Black as My Coffee

When I signed up for a half marathon in Ladakh, I thought Ladakh would be the main highlight of my 17-day visit to Kashmir and Ladakh, with Kashmir just being a filler part of my grand Ladakh adventure. I was wrong.

Ladakh was tremendous. However, this time, due to the race and the fact that I got sick, I couldn’t explore it the way I had imagined. Being a solo traveller and not staying at a hostel was also a wrong decision on my part. However, I think next time I will explore it better.

It was Srinagar with which I fell in love. I started solo travelling at the start of this year, the reason being that life was not going the way I wanted. I wanted something more than spending my weekends in Bangalore listening to sad music.

Srinagar felt like a reflection of me, a place whose soul resonated with my own. I was there for a very short duration, but I visited Downtown (Shehr-e-Khaas) three times for photowalks. It still didn’t feel enough. Shehr-e-Khaas, a place that felt like ghazal manifested. Walking across bridges over the Jhelum – Ali Kadal, Fateh Kadal, and many more – when you pause for a moment, you will feel the pain that is in your heart and can feel that this place also has a heart, and it is aching just like yours. I had never felt like this about a city.

For me, this is the real fruit of travelling anywhere – to feel and understand the place, people, and traditions. No place is perfect, just like no human is perfect. But you will fall in love with it, as you do with imperfect humans, if you try to understand it and what it encompasses and it’s history.

Wooden houses, many broken, with decaying windows, show what time does to a place or a person. Isn’t this like a ghazal – beautiful yet aching? You want to be with it even if it is painful – that is its beauty.

Walking under mighty Chinar trees in Nishat Bagh, I cried. I don’t know if it was for me or for the place. I think it was both.

The food (Wazwan and walnut fudge), kahwa, and noon chai, the culture, the people – everything was beautiful. There was a bright sparkle in their eyes that you couldn’t miss.

It hasn’t even been half a month, and I can’t stop thinking about going there again and exploring Srinagar even more.

I have started reading about the place(Kashmir) so I can understand it even better when I am there next time. See my current reading below.

I was assailed by memories of a life that wasn’t mine anymore, but one in which I’d found the simplest and most lasting joys: the smells of summer, the part of town I loved, a certain evening sky, Marie’s dresses and the way she laughed.

This was a quick four-hour read—Part 1 was a good story, while Part 2 (especially Chapter 5) was mostly reflective and compelling to think about.

This post is not a review, but rather what I was able to comprehend philosophically. I could be completely wrong, but this will be useful if I revisit the text in the future.

Before the final section of Part 2, Chapter 5, it seems to me that the protagonist (Meursault) wants to live—not because life has some special meaning or outcome, but simply to live—to be on the beach, hear the ocean, smoke cigarettes, be with women, etc.

But at the same time, he doesn’t really care and is okay if he to trade the free life for an imprisoned one and the thought of living imprisoned forever.

Anyway, it was one of Maman’s ideas, and she often repeated it, that after a while you could get used to anything.

After his sentence is announced, he tries for a while to find ways to escape and avoid death. But soon he reflects, “What’s the point if, after 20 years, death will again hang over his head and he will once again struggle to escape it?” Still, he does not want to die that day and is grateful for each successive 24 hours he gets to live.

The part where he used to calm himself (which would last for just an hour or so) regarding the possibility of his appeal for pardon being rejected was quite interesting:

If the appeal is rejected → the same painful fate after X years; therefore, it is better to be guillotined now (though he still had to forcibly stifle the thought that wished for those extra 20 years).
If pardoned -> …

Is Camus saying, “Life has no built-in meaning in this vast, meaningless universe—and you need to accept it”?

It’s different from nihilism (not that I know much about it), because as I understand it, nihilism says the universe or life has no higher meaning and is therefore pointless. Camus, on the other hand, seems to suggest that while life has no higher meaning, it is still real while it exists. So live it, but don’t be troubled by the fact that you won’t be able to enjoy it forever. Marie, the sun, the sea—all of these mattered while they were present, but they don’t need to be eternal. So he doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t mind if he does.

I think I can relate to this somewhat. It doesn’t matter what has happened—if you are f***ed, accept it. Here, acceptance is not surrender or resignation; it is simply acknowledgment. Just be open to both states of being:

It was good while it lasted—one life.
Now be dead—another life.

Both are equally meaningless in the universe, but still not worthless (at least to you). While writing this, I realize I am contradicting myself. Maybe that’s what absurdism is.