Something I learned from my grandfather though not in these words: everyone has an important piece of truth inside them although for some you have to dig quite deep. Whenever I get cynical and start to forget this, something like the following occurs.
While out at a quiet restaurant for drinks with a few Westerners, a guy started a conversation from the bar while having some tequila shots. I wrote him off as a loudmouth desi (Indian living abroad) but it’s hard for me to stop digging once I start talking to someone. He came from Canada and hinted that he dealt drugs there. He bragged about the quality hash he got when in Punjab because his uncle works on the border patrol and gets a cut of the stuff coming in from Pakistan. He talked a lot of bullshit and I wanted to end the conversation but felt obliged because of the shots he got for us. Then as we talk more, I find out his daughter stays with his mother there in India because he lost his wife in a boating accident a few years before. He told her to wear her lifejacket and he’ll always regret not pushing her a little harder to put it on. It made him value others more and “I find a beautiful piece of life from everyone I meet since I lost my wife.” Before he left the table, he quietly declared the purpose of life: “to find someone to share your pain and your joy.” Truth is everywhere.
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