… and Slumdogs.
Some times, its funny how unaware people are about the world around them. You really cannot blame them or their life styles, everyone has a right to live the life they wish or the one that makes them happy. Especially when you are born and raised in an affluent country, you just tend to view life, relationships, money in a different way. Yes, there are still so many who venture out, read, travel, see, help, reach out, empathize with others living much different, poorer lives. Thankfully, I have friends from both these mindsets and it is always interesting to see the effects of my lineage has on them. Living in Bavaria, amongst these real simple people, who have big houses, rich living rooms, wonderful coffee machines, huge gardens, and patios to lounge upon on quiet summer afternoons, there is suddenly some commotion of one kind. Call it Slumdog Millionaire.
Slumdog movie has had varied effects on so many people, and the way they relate to me. Not always nicer or kinder, but a vague acknowledgement that a sadness exists and we are all so lucky to have the life we have now, here. Suddenly, some of my quiet, luxury loving friends are shaken to have seen real slums in Mumbai, though in a movie. “It ain’t a movie set?” “Why does she die?” “Is religion so defining ‘even’ now?” I was having coffee yesterday after my workout, and my friend asked me if I had watched this Oscar movie. I nodded and waited. She was almost teary eyed, “Do these slums really exist?” “Are children really live liking this?” And quietly, she said, she never would have believed that, it would be ‘this’ terrible. We sit there in the bright room, with its red leather upholstered chairs, sipping our expensive cappuccinos, lost in our own thoughts. Different thoughts, worlds apart.
A couple of weeks ago, I was having ‘Brotzeit’ ‘mid-day brunch’ very popular in Bavaria, with a couple of colleagues. People have a light something between breakfast and lunch everyday, and as we sat there sipping fruit teas and munching some ‘bredzen’ ‘pretzel’, my good friend asked me, “Have you seen that Indian movie?” Who needs a name, right? “Do they really do that to children?” “Take out eyes asking them to beg, and take their money” I nod. And we are all quiet, and go on drinking our teas and munching more. And my friend looks up at me and we both smiled sadly. Quite some long time ago, my Chinese friend watched the movie and commented, “Why are people fighting over the movie in India?” “I don’t know, I really don’t. I watched the movie when it was another unknown something before it became an Oscar frenzied hit!” “People don’t like portraying India as ‘slums’, and calling a ‘dog’ is not ok with them.” ” I thought it was a fantastic movie” He loved the movie. Nothing about the poverty or illiteracy, we both know how it is.
At the other end however, people directly assume that I come from a very rich family, with tons of money. Every time, they assume that and say it aloud, I feel like smacking them on their back with a pillow. I am not the violent kind, if you hadn’t noticed. My only thought when I encounter this assumption, “Why am I sitting here amongst you all, if I had the luxury and nothing to work for?” Anyways, as I say, there are always people who go beyond to argue their point of view. “You come from a rich family.” “I do?” “You didn’t come from the slum, did you?” I grit my teeth, roll my eyes, and shake my head. Perceptions take so little time to form, but stay long enough to not only make judgements, but also pass them on like flyers for a free concert of a band no one ever heard of.
Dash of Wilderness 