“Sunil and Abdul sat together more often than before, but when they spoke, it was with the curious formality of people who shared the understanding that much of what was said did not matter, and that much of what mattered could not be said.”
In this quote from Katherine Boo's book "Behind the Beautiful Forevers," the relationship between Sunil and Abdul is depicted with a sense of depth and complexity. The use of "curious formality" in their interactions suggests a distance or barrier between them, as if they are holding back from truly expressing themselves. This could be due to societal or cultural restrictions, or it could be a result of the harsh realities of their lives in the slums of Mumbai. The idea that "much of what was said did not matter" implies a sense of resignation or insignificance in their communication, while "much of what mattered could not be said" hints at deeper emotions or unspoken truths that lie beneath the surface of their conversations. This quote highlights the complexities of human relationships and the ways in which people navigate the nuances of their interactions amidst challenging circumstances.
In this quote by Katherine Boo, the characters Sunil and Abdul have a deep understanding of the limitations of communication. This concept is still relevant today in a world where much of what is said may not hold true significance, and where important truths may go unspoken. Let's explore how this notion applies to modern society.
In Katherine Boo's writing, she beautifully captures the dynamic between Sunil and Abdul as they navigate their complicated relationship. The quote illustrates the unspoken understanding between the two characters, showcasing the depth of their connection.
In this quote by Katherine Boo, we see a sense of understanding and connection between Sunil and Abdul that goes beyond words. This profound formality in their communication hints at unspoken truths and complexities in their relationship. Reflecting on this, consider the following questions:
“Much of what was said did not matter, and that much of what mattered could not be said.”
“Do you ever think when you look at someone, when to you listen to someone, does that person really have a life?" Abdul was asking the boy who was not listening. "Like that woman who just went to hang herself, or her husband, who probably beat her before she did this? I wonder what kind of life is that," Abdul went on. "I go through tensions just to see it. But it is a life. Even the person who lives like a dog still has a kind of life. Once when my mother was beating me, and that thought came to me. I said, 'If what is happening now, you beating me, is to keep happening for the rest of my life, it would be a bad life, but it would be a life, too.' And my mother was so shocked when I said that. She said, "Don't confuse yourself by thinking about such terrible lives.'" Sunil though that he, too, had a life. A bad life, certainly-the kind that could be ended as Kalu's had been and then forgotten, because it made no difference to the people who lived in the overcity. But something he'd come to realize on the roof, leaning out, thinking about what would happen if he leaned to far, was that a boy's life could still matter to himself.”
“I've said it before and I'll say it again: Never trust anyone who tells you how people come to trust him”
“The Indian criminal justice system was a market like garbage, Abdul now understood. Innocence and guilt could be bought and sold like a kilo of polyurethane bags.”
“Everyone is Annawadi talks like this- oh, I will make my child a doctor, a lawyer, and he will make us rich. It's vanity, nothing more. Your little boat goes west and you congratulate yourself, "What a navigator I am!" And then the wind blows you east. -ABDUL'S FATHER, KARAM HUSAIN”
“Midnight was closing in, the one-legged woman was grievously burned, and the Mumbai police were coming for Abdul and his father.”