I wrote this yesterday in Varanasi but then the internet died so here it is again.Straight after writing this, a van stopped outside our hotel and 5 men in plain clothes holding machine guns came into our hotel where we were standing in the lobby. It’s weird, but for some reason it didn’t worry me and I even went to get my camera much to the horror of Shane (hindsight eh). Someone told us they were bodyguards, but as Shane said - “it fits in with the scenery”.
Yesterday it rained in the afternoon for about 30 minutes, and as it hadn’t rained in two days, the ground turned to mud, combining shit, rubbish, dirt, and a myriad of other unimaginable filth. I made the rooky error of going out for a walk in thongs at about 8pm to see the Varanasi nightlife and my feet were instantly covered in slimy mud. It didn’t help that I was wearing thongs I had found halfway through the trek in a room which were almost worn through on the heel.
However once you have a bit of shit between the toes, you may as well have a lot of shit between the toes. I got a rickshaw into the centre of town but got out early as the driver was trying to sell me young prostitutes and after a heated exchange I got off. I then walked for about 45 minutes getting lost in the winding alleyways and markets which were buzzing with people. Everyone was laughing and shouting expressively and I received a lot of attention, mainly beckoning me to check out their stalls.
I was amazed how happy everyone was despite the absolute filth they were in, and it cemented my view that happiness is relational like everything else in the world. The chair I am sitting on now is made of metal and plastic which is constructed in a way so that we label it a chair. It is through the collective agreement that the object I am on is a chair that defines it as such. When we look at a chair, there is no inherent quality that forms its ‘chairness’. It is merely a set of relational qualities or materials arranged in a certain way which we then identify as a ‘chair’.
If you deconstruct the qualities that make up a chair you are left with nothing. Look beyond the metal, paint and plastic and you have elements. Strip back elements and you have atoms. Strip back atoms and you have protons and neutrons? My science is probably off as I failed it from year 7 onwards, but the point is that nothing has an inherent quality to it. Everything is relational and empty of inherent reality. But when does the chair I am sitting on become a chair? At what point do the qualities which constitute a chair make the object obviously definable or recognizable to us? How many qualities of ‘chairness’ do you need to form a chair? If it has three legs is it a chair? Two legs etc? Or does it merely have to be labeled as one?
Whenever I have thought about these things it has always been in the abstract – unanswerable questions which are fun to challenge the mind but offer no real benefit to ones daily life. But the reason I’m writing about this now is that I’m thinking about it in the practical sense because when I saw the dead body floating in the Ganges yesterday, I felt nothing. As though the object I was looking at wasn’t a human with whom I could empathise.
A human is made up of arms, legs, skin, organs etc. If we strip these back we end up with the same thing as everything else in life – elements, atoms and other wacky scientific terms. But is there any inherent ‘humaness’ to us? Something irreducible like a ‘soul’? Or can we too be stripped down to nothing? – purely relational matter held together by laws of nature.
If you are a scientist or an atheist and you believe in the latter – that we are simply made up of atoms, albeit in a very complex arrangement, then when does a human become a human? At what point do the qualities that make up a human define it as such? Consciousness? Self awareness? DNA?
If I saw a dead body in Australia I would be horrified but as I saw the body in India it didn’t bother me. Despite my best efforts to bury the reality of what that indicates, I don’t think I viewed that body as being ‘human’ in the same way a body in the west is. And it bothers me greatly that it didn’t bother me because the reason is a relational one.
As I lay in bed last night I thought about this for quite a while and it perturbed me. Did that body have a soul and was it important? Are all human bodies important and are they all as important as each other? If there is a soul then the answer is yes and that resolves the existential conundrum. I wish I could find solace in that religious notion but I can’t accept it, but I also have a need to answer it.
If there is no soul and our existence is relational, then how do we justify our importance or belief in equality? Why do we all have an equal right to life and why is all life judged equal? And do we actually believe this or do we just need this belief system in order to sleep at night? Meanwhile nameless bodies float down the Ganges with birds picking at their flesh.
Were people grieving over this body floating down the Ganges or was it some poor man who lived and died without making any impact? Of course to act is to make an impact, but I mean an impact to other people’s lives or a meaningful impact to the world.
