Continuing our "A-Z of Being Indian," we've reached the letter T. What are the items that
are part of the cultural consciousness of most Indians?
Traffic: Is the bane of all Indian commuters. Chaos and crowds are hardly unknown elsewhere, but our extraordinary variety of means of transportation has long since outstripped the length and breadth of our roads, and the problem gets worse each month. And the
constituents of Indian traffic make for fairly remarkable conditions. Only in
India can one get stuck in a jam at a non-functioning traffic light amidst six
Ambassadors in various states of disrepair, five Korean vehicles of assorted
sizes, a Maruti almost crushed underfoot by a Tata Sumo, two minibuses facing
each other both on the wrong side of the road, a tram madly if impotently
ringing its bell, three buses heading in different directions with passengers
dangling from the tailboards and from each other, six rickshaws, one
autorickshaw with a broken silencer, a homesick cow, a small flock of goats
milling about at the zebra crossing and some 300 pedestrians picking their way
gingerly through the confusion. Exaggeration? It happened to me on my last visit to Kolkata.
Underdevelopment:
Used to be the condition erroneously ascribed to India by economic
theoreticians, who looked at some of our labour-intensive agricultural
techniques and promptly concluded that we were primitive. In fact, everything in
India is overdeveloped, particularly the social structure, the bureaucracy, the
political process, the monetary system, the university network, the industrial
base and (as Galbraith tactlessly observed) the women. Given its economic and
imperial history in a number of previous Golden Ages under Ashoka, Vikramaditya
and Akbar, India is not underdeveloped at all; it is, as I argued in The Great
Indian Novel, a highly developed country in an advanced state of decay. Now that
we are cleaning up the dilapidation and glitzy malls are sprouting all over what
used to be our mofussil areas, and real estate values are going through the roof
(usually before the roof is even constructed), India may soon give
"overdevelopment" a whole new
meaning.
Unemployment: Is a
serious social evil, with the talents and skills of a vast army of ill-educated
people being wasted because the economy is unable to absorb them. There are more
unemployed engineers in India alone than there are qualified engineers in the
whole of East Africa. Part of the problem is that a number of Indians are being
educated out of a job; their learning makes them unsuitable for the work that is
available. But there is also an urgent need to create more manufacturing and
service industries to absorb and employ people (the entire IT industry only
accounts for a million jobs in a country of over a billion people). And remedial
training, to make up for the deficiencies of some of our less prominent
educational institutions, is also essential: companies would have people they
could hire if they were prepared to invest in training them to par. The
unemployment statistics would look even worse if they took into account the vast
army of those who actually hold jobs but have nothing to do in them, a form of
unemployment particularly prevalent in government service and which, therefore,
carries great social
prestige.
UP: Or Uttar Pradesh,
is a state in north India which accounts for 10% of our population, 20% of our
industry, 40% of our pollution and 80% of our prime
ministers.
Varanasi: Is the
new(ish) name for Benares. It was also the old name for Benares, which is why it
has been revived, but there is an older name still, Kashi, and that's where most
South Indian pilgrims think they're going when they buy a ticket to Varanasi. It
is a town that still attracts sadhus, mendicants and long-haired seekers of
truth to its ghats and temples. The Ganga at Varanasi is the best place for
Hindus to wash their sins away, and after what the press has revealed about
police brutality in the city's jails and thanas, that may be just as
well.
Vegetarianism: Doesn't
have it so good elsewhere. India enjoys a long tradition of respectable
vegetarian cuisine, which is more than can be said for almost any other culture
on earth (Chinese being the only exception, but then the Chinese dress up their
vegetarian fare to look and taste as much like meat as possible, which rather
misses the point). Only in India can one attend a dinner in the certainty of not
having to starve for one's principles; only in India do restaurants and
five-star hotels serve buffets with separate tables marked 'veg' and 'non-veg',
and only our country's airlines offer you the choice of a vegetarian meal
without having to pre-book it. Vegetarianism in India, particularly if it is for
religious reasons, can range from a total rejection of animal products to a
refusal to contemplate even vegetables that have grown underground, though an
increasing number of 'vegans' or 'eggetarians' simply don't want to bite into
anything that, in its natural state, might have bitten them back.