The man who gets off his battered-up bike and confidently strolls into a chi chi café in upscale Alibaug (also called India’s Hamptons), doesn’t look like the typical ‘Álibauger’. What does that even mean? Let me explain: Alibaug has become India’s most aspirational destination given the number of villa-owning billionaires who have sprawling weekend homes in what used to be a sleepy fishing hamlet a decade ago. Alibaug is a 40-minute speedboat ride away from Mumbai … but wait, it could be another planet! Or a super glam resort town in some distant country. Alibaug is no longer just an amazing getaway for exhausted city folk looking for a break. It is the ultimate real estate fantasy. And the solo café called The Deli is located just off a dusty road close to an ancient railway track on which a lone freight train from the last century ferries iron ore to the shore.
The biker takes off his helmet and strides into The Deli with admirable swag. His gelled hair is styled like his cricketing hero, Virat Kohli, who owns a luxe villa not too far from the same narrow gauge railway track. A few locals ordering lattes, buttery croissants and cupcakes at the counter, give the biker ‘those’ looks. The glass-topped counter is manned by three young Maharashtrian girls from Chondi – the village named after Goddess Chondi Devi – The Fierce One. The girls are dressed neatly in practical, Western-style work attire, not sarees. One of them sports a managalsutra, sindhoor and bindi – she’s the married one. All of them speak passable English. The biker doesn’t. He orders briskly in Hindi, minus the slightest hesitation – he knows what he wants – cold cuts of imported meats, 500 gms of Brie with truffles, 500 gms of hard Cheddar, 500 gms of Grana Pardona, two packets of smoked salmon, two jars of pitted olives, three bottles of extra virgin oil, rice crackers, four packets of lavash, freshly made hummus, tinned white asparagus spears. He knows his gourmet treats. This is his personal order. He is a regular. He lives across the railway track and prefers his croissants straight out of the oven. As he settles his hefty bill, the other ‘townie’ customers roll their eyes. The girls behind the counter giggle and shrug. The freight train whistles by just then, and a frail old man dressed in a discoloured dhoti, waves a ragged red flag to halt traffic on either side of the manually operated railway phaatak.
Chondi and cheese. Bharat and India.
The twain have met. Shaken hands. Agreed to co-exist.
I haven’t made it to Bharat so far. I am stuck in India. Bharat is suspicious of people like me. The biggest strike being that I am a woman. ‘Too much attitude … doesn’t she know her place?’ Oh, yes, I do. It is right here where I am. And, sorry, I am not moving! Kya bolein? Women are not having it easy in Bharat. What’s worse, it’s going to get tougher. When Superstar India was published in 2008, I had written about India’s Mayawati Moment. Today, we are experiencing the Mahua Moitra moment. I had also mentioned the Rakhi Sawant phenomenon back then. Today, we have a young reality show contestant named Uorfi Javed replacing Rakhi in the publicity stakes, while Sunny Leone no longer shocks India and has gone disappointingly ‘establishment’’, plus, created her own, unique niche. All these women are trailblazers. But a decade and a half after this book appeared on bookshelves, can we honestly claim there is better acceptance of those individuals who break rules in our maddeningly diverse country – men or women?
I am a misfit in Bharat. I simply don’t belong. Millions of women like me are squirming and fidgeting uncomfortably, as all sorts of labels are being stuck on us by those who want to hold women captive in another era; suppress and subjugate whatever individuality we possess. The same cage of conformity we had fought so hard to break out of decades ago is threatening to imprison us once more. Imagine! We were naïve enough to imagine we’d won! I am not angry. I am not tired. I am not disillusioned. I am calm as I smile and say to myself, ‘Let them rewrite history books, pull down heritage structures, demean national icons, imprison dissidents, persecute critics, ban this, ban that, shut down centres of learning and culture, fabricate narratives, suppress minorities.’ First, the mosques and Muslims, then the churches and Christians. What will that change? Certainly not our hearts and minds, not the songs we sing, nor the prayers we chant. We will dance, oh yes, we won’t let the music stop. Because we are the music and the dance.
Has the fight within disappeared? Absolutely not. When that goes, all goes.
But for now, I remind myself I can be more like Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha. I can starve, I can think, and I can wait.
What remains incontrovertible is this: Nobody has ever possessed the absolute, unchallenged, unilateral power to control the national narrative or alter the truth. Whether or not the grand opening of the Ram Mandir in Ayodhya radically affects the destiny of a nation, of women, remains to be seen. As a Hindu woman, deeply invested in identity and faith, I know India will always speak to me in a way that defies religious humbug. My love and commitment can withstand any political system – even the most bigoted one. My precious freedoms cannot be snatched. They remain steadfastly within and are mine alone to cherish and nourish.
