Today I spoke again with Dr. Shiva and she gave me some other project to work on. First, updating the information on the various US patents as it relates to about 500 different Indian plants and cross referencing the already known traditional uses of the plants with corporate patents for those uses. Then also I am to partner with a guy here working on the US side of a campaign against the patenting of yoga moves. I will continue on the seed patent work but only from the international law perspective as we have determined a much more intimate knowledge of the Indian legal system would be necessary for me to work on the Indian law part of it effectively.
When I came back to our apartment no one was home yet so I decided to explore some of the streets in the area I hadn't been yet. There was a really deserted street (notable in India) and I went down that and found some beautiful murals on the walls. While I was taking pictures of the murals two boys on bicycles asked me to take their photos. I did and showed them the result. Their father and sister were close behind and the man encouraged me to take a picture of his daughter as well. The little girl nearly killed herself quickly scrambling off her father's bike to catch her likeness before it disappeared from the screen. Two more children passing by asked with their eyes to join the photo shoot. As I walked further down the street a guard at a building asked me to take his photograph in front of a sign. This was the most curious to me because in taking hundreds of pictures I have never had a grown man ask for his photo taken.
I ventured further and a man entreated me to photograph his son. Each time I would stop and show them how the picture had turned out, garnering reactions from sheepish smile to pure hilarity. Soon I came upon a boy, maybe six, playing with his friends in a heap of trash. Pigs and goats sifted through the mountains of trash leaving only the plastic remains. The boy after seeing me take a photo immediately demanded photos of his siblings, friends, buildings and animals. After a few more shots they ushered me into the village which was described later by Tasleem as a slum. It was probably the worst poverty I have seen in person. It was easily the venue for one of those save the children commercials.
At first I felt foolish going further. I resisted the urge to document the living conditions because I did not want the people to feel ashamed or feel I was judging their homes. Dozens of eyes expressed curiosity and welcome. Any reticence I felt was quickly extinguished by a garrulous woman who descended on my from nowhere, laughing and berating me in Hindi while caressing my white skin. The flock of children now surrounding me insisted I take her picture and I was happy to oblige. She covered her facew with a pan as the children tugged on her arms. She resisted jovially and seemed pleased when I showed her her beautiful countenance. I repeated the word beautiful and all agreed as I passed her likeness around, mimicking, “beautiful.”
A woman cooking dinner shrieked instructions at me in Hindi. I smiled and attempted to bridge the 20 feet between us, being continually stopped by the mob of children seeking their photo. At one point an old man joined us with his water buckets and smiled a bittersweet smile when I showed him his picture. I finally made it up to the woman and she proposed I take a picture of her friend. The friend protested as readily as the first woman however after I showed her the picture- perhaps satisfied her soul remained in tact- she began to pose for the pictures. First with one baby, then two. It was about to be three when the battery, weary from the incessant taking and showing, cut out. I assured them I would return.
The amazing thing is in this stark poverty I was never asked for anything nor did I feel threatened in any way. As I left I took in the heaps of trash which encircled the settlement, the tarp roofs, the baby being devoured by flies. And this literally only steps away from one of the nicest areas in Delhi. Truly hidden in plain sight.
As I related my experience to Tasleem I got to thinking about the nature of naming things. Why should this place be called a slum? It is as much a village in every other sense. But the word village would not necessarily evoke the set of circumstances I found there. But does the act of naming it a slum also bring with it a certain attitude about who those people are and what should be done with them. For some the naming of a slum means a place to go make better, for others it means a place that should be removed to make way from civilized and lucrative development. Calling a place a village injects a clearer sense of the humanity that still exists there, even legitimizes its presence. Slum or village, either way at the very least the poverty that existed there was not one of the spirit.
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