Who cares about starving beggar children in India? Not me. I happily blank them, shoo them away, and even jest about the tirelessness. They are everywhere.
If culture shock paves way for cultural understanding, then cultural understanding seems to have paved the way for my cultural desensitisation. Leaving Rajastan’s capital, there is room to reflect upon this.
Yesterday, I watched as one young child (perhaps four or five) abandoned hope of obtaining change or chocolate from our group, turned, and hurled himself across a deadly-busy road.
Sure, you cannot give time and money to every beggar and seller you meet, but it is all too easy to fend off their advances and therefore neglect to consider their situation at all. At home, this sight would have been abhorrent. Here it feels barely worthy of note.
There is a fine line, I think, between saving one’s cash and utterly desensitising to the condition of society’s most unfortunate members.
