Last Friday a 7.9 magnitude earthquake leveled sections of India and Pakistan, killing thousands of people, injuring more, further complicating the lives of millions and causing billions of dollars worth of damage. Upon hearing of this tragedy, my knee-jerk reaction was to say "that sucks," be glad it wasn't me and continue playing Madden 2001 in my cozy, sheltered dorm room thousands of miles away.

A week later the extent of the destruction finally settled in, and while I was selfishly worrying about maintaining my 23-0 Madden record against my roommates, the lives of millions of people were being changed forever. That's just screwed up. I could ask what it is about our materialistic society that allowed me to pause only for a second in the wake of such a calamity or why I fail to relate to the tragedy which befell so many during those quaking seconds but the reasons why I was so cold are irrelevant.

Five days later, I read that they pulled an eight-month old baby boy from the rubble alive; eight-months old, and this child survived five days without food, water or parents, while being trapped under tons of rubble. I can't even begin to imagine how emotionally distraught I would be if that were my child.

But even scarier are the eyewitness accounts flying over the newswires: husbands rescued while clutching the bodies of their crushed wives, whole families lost, young children orphaned and babies suffocated in the collapses. Whole towns lay wasted, and the city of Bhuj-once prosperous and growing-is now completely leveled.

With more than 20,000 expected dead and nearly 40,000 injured, this is truly a disaster. But how should I, living in podunk Massachusetts, react?

Well, I could send some money over-maybe organize a drive and raise some funds to send help in the reconstruction effort. However, I feel that too often we, from our privileged position in the economic superpower that is the U.S., try to solve problems the easy way: by throwing money at them and hoping they disappear.

Another alternative is to fly to India on my next break and volunteer to help sort through the aftermath. This too seems to be an imperfect solution. On principle I should be able to help the cause without traveling 10,000 miles and significantly disrupting my life.

Although it is obviously not the thought that counts in situations like these, I feel like the fact that I'm thinking about how I reacted and how I can help is a far cry from simply turning back to Playstation and finishing my game.

We are privileged to be sheltered from such disaster, and I for one am beginning to fully appreciate that.