The Surrender Project: Day 6: Privilege & Perspective

I woke up to a phone call from my mom today. Her and my dad were getting a bunch of texts from Verizon for some authentication reason. Their first thought? That my phone was stolen. Not trying to make fun of my parents here, obviously that is a fear, one of probably many when one of your kids is solo traveling in a country where there are no contacts to check in on him. They do not know anybody who lives here. I empathize with the fear and worry that comes along with me doing this. I cannot imagine what it would have been like 30 years ago. You just off and send it, and tell your parents hopefully you will be back in a few months. Maybe a phone call per month to check in; more likely letters and postcards. That is one of my privileges in traveling today, one of many. Privilege is also going to be a bit of a theme today I think. It popped up a few times and I think it is important to address it. But once again—as I almost always do when I start writing—I am getting ahead of myself.

Last night after the bus fiasco I decided to wait to buy a bus ticket, curious to see if something would pop up and take me in a different direction. Still trying to put a reason behind me missing the bus. Nothing popped up. Mumbai here I come.

Today I realized that I like to find ways to ground myself, almost subconsciously, in the little ways that are possible. What I mean is that everyday I have gone out to breakfast at this particular hostel I have gone to the same spot without really thinking about it. I spent two nights at my previous hostel, went to the same spot for breakfast. I even ordered the same thing multiple times. I already hear the responses to this from some people, “but what about all the new food you’re missing out on!” Yes, I am not trying as many different foods, but I feel like most places serve roughly the same dishes, especially the cheaper spots you can pop into and grab a bite. I don’t do it for the food. I do it because it is one thing that day that I do not need to put a thought or effort into. It requires energy to find a new place, to understand their ordering system, to see what foods they have. I am doing new things all of the time and it can become exhausting. This is not even the part that I like the most though, it is the familiarity in the people. This is what I will miss most about Hyderabad, that I could walk about 30 seconds down the street of my hostel and have my tea guy, my breakfast guy, and my juice guy all within literally 10 feet. First thing I do is pop over and hand the tea guy a 10 rupee, as I am saying hello to him the woman who I photographed a few days prior pokes out from the back with an excited, “hello!” Which is about the extent of her English. Oh, and “thank you.” I drink this tea pretty fast, and give a wave as I walk to the entrance of the breakfast spot, about five feet away. There is no door, just an open wall, and I smile to the lady who sits at the front and collects the money afterwards. Walk to the back and nod at the man behind the counter, receiving a smile that says he is happy I keep coming back. I order the masala dosa, again, and go sit at the same two person table I have sat at most of the time. It faces the open wall so I can watch traffic, well mostly watch the juice guy watch traffic. His stand sits at the end of the opening on the left, but his chair covers part of the opening. I wonder if he thinks as much as I do, or is he content just being? In the total of a handful of hours I spent sitting in that spot not once have I seen him pick up a phone. What is he thinking about? Does he sit there all day waiting for people to buy juice and just think? Or is he really present, and just witnesses things. I am curious. He smiles when I walk up to him after my meal. Today he makes me a black grape juice with something else I think. It blew my fucking socks off. It was insane, incredibly good. It might have had lime or orange in it. The flavor of it was just a little sour, the right amount where it doesn’t taste too sweet, only the good parts of the sweet come through. And boy oh boy do they come through, it sorta shocks my cheeks clings to the side of my tongue, it is overwhelmingly good. I know this sounds a bit intense to explain a juice but wow, it was incredible. Oh, and it only ran me $0.48 cents. I wonder if he knows how good his juice is. I am trying not to drink the juice too fast, as I know I will never see this man again and never get to drink his concoctions again. I am sitting here trying to stay present, trying not to think. But I love to think. I love exploring ideas and thoughts and seeing where they go, it is fun to just stop and think, to daydream or ponder, to be curious about something and instead of googling it just play out my hypotheses in my head. It is hard to be present sometimes. The juice man is different than the tea man. The tea man is always moving, always prepping the next batch or pouring cups of tea. Maybe mixing sugar with the warm milk so it is ready for the tea. The juice guy mostly sits and waits. Then he will make a few juices and then sit back down in his chair and watches. A homeless man came up to him and held out his hands, he gave him some money. I have seen that a lot. People are always giving money to the homeless. Yesterday at the bus stop a woman walked up and asked each person for money, most gave some spare change. She never saw me. I do not know what I am supposed to do about giving money to the homeless. I googled it and it said not to, that if you give them money there is a good chance it is going to the cartels anyway. Who knows if that’s true. Somebody said on Reddit that if you give to a kid all the other kids will follow you and beg from you. At this point I haven’t seen any kids begging so I wouldn’t know yet. Maybe I will just have little snacks to give out or something. This makes me feel privileged. I wonder what the juice man thinks.

