Ledger matters, others don't

Found myself amazingly sad at Heath Ledger's death. Then caught myself wondering why. This rich, goodlooking man with a lovely daughter, millions in his bank accounts, a great movie career, and god knows how many willing women by his side, died allegedly of a drug overdose. So, why does his death matter even, to me?

The other day, a photog friend sent me pictures of homeless people -- a project he's working on. The photos were great, of course, but those visuals of little children living on the streets, holding out their hands in mute appeal; boys and girls with vacant, defeated, knowing eyes, didn't touch me at all. I found myself thinking the project was essentially for a Western audience. And then I went around saying, oh what a shame Ledger is dead.

A Hollywood star's death affected me. Scenes I see every day in my city, don't diminish me at all. What a cruel, shameful irony.

Comments

Anonymous said…

Perhaps, Ledger's distance from us insulates us from what was on in his mind. And his affluence keeps him from the physically revolting parts of the beggars we aren't moved by. A bit of Dorian gray -- Ledger's mind reflected in the beggars' physical appearance and environment, and their inner brilliance clothing ledger??

8:07 pm, January 28, 2008

Divya Sreedharan said…

Hmmm. Interesting thought there. Makes me look at him differently, too!

4:29 pm, January 31, 2008

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