Sunday, February 16, 2014

Patrick Jung

Looking back now, as much as I’d like to, I can’t remember sites like the Red Fort. I can’t remember the view outside Hotel Emirates in Kolkata. What I do remember however is laughing at the jokes made by the boys about what happened to those who fell into the moat surrounding the Fort, and Tim pretending to push me in. I also remember the way the man at the reception of Hotel Emirates would greet me with a smile and a “hello sir” every time he handed me the key to my room. Likewise, the hustle and bustle of the Kolkata markets seem like a distant thought, but I will always remember the conversation I had with a small “highest quality” sports merchandise stall owner about the amount of rent he pays for his 2 x 3 metre space in the marketplace.

 

I can’t seem to remember what the inside of the Taj Hotel in Mumbai looks like. However, I have a vivid memory of Jake and me sipping cokes in the lobby attempting to look as casual and important as possible, but not being able to hold the laughter in. Furthermore, my vague recollection of the Future Hope building in Kolkata surmises to something along the lines of “it was small”, but I clearly recall being soundly beaten by 8 year-old Akaash in a game of chess – three times – in a row. All the memories that are most distinct in my mind are those that involved people and I think that the thing that I’ve ultimately learned from India is the value of all people.

 

As bad as it sounds, I’ve always been one to form quick and unyielding opinions about people; about whether I’m superior, equal to, or inferior to them. Early on in Kolkata, I started to realise the error of my ways. This largely had to do with being truly and utterly hustled by stall owners, who I’d taken one look at and thought, “I’ve got him.” And also the humbling experience of doing homework with the kids of Future Hope – the same work I had done at school at their age. I think I said something in reflection that night along the lines of “None of us are that important.” I carried this thought throughout the trip. However, upon coming back and thinking about it, I realised that this was a rather bleak outlook. If I hadn’t gone to that stall and given the owner that amount of money, who else would have made that man’s day, leaving him with a better (or worse) impression of tourists such as myself? If little Akaash hadn’t conquered me in chess, would I have seen the error of my ways?

 

Therefore, from my experience, I take a lesson that many people have been telling me and trying to teach me my whole life, but I have simply been to self-centred and stubborn to truly understand the meaning of: we are not better or worse than one another. We are all important.

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