Silhouettes on Marine Drive

Silhouettes in South Mumbai.

Bubble Boy

Bubble blower at the Kala Ghoda festival in Mumbai.

Rooftops in Dharavi

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"Slumdog Millionaire": What's your final answer?

Girls sort through plastic caps in Holambi, a slum outside of Delhi, as a way to make a few extra rupees.

Here's my article on Slumdog, which was published in the Austin American Statesman, today, February 22, Oscar Sunday.

If India is the center of the world, I am at the center of the center. I'm feeling my way through the gray narrow corridors of Asia's largest slum, Dharavi, in Mumbai. I'm keeping my eye on the ground to prevent tripping on a pipe or dipping my foot in a drain.

Shards of sunlight filter through the tin roofs above, and little girls in threadbare dresses stare up at me as I pass by their doorways. After several tight corners, and another wobbly corridor, I'm spit out onto a square acre of trash. This is an ugly place.

If you have seen "Slumdog Millionaire," one of the films gunning for a best picture Oscar tonight, you've been here, too. The film's director, Danny Boyle, did something most Indian directors have avoided: He filmed in India's most extreme reality, the slum.

Boyle isn't the first or only director who has shed light on the lives of slum children (and to be frank, I don't think his priority was to make a socially conscious film). Mira Nair, director of "Monsoon Wedding" and "The Namesake," tried to do the same in her 1988 film "Salaam Bombay!" What struck me about watching Nair's film recently is that nothing has changed. The film was made two decades ago, but it could have been made yesterday. It, too, was up for an Academy Award — best foreign film — but it didn't win. Judging from the condition of today's slums, it didn't effect much change, either.

This is the way 55 percent of Mumbai's population lives. According to a recent World Bank report, 42 percent of India's people live below the poverty line. Make no mistake: That's not the fault of the film.

There are two kinds of viewers: those who open their eyes to an alternative existence, where indoor plumbing cannot be found, and then after two hours return home to their double-ply toilet paper. Then there are those who see a movie, dwell on it, do an Internet search or two, and maybe do something about it.

"Slumdog Millionaire" is about a boy who is orphaned in the 1992 Hindu-Muslim riots and later beats the odds and lands a seat on the Indian version of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" (pronounced "Mil-en-air!" by the film's slimy show host).

That "Slumdog Millionaire" has taken the world by storm is a bit of a mystery to many Indians.

For middle-class viewers, the movie is missing signature Bollywood dance numbers (with the exception of a lovely jig at the end) and has been a nonevent. The middle class grew up seeing slums and doesn't particularly empathize with the people who live in them.

Upper-class Indians choose not to acknowledge this existence. India is shining inside their plush, temperature-controlled, chauffeur-driven reality — and they don't want to change that. "Slumdog" looks outside their tinted windows and contradicts India's emerging market growth story.

The people the film is actually about — the slum dwellers — either haven't heard of it or don't have the money to see it. Would you blow a day's wages to see something you live in every day? Of those who do know about it, many are offended by the word "slumdog," which is a machination of the film's writers, not an actual word used in Hindi parlance. "They think we're dogs?" slum dwellers have asked. Of the few who have seen the movie, they haven't imbibed a message of hope. Luck or destiny landed Jamal, the film's protagonist, a seat on the game show, not hard work or merit.

So, who is the film for?

For you, Whole Foods shopper. For you, Sixth Street girl. Would you believe that it is your trash that ends up in India's slums? Dharavi has an annual turnover of $665 million because its inhabitants are creating products for Western consumption (Wal-Mart sources products here) and recycling our junk (old air conditioners and plastics from the U.S. and United Kingdom land here).

"Slumdog" is a colorful, exciting and vibrant kaleidoscope made for your viewing pleasure. The story, set to a rump-shaking score, has rags-to-riches triumph and romance. It gives shape to what you've heard about India: that people are poor, that beggars abound, and that it is flat, hot and crowded. "It's just as I thought," you might think, as you leave the theater.

"The film, although enjoyable, is exotica served up for a Western audience. ... The filmmakers are looking for awards in the West, not understanding in the East," said Sundar Barra, adviser to SPARC, an Indian organization working to alleviate urban poverty.

Barra pointed to several liberties the writers took with the script. First, children would never read "The Three Musketeers" in school. Second, they would never stoop so low as to jump into a vat of human waste to get an autograph. And many have pointed to the casting of a British Indian actor with an unmistakable accent as a slum boy.

Like a James Frey memoir, you can't take any movie to be 100 percent bona fide. Dwelling on the film's flaws misses the point. The elements that are true are what matter.

Yes, there are child prostitutes. Yes, thousands of children emigrate from villages to Mumbai each year to make a living. Yes, there is a very real culture of begging. Yes, children are mutilated to garner pimps more money.