I realized I should probably take some pictures before I make my way to the bus in two hours. No ideas came to mind, I wasn’t sure what direction I wanted to do or if I wanted to just skip it today. As I am thinking about what to photograph my mind snaps back to reality and I realize I am still watching the juice man. Sometimes life really just knocks ya upside the head and is like, “dude just open your eyes and stop thinking.” There is probably another lesson in this, almost most definitely a lesson that ends in being more present. Shocker. I wait until the next person comes up to order some juice, and after they sit down at a table I walk up with my camera and ask if I can take a picture. He poses and gives me a closed mouth smile, the same one he seems to be wearing at all times. I snap a shot but then sort of direct him to keep making juice because that is what I want to photograph. I think he gets it. It is a simple juice this time, just orange. Which means all he has to do is press a few oranges and mix in some sugar. Ahh sugar, so that is why that grape juice smacked me so hard earlier. Checks out. Tea was easy to photograph, there are different pots with different liquids, the tea bag holds over the pot for a minute as it drips, the steam falling off all around it, the high pours to mix it as well as create a bit of bubbles on the top. It all tells a story itself. The juice was harder, less steps, a pretty easy process of juicing it and mixing in sugar, that’s it. I got a few pictures but wasn’t super stoked on them so I told him I would come back in a bit, unsure as to why I didn’t just wait for the next customer seeking out some mind boggling juice to appear. Turns out my bus time got pushed up, so I never had time to go back and take more pictures of the juice process. There is probably a lesson in this one too, maybe something I heard years ago. If it takes less than five minutes then do it now. It is supposed to be applicable to keeping your room clean, taking care of menial tasks that we do not want to do. I guess it can also be applied to taking pictures of your favorite juice guy because you never know what can happen to prevent you from getting the chance again. Something like that. I think my writing style feels slightly different today, maybe because its late at night and I just woke up from a nap on a sleeper bus. My legs are propped up over my bags, my neck is bent at an awkward angle equally against the wall and ceiling because I would need another foot at least to sit up straight, my laptop is on my lap, and my upper back and neck might be forever cranked in this position. Oh, and I have my long sleeve covering the pillow because there is no pillow case and it is full of stains, including one on the corner that is either food or an old scab. Yeah, you read that correctly. A scab. Unsure though, and ya know, not really feeling like inspecting it any closer so we are exercising a little ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Maybe a combination of all of this occurring for a 17 hour bus ride is changing my writing style. Maybe it isn’t even different. Maybe I am just in a different headspace because of it. I feel pretty content though. It could be a lot of things, who knows. Before I started writing and right after I woke up from my nap, well, nap might be generous… You know that in-between state you get into when you fall asleep on a bus, plane, or a car with headphones in and it feels sort of like dreaming but you go in and out of sleep but never actually sleep? It feels like a weird middle ground of consciousness? Yeah, that was my nap, I love being in that state. But after I regained full consciousness I just stared out the window for a second, not really thinking about anything, nor really taking in what I was seeing. But a thought did come along, one that is always fun one. When you can take a step back and realize where you are, it happens a lot traveling. I zoomed out and realized I am laying down on this sleeper bus with all of my belongings tucked under my legs, traveling across freaking India not really knowing what I am doing, and with some weird things on my pillow. It gets a bit of a grateful laugh out of me. Like what the fuck dude, this is such a gift to be able to be in this position. And be here willingly, testing out these theories I have on life and existence, doing something that I know is going to change my life. I feel honored that this is where my life has lead. I am so blessed. Having a brain that functions, legs that carry me all over, a body that can endure everything that comes my way. What a gift. Anyway, this is just where my mind goes when I am alone in cool places sometimes. Back to the program. But we are going to stick on this idea of privilege.

