At first, I thought Mohammed was obviously dead--only due to logic (as it's unlikely that a blind boy--or even a seeing boy that size) would survive such rough rapids even difficult for a grown man to fight). When his hand moved, I thought at first that it was symbolic of his life awakening in the afterlife, particularly due to how death was portrayed when the grandmother dies (she smiles and looks as though she's awakening to something beautiful).
But then, after a few more seconds of thought, it seemed obvious to me that no, Mohammed had either miraculously survived or had been brought back to life. I was not aware of the chapter title on the DVD since I was watching it streaming on Netflix, but now that I know what it is, it seems even more obvious. For several reasons, I don't believe that the scene would be defined in that way if he had actually died in the end.
What makes me so sure is more than just that chapter title--it's the nature of the story. Think about it: if he had really died, wouldn't this turn the storyline into some sort of two-dimensional cautionary tale? If he truly dies, where does that leave the father? So what if Mohammed is happy in the afterlife--will that be a comfort to the father, who already somewhat blames himself for his mother's death? If this were a story that had strains of fatalism or had a moralizing tone (i.e. "if you don't do such-and-such, such-and-such bad thing will happen), I might believe he had died. But instead, the story seems to be more about life--coming present into what simple beauty is around you, speaking to you, and about what matters most in life. I think the heart of the father's story has to do with the short conversation he has with his mother. She says to him, "It's not him [Mohammed] that I'm worried about, it's you." She sees the life in Mohammed and the inner strength he has and how much he has to give to others. But she sees her son as trapped in his own fears, too ashamed and self-focused to actually see all that God has already given him. It's as if she sees that Mohammed is truly alive, whereas her son is not, and that is what she most wants to see changed. To her, life is not so much about the visible, superficial aspects as it is the matters of the heart.
With that in mind, "the miracle" makes perfect sense in terms of completing the story arc. When Mohammed first falls, the father seems frozen on the bridge, almost as if he's wondering if this is a moment in which fate (or whatever he believes in, not being a religious man) is freeing him (albeit in a twisted way) from what he has seen as a burden rather than a blessing...a problem to be solved rather than a challenge to be taken up with courage and hope. But then it's as if he realizes that, if he doesn't plunge into what seems fearful to him, he may actually lose his life. Excuse me for mentioning the Bible in this, but it makes me think of the words of Jesus where he says, "Whoever tries to save his own life ["life" actually referring to the something like the ego] will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it"...as mentioned, he's not so much referring to the physical life, as the Greek/Aramaic term actually refers to the ego or self-defined self...i.e. the sense of self-preservation, or the various things we try to define ourselves by to obtain some sense of security. All this to say, I almost see the father's story arc this way--as if from the beginning he's so focused on trying to save his own life, but then in the end finds that in doing so, he's actually losing the most important things in life that have been given to him. When he finally jumps off the bridge and is willing to throw that sense of self-preservation to the wind is where he finds the truth. It seems so clear to me that the ending is redemptive--that, as the father actually loses his life, he finds it. While it isn't logical to the Western, empirical perspective, I think it's completely believable, in line with the story arc, that a miracle has occurred.
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