Love

Most people seem to have one moment. One moment that made them believe in love. One moment that gave them hope that they would find it. One moment that shaped their idea of what that love should look like. For many it’s a moment in a movie, or the entire movie itself. For others, it’s something from a book. Whether book or movie, the moment in question frequently comes from a fairy tale. From the time we are young we are steered toward fairy tales to shape our perceptions. We read them in simple storybook form or we watch them in animated and live-action spectacles of color and music. And so often the same stories show up, across cultures, across experiences. Cinderella, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, the list goes on. This is our first taste of romance and many people carry the lessons they learn into adulthood and filter their relationships through the moments they most remember. The prince falling in love when he first sees Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping beauty being kissed awake and riding off into the sunset, the Little Mermaid giving up everything she knows for her prince. We come to believe that this is love. Perfection and gloss, an instant spark that never dies or flickers. We expect nothing less from real life relationships. We sigh and determine to wait for it to happen. We sing the songs to ourselves as we move along in our ordinary lives, confident that some day our true love will come along.

My moment does not come from a fairy tale. My moment doesn’t even come from one of those “romantic” movies that is simply a fairy tale in modern packaging. My moment is from Slumdog Millionaire. The Indian indie film that was a critical and commercial darling upon its release but has now been largely discarded. It is still viewed with fondness, but has been shelved in favor of newer pieces that seem to satiate the hunger of the moment. But because my “moment” comes from this film, I cannot forget it so easily. One small part of this story that is also somehow the entire crux of it has shaped me in such a way as to never allow it to leave my mind or heart, whether I am consciously aware of its presence or not.

At the end of the movie, the main character, Jamal, is reunited with the woman he loves, Latika. It has been a long and hard road to find her. The movie revolves around Jamal’s appearance on “Who Wants to Be A Millionaire”, but by his own admission, he goes onto the show in hopes Latika will be watching. In the years since their separation as teenagers, Latika has been forced into the role of “girlfriend” to a powerful crime lord, a word that here is implied to mean sex toy. In their last attempt to reunite, Latika was recaptured, and in a show of power to Jamal, her face was slashed before she was driven away to another secret location, tucked away like a prized possession. But somehow these two have managed to find each other again, and Latika has escaped at last. She arrives at the train depot where he’s waiting wearing a yellow scarf over her head to hide the deep scar snaking down her cheek, along with everything it symbolizes; her role as an object, a whore, a slave. When Jamal sees her, he runs to her, jumping across tracks to reach her with no thought of his own safety. When he does reach her, he pauses, and slowly pushes the scarf back to see her whole face. And rather than stare at the scar and reflect on what it symbolizes…he kisses it. As he does, the film flashes back to the day that created that mark, and the events play in reverse. As if by his kiss, Jamal is able to undo that damage. And in a way, he is. The puckered line of skin is still there, but by kissing it, he reveals to Latika that he doesn’t see her as anything but the pure and beautiful girl he first met as a child. It doesn’t matter to him the life she has been forced into. He loves her.

To me, this is what love is. It isn’t about the fairy tale. It isn’t about being swept off your feet by the ideal person. It is about seeing the perfection in an imperfect human. It is about working for and with each other. It is about finding the person you can reveal your scars to who will simply kiss them away. I don’t mean the person automatically heals you or fixes everything. I mean they show you that they love those scars because they are a part of you. They show you that those things of which you may be ashamed do not change the way they feel about or see you. They promise that you are not alone. And when that happens, you stop seeing those scars, those past events as something to hide, as something ugly. You stop seeing them as reasons to hate yourself or settle for less. Love is about finding the person who accepts you, all of you. It’s about finding the person who can help you see the most beautiful version of yourself. Love is at its purest when it lifts you up, when it makes you feel your best, but still want to be better.

Real love has nothing to do with glass slippers or fairy godmothers. It is a rare and beautiful gift that is grounded in reality. It is putting someone above yourself. It is accepting another person’s flaws without holding them against that person. It is wanting the best for that person, wanting to make their lives better. To me, there is no movie that better illustrates the truth of what love looks like than Slumdog Millionaire. That is why that final scene, that simple gesture, is my “moment”. It made me believe in love, and gave me the hope that I could find it. That is my final answer.