After pictures with my juice guy I headed back to the hostel, packed up, and hopped on the metro to take me to the bus stop. About 50 meters off of the metro station I am at a corner waiting for the traffic light to turn when two kids come up to me. They are quite young, maybe six or seven? And they are doing the motion for food to mouth, asking me for money for food. This is tough, because as mentioned earlier everything I read was not to give kids money, and I didn’t have any food to give. The only cash I have left is a 50 rupee piece and a 20 rupee piece, for the rest of the day and morning. By the way, it is about 83 rupees per US dollar. This is the first time I have had little kids beg from me and it wasn’t easy. I just tell them I am so sorry I cannot help, I do not have anything to give. The problem is I am at a majorly busy corner and there is nowhere for me to walk off to, so I just stand there, a million thoughts flooding my mind about what to do in this situation while I just wait as the seconds crawl by. The kids aren’t getting my message so continue to ask me, grabbing my wrists and poking my legs, touching my backpacks and begging me. I have been in these situations a fair amount of time but not in India yet, this is hard. Eventually the light turns and I just have to walk away. Am I an asshole because I didn’t give them my $0.75? What about the cartel? What is life like for these kids. Do they even realize what they are doing? All of these thoughts are going through my head as I keep walking to my bus stop. I get there and ask around to make sure I am in the right spot, I am not going to miss another bus. About 30 seconds later a woman comes up to me and starts asking me for money. I try to tell her I don’t have any money. She then points at a restaurant to buy her food. I think about it, but would rather give it to the kids. The thing is, so far in India my credit card only has worked at big stores, take the mall for example. So I literally have the 70 rupees and that’s it. Again, the thought of reading all this stuff online battles against the thought that this woman is literally begging and pleading me for a bite of food. I cannot even begin to understand what that might be like. A local comes up to me and just starts talking to me, asking where I am from and ignoring the woman. I ask if he can tell her I wish I could but I cannot help, I have no cash. He does and she scolds me and walks away. The local guy laughed and I asked why, he goes, “she just scolded you for not giving her anything.” Great. I try to explain my situation but he doesn’t seem to care much and says nice to meet you and walks away. I am so torn at this point, what am I supposed to do with homeless people. I have basically no cash, not that I am even supposed to give that out anyway. Or am I? I don’t know. I text the WhatsApp number for an update on the bus, as I am on my phone three more kids come up to me. What is it about this spot?! Let me paint the picture a bit. I have everything I have with me, so two backpacks, one is a colorful and flashy Cotopaxi bag, the other is a decent backpack that I have had since I was fourteen or something. I am wearing a silver watch, with bracelets and four silver rings, I am just putting away my new iPhone. The point of me saying this is because I know I do not look like I have nothing to give. It is obvious I have some money. The guilt of holding a backpack with thousands of dollars in camera gear and laptop stuff as I tell kids I can’t give them a few quarters. Fuck man. They keep saying money and looking at me, tugging on my pants and tapping my backpack. This goes on for about thirty seconds and I do not know what to do. The idea that they are being forced to work for a cartel in order to get a bite of food, working with people who do not love them, do not care about them, having to walk up and beg for a few cents. It sucks. They then ask for food and I turn around to go see what I can get at this bakery but the owner guy is standing next to me handing them sandwiches. I thank him and try to ask what I am supposed to do but he doesn’t speak English really. I feel guilty, I feel privileged, and I feel like an asshole for not doing something about it. Please bus just hurry up. About five minutes later another woman, and then another woman, and then a man. It didn’t stop, eventually the shop owner came out and told me to wait inside so they wouldn’t bother me. So again, I am the one getting to have a seat inside a shop so I wouldn’t be “bothered”, the one getting privilege for their position. It definitely was a bit of an eye-opening moment and started some reflection on some of the words and points I have been making over the last few days. Before that, if anybody has a solid solution to help individual local kids when they come up to me without me handing them money, let me know. I have a feeling when I get to other and poorer parts of India it isn’t going to get any better. Anyway, privilege. I am in a position to be able to travel to other parts of the world, in a financial position where I am able to work a job that payed me enough where I can quit for a while and go travel, and frankly not too stressed about finding another well paying job. I have a passport that allows me to go basically anywhere in the world without needing to hope I get approved time after time. I grew up in a family that encouraged travel. I am a white male, it makes it easy for me to travel solo, among many other things. I grew up in a middle class family in a solid state with parents who made enough so I didn’t have to drop out of school and try and provide for my family. I grew up in a country where a day of working a sales job is enough to live a week or two in India. I was able to be educated. I can go on and on and on with this list of privileges that I did not have to do anything for, I was just born in the situation to just get most of these things. So, when you read these blogs about a man who is able to not work, able to not stress about life, able to go to a country and just exist to see what comes from it, know that it isn’t the case for everybody. I just want to provide awareness to the fact that I am lucky to be able to do this. A twelve year old girl begging me for money on the streets cannot just meditate her problems away. She cannot just watch life happen and see where it goes, knowing at any minute if it becomes too much I can buy a ticket back home to a comfortable life and existence where I have everything I would ever need to never struggle. It IS a big deal if some of these people miss their $17 bus ride and have to pay extra money because of it. Another example where I cannot sit here and say, “everything happens for a reason” when a six year old is begging a tourist for some money, only for most of it to be taken from her in exchange for what? Not dying? I am privileged to be able to have every need taken care of to the point I can fuck off for a while and think about what life really is. Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs, we have all heard of it, well for me I am sitting on exploring Self-Actualization. I was born in a position where my physiological needs, my safety and security, and my love and belonging were all given to me the day I was born, and fostered in my childhood to allow self-esteem to grow. That is a privilege that so many of these people I interact with do not have. So, it is hard to say the answers are all in letting go. Chances are that little girl is not going to get any type of education, let alone a high enough education to be able to support a family and help them get out of poverty. She will working on the first two Needs forever. There isn’t a whole lot she can do about that, and that isn’t fair. I just want to point out that I am aware of this, especially now, and I want you to be too when you think about the ability to even have these thoughts and conversations. I do not want to come across and say these are the answers, for you or anybody. Just want to share where my mind goes in terms of the self exploration that this surrender project is bringing on that I wasn’t anticipating. I believe it is important to respect this perspective, but I do not think it means people who are privileged cannot have struggles too. This doesn’t mean you cannot cry because your hamster died just because there are homeless people out there who have bigger problems. Maybe just let it be a reminder from time to time to be grateful to be able to be in a position where you can love an animal so much because you aren’t struggling for food or a home. This sucks, it is hard to see people struggle like this. I do not blame the old lady for scolding me out for not giving her money or food. I would be pretty pissed too if I was hungry and some ‘rich' dude wouldn’t give me a freaking dollar. Selfishly, I was pretty relieved when the bus arrived and I could remove myself from that situation. I needed some time to reflect and game-plan how I was going to handle it in the future.

