Our classes were supposed to start two weeks ago. But many friends are arriving late—very late, indeed—so we've had no classes for two weeks. Which means I have been doing absolutely nothing productive in this period. I have been sleeping, watching movies, writing, and downloading notes for the semester that I will probably never read. And most of the time, I have been roving and wandering around like a lost tourist with no map and no purpose.
But where can I go? Everywhere I go, traffic noises dumb me down and dump me at times. Take Majestic, Bangalore. There is nothing majestic about Majestic—except the continuous drone of traffic and noise. Everywhere. Malls are fascinating, though, if you enjoy window shopping and pretending you can afford things.
Majestic is far from my place. About the same distance as between Gedu and Phuntsholing—which is to say, far enough to question your life choices. It is the center of all routes: buses, trains, and people. Transport facilities are all available here—buses, rickshaws, autos, jeeps, cars, and soon a metro train is in the pipeline. But of all, bus transportation is cheap and reliable. The only catch? It takes more than two hours to reach Majestic. The fare is only 13 rupees. But if you don't have change and give 20 rupees, the conductor may write your "balance" on the back of the ticket—in invisible ink, apparently. And if you don't ask for it while getting off, they won't bother to give it. That's their business model. As my friend told me, every single Indian is a cheater. So be it—if you have a loaded pocket. (I don't.)
On the way, because of traffic jams and frequent stops, you get to see scenes around. And what a picture it is: pollution and vehicle noises. Huge numbers of people everywhere. People walking, people eating, people working. Everyone is busy. You would lose yourself in the crowd. Actually, you would lose your will to live, but that's a different essay.
As I walked around, I looked around and thought about life. Everything is ephemeral and subject to death. The transitory life is moving fast—seemingly purposeful, but everything is meaningless. It is empty and as useless as a chocolate teapot. Everyone aims at aimless, hollow things. In the end, it looks like everything has great weight and meaning, but we have no effect on substantial things. This saddens me. It saddens me to think about leaving the world. Where is there a crueler life than this? Having seen and known everything, then going to the unknown world of darkness. Depressing? Yes. True? Also yes.
So I recite mantras. My counts are in the millions. It was said there is a light side after death if the count reaches three or four million. But note: I never pray for myself. I pray for others—for other sentient beings, ignorant people like me, to bring them close to heaven. I believe in all religions. People sadly call me an atheist or a follower of Christianity or such types. It's not good to talk about religion. It's a personal thing anyway, that's my feeling.
My own family accused me when I took very lightly to our religious beliefs—especially the customs and traditions of rituals, offerings, and the deep reverence toward some of the fake Lamas and religious people. I told them one day: I hate monks. I have seen and heard monks engaging in deadly and horrific affairs—murder, rape, and other misconducts. They know the consequences of sins, and yet they do all these horrible things that go against the canons and principles of religion. I have encountered a man who knows everything about religion and nothing about the basics of life—like doing good and being good.
Deep inside me, I sometimes think I have a heart of butter. Soft, melts easily, and terrible in hot weather. And a heart as good as gold—though gold doesn't melt, so maybe I have a hybrid heart. I have basic human rules in my mind. I have compassion and think good of others. I never engage in unsocial or hurtful things. I mean well and don't affect anyone badly. I have two beliefs in my heart: being compassionate and doing good. I have no intention to hurt others through lies or working only for my own benefit. I don't like to show off.
But there are outsiders who act religious on the outside and do everything for their own benefit. They don't care about others' hearts. Very hurtful people. Such a disguise to our religion. If God is watching, I hope He has a good sense of humor. Because frankly, He needs one.
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