Happy or not, growing or not, incredible or not, India and its poor exist, have existed and will continue to exist in wretched conditions that none of us would wish on anyone — unless someone does something.

"Slumdog" is a friendly reminder. A gentle poke. A whisper that the fantasy hides a harsher truth. It's OK to enjoy the delicious joy ride through Jamal's life. I certainly did. But I hope we don't find ourselves watching another such film about slum life in India two decades from now. "Slumdog" might offer moviegoers an alternate reality, but it isn't an alternate world.

What are the odds that "Slumdog Millionaire" will win an Oscar? What are the odds that you will do anything to change what you saw?

What is your final answer?

Chaka Khan!

Went to a jazz concert tonight courtesy of the US Department of State--hence, it was free! Herbie Hancock played along with several other jazz artists...which I'm sure you'd know if you know anything about jazz. The highlight of everyone's evening though was Chaka Khan in some scary transparent black pants, which exposed the thigh area in ways that made everyone feel awkward, and an even scarier red wig, boustier, and gold lamee shirt which accented her assets, if you get my drift.

Zakir Hussain, an internationally known tabla player, tap danced with his hands. And the crowd weaved and bobbed.

(Update: I had a couple of questions from readers about what the occasion was. Last week there were several public events to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King's visit to India. One of thse events was a jazz performance by several major American artists. Additionally, MLK Jr.'s son, Martin Luther King III, was here to remember his father's legacy, and I attended an interesting, but very hot (no A/C), discussion about the similarity between MLK's approach during the Civil Rights Movement and Mahatma Ghandi's nonviolent ethos. From the US Consulate website:

Martin Luther King III and a U.S. Congressional delegation led by Rep. John Lewis and Rep. Spencer Bachus are visiting Mumbai and Ahmedabad while in western India, February 18-20. The visit is part of an India-wide visit by Martin Luther King III to retrace the steps of his father's pilgrimage in 1959. Upon Dr. King, Jr.'s return to the U.S., he and other leaders of the civil rights movement drew on Gandhi's ideas to transform American society. At their first public event in Mumbai, Martin Luther King III and the U.S. Congressional delegation visited the Gateway of India to honor the victims of Mumbai's 11/26 attacks. Martin Luther King III explained that his father's ideas on non-violence developed during his visit to India to study Mahatma Gandhi, in 1959. The terrorist attacks launched from the Gateway of India illustrated the need to resolve differences peacably as Gandhi advocated. Congressman John Lewis, active in the struggle to secure civil rights for African-Americans, marched with Martin Luther King Jr. to Montgomery, Alabama. He advocated non-violence as a path to resolve the differences between peoples.


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This is a Light Bulb

A Secure India

Guards talking strategy outside the Taj Mahal, Agra

Itinerary Part Two

Image: Thinking Man at the Taj Mahal

Just when I thought I was becoming numb to India’s “unique sensibilities” my family arrived to remind me that I live in the my own version of the Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, an upside-down, inside-out neosurrealist place where nothing ever happens in the order it should. Every time you think that, by golly, this city has its cow population under control, one just comes mumbling along out of nowhere.

My mom, an Austinite, and my brother, a Houstonian, visited two weeks ago, and having seen Slumdog, they were interested in partaking in the “slum tour.” I can’t say that it was entirely their idea. I presented them with options—and this one sounded like a step off the beaten path, and an interesting alternative to shopping in Bandra or getting Thai foot massages which my brother quickly vetoed.

This tour has been around for some time, but when people first started getting wind of it, many were outraged, for the same reason Slumdog Millionaire has gotten some slack: profiting on poverty. To be honest, I don’t think that the tour company is actually making much of a profit, but the fact of the matter is that the tour, and the film are “pro-slum dweller.” Reality and Slumdog have opened many an eye to the culture of begging and child prostitution in India.

The tour operators, Reality Tours and Travels, are actually trying to give visitors a new perspective on the lives of the poor and demonstrate that people living in this slum are not lazing around, as one might presume, but working very hard. Dharavi has an annual turnover of US$665 million, would you believe? Much of that comes from creating products for the West, or recycling our junk (old air conditioners and plastics from the US and the UK land here). As my mom said, “We are living off the backs of these people.”

It makes sense to try to understand how the other half lives--indeed this is how 55% of Mumbai's population lives--in slums. So, we went. This was just one of the "hotspots" I took my family to an effort to show them India's many wonders.

Here's the rest of our itinerary (starting from where I left off in my previous entry below):

Day 6: Taj Mahal...they LOVED it. At the end of the trip, they all said this was one of their favorite things. I think that they also wanted to say rug shoppping, which is what we also did in Agra. We didn't mean to buy 8x10 hand-woven rugs. It just happened. (Also visited Agra Fort, which was fantastic!)

