All that I posses

Shirts, trousers and underwear,

Yes mom, I remembered.

Shoes, socks, a comb for your hair,

That too I recollected.

 

And don’t forget your bathers on your holiday.

Same with your Pajamas, your towel and your sheet.

And what about a sweater for that rainy day?

By the way, your coat won’t fit, you’ll just make do without it. 

 

And don’t forget your medication, disinfectant and repellent,

A book or two, a pack of cards, your camera, phone and compact flash. 

And just in case another pack or two of this and that,

And don’t forget your toothbrush, your passport and your cash.

 

And so the backpack and its packer reach their destination,

And on one day upon a climb with beads of sweat as testament.

Short of breath, with an aching back and on the verge of resignation,

The traveler comes to see a child’s eyes widen in amazement.

 

And as the child sees the man, he turns to ask his mother

What is this weight he is carrying that is heavier than man? 

And the mother smiles back and answers to her son, 

That is all that he posseses when he travels for the moon.

 

And looking at the smaller pack, the child asks once more

Of that small bag upon his side, what does he need that for?

That is what he takes to live on until morn.

But mother, all that I and you both have could fit into that bag.

 

And so the young man travels on with one more burden on his shoulder.

The art of not giving

India has a tough lesson to teach about fate: It is often not up to us to change it.

India has numbed my repulsion of poverty (in much the way as my repulsion to illness, like the way I look away when a bloated African child appears on TV, remains unchanged). While my thesis on the art of not giving may sound anti-socialist, it is the belief that poverty is an economic reality to be solved with macro economic policy (e.g. government spending and taxation) and microeconomic incentives (e.g. micro finance) rather than the belief in a personal responsibility for another’s lot (e.g. charity) that will ultimately help the poor escape their fate.

India’s many beggars use many tactics to extract funds, and after giving money to more beggars than I can count, I am slowly learning the art of not giving, a task I am finding much harder than its contrary – guilt-driven giving coupled with beggar dodging. I have limiting my experiment to situations where the beggar seems unwilling to change their lot (i.e. does not engage in fraud or enterprise) and where but for guilt or pressure, I would have otherwise not have given money – such as a mother parading her retarded son or a deformed man threatening to touch me with his stump if I didn’t give him money.

It is the belief that one has no responsibility for another’s lot that enables one to get out of the entanglement of unnecessary guilt and attachment. Of course, if one is naturally disposed towards not giving, perhaps you should run the experiment in the reverse.

Here’s an example of not giving: The other day I had left my phone to recharge in the home of my innkeeper as the power was out in my room. Last night I received a note from my innkeeper’s son, a university educated young man, who has developed an unhealthy obsession with my phone, stating “Please Please Please, PLEASE FRIEND GIVE ME MOBILE. Ur’s favour will be on me always”. He has ambushed me in the morning and night to beg me for my phone and has offered to pay its market value (after borrowing Rp10,000 from a loan shark at 10% per month) or work for me for a period of time. I decided against it despite my intention to dispose of the phone, the fair value offered and the tremendous amount of guilt exerted (including an invitation to tea, birthday party and family house). The truth is that he had no need for a PDA – and should be prevented from entering a cycle of debt for a useless purpose.

So it seems, perhaps sometimes withholding is the better form of giving.

Who is rich?

Hinduism’s strong notion of a pre-determined karma and the caste-system that has evolved from that belief has lived beyond Ghandi’s (partial) opposition to it. The contrast between India’s progress and backwardness, rich and poor, new and old is further highlighted by the geographic entanglement of these dichotomies.

Hundreds of millions of Indians accept their lot in life as an unchangeable reality. On the one hand, this means they are unlikely to escape the socioeconomic fate to which they were born into, but on the other hand, they are able to live without having the responsibility to do so. The maxim “Who is rich? One who is content with their lot” would turn many of India’s poor to rich while at the same time converting most of Bombay’s yuppies into poor.

While in Western society the gap between ‘wants’ and ‘haves’ is narrowed by consumerism (Increase supply / ‘haves’), Hinduism and its caste system has allowed for the gap to be filled by reducing expectations of the masses (Decrease demand / ‘wants’). It is for this reason that India, unlike America, does not have its stories of beggars turned moguls.

India’s establishment is still made up for the most part of ‘forward class’ members (e.g. Brahmins, Anglo-Indians, Pharsis), and while macro-economic factors are pushing many Indians into the middle class, micro-economic factors are not. It is perhaps not that individual progress goes unrewarded in this country, but perhaps it is attempted all too little. It is not until individuals believe in their ability to change their fate, that their fate can be changed, and so the belief in a pre-determined karma serves as a self-fulfilling prophecy and as a major impediment to India’s socioeconomic development.

While I find the proposition of pre-determined fate somewhat unpalatable given my Judeo notion of justice and a western notion of individualism, I have accepted part of it. Each has their lot, their allocated burden in life, for which they alone bear responsibility for. And while not everyone gets handed out the best cards, everyone has the ability to play their hand well, even if it is a losing hand.