In sifting and percolating my impressions, I am reminded of a continuing theme in one of the books we read, Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, awarded the best Booker Prize winner of all time. An event from a person’s past gains meaning for that person’s present only when it is filtered through memory and incorporated into the overall story of that person’s life.
“I told you the truth,” [Saleem to Padma] I say yet again, “Memory’s truth, because memory has its own special kind. It selects, eliminates, alters, exaggerates, minimizes, glorifies, and vilifies also; but in the end it creates its own reality, its heterogeneous but usually coherent versions of events; and no sane human being ever trusts someone else’s version more than his own.”
Maybe India teaches us as much about humanity in general as it does about itself.
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