Burden of Experience and Final Words

It's a mistake to attempt to express and word something as inexpressible as this trip. Skimming through what I've written I realize I've failed miserably in trying to describe what I've experienced - words destroy silence and silence is indeed the truth. These will be my last words on Phase 2.

In the long, dry and cold deserts of Ladakh, women with wrinkled faces and heavy winter clothes carry huge loads of grass or wheat on their stooped backs. Sometimes their cataract-grey eyes meet yours and you notice they seem lost and distant. They walk for miles before they get to their destinations. They are born in the area, they grow, eat, live, marry, mate, procreate, fall sick and die there. The rest of us are not very different.

The loads on our backs however are that of our experiences. I got countless advice on countless things on what is right, what I must do and not do. Each one advising based on the burden of his or her own experience or sometimes the lack of it. I stopped counting the many detractors I encountered on this journey - I met most of them the first time. Disproving them was a kick and a high in itself. When I was coming down from Kashmir, I got a call from a friend - the crux of the discussion was about how I would commute in Mumbai - no Himalayas, no Kashmir - it was about whether I would travel by auto or taxi. When I hung up, I felt odd - it was a mild wakeup signal that I was getting back to some old reality - it was Ladakh no more. Another was only about the color of my face and how black it had become and how what creams I need to use to get back to normal. Another was about a species of deer found only in Kashmir. Another was about Islam in Kashmir. Another was about why it's important to help the army. Another was about how safe I was. Another was about why Mumbai guys are cool. Another was about the futility of familial existence. Another was about food I ate. Another about security. All are well-intentioned but each of us are burdened by our experiences and we carry our loads and everything we do or speak seems to reflect this burden. It will be nice to live fresh without this burden and allow each moment for itself.

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After Ladakh, everything seems a little empty with its superficial layers and layers. Ladakh with its nothingness seems to have everything. When kids on the roads gave high-fives and smiled, it came from the inside. When someone expressed their distress with Ladakh - yahan pe kuch nahin hai, there's nothing here...we have to struggle for 8 months in the cold - there was truth in that distress. Down below Ladakh, there seems to be a lot outside - TV, phones, social jokes, the hellos, the funnies, saying the right things, what to eat, what to wear, which movie/ TV program to watch, news channels that talk about what Amitabh is doing, cell phone bill, electricity bill, salaries, incentives, PFs, getting to work, getting home, calling folks, writing blogs, uploading photos, repeating stories, repeating stories, repeating stories, politics in America, how to encourage our kids to be politically plugged in, how poverty is bad, how we must contribute more, how to plan your career growth, checking email, sending email, what to do in the weekend, planning flights, gifts to buy, are you smelling good, afternoon chai, work-life balance blah, blah - but it all feels a little empty in the inside. I don't know how to describe this. I've already sunk into my to-do lists. Ladakh was but a dream. The dream is over and the air smells different now.