Skip to main content

5. Namaste, Beautiful Souls

“Namaste (Hello)” 

I awkwardly greeted in Hindi to an Indian lady  passing by me. Unexpectedly, the cold, expressionless face—like a frozen wasteland blanketed in pitch-black darkness slowly warmed with the gentle glow of spring morning sunlight, and a bright smile blossomed like a sunflower in full bloom. I gathered my courage to ask for her name. "Yapka naam kya hai?" (What is your name?) She was startled at my Hindi —and then shyly told me her name, but it was too long for me to remember.

An Indian boy  walking toward me stepped aside to give me the way. "Dhanyavaad" (Thank you)" I said, waving my half-raised hand  in gratitude. He gave me a smile as bright as  a hundred fluorescent lights lit up all at once. That was the beginning. The few clumsy words of Hindi from my mouth became a magical key to the doors of their hearts. Their attitude toward changed, and so did the way I saw them.

I wanted to get emotionally closer to them. So,I praised the wonder of Ayurvedic medicine, the beauty of the Taj Mahal, the awe-inspiring Ellora caves carved from an entire rock mountain. I also pointed out the lack of creativity in Hollywood movies, while admiring how abundant story telling of Bollywood films vividly portrayed diverse lives in the rich manner. My interest and shallow understanding in Indian culture brought surprise and excitement to their faces. I noticed their pride in theri culture and identity finally felt respected.  

OnceI let go of vague, baseless prejudices , I could begin to see them from different angles.    

They were the fathers working like a warrior to support their families burdened with heavy responsibilities on their shoulder, the mothers whose hands had grown rough and knuckles thick from  sacrifice and devotion to their family, sons and daughters living cramped in humble rooms to send more money back home, struggling international students continuing hard labor to pay for expensive tuition. 

They retained the dignity and purity of spirit at the lowest points of life, amidst the hardship, . I was mesmerized by a beauty of their soul so radiant it could hardly be described as mere brightness.It was a powerful experience—an unforgettable moment. Perhaps, in that moment, I saw the Holy Spirit, the Buddha-nature, or the divinity within human beings  Obviously, my spiritual eyes were opening.  Like a bird breaking out of its shell for coming into existence,a new version of myself was being born. They were acting as midwives, helping me through a smooth delivery. From the muddy waters, a lotus was beginning to bloom. 

This blog was originally written in Korean by Young Hwa Son and first published on Brunch, a Korean writing platform. The link is provided below.  https://brunch.co.kr/brunchbook/heavenwarehouse



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

6. Work at Heaven

I have been so easily swayed  by the  stereotype  I never agreed to,  by the  social norm  I could neither verify nor embrace,  by the  expectations I never wished to meet The pure, radiant, and sometimes dynamic energy around them — it felt like the warm sunlight falling on a withering tree that had never bloomed before,  the tender rain nourishing the wilted soil of my spirit, gently coaxing the desire to live back to life. Their warm glances blossomed into the light small talk, then grew into sincere acts of kindness.  All knowledge and information were shared openly, every question met with earnest answers,  and where something was lacking, it was filled with care. No call for help was ever turned away. In a harsh world where those who own nine take the only possession of those who have one in order to  complete their ten, even at corners of the  logistics  world,  alongside these quiet souls who b...

3. Runaway to warehouse

I dragged a metal cart for pick with a high vis vest and clunky safety boots on me. I looked like a truly pitiful  prisoner stripped of self-respect in a uniform that robs dignity. I  lamented my situation.   A samll mercy was that I was far away from the gossipy Korean expat community in Australia. I did not have to worry about those 'watchful eyes'.  I had to use the muscles I have not touched before , so t his labor—what Calvin once called “divine”—was making my whole body ache. Things like racial background, the nationality, or the past career meant nothing at the workplace. All temp workers followed the same dress code, received the same rate, and did the same tasks. That equality built  a strange sense of kinship of the shared struggle, and most people treat one another without barriers. This setup, reminiscent of communism ’s ideals of’ work together, share together’, ironically coexists with the capitalism —the very system that thrives on...