Equality of life is relational (not in the ideational sense but in reality). We have an egalitarian belief system in Australia, but even this has its anomalies when we walk blindly past the homeless. I guess it’s the acceptance the world can’t be perfect, but in saying this, I firmly believe in the goodness of people - we all do the best we can, some better than others obviously. But on a global scale equality is a novel concept. I’m not trying to be some high and mighty do-gooder blaming the rich, or blaming governments, or trying to solve the world’s problems. I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it in the bizarre mix that is India.
I thought about the idea of relativity further and I believe it extends to everything. As I said in a previous post, happiness is not contingent on ones situation necessarily but rather their state of mind. Many rich people are miserable, many poor people are happy. Many people in positive situations are unhappy and many people in negative situations are happy. On the trek I experienced this in the practical sense for the first time in my life.
On day 12 of the trek I had gone 8 days without a shower. We had been walking about 5-6 hours a day and had done 7.5 hours when we tackled the summit on day 10. Worse still I had been wearing the same socks (worst part), undies, pants and t-shirt for that 8 days as all my other clothes were filthy. We had to pack light as the three of us needed to fit our gear in one bag. Up high many of the places didn’t have running water so there was no opportunity for a shower, and the few chances I got in those early stages (day 2-4), the shared toilet was so putrid that I decided I would get dirtier entering it than the current state I was in. I had no thongs at this point and the floor was concrete with a thin layer of water which was contaminated from the putridity of the overflowing squat toilet. The shower head was about one meter away from the toilet and judging by the smell I guessed this space was rarely cleaned.
So every night I got into my silk liner, sweaty and stinky, between filthy sheets, covered with a moist, dusty doona to keep me warm. This wasn’t actually that bad because I don’t have a problem being dirty although even for me this was testing from day 6 onwards as I started to smell like a hobo rather than a sweaty sportsman.
However on the afternoon of day 12, we had walked through desert-like landscape which I rate as the most spectacular part of the trek, and arrived at a lush green oasis set deep within the barren orange/brown mountains. It felt as if we were in Afghanistan because it was so dry and desolate. In this oasis we found a tea house to stay in and it had an on suite in the bedroom with hot water and it was clean!! Relative to Sydney standards this place was a dump, however from what I had gotten used to, it was like a palace. It is no exaggeration to say that I felt it was the fanciest hotel I had ever stayed at (in relation to the past 12 days).
I had a shower and felt an overwhelming sensation of elation. I derived more happiness from that shitbox than I would have staying at the Grand Hyatt. Now when I look at bottom class Indian people washing in the streets and laughing together at the markets I understand the world is relational. Obviously I can’t relate to their life experience and the constant struggles and it would be arrogant to assume an 18 day trek gives me any real idea; but the notion is now less foreign and it still taught me a valuable lesson of the distinct separation between happiness and money and the situational relativity of life.
Even if you have absolutely nothing, you can be happy from the smallest of pleasures – a cup of water; a wall blocking the wind if you are sleeping outside. In our case it was sometimes toilet paper. And that happiness is authentic and as legitimate as the elation a billionaire may feel from buying a Ferrari and tearing down the street (though I’m sure Doug will disagree with this point).
Happiness is a state of mind. The same is true for immigrants in Australia. I can’t imagine how stoked many of them feel to get a roof over their head and to get hot water straight from the tap, or to get consistent electricity (which fails at the most critical moments in Nepal - like when I’m beating Shane in backgammon).
To experience a genuine lack of resources and then to feel so happy getting something so basic made me optimistic about life and its future and the ability to be happy in any situation. I feel after 5 weeks in Nepal I have a basic appreciation and perhaps even envy for the simplicity of their way of life.
Of course these are just overarching ideas and it doesn’t account for the hardship of being denied resources, the multitude of health issues, housing, clothing and the misery that permeates an inescapable life of poverty and premature death. However I feel what I have said describes one important aspect of life I have previously been unable to understand.
I hope this doesn’t sound too pessimistic because I’m having the best time of my life and life has never felt so exciting and random. Last night we changed our plans and are doing a totally different route for the next two weeks which is going to be awesome! I can’t wait for Tali to get here and for the fun to double. It’s just that at night when the tooting and chaos subsides, I have time to myself and my mind begins to race like the traffic outside, and with the heat of the night, getting to sleep is slow. Normally Tali would bear the brunt of my rants but right now it is just you and I.
Hope you enjoyed the read.