We’re Not Dead

“We’re not dead”..says a friend, ever so casually as we had just crossed over the train tracks.

“In fact, someone died just last week while trying to cross the tracks”. 

So why did this simple phrase strike such a nerve. I wonder. That’s right. We aren’t dead. But we could have been. It sends a shiver down my spine. The Colorado shootings that recently took place and other instances surrounding mortality in the recent few days have got me thinking.

I recall questions posed by two of my friends about my wandering nature. 

Why are you always wandering?

I guess I like the adventure and challenge. 

You realize you can find the same thing just at home.

I guess so.

Why do you want to deal with developing world challenges when you can deal with bigger challenges elsewhere?

 I don’t know.

 I start to think about these things more deeply. Why am I always wandering, what exactly am I looking for? Why do I want to forever been in this ambiguous and unrealistic phase of wandering and wondering what will happen next? Why here? Why not my own country. Every minute of being here in Morocco forces me to think of India, whether I want to or not. From the garbage lining the streets, to the smells, to the yells of the vegetable vendor on the street. The utter chaos that is life here, is that of India. So then why didn’t I go there, make a difference there. Why here, not there?

This entire city reeks of India, in the most endearing terms of course. And now I’m off to India for one week. I think it will be a good time to reflect on my time in Morocco by completely removing myself from the country for some time. Perhaps I will have a more objective view.

At least I have been spared one more chance to figure it out.