Sit by the Ganga long enough and you’ll feel it. The river flows endlessly.

You sit silently. And suddenly your mind whispers “We are nothing. Temporary travelers.Our fights, ambitions, relationships, achievements are all pointless.”

You nod slowly, pretending you didn’t just think about quitting your job and becoming a minimalist.

People nearby assume you’ve reached enlightenment. Because apparently, location matters more than logic.

Now imagine the same thought arriving elsewhere.

You’re sitting on the commode.

Door locked.

Phone in hand.

Life paused.

And the exact same realization hits:

“Everything is useless.”

But this time there’s no river.

No breeze.

No chanting.

Only an exhaust fan screaming like it regrets being born. Suddenly, it’s not spirituality anymore. It’s “bro, are you okay?”

At the ghat, this thought is called awakening. In the bathroom, it’s called depression with Wi-Fi.

Funny thing is that the thought doesn’t change. Only the aesthetics do.

The universe doesn’t care where you sit. It sends truth wherever you’re most defenseless.

Ganga gives you poetry.

The toilet gives you honesty.

At the river, your ego dissolves slowly. In the bathroom, it collapses violently. There, stripped of dignity and social performance, you don’t feel divine. You feel replaceable.

Your career? Optional.

Your anger? Meaningless.

Your enemies? Probably asleep.

Your legacy? One forgotten password away from deletion.

That’s when it hits hardest. Not “we are part of something bigger.” But:

“No one is keeping score.” And that’s terrifying. Because if nothing really matters… then all the stress you carry every day was self-inflicted.

We romanticize suffering only when it looks aesthetic.

Pain with sunlight = philosophy.

Pain with tiles = mental breakdown.

Yet both reveal the same truth. You don’t need holy water to feel small. Sometimes a bad stomach is enough.

Turns out, enlightenment doesn’t come from the Ganga, it comes when even your ego can’t survive the flush.

Later.