Day 7: Breakfast in bed at the Imperial Hotel and three hours of Seinfeld reruns (this is our vacation, after all). Tour of Delhi government buildings, where several Indian tourists were much more interested in taking a picture of Scot's lady friend, than they were in taking a picture of the Parliament buildings. Verbal fisticuffs with our driver who was trying to pull the wool over our eyes. Shopping at FabIndia--Mom will now officially stick out in Austin upon her return. Dinner at Turtle Cafe in Delhi and then to the Old Delhi Railway Station in all its glory. Here, we took advantage of the porters dressed in red, who carried our luggage on top of their heads.

Day 8: Landed in Jodhpur after a night train ride--not everyone's favorite part of the trip. Banana pancakes for breakfast at Cosy Guest House. Wandering around Jodhpur's blue lanes to Mehangarh Fort. Guided tour and guided walk around old market. Home, nap, dinner, cards.

Day 9: To Rohet Garh, about an hour from Jodhpur. Lunch of Rajasthani food, Shirodhara massage--oil dripping on the head for 30 minutes--unbelieveably relaxing. Afternoon horseback ride on Marwari horses. Jeep to Wilderness Tents. Dinner.

Day 10: Early morning breakfast spread. Drive to Ranakpur, a huge Jain temple. Arrive Devi Garh. Cue music. Cue rose petals raining from the sky to honor our arrival.

Day 11: Udaipur. Palace. Mumbai. Sleep.

Day 12: Nothing like topping off a trip with a Dharavi slum tour. Lunch at Good Earth Tasting Room. Colaba Causeway. Indigo Deli. Home.

Day 13: Thai massages. Last minute shopping. Peshawari for dinner. Plane.

The sentiment, after this whirlwind of travel, seemed to be good. They liked India--in smallish doses. As I said goodbye, Scot's lady friend gave me a hug and said, "I survived!" No one got booted off the subcontinent.

Survivor: India

My family is visiting me in India for the first time since I moved a year ago. I have been begging them to come since before I even landed on the subcontinent. They have been reluctant, recalcitrant even, to leave their rooted lives. My guess is that they have had images of Mother Theresa's India in their heads since the 80s.

All I can say is thank God for Jeremy Piven, who has helped to upgrade their perceptions. A few years back he did some sort of tour around India, and my mom, an avid Entourage follower, watched Jeremy like a hawk. Now, instead of the starving, suffering, dying masses of Calcutta, she has Jeremy drinking coconut water in Kerala (South India) as a reference point.

So, perhaps they have some idea of what they're getting in to, and yet again, maybe not. On the phone with my brother, I find myself explaining a few unexpected things. Two weeks before his arrival, he is planning, he says, to ship a box of "things we may need" in advance. Like what? "I'm thinking of doing some bottled water and power bars, granola bars, and some sheets."

"Do you think I live in a tent and forage for nuts and berries?" I ask. This is not Survivor. I'm not sure what he's planning to do with the sheets--maybe use them to form a rope ladder and escape from India one night, but I talk him down from the ledge and convince him that I can provide sheets and enough water to last the duration of the trip: two weeks.

So, after much counseling about packing light and bringing an open mind, my mom, brother and his lady friend arrived a few nights ago. With them they carried several requested imports: Green and Black's Organic Dark Chocolate bars, Whole Foods Organic Crunchy Peanut Butter, and Kiehl's face wash. It's the little things.

What's on the itinerary?
Day 1: Fresh coconut water! Brunch at my man friend's house with assorted and sundry friends and food. Thai foot massages. Flight to Cochin, Kerala.

Day 2: Breakfast at Kashi Art Cafe, spirited haggling with Kashmiri shopkeepers. Tinkering with Chinese fishing nets. Antiqueing in "Jew Town." Visit to one of the only synagogues in India. Kathakali dance performance. Dinner of fresh seafood in coconut curry.

Day 3: Night on a houseboat with a tour around the backwaters of coastal Kerala. A canoe ride through a little waterside village. Fresh-from-the- boat lake prawns for dinner.

Day 4: Back to cochin for more shopping. Ferry ride to Willingdon Island for Keralite dinner at Taj Malabar Hotel restaurant, Rice Boat.

Day 5: Up at 6 to bath baby elephants. Ride big elephant. Lunch with a friend and her daughter. Last minute haggling on a Leica camera that may or may not work. Flight to Delhi.

Day 6: Up at 5 for train to Agra to see India's wonder, the Taj Mahal.

I'll stop here. I've caught you up to where we stand.

Now, the question remains, who will be the first tribe member to be voted off the island?
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