It Takes a Village

03/21/2023 - Gushaini, India

The village gathers on the main road. People stand under the jutting edges of tin roofs to hide from the rain. Socialization must go on. I’ve been introduced to many central figures in town: The bus driver, the general store owner, the journalist. I sit and drink tea with the others, pretending to be one of them. They tell extravagant stories to each other in their local language. Sometimes the storyteller will speak directly to me like an old friend. On the surface, I’m just any other audience member, but in reality, I have no idea what is being said. I just listen, smile, and nod when the attention is turned to me. I believe there is an osmosis when it comes to storytelling. While I have no idea what they’re talking about, I’m, at the very least, one person in a group of others reliving some moment and enjoying company. I don’t need to know the story, I just need to be present, and I will get meaning out of it. This village has awakened a crisis of values within me. I sit and witness the daily life, and I can tell, from the marrow of my bones, that the village is a superior way to live – small, helpful, close, troubled, loyal, simple, and meaningful. At the same time, I feel incapable of it. Maybe it’s cultural. This lifestyle is not conducive to the American ideal of success. I feel, in some ways, that I would have to turn my back on my creative ambitions to live this way. Even in the two days that I’ve been here, I’ve felt the itch of stagnation and the antagonizing passage of time. I nervously anticipate the things that I’ll need to do when I get back to New York to be most productive. I fear that the gnawing ambition for more will never subside. If I should ever have a family, I worry that I’d hold some sort of resentment towards them or see them as an obstacle in the way of a career that I wanted to achieve. That’s no way to live. I’m certainly aware of the absurdity of it all – it’s a tale as old as time: The man who achieved money, wealth, success, and ended up alone and sad. Yet few people escape this trap. I don’t want to be blind to the right path. I suppose it boils down to values. Do I value a quiet life with a family over a busy and successful career? On paper, and diplomatically speaking, my answer is yes, but that burning doubt remains.

At night we play cards.