"What the hell is this?".They can't show this. I mean this is ridiculous. I wont sit to see this god damn movie. After all I am a proud Indian. As I stepped into Amherst cinema to see this movie I had no idea about the movie. Slumdog Millionaire. How could he call us the "slumdog". I made myself sit just for the heck of it because I had no way to go back home. I had to wait for my friends to drop me off. Slowly the "white" perspective of India unravelled before me. Much to the acclaim of the local residents who were awed at the kind of life people in India live. I was biased. I could not see the truth. But inside me there was a creative, an unbiased human who could see his soul soaring high in hope when he saw the excreta covered little boy filled with triumph after getting the autograph of the man who was the hope of his life. Scenes moved and background score gripped me. Extraordinarily genuine performances were making me like the movie but I was in a denial mode. A patriotic denial of which I was so proud of. Grandson of a freedom fighter who in his 23 years of small life had so much of bias inside him. The movie ended. I could definitely say that the first 2/3 of the movie was a pleasure to watch. The child artists made it possible. Still the fact that the movie was a western perspective of India. Especially a British director who was busy dramatising the poor slumdogs. I told my friends I wasn't very happy with the movie. Most of them disagreed with me.
After close to 5 months I seem to be the most happy person amongst my friends after the Slumdog Millionaire won 8 oscars. An award which I never cared about. Infact this was the first time I was seeing it. The same denial mode had kept me away from watching a western movie award. As the awards were being given one after the another on the backdrop off "Jai Ho" I could feel an adrenaline rush. The one which I last felt when India used to beat Pakistan in cricket in the mid 90's. I had lost the feeling since then. As I write this blog with Jai Ho blasting my ears I am filled with a sense of pride and humillity. A sense of immsense respect for Danny Boyle, the British director whose perspective I was so disgusted with.
This is my journey of hope. My reason to open the blog after close to 1.5 years when I thought Shawshank was a fiction and hope never existed. It was for the losers. The exploited class. Those who could neva achieve in life. Barack Obama could instill some hope in me. But his "hope" was American. Something I couldnt relate to. All I could do was to appreciate it. But that was neva mine. Probably that is why his winning the Democratic nomination and then the general elections couldnt make that adrenaline rush through me. But the personal journey I went through from the day I saw Slumdog in Amherst Cinema to the day I could see Danny Boyle take the award changed it all. It changed the face of Oscar and the face of the man inside me. I was no more a "brown". I could suddenly connect with Danny Boyle. With the jury of the Academy who gave the 8 oscars to the slumdog.
Rahman chose love over hate and so did I on that day. I dont know if the movie deserved all the acclaim over its other competitors. But I do know that the people over here and across the world feel the same way as I do. As Danny stood with the child artists and the whole cast and crew of Slumdog on the stage with "Jai Ho" reverbrating and the whole world giving them a standing ovation. I could see hope. A hope on the backdrop of an economic recession, a hope on the fissure of the racial, religous plates the world floats on. The bonding which Danny had with his multi racial crew which made him fly the child artists from one end of the world to the other. Sharing the stage with people probably their "indian idols" would have dreamt of.
The red carpet will hold the history in it. A history of a kind of bond which generations would be grateful to. An ode to a British who saw the spirit of hope in an erstwhile colonial city which his country once proudly owned. He made the other side of the world appreciate the venture with such a large heart which left a question in people's mind. How could it be possible? Probably they love seeing India as a country of slumdog. But can we as Indians ever disagree on a fact that such places and people in India do not exist? Ask yourself.(plz dont "Ask the monkey", I know there is one inside everyone).
Many people still hate the whole undue hype and acclaim given to the movie. Go on with your thoughts. But one day I hope you also make a personal journey to optimism. Now Obama's american dream and hope seem more personal to me. America seems more promising and still a land where genuinity is given preference to everything. It is indeed a land of opportunity.
But as I have always beleived , my heart is in India. I would always prefer to spend the rest of my life there. But I take with me immense optimism and a whole new journey. Lessons I will always remember.
