Shallow Shit (as opposed to the deeper kind)
I have made a few cultural observations since my move to Mumbai, but none has been as shocking and overwhelming as the revelation of how shallow a people can be. I mean, this is coming from me. I care about a lot of shallow stuff- clothes, hair, skin, make-up, fancy food and wine, luxury, etc. And I also judge people based on what they look like, and presume their character before they even open their mouths. Yet, this is nothing compared to the petty, pretentious shallowness that exists in this city. People have actual hour-long conversations about the brands of their jeans and the plushness of the lounge they went to last night and the famous people they know who know other famous people. And much more detailed talks are had about other people- what they’re wearing, where they’re going, which words they use, which cellphone they buy, what their ringtone is, which song they’re humming… and this isn’t an exaggeration. I tried to participate in such talks for a bit, just to talk about something at least, but it’s not my cup of tea. Mostly because the whole time I’m thinking, “who gives a fuck?!”
Anyway, I’m reading this beautiful book called Immortality and I came upon a passage that best describes my present sentiments on this shallowness issue. Here it is:
‘Just imagine living in a world without mirrors. You’d dream about your face and imagine it as an outer reflection of what is inside you. And then, when you reached forty, someone would put a mirror before you for the first time in your life. Imagine your fright! You’d see the face of a stranger. And you’d know quite clearly then what you are unable to grasp now: your face is not you.’
