Phoenix’s flight: Raising dreams from the ashes of the slums

India bagged another award, perhaps the biggest in the world of the art of film making, but is it the victory of art itself. Slumdog Millionaire was not just victory of Indian art; it is a reflection of the reality. Lauded abroad, criticized at home, we were disturbed because the movie depicted a truth, the reality of the lesser privileged. At the dawn of 21st century India stands holding within its boundaries contrasts and clashes. This is the clash of identity. The modern rising India wants to see itself as a developing nation. The young India is rich, ambitious and willing to work hard for its dreams. The young vibrant India loves its malls, pizza parlors, cool hangouts and ‘take it easy’ life style. This is the class of neo-rich Indians, the 21st century middle class. They can not see India as the land of snake charmers and elephant riders (though Delhi still has good elephant population and as per the traffic rules, if you ride an elephant, ride it with a tail light). This India was raged, is India a country of hungry and downtrodden people, why is the boy living in slums being called a dog, it was taken as gross insult and prejudice from the West. The truth however remains that more than one third of Indians live below poverty line, many even below rupees 20 a day. In a developing nation, in a country where we patronize Big Mac, a part of population survives on garbage. The dwellers of these lanes are migrants, economically weak, without any viable alternative. The problem has not just sociological and economical but psychological impact as well. The intensity of the problem increases when the displaced population is from a conflict torn zone. The best example in Indian context can be the Kashmiri migrants displaced because of the over decade long conflict. While those with sound economic background were able to provide good education to their children, many still dwell in the displacement colonies. The problem here is not just of means but of identity. The youngsters do not know what the life in the vales was, they do not belong to the plains, but they are not in the valley either. There is a divide, not just of the less and more privileged. The life build out of ashes of displacement and loss has given rise to a new generation with aspiration to touch the sky and perhaps to return to their roots as well. This is the struggle for identity and justice. The struggle is no different from their counterparts any where else in the country or even in the valley. Those left behind are also struggling with the same aspirations. The youth in Kashmir is interested in the future, a hope which was reflected in the assembly elections where development won the ballot. This is the struggle for dreams. Poor housing or low wages, dreams have no limitation. I remember during my masters’ degree I was given a project to study nutrition. I went to a slum in east Delhi with an elaborate questionnaire. It was a hair raising experience, I went to a woman washing clothes, asked her name, I don’t remember what it was, and then I put forward this silly question, “What do you usually eat for lunch.” That angry young woman looked at me very coolly and said “chicken feathers… we get them from the garbage in the nearby mandi.” A young boy came to me thinking I am from an NGO complaining about some health problems. Young girls surrounded me asking “Didi, are you going to open a school here.” I had no words and no wish but to run away. I wanted to close my eyes to this truth, or was it that I was too uncertain as what should be done. These were the future of India, the young India we boast. The population we are building hopes on. In the heart of the Nation and the national capital, people without food and shelter, children without schools, and a whole chunk of society left far behind in the rat race of development. But the silver lining on was the dream I saw in those eyes. This is the real flight of dreams, a flight after rising from ashes. As an ancient story goes…where the Phoenix raised from the ashes… India’s aspirations rise from every nook and corner even without the most basic facilities. The young India lives in its slums as in its apartments and buildings. So why do we want to turn a blind eye to it, are we in a self denial mode and fooling ourselves. We are not; we are dreaming better, we are aiming higher. But let’s not forget the dream of inclusive and equitable growth our leaders saw at the time of Independence. To be equitable, we’ll have to accept the other side of the story. It is not just for the politicians or policy makers to chant the mantra of equality, it is for every citizen like me and you to realise the strength you can get by empowering others. The young India has to grow and one strong limb can’t make you run. Slumdog Millionaire is not about the bias of the West, which bias does not matter; it reflects the bias we have. The bias that stops us from accepting the truth. A look at the youth which is wasted in dirty lanes; they have lesser facilities but no less hope. The young girls I met in East Delhi slum wanted to study. In there eyes you can see the hope, it may not be there after few years. This is the contrast which translates into a conflict when we see our counterparts on the other side of the car’s window. We are taught and made to believe they are not equally good, lesser humans, no just bad ones. We take our lesson to carry forward the legacy of a verbally dismantled feudalistic society. Let’s lean a bit more toward the socialist structure, they are Indians, equal in rights as a citizen but less privileged. Lets stand for them, accept it we have slums and poverty, change it. Let’s not run away, we are young and able, with the youngest population in the world.