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Private journal: Having been foretold that his son will become a monk, the king took all precautions to shelter his son from things that would make him think too deeply. The baby grew up with luscious mango gardens, given a beautiful wife and all of his servants were told to smile and replaced when age showed. At the age of 30, the prince saw for the first time in his life an old beggar. I wonder how the prince felt and what his thoughts were seeing someone so frail.

Connections that run through my mind: If 30% of the English language in compromised of the Anglo-Saxon warrior tribes and 60% of the Greek/Latin philosophers, does it mean it takes less words to fight than to farm in any language? One of the worst punishments on a human psyche is to want something they cannot have but be so close to touch. Sisyphus knew this pushing his rock up a hill. Legend has it that so did the Shah Jahan, the king who built the Taj as a testament of love for his wife. The Shah was legendary for his guardianship of the structure making contractors and workers alike swear to never work on a similar project and beheading those who wished to replicate it. Yet, when one of his sons desired the same, he was was placed under house arrest on the top of one of the minarets with a window over looking the Taj. Years later, that same son killed his brothers, claimed the throne and placed his father under house arrest, except this time the window to the Taj was sealed shut.

I’ve chosen to celebrate my birthday this year by visiting the Taj Mahal and the Rajastan region for my friend’s wedding. I contemplate on the reality of the situation and how my thoughts reflect so easily in this country. India in mid July is not something I can predict. I doubt that she ever predicted out of all her friends, I would be the one attending. She tells me not even her family will make it, and it makes me wonder if I’m the only one who views “family” without the prerequisite of blood, time and/or location. The warnings from previous visitors are plenty: beware of the lice, the dung, the heat, the smell, the water, the crowds, the air, the pickpocket children, and more. I think about Colombia and the kidnappings, drug wars and the roofies to render a person unconscious. I wonder if the visible filth is worse than the implication of filth.

Truth is, I don’t get it. I don’t get how people speak of pride for a place/culture/nation and turn around to use violence against it. I don’t get how politicians in countries so rich with resources like Colombia and India can engage in corruption, sacrificing many for their own gain. I don’t get many things but among it all, I remember my friend who spent many years quiet and alone without dating. I thought it was unhealthy treating herself this way…soon, she’ll be getting married. Thinking of the Taj Mahal, I finally get that she put herself in the minaret for safety and not for punishment. It’s not that we see what we want to see, sometimes. It’s that we remember what we understand and choose the direction of that which we don’t.

The prince left his town at 30 to find answers for the suffering he saw for the first time at 30. His name was Siddhartha, but later he came to be known as Buddha.