I felt a bit guilty that I have so much and they have so little. I felt guilty that it felt relieving to get away from the situation of people begging me for money. I felt guilty that I didn’t give anything to them. I felt guilty that I was the one the shop owner helped out by bringing me inside to prevent them from ‘bothering’ me. I decided to research it a bit, what was I supposed to do when kids came up to me? The answers were pretty much what you would expect: give them food not money, give them clothes not money, if you give them money it goes to the cartel. Alright, be prepared next time and have some money where you can buy a $0.50 sandwich if a kid asks for it, easy enough. I am still deciding if me feeling guilty that I have more is a healthy response to this. I am not even sure if that is the correct word to describe the feeling. I had to google the definition of guilt, “a feeling of having committed wrong or failed in an obligation.” This is my favorite definition from Oxford Languages. To correct myself, I feel guilty for failing to do an obligation of helping those in need, for not giving. I feel grateful that I was given the life I was and for all the privileges I have. Overall I am grateful for the reminders and perspective of this project, to be grateful to even be able to do any of this at all.

As I reflected on all this I eventually fell asleep into the state I mentioned earlier. After getting a decent chunk into the blog we stopped at this restaurant where we could get a bite to eat. I was quite hungry at this point so went to see what they had. As a man was ushering me to sit I had to inform him I only had 70 rupees. We had a bit of a conversation around paying with card or phone, but they didn’t take card and I cannot use Phonepe, the app everybody uses to pay for everything because you need an Indian bank account. Eventually I got the omelet, which was 70 rupee. He brings it out and then asks if I want some roti (like a pita but no pocket) to go along with it. I told him of course but I am out of money like we talked about. He shook his head and went back to get me some roti to eat with my meal. After I was done and had thanked him he said, “are you sure that is enough food? Is there anything else I can get you?” And I had to deny and just thank him for his generosity. It made me feel so taken care of, and also like a bit an of asshole for not giving to the homeless earlier. By the way, it is okay if you think I was a bit of an asshole earlier as well, I am not going to defend that. It was a challenging situation to be in and I was overthinking it in the moment, in hindsight I definitely could have bought 70 rupees worth of food for a few people. I think I would be just fine if I had to only eat one meal that day. Afterwards I got back on the bus, going in and out of half sleep until I arrived in Mumbai around 7:30 in the morning.

Talking about privilege and things like that is a bit challenging. I hope to never come across in a way that feels indicative to somebody who doesn’t realize the privilege they have. Like all things, there is a balance in recognizing it and taking steps to do something for those who have less, while also not allowing it to prevent me from doing things that my privilege allows (there are definitely examples where this is not the case. But for me personally in this exact travel scenario I think it is applicable). Not traveling to India just because others are not able to doesn’t seem to be benefit anybody. With all of that said, I am grateful to be able to be in this position to travel and explore while fulfilling a self-made project. I do not take that lightly. I hope these words all make sense, and I welcome any and every conversation around this if you feel like I am out of line or disagree with any of my thoughts here. Thanks again for tuning in.