What I’m about to write is going to sound selfish and narcissistic. The ending of the book highlights how hope in Annawadi burns out, and how people born in the slums tend to stay within the slums without rising above. By the end, most of the children who once had dreams of becoming something “beyond the beautiful forevers” realize that they will forever be trapped inside it due to daily concerns of survival.
Here comes the narcissism. My freshman year I believed I could basically get any job I wanted if I tried hard enough. However, as my sophomore year rolled around, I realized even getting an entry-level position folding shirts at the local Urban Outfitters was a challenge. Much like Annawadi, The New School is saturated with talented and desperate students who all want to “make it”. I’m slowly learning (through professors, professionals, and a bit of my own experience), that “making it” after college is not realistic. Just last night, my art history professor explained to us that art history was far from her passion, and that she was a jazz drummer in the NYC jazz scene until she realized she needed to make ends meet. She decided to pick up a random topic (art history) and go back to school to become a professor and forget about the dream of becoming a contemporary female jazz drummer. She then told us, “most of what you guys are studying right now will be useless; you will most likely get a job outside the field of your passion.” Ouch, but I know she’s completely right. I’m trying not to compare the rigors of “making it” in NYC to the slums of Annawadi, but the endings in their own volumes do undeniably compare.
