The people I saw in India might not have been the people you saw in India, or the people your friends saw in India. I want to believe that these were the people of MY trip to India. Special. Individual, and all mine. Experientially.
I was struck by their
kindness. The complete honest feeling I got from 99% of the people I met and
came across. These are good hearted and warm people. In the chaotic struggle of
survival that is India, their spirit seemed unbroken.
When my wife was speaking about Bollywood movies to some young girls and she was asked what her favorite movie was my wife replied “Life in a Metro”, a movie that the girls said they didn’t like because it was too “realistic". Bollywood makes more sense to me now having seen the cities and villages of India; you want to escape your reality for a minute, or maybe for 5 hours. Whichever comes first.
I saw the largest slum in all of Asia. Larger than the population of New York City. The train tracks split right through the middle of it. There were human beings stitched into every fiber of the filthy cardboard, wood, metal, plastic tarp encampment. It went on for miles and miles along the train tracks. I hung cautiously out of the train will all the other young men trying to get fresher air and to see the landscape, or a passing friend. I wondered if the boys dangling from the train were at all concerned with their lives or more to the point with the loss of their own lives.
When my wife was speaking about Bollywood movies to some young girls and she was asked what her favorite movie was my wife replied “Life in a Metro”, a movie that the girls said they didn’t like because it was too “realistic". Bollywood makes more sense to me now having seen the cities and villages of India; you want to escape your reality for a minute, or maybe for 5 hours. Whichever comes first.
I saw the largest slum in all of Asia. Larger than the population of New York City. The train tracks split right through the middle of it. There were human beings stitched into every fiber of the filthy cardboard, wood, metal, plastic tarp encampment. It went on for miles and miles along the train tracks. I hung cautiously out of the train will all the other young men trying to get fresher air and to see the landscape, or a passing friend. I wondered if the boys dangling from the train were at all concerned with their lives or more to the point with the loss of their own lives.
The value of a human life seemed puzzling to me. Are the
Hindus content with this life as it is? Do they make no attempt to change it
because they believe in reincarnation and are they just merely awaiting the
next life? Are they galvanized by their living conditions and feel powerless
about changing their country? These were some thoughts that would swirl around
my head.
What really left the strongest impression on me was not the piles of burning plastic bags and bottles or the smell of the river at low tide, or even the site of unsupervised infants left to their own devices in a mass of trash and feces.
What really left the strongest impression on me was not the piles of burning plastic bags and bottles or the smell of the river at low tide, or even the site of unsupervised infants left to their own devices in a mass of trash and feces.
What left the strongest impression was the spirit of the
people in the city and slums. They were not dejected. They were smiling and
going about their lives the best way that they knew how under the
circumstances.
All things considered my time in India was a whirlwind of
emotions and inexplicable feelings that even now as I write this are very
difficult to describe. However, the people left and indelible impression on me
that I would like to share with others that I know.
I hope to be able to convey a fraction of that with these
photos.
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