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The most discernible change in India is internal. It’s 2024. We have finally stopped feeling poor. Behaving poor. Thinking poor. Looking poor. Living poor. This has been the most significant shift in the way we view yourselves in the context of the world. We spend and act like people from rich nations we were once in awe of. We fake and flaunt this new bravado. It’s heady! The same nations that are facing bankruptcy today stare at us in utter disbelief as India surges ahead and the Sensex crosses 70,000. Today, perhaps for the first time in our history, we pinch ourselves and believe India is a land of plenty. ‘Plenty’ is an all-encompassing word. We have enough food to make sure 1.4 billion Indians don’t have to go hungry. That so many do is not a problem of insufficient food. It is a distribution issue with its rotting roots in politics. And distribution remains in the hands of local administrations, with political satraps overseeing who gets how much to eat, when and at what price. The empty stomach syndrome that haunted a previous generation belongs to a lean and mean past, when shortages of basics were the rule. How many families enjoyed two square meals a day, fifteen years ago? Our eating habits have also changed dramatically, along the way. Yes, yes, yes. Millets are good for us. But pizzas are better, grin villagers waiting for a slice of aloo –gobi Manchurian pizza served from handcarts in crowded mandis. The past decade has transformed our palates – ask any school going kid what to pack in the tiffin box – ‘Pasta.’. ‘No beta, try my peeza today…. more better…. with extra cheese and chilly sauce…’ his harassed mother will reply. Funny. A reversal of taste, I sigh, as a bizarre scenario pops into my head – an Italian kid responding ‘Rajma chaawl’ to the same question.
Recently, I watched well-dressed school children running around buffet counters laden with traditional, vegetarian delicacies at a Chhath Puja dinner, hosted on the lawns of a luxury tower in Central Mumbai. They were looking for pizzas, colas and ice cream. The elders tried hard to get them to try mithai and chaat. Noses instantly wrinkled as the kids appealed to their parents to order sushi once they got home. Call it Covid’s unappetizing legacy – but Indian families today don’t really need kitchens in their fancy apartments – they have Swiggy! Food delivery apps have gone through the roof; we eat junk minus guilt, just like the rest of the prosperous world. If we eat like them, soon we will be like them – we are equals! We have Starbucks in the neighbourhood. Our pre-schoolers can tell between a sashimi, ceviche and nigiri… isn’t that cool?
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Much has changed since 2008 when Superstar India was jauntily written. Perhaps, too much. Or, too little. Depends on which side of the railway track you inhabit. Mr. Camembert (the biker) at The Deli in Chondi knows exactly where he comes from (a prosperous hamlet of farmers who own acres of paddy fields) and is comfortable with his identity. His boundless confidence says it all. He may not know how to pronounce ‘Camembert’ – and it doesn’t matter – he can buy it by the kilo and enjoy its creaminess as much as the next person at the counter, the one clad in sorbet coloured summer linens and still fiddling with a credit card while thinking twice about picking up a rich portion of freshly baked lasagna. The man on the bike probably has a brand new Ferrari, a Lamborghini and an Aston Martin parked at his farm house, located at the foot of the hill that leads up to the stunning 1200-year- old Kankeshwar Temple, built in the Hoysala style, which sees a steady procession of pilgrims climbing over 650 steep steps cutting into the rocks leading to the summit, where Parvati and Shiva reside. There is a famed ‘Devachi Payari’ (God’s step) en route. Maybe our man has been blessed by the temple priest. Maybe he grows avocados as a weekend hobby, and runs a techie empire that’s listed on the Nasdaq? It’s also possible he is a drug lord with powerful political connections.
Anything is possible in today’s topsy- turvy Bharat. This is what makes the present so compelling, so seductive…. What next? What next? We have roared into today’s Bharat on sexy wheels! Gone are the trusted old Ambassadors and Marutis. Look around you. How many Lambos can you count in just one evening while driving on Mumbai’s Sea Link?
India is already on the moon… Dhanyavad ‘Çhandrayaan-3’. The sun awaits our mission and before that, Mars. We shrug at these stupendous achievements. No big deal, we say, like we know we have arrived. The same way Ranveer Singh knew he had arrived in Bollywood, even before he officially arrived. India was waiting impatiently to make it big on the global platform for decades – we needed an accomplished performer who could play to the galleries and put on a great show. ‘Howdy, Modi’ happened. Perfect timing. A charismatic neta from India captured the world stage and continues to dominate it. The Houston jamboree in 2019, at which Modi and Trump, two unbeatable crowd pullers and consummate thespians wowed a crowd of 50,000 fans. NaMo’s Houston outing proved to be the game changer that altered international perceptions and created a mega political persona who grew and grew. It’s hard to recall the name of any other contemporary politician whose image makeover was as convincing or thorough. An unlikely political superstar was born at that heady event. The powerful signaling which started in Houston, accelerated at a dizzying speed, as Narendra Modi went on to grab headlines wherever he went, distributing ‘jaadu ki jhappis’ to startled world leaders, unaccustomed to such up close and personal greetings from a controversial political figure, who was still battling major contentious issues back home.
