"So the doorbell rings and it’s the cook. She walks into the kitchen and asks what I’d like today. I tell her, and then ask, ‘How’s your daughter?’ She hadn’t come yesterday because her daughter had a fall.
‘She’s not conscious yet,’ she says. ‘She’s got a swelling in her brain.’
‘What? She’s in hospital?’
‘Yes, but the doctor says that if she isn’t conscious by this evening, she’ll have to be shifted to another hospital. Chicken or mutton?’
Her tone is perfectly normal, like she’s telling me about her daughter’s school results or something. You’d never guess there was something wrong.
And that’s the life. Another maid, her husband was a drunkard who beat her everyday. You’d never guess there was something wrong.
We’re spoilt, and weak, the urban elite with household help. When life knocks us down we won’t have the fight in us. If someone close to me was unconscious with a swelling in her brain, I’d show it."
Even while growing up in India, I never got accustomed to this attitude and felt there was something terrible amiss. Autistic Temple Grandin wrote about the perpetual threat of workers in slaughter house losing compassion by sheer mundanity of the "task" and probably the same holds true here. May be its an extreme analogy but the science behind it is more or less the same. So much for mirror neurons.
Even while growing up in India, I never got accustomed to this attitude and felt there was something terrible amiss. Autistic Temple Grandin wrote about the perpetual threat of workers in slaughter house losing compassion by sheer mundanity of the "task" and probably the same holds true here. May be its an extreme analogy but the science behind it is more or less the same. So much for mirror neurons.
No comments:
Post a Comment