I Think I Know Why I Felt Like Crying

George

I had just finished the perfect day, set out from the YWCA at just past noon, Ben and Michael in tow, with nothing but our noses to follow into the concrete wilderness that is Mumbai. After a serene uncounted amount of hours sitting on the seawall guarding Bombay from the Arabian Sea, waxing poetic and delving into the depths of the human condition as we philosophers do, we decided to launch ourselves into a stroll into the city.

Forty minutes later we stumbled into a slum community. Ten minutes later we found ourselves launched headfirst into a heated hour of street football. There's no real way to describe that experience, the boys, the onlookers, the streaking goats, the laughs and sweaty high fives. But the memory will forever be safe with me.

After chalking up another victory in the name of Skinner, we bade our farewells to our adoring fans and vanquished foes, and made our way to the main street. Through the 100 meter walk out of the slum, a familiar, yet completely mysterious feeling set in. I felt like crying.

The football was one of the highlights of the trip, and talking about life with friends is one of the most relaxing things to do here. So why did I feel like crying.

Here's my hypothesis: things don't matter to us until it's personal. This is hardly a ground-breaking discovery, but I like to think it's a significant step in self-discovery.

We've all seen India on TV, schoolboys do presentations on slums, and the view from a hotel is hardly confronting. It's when the beggar grabs your arm with her child in her arms, when you're served chai and biscuits in a house in the slums, when you're shown an international rugby player's trophies in his four meter by four meter concrete house, when you leave the slum and your teammates stay, that this place truly becomes real.

In my life back home, it's now easy to see why I was lacking emotion. So little of my life is personal, I spend evenings socialising without being near another human, we discuss our emotions over screens, it's understandable how we become detached and numbed to genuine life. I'm not now going to return home to shun mobile phones and move to Rangitoto, I'm sure I'll return eagerly to the comfort and accessibility of social media.

But I'm taking baby steps, figuring out why I feel like I do is definitely movement in the right direction. Ensuring that I lead a lifestyle so I start fully enjoying life is a task for Auckland George, India George is a bit too fizzled at the moment to be making any sweeping life decisions.