making meaning of my diamond ring
and how Indian (or possibly Eastern) wisdom can be passed down
My parents were raised in an India that was slowly industrializing. The late 60s, 70s, and early 80s shaped their habits around spending money and use of materials. While neither my mother or father grew up in rural poverty, their households were shaped by those that had experienced poverty’s death grip, and so, as children, they learned the value of a penny and a single grain of rice. Sometimes at the cost of a flesh wound. To my knowledge my grandparents never wrote a treatise on waste and reuse, but just because you can’t see the roots of a tree, it doesn’t mean they’re not there.
I’ve heard some Indians dismiss this invaluable aspect of Indian culture as, oh we were a poor country so people did not waste food, clothes, cups, whatever. It is self-diagnosed as a pathology and the idea that it might be pre-meditated is dismissed. It’s difficult to say with certainty what people do intentionally if they never speak about it and such is the case with my mother, grandmothers, and aunts. When they keep the flow of water from the kitchen faucet at a light drip, as opposed to a raging gush, is it a water-saving instinct or a water-saving calculation rooted in an Indian ethic? Surely women of the third world have them, would you not agree?
To this day the trash, or dust bin as it’s called in India, in our house is a tiny turquoise bucket that is emptied once every two days and all organic waste is placed in a separate white pail that goes straight to the cows for feeding. A household of ten generates such little waste and why should they not? All our food is cooked at home so there are no plastic or paper containers to toss. Milk comes from the cows and is stored in large steel bowls. All produce is bought in the market and ferried in a cloth bag. To an extent this culture is the result of an agricultural region largely untouched by industrialization, but there is a wisdom in the people who preserve it. My parents carried this wisdom with them as they flew overseas and landed in America.
There is a yellow blouse my mom uses to clean the grime off her lawnmower. Our family dog slept in it for 15 years before her eternal sleep thus giving the shirt a third life. Its first life was on my body, and it was a kind of sexy shirt at that. It had flown to Oregon from Cambodia, but its one intended destiny fractured into three and the markets punched the air. In our household Fage yogurt containers became Tupperware, dish sponges migrated to the garage to clean the car, restaurant napkins and ketchup packets must have saved us at least a million dollars, and neither the kitchen sink nor trashcan had ever tasted food. Under the watchful eye of my mother, our household produced next to no waste. You see, when you buy very little, you throw away very little.
We rarely shopped for the essentials and almost never shopped for pleasure. I spent most of my childhood and teenage years wondering what drinks, appetizers, and dessert tasted like. I lusted for Uggs, NorthFace jackets, Jansport backpacks, and jelly sandals. Only during Christmas would my parents cave and give us one gift each.
While my little brain succumbed to marketing campaigns that trickled down into my classroom, my parents were steadfast. Like a pair of redwoods, they stood tall and rooted in their principles. While I, a tiny sapling, cried and cribbed for charm bracelets, at their height my parents could see at a greater distance with clearer vision. The more you want, the more you want. Your job is not to find joy in stuff. Your job is to find joy in life which is in laughter, music, dance, stories, hard work, knowledge, heritage, food, hikes, bike rides, mountains, forests, valleys and rivers, rice paddy fields and coconut tree groves, in prayer, in family, and in communion.
Then one fine day my fiancé, now husband, bequeaths me with a jaw-dropping, breath-snatching, stone-cold knockout diamond ring. I get to keep this? I had never owned such gorgeous jewelry. I wore it that week and kept glancing down in surprise. Oh you’re still there, tiny star. I went swimming at my gym and the man in the lane next to me beckoned and said You have a five table ring. A woman five tables over will notice it. Later that month my hand needed respite from all the friends who had caressed it. Six weeks in I became accustomed to the tiny star and developed a reflex of obscuring it from wandering eyes in the streets of San Francisco. It attracted too much of the wrong attention and if push came to shove, I would not be capable of protecting my tiny star. I began to worry for its safety and learned to circumnavigate certain parts and certain people. My concerns for the suffering homeless in the city were replaced by concerns for the tiny star. Its luster remains as impressive as the first time I saw it. It is a tiny star worthy of the name, so why do I feel like a fallen one?
The subject of consumerism is decades old in America. What began in the 1950s has reached a fever pitch. If I am aware of the harms of globalization, consumerism, and materialism, why then do I love my diamond ring? Is it not a gateway to insatiable greed, I fret to myself late at night sometimes. Can I love this one ring and still escape the tendrils of consumerism?
To my pleasure, the tiny star is not the spawn of Sauron. For example, it has not made me want another. I consider the desire, from time to time, but only as a silly, fleeting idea. The Bay Area is such an expensive place that everyone around me is increasingly eager to make and discuss money. Financial literacy is important, especially for women. This may be so but I also find that, to quote Beyoncé, if “my best revenge is my paper”, I might sooner die by the very sword I sought to live by.
There is an Indian wisdom of minimalism that raised me and it rules my heart. I hope to pass it on to my children. And to you. And you. And you. Do I really need this is the first question that comes to mind before any purchase. Can this be reused is the question I ask when the time comes. I am not so interested in purchasing second hand clothing or going out of my way to source ethical products. I’d like to simply not own or want very much, materially speaking. To me this ethic could extend beyond India to the entire East. The lines between Hinduism and Buddhism have always been blurry to me anyway. It still remains to be seen if my desires can begin and end with the tiny star which, like its namesake, symbolized the beginning of a new life. Gratefully, I suspect my heart is immune to its wily whispers of why not buy just one more?
Wow wow wow finally I got to read the entire article. Very beautifully articulated with facts and real life incidents. Yes in the house I lived for 30 years not single ounce of garbage did we generate. All things were consumed and recycled within the site of 200x100 feet. Currently people say (Be it India or US) that we are very environmentally conscious we recycle all the pop cans, plastic bottles .... Ironically more one recycles they are more environmentally conscious, it never occurs to them they should not be producing them at all. Keep the diamond ring, it is a 1 time gift for you which we never gave :) enjoy but don't go for the second one :) :)