June Book Lunch (behind beautiful forevers, Entry 3)

1 1/2 minute video of Annawadi, click here

Asha

Ladies,

My head is spinning.

Quite the crowd for June (10 of us), quite the enthusiasm for conversation, quite the food (thank you Jackie and WPRC), quite the Book Lunch (thank you everyone!)

behind the beautiful forevers is definitely a book I am glad to have read.

As the book's cover said, it was life in a slum of Mumbai. It was death. Many kinds of deaths.

None of us saw the "hope" as mentioned on the book's cover.

We tried to look for it, maybe saw it for a season in Sunil or Manju, but not when you looked at their entire lives.

 Hope in Abdul when he chose to stop selling stolen goods. He wanted to be something better.

A great passage:
“...and maybe because of the boiling April sun, he thought about water and ice. Water and ice were made of the same thing. He thought most people were made of the same thing, too. He himself was probably a little different from the corrupt people around him. Ice was distinct from - and in his view, better than - what it was made of. He wanted to be better than what he was made of. In Mumbai's dirty water, he wanted to be ice. He wanted to have ideals.”


This conviction to take the high road disappeared as he saw he couldn't afford to feed himself and his family. “I tell Allah I love Him immensely, immensely. But I tell Him I cannot be better, because of how the world is.”

A moment of hope at the end,  when Boo mentions that, in this cesspool of Annawadi, what's remarkable is that there are any moments of goodness. And there are. They shine like the stars in the sky over the steamy, black water.

What to do to help people climb up out of poverty? First of all, ensure there's a structure in place free of corruption so they are able to climb up.

Some beautiful paragraphs.

We feel very lucky we live in the USA.

Cynthia brought a NYT article on Amma (Mata Amritanandamayi). She is another side of India, a side of hope and love.  Unconditional love  “Love is our true essence. Love has no limitations of caste, religion, race or nationality. We are all beads strung together on the same thread of love.” —Amma

So for July, no book chosen. Many discussed.

The date, July 5 or 12. Email me to tell me if you could come to either July 5 or 12.. I will (tomorrow) email out the count of which date gets the most attending. Here at my house. Brown bag lunch style (I will provide water/iced tea.)

Stay cool and dry ladies...
love ya sara

behind the beautiful forevers, finished part 3 (entry 2)

Closed the book.
Placed it on the table next to me, folding a page corner to keep my place.

Just finished Part 3, 'a little wildness.'

Part 2 was 'the business of burning.'
Remember the burning?

One more part remains, 'up and out.'
Is it a person who rises up and out?
Will Abdul rise up, move out? Or will it be Manju? Or Mirchi?
Could it possibly be Sunil?
I'm rooting for Abdul.
But probability says it will be Manju.

The beginning chapters were sad stories. These 'undercitizens 'made the best of their plights. Sad, but they were survivors.  I'm rooting for them.

Now, in these past few pages, too many of Annawadi's people have been unfairly treated. Not just bad luck, but press their noses into the mud and smear it. Intentionally. Oh man. Beatings by police, corruption left and right... in the police and charities as well as in your community. Corruption is the river that propels India's commerce forward, this book is saying.

And me, just a simple reader of these stories. I think I have become immune to the horror of the injustices.  I read through their sad sad tales too quickly.

The first recounting of a bribe required for the wheels of justice to churn forward, I cringed. The first seemingly random act of unkindness, I paused. Thankful for my life. Thankful for my country. Thankful I'm sitting in Winter Park, not Mumbai. Not sitting in a 6' x 10' shack calling it my home.

Having read chapter after chapter of corruption and unfairness, have I become less compassionate? Do their stories move me less?  Kalu was brutally killed. I read on. Sanjay died drinking rat poison. Turn the page.

There's enough heartache one one page to fuel an entire novel.

How do you stay human in Annawadi?
How do you stay attuned to compassion, when you really need to close off your emotions to survive?

As inured to each individual's heartache as I thought I was becoming, had to step away from the pages for a breath of air.

Place the book on the table next to me.

When do they ever get a moment to breathe?
Why are tears welling up in my eyes?

behind the beautiful forevers, finished part 1 (entry 1)

I have finished the first quarter of behind the beautiful forevers. 

May I say that I personally applaud an author who decides to NOT capitalize a title. 

Got to add a map ... 

I like it.
Didn't quite know what to expect.

The author, Katherine Boo, writes with the voice of Abdul, a teenager living in shanty-town-by-the-Mumbai-Airport Annawadi.

A garbage scavenger and seller.

But he doesn't know much of a different life that the one he's living. He does know that he wants better, but not certain what that is.

Taking a deep breath,  reading about corruption. "...for the poor of the country, corruption was one of the genuine opportunities that remained."

Putting the book down for a moment, looking at my home. At my life, my delightfully stable and fairy tale life.  One family lives in a aluminum thrown together shack measuring 6' by 10'.

That's just slightly larger than the batter's box.

Or look at one of your 8' x 10' rugs, and subtract 2'.

Humbling.

The instinct for survival affects our moral baseline.

And I already know from where she took the title....