing.
These include videos showing baby goats being roasted whole, chickens been skinned alive, animal brains being prepared as delicacies, insects being fried alive, baby octopuses and crabs being boiled alive and others
I have deliberately placed these videos at the very end of the article so that readers may choose for themselves whether or not to view them.
Many sensitive individuals may prefer not to watch such scenes, and I completely respect that choice.
The purpose of sharing these videos is not to shock, condemn, or traumatize anyone.
Rather, it is to allow those who are willing to witness the reality behind certain forms of consumption to make a more informed and conscious assessment for themselves.
After all, if we are comfortable eating something, perhaps we should also be willing to understand the process by which it arrived on our plate.
As I reflected upon these images and videos, a question arose within me — one that I continue to contemplate.
Human beings often assume that because we possess greater intelligence, technology, and power than many other species, we are justified in breeding, confining, slaughtering, and consuming them for our purposes, whether for taste, convenience, tradition, or profit.
But what if there existed a species more intelligent, more powerful, and more technologically advanced than humanity?
What if they viewed humans as their prized livestock, just the way many humans view their livestock?
What if they bred us, harvested us, and consumed us because we served some purpose for them?
Would we consider their actions justified simply because they were more powerful?
Or would we argue that intelligence and power do not automatically confer moral authority and rather plead for compassion, mercy, and recognition of our right to live?
I do not ask this question because I believe such beings exist, nor because I claim to know the answers.
I ask it because sometimes the clearest way to understand our treatment of others is to imagine ourselves in their shoes and in their position.
HERE I would invite you to try a simple thought experiment with complete neutrality at baseline.
Imagine, for a moment, that the being on the chopping board was not merely an anonymous animal but someone you deeply loved.
Imagine it was the soul of a beloved child, spouse, sibling, parent or friend who, according to the doctrines of reincarnation embraced by many spiritual traditions, had returned in another form of life on earth from the 84 lakh yonis [Can Refer Jataka Stories of Lord Buddha].
Can any of us say with certainty that the soul inhabiting that goat, cow, sheep, chicken, fish, or pig or any animal and or bird is somehow less ancient, less sacred, or less connected to the Divine than our own?
If the soul's journey truly extends across countless lifetimes and forms, as many traditions teach, then the creature standing before us may not be as separate from us as we imagine.
The eyes looking back at us may belong to a consciousness that has known joy, fear, love, attachment, loss, and the longing to live—just as we have.
Now take the thought a step further.
Imagine that it was the child whose laughter fills your home.
Imagine that it was your mother, your father, your partner, or your closest friend.
Imagine their body being reduced to ingredients, their organs treated as delicacies, and their life regarded merely as a means of satisfying another being's appetite, curiosity, or culinary preference.
Most of us instinctively recoil from such a thought.
Why?
Because the moment we emotionally identify with the victim, compassion awakens.
The distance disappears.
The abstraction vanishes.
Suddenly, what was once "food" becomes a life.
A relationship.
A story.
A consciousness that wanted to continue existing.
Perhaps this is the deepest challenge posed by the doctrine of reincarnation.
If every being is a soul on its own evolutionary journey, then the boundary between "us" and "them" may be far thinner than we imagine.
Would our choices change if we genuinely believed that every living being carried a soul progressing through the great cycle of existence?
Would we view animals differently if we saw them not as commodities, products, or ingredients, but as fellow travellers sharing this vast cosmic journey alongside us?
I do not claim to know the answer.
I merely find it a question worth contemplating.
For I am not suggesting that animals and humans are identical in every respect.
I am only asking whether empathy and justice are truly universal principles if they apply only to those who look like us, think like us, and belong to our own species.
Perhaps empathy begins when we stop asking what rights our strength gives us over the weak and start asking what justice would require if we ourselves stood in their place.
For me, that is the deeper question underlying this entire reflection.
Before I conclude, I wish to clarify something important.
I do not write these thoughts to condemn anyone, criticize anyone's dietary choices, or claim moral superiority over those who think and do things differently.
Every individual is on their own unique journey, shaped by their upbringing, culture, experiences, beliefs, and level of awareness.
I respect that.
This reflection is intended primarily for those who are consciously exploring questions of energy, consciousness, karma, compassion, and spiritual evolution.
It is for those who seek not only physical nourishment but also a deeper understanding of how their choices may influence their inner world.
Perhaps compassion begins when we recognize that the desire to live, the fear of death, and the wish to avoid suffering are experiences shared by far more beings than just our own selves.
Perhaps the greatest question is not whether animals deserve compassion. Most people would agree that unnecessary cruelty is wrong.
The deeper question is whether our spiritual evolution is measured by how we treat those who are equal to us, or by how we treat those over whom we hold power.
Compassion toward those who can help us is easy.
Compassion toward those who cannot resist or fight against us, is the true test of character.
I am not asking anyone to blindly accept my perspective.
In fact, I would encourage the opposite.
Question it.
Reflect upon it.
Contemplate it.
Keep what resonates with your heart and your experience, and leave behind what does not.
But at least allow yourself the opportunity to ponder these questions.
What is the true cost of satisfying a craving?
What responsibility accompanies our position as the dominant species on this planet?
What effect do our daily choices have upon our own consciousness?
And if spiritual growth is ultimately about expanding our circle of compassion, where does that journey eventually lead us?
I do not claim to possess all the answers.
I am merely sharing questions that arose within me and the reflections that followed.
Perhaps the purpose of this article is not to change anyone's mind.
Perhaps its purpose is simply to plant a seed.
A seed of awareness.
A seed of compassion.
A seed of inquiry.
And if that seed inspires even one person to pause, reflect, and become more conscious of the interconnectedness of all life, then these thoughts have served their purpose.
But if this reflection has stirred even a single question within you, allow that question to live.
For every transformation begins not with an answer, but with the courage to honestly examine what we have long taken for granted.
AND never stop seeking truth.
Leave the rest.
Forever a Humble Seeker of Truth & Divine,
Meraki Pegasus,
Dr Racchana D Fadia
The following videos contain graphic and potentially disturbing footage depicting the treatment, slaughter, preparation, and consumption of various animals.
Viewer discretion is strongly advised.
If you are particularly sensitive to scenes involving animal suffering, violence, or death, you may wish to avoid watching them.
I am sharing these videos not to shock, condemn, or traumatize anyone, but to provide an opportunity for those who wish to understand the realities behind certain food practices and to make their own informed reflections.
Please proceed only if you feel comfortable doing so.
