It came recommended by a friend, and I had to watch it because she said it's worth a watch. Now for all those who think its because of the hype created by the incessant rant of Indian media (which makes false, true and the trivial, news) at the movie doing an astounding round at the Golden Globe awards, or because Anil Kapoor jumped up from his seat enthusiastically when an award was announced for the movie, no, that was not the reason why I watched it.
There is something about movie making and literature about India which strikes me as strange, India's poverty portrayed in its disgusting originality is always award winning material. Don't get me wrong, I love the movie, I love Indian literature and I love another's perspective of India, but what really stands out is the poverty, the slums, the hunger, the struggle for survival, the violence, the corruption and the crimes.
I really needed a reality check, am I choosing to look at only some part of it and missing that part of India which comes under the microscope and becomes a big hit on big silver screens or becomes a bestseller across the globe?
A small 10 minute walk away from my place is a river, (or used to be a river, now it's mostly a drainage), there's a huge bridge on it (courtesy: the corporation or the British) and below the bridge are 6' x 6' x 6' shelters made of bamboo sticks, tarpaulin and plastic sheets, which serve as homes for a few members of homo sapien species. I use that name because they have the same physical form, exhibit similar physical processes, but their method of survival, their lives and their worlds seem to be dramatically different from the rest of us. They worry about their daily bread while those plying on the bridge are in a rush to capitalize on someone else's loss.
They live by the streetlights and cooking fires, the stinking river is the source of their drinking water. They bathe and wash there as well. I fail to fathom at what cost do they keep themselves from starving to death.
One evening as I walked back home, from a vantage point on the bridge I saw an India amidst those dwellings which I wouldn't like to remember, the India painted by the literary world. As I walked ahead on a dark by-road where there are only huge bungalows, a small distance away like no normal kid from the "civilized" India I know, there stood a girl probably 12 or 13, dressed gaudy, colorful clothes, face all made up with cheap colors. I saw her face in a feeble light, that of her expensive mobile, which she constantly monitored to check for calls. I walked past her. A motorcycle stopped close to where she stood, she talked to the person, got on his bike and rode off.
As I watched the movie, I had a sense of deja vu, I had seen this before, not to its entire extent or capacity, but in glimpses.It was from the India that we all choose not to see, to consciously ignore, India described by Rohinton Mistry and the likes of him.
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On a brighter note, I felt extremely happy as I saw A. R. Rahman steal the spotlight for the beautiful music he rendered to the movie. I told my husband, "its kind of inspirational, his story." I would love to read a biography of his life. My husband says he must have faced his own struggles to reach where he is. But I feel he is gifted too, there's a talent, a creativity, which was required to make it to this stature.
The best I could get was his story the way Wikipedia puts it. But I cannot contain my joy as I read his birth date: 6th January, the same date on which yours truly made her whining entry into the world.
Now I wave my hands over the crystal ball and gaze into the future to see if this magic number weaves magic for me :)
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