The Modi juggernaut has been rolling on ever since, crisscrossing continents and controversies, as India’s Prime Minister asserts himself – emphatically and aggressively – sealing impressive diplomatic initiatives, driving new power equations, striking economic deals. His chest size went from the self-declared 56 inches to superhuman, unimaginable dimensions as awestruck citizens applauded his audacity and confidence. Behind the bluster lay ‘solid’ Gujarati common sense – Modi was speaking the white man’s language to the white man. His speeches were blunt and combative. His body language matched his words, his personal style was making its own statement as ‘Make in India’ became an anthem and his admirers boasted – ‘See … he has silenced everybody.’
So he had.
But at what price?
India has been on mute ever since. We have become a voiceless nation.
Nobody complains. At least, not publicly. Nobody dares.
‘So long as our economy is stable … everything else will fall into place.’
Well… Elections 2024 will be the litmus test. But going by the results of three state elections in 2023 (Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh) the BJP will stroll through the hustings without any obstacles. It is shameful that Rahul Gandhi, the only political rival in the picture, has surrendered without even pretending to put up a fight. The rest of the opposition parties that make up I.N.D.I.A. add up to very little. A clever acronym alone is not enough to win elections. More’s the pity.
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India’s story reads like a Bollywood script – unbelievable and insane to those who fail to decode its astonishing success. Is it a bubble? A mirage? A fantasy churned out by say, YRF studios? Has India been converted into the most watched OTT platform on earth? Is India an ‘Animal’ that will also enjoy the movie’s unmatched box office run? We have the world’s eyeballs. We also have the world’s disbelief and skepticism. Surely, this cannot be true! What? India? The 5th largest economy? No chance! Guess what, folks… statistics can be fudged. But numbers don’t lie this blatantly. And hey, we are right up there with the biggies, okay? Oh… even if we weren’t invited to sit at the high table, we’ve calmly set up our own and invited the rest to the lavish banquet. The ‘royal’ India of old is back, but with new maharajahs – India’s neo-netas, a special breed that walks the talk, struts around the corridors of power with uncommon braggadocio. This breed is predominantly male. The number of women in the Lok Sabha is a miserable 78 out of a total of 542. The Rajya Sabha has just 24 out of 224. The list of women Chef Ministers is not worth tabling. Machismo rules. Widespread misogyny is thinly disguised. Alpha males dominate public life and discourse. The obstinately feudal attitude is here to stay.
Of course, not everything smells of roses or mogras. But why focus on the stench from Manipur when the no-longer-Mughal gardens of Delhi are bursting with blooms and fragrances?
Jasmeen Kaur, an unknown boutique owner, promoting inexpensive Chinese knock offs – colourful sarees – from her modest shop in Tilak Nagar (a locality of Delhi where Punjabi/Sindhi refugees settled down after Partition) shot to overnight fame after she posted a catchy reel on Instagram. It showed her draped in a saree and gushing, ‘So beautiful … so elegant … just looking like a wow! Just looking like a WOWWWW!’ Nothing terribly original or persuasive about the message, right? But it took off, and how! So many top celebrities created memes and reels of their own. Soon, millions of Insta addicts were posting their ‘Wowwww’ versions. Shameful admission: I followed the herd and shot a playful reel with two lady friends at our Diwali party and was overwhelmed by the response. What explains the success of something this trivial and innocuous? Simple: It made all of us smile and feel good. Guess what? India is looking ‘Just like a wow!’ right now. What a story! Jasmeen is now a minor celebrity, who featured in multiple media interviews, including a clip on BBC. From obscurity to overnight fame – a story like this represents a socio-cultural phenomenon that cannot be manufactured. The complete domination of social media is scary – everyone is in bed with the monster. Social media is the freaky octopus with multiple tentacles that have us in a vice- like grip, and India is its most attractive target; think numbers!
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‘You snooty Bombaywallas look down on the rest of India… like we are total ganwaars… unpadhs.’ The man who said this to me was smirking superciliously, nursing a artisanal Japanese gin in his hand. He’d introduced himself as a London-based finance guy with one of the world’s largest private equity funds. He was dressed for the part – a sharp, well-cut navy-blue suit, snowy white shirt, tan loafers, great hair. But he still carried a huge chip on his shoulder. Why? ‘I grew up in Bihar…’ he said later, almost apologetically. ‘You probably have more money than most of these people in this room.’ I smiled. ‘’Í do,’ he confirmed without a trace of self-consciousness. Then?? He asked his wife to join us. She was young, beautiful and spoke confidently. He turned to me smugly and said, ‘She works, you know. I allow her to work.’ She beamed and stared at him worshipfully. Her eyes were filled with gratitude. ‘We are very modern in our thinking. But we also follow tradition,’ he continued. ‘My wife has been fasting for the past three days – no water, nothing. For the welfare of the entire family…’’ she beamed some more. He sipped his gin. I wondered who was looