why i love humankind
and you should too
Well, it has been a long time. I won’t make any promises in this issue of The Windmill. But I want you to know that the newsletter is not going anywhere anytime soon.
Looking out my window, the night sky looks lovely, albeit a little polluted; it holds a certain promise — that civilization is making progress, and people are going about their own thing, whatever that may be. It makes me feel insignificant on some days but only lasts a few minutes.
“Why is that?” you may ask. It seems insignificant because the things I do, my thoughts, and the potential for some impact in my lifetime seem minuscule when I think about all these people carrying on with their lives.
At the same time, it only lasts a few minutes because I know Humankind is also incredibly generous, giving people their fair share of shots to have some impact in whatever way they can.
I’m only 24 and still have a whole life to live out (I wish to live till I’m 102 years old, but let’s see). And frankly, I’m not looking for meaning in life, at least right now. My life seems quite meaningful as it is — I contribute to the economy, friendships, family, and social media.
In return, they offer me something to do, meaningful conversations, and answers to the important questions in life, such as, “What is a situationship and how do you know if you are in one?” You can find the answers here.
I’ll share two stories, somehow tied to each other but distinct. The common thread is that they reinforced this belief that I have in Humankind — that people are generally kind, and that is a lovely thing.
The first story unfolds in the beautiful town of Darjeeling. In contrast, the second story took form on the Vande Bharat train on my way back from the beautiful town of Darjeeling.
I miss home very much — my family members, the people I left behind, and the seasonal food. Darjeeling felt like home — it was deeply unsettling. After a successful sunrise photo session with the Kanchenjunga, I stopped at a tea stall on my way to the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute.
I’m not a tea person (at least not as of this writing), so when the tea stall lady told me I should try Darjeeling tea, I said yes reluctantly and had a cup of tea. I paid for the cup of tea, discarded the cup, and was about to leave when I noticed a piece of tapioca in the waste bin.
Technically, tapioca is the starch extracted from the tubers of the cassava plant. But, for our purposes, tapioca means the tubers of the cassava plant (pictured below).
Back to the waste bin, I naturally asked the lady if she had any more tapioca left. She said she indeed had some more. She had to discard some of it because it was half-cooked. Apparently, her mother-in-law forgot to cook it properly.
She said I could have some of it if I didn’t mind waiting. It’s been years since I ate it last, so I said I did not mind waiting. After some waiting, she offered me a few pieces of tapioca — the best few pieces of tapioca I had in a long time.
When I asked her how much I needed to pay (it was a shop, after all), she said, “You are like my son, how can I take money from you?” I almost teared up. I set foot in her tea stall some 30 minutes prior and did not see that coming. Afterward, she said her son lives in Siliguri and doesn’t come home often because he has work.
She need not have been that kind, as in, who am I? I’m sure dozens of travelers come to her shop daily. And it probably did not mean that much to her either because she lives there with her family. She must get tapioca every year. But, the experience left a deep impression on me. I don’t think I’m going to forget it for a long long time.
The second story of human kindness occurs on the Vande Bharat train, on my way back from Darjeeling. I have silenced all unknown callers (you can read about why I am like that here), but since I was on my phone, I saw the notification and picked up the call. I don’t know about you, but telemarketing calls annoy me greatly.
I thought this call was another telemarketing call. Naturally, I answered in a defiant tone. But this kind person on the other end said he was reaching out because he had my journal. It turns out that I left my journal containing my deepest thoughts at the hostel on my recent trip to Jaipur (I’ll write about it someday soon).
I had never changed my tone that quickly, I swear. To be sure, I asked him the color of the journal cover. Once confirmed, I said I was very grateful to him and would book a courier pickup immediately. The call ended, and I booked the courier service, but still had doubts.
At the same time, I felt hopeful about getting back the journal because I made entries in it on good days, and especially on bad days. He said, “I read through it, and it seemed like it means a lot to you; why didn’t you reach out?”
I did not reach out because I had no clue I had left it in Jaipur. I visit cafes quite a lot, so it could be any of these cafes — going back to each one and asking about the journal seemed like a lost cause.
Turns out I had not left it at work either. This person read the entries and probably realized that “this boy has been through a lot, and it might be a good idea to return the journal to him.”
I’m so glad that he chose to send it back. The journal came back untampered. I felt a deep sense of calm and hope. I feel it often, especially after that episode — this is why I love Humankind. Because people are trying to do their own thing — that most people are decently kind, even if some try to hurt you now and then. You might ask, “Well, doesn’t your belief in Humankind vanish when you get hurt by other people?”
I think my favorite line from my favorite book (it’s called Humankind: A Hopeful History, unsurprisingly) answers that doubt quite well. You should read my book note here.
“… accept and account for the fact that you’ll occasionally be cheated. That’s a small price to pay for the luxury of a lifetime of trusting other people.”
I hope you are doing well in whatever you are doing.
Leave a heart react; better still, you can leave a comment — share a recent story of kindness you experienced.
Until the next issue, bye! 👋🏻
— Reang
People who return your journals are a godsend! Also, that quote was hard-hitting; good to fight cynicism. Thanks for sharing!