See...

The trick is to see without seeing.

We are in Mumbai and this is a startling city for all of the typical reasons: poverty and prosperity, splendor and squalor. Pontificating on these differences is no more interesting and original today than it would have been a hundred years ago. I have seen it before and every two-bit commentator can deride the inequality of it all. What the world needs instead of all this hopeless complaining is some sound advice. How should a fantastically wealthy American travel in a place such as this? (And for the record all Americans are fantastically wealthy.)

On the sidewalk outside, a mere two meters from where I am sitting in air conditioned luxury, a wraith thin man and what might be his son sit propped against the wall. His eyes and cheeks are sunken. Their hunger is no act. The swarm of people outside move around them with the same regard given to the parked cars and sauntering cows. Predictably enough both he and his child were in my way but his legs are thin and they were easy enough to step over. So my first bit of sound advice to a traveler from the land of the corpulent is: Watch your step, don’t trip. The streets have a layer of grime, shit and dust that are best kept on the bottom of your shoes. Landing face first in the muck is not the way to continue on your journey in peace and happiness.

However, this bit of advice sits in square opposition to the next bit of critical wisdom. Don’t look. Everyone sees you coming. You stand out, you can’t help it. No matter how you dress, no matter how long the road has traveled beneath your feet, you still stand out. Neon signs and a twenty piece brass band herald your arrival on every street corner and around every bend. The only bit of camouflage you can hope to cover yourself with is indifference. Hide your caring and your concern. Bury your head in the sand because if the beggar knows you see him, knows you feel just a little of his pain, then with surprising agility and energy he will be on his feet, following your every step, reverently tugging on your arm. Sure, you could give him a few rupees but then another hungry face will be at your side. In a city of sixteen million people and the world’s largest slum, no one has enough rupees.

The sound advice I cannot give is the one morsel of information I have yet to master: How to see without seeing. When I walked in the door here, into the air conditioning, into the information age, I walked over one more beggar and I simultaneously managed the trick. I didn’t trip and I didn’t look. I saw and I didn’t see. But now that I am typing my impressions, now that my guard is down I cannot help but see and the great unanswered question sits right outside the door: What to do?