I hope I am not biased. It was for the umpteenth time that I complained about the weather in Beijing. I was tired too. The bone-chilling wind seemed to blow away all of my fantasies and dreams, my shaky belief of the existence of something somewhat better, worth fighting for. I wanted to climb into my bed and maybe put my whole life into bed altogether. I’m not a pessimist. I only make a fair attempt to depict an image I see, which most people choose to ignore. I see this gigantic black hole with some kind of magnetic power that is ready to suck my soul out of my body. Giving up is so much easier, you see. No amount of effort is demanded on your part.
Again, I hope I am not biased. I felt more alive, curious, energetic, wise and grateful than I’d ever been. It might be silly to say that I set foot on a magical land, but that’s how I felt. Time was not a liability any more. I observed people and people observed me. I closed my eyes and let the music, incomprehensible yet divine, take over. I sat on the ground, legs crossed, silently without noticing the lapse of time. I walked barefoot on the sun-scorched ground and realized the irrelevance of most of the things in our so-called modern society. I sat in the car, watched the roads, villages, farms, trees, mountains, people and livestocks, and I wept. I, for the first time in my life so crystal clear, saw the equality of all the human beings, or even all the creatures, on earth. I saw it with my own eyes. Be it a man with or without shoes, walking or riding a horse, biking or driving a fancy car, no one is any better than another because of these non-essential possessions. Everyone is born equal. The little boy who lives in the desert and plays handmade instrument and sings for tips. The British girl who believes in freedom and travels around the world and eats leftover pizza from strangers’ plates. The Indian garment seller who speaks ill of Indians and worships Westerners and claims to be an astrologist but appears like a psycho. The boy who earns a 2-dollar tip for a 1.5-hour walk accompanying camel riding tourists and speaks basic English but doesn’t know any city in the U.S. The Brazilian philosophy professor and meditation practitioner who said he loves his job so much that he’d pay to do it. The tour guide at Fatehpur Sikri who wants to save for the tuition for a Spanish class so he could go to Spain someday. The Western guy who walks barefoot on the insanely hot ground on Pushkar streets every day with the calm and indifferent look on his face. I can continue. We’re all equal. One day that will dawn on you, right in front of your eyes, and you will be ashamed for ever being condescending because you think you have more or they have less. One day you will realize how absurd you once were and start appreciating a little more what life has granted you. Already. And ask yourself the question you’ve always avoided: why the hell don’t you try a little harder? One day, you will have to make a choice. Before death, you have to live.
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