There are so many things I can say when I read the words above, yet, whatever I will say will seem glib. For it is difficult to talk about humanity, in general, in easy terms. How do we define humanity? Is it the multitudes that inhabit this earth? Perhaps. But that is just one part for I tend to think it is also the emotions, dreams and aspirations, along with physical appearance of each one of us making up a whole that constitutes humanity. We need each other’s attributes to complement our own. We are interdependent.

In my journey through life there are certain incidents along with some characters that stand out and are worth mentioning here. Take for instance the man with a trunk on his head who used to come around our neighbourhood when we were growing up. We only knew him as the “trunkwallah” and crowded around the open trunk, our eyes lighting up with wonder at the sight of all kinds of beautiful objects packed inside this treasure chest. There were lengths of ribbon, combs and hair clips, handkerchiefs, sari petticoats for women, perfume, hair oil, and much, much more. Sometimes he came with a helper but most times he plied his trade on his own and by foot. My friend from Ireland assured me even they had a similar door-to-door salesman back in the village where she grew up.

The other tradesman that came to our door was the “sariwallah” who always had a helper to actually carry the load on his head while his boss called out his wares in a loud nasal voice. We would run to the verandah and seeing us young kids he would stop at our gate and, instruct us to get mother. He would wait patiently until we ran back into the house calling for mother.  For, this man was not one to take no for an answer. After all this was his means of earning a living. Once he had gained admittance he would proceed to untie the great bag, usually made of thick white cotton that had seen many travels and one which was tied in a very special way (even this I found interesting) that held an assortment of saris in the most amazing colours of the rainbow. Even if mother did not require another new sari she didn’t have the heart to turn him away, not after he had untied the bag, so the sariwallah would make a sale and leave, well pleased.

One day while driving through the countryside in Durham my friend and I started to chat about our childhood. In the course of the conversation I mentioned that our milkman used to bring his cow to our door to actually milk and pour this warm frothy liquid into a vessel that we provided. The fresh milk was then brought to the kitchen to be boiled and prepared for consumption by the family. My friend said even in Toronto there was the milk van (no, the driver didn’t bring his cow) and milk bottles were dropped off and the empties collected. This got us comparing our lives while growing up – I in India, she in Toronto. And, we discovered there wasn’t very much difference in our lives after all, albeit coming from different continents.

I have travelled extensively and almost always during my travels I have marvelled at similarities of lifestyle. While in Egypt I saw farmers watering their crops drawing water from a well – it could have been a scene straight out of any Indian village. Early one morning while driving through the city centre in Taiwan, my eyes beheld with growing delight a scene that I have encountered numerous times in my own hometown in India, something so commonplace that I had never given it a second thought. Until then. So when I saw Taiwanese shop owners sprinkling water to their store front preparatory to sweeping away the night’s debris it struck a chord in my mind opening the floodgates of memory. Of course, we do the same in India, don’t we? While in Taiwan, we also went to a tea drinking ceremony where the Tea Master initiated us in the real art of drinking tea. It was an uplifting experience teaching us to slow down. Years later I travelled through Munnar, the stupendously beautiful hill station in the western part of Kerala. Here the tea estates are vast and varied and in one we participated in the same type of tea ceremony hosted by a Tea Master.

The point I am trying to make is this – no matter where we come from, no matter where we have been born, we all belong to the same race – the human race. This is the beginning and the end. When we come into this race we bring a uniqueness that is entirely ours thus making up the ingredients required to make for different cultures, religions, language, and looks. Superficially speaking, then, each individual is different from the other. However, when inspected closely the characteristics of each individual will seem to meld into the other making one complete, superb whole. If we can understand and accept this truly remarkable phenomenon then we can also truthfully say that we belong together, that we depend on each other, that we work together to bring out the best in us, that we look out for each other in times of need, bolster each other’s morale, run the race together.

Keep Well…..Keep Smiling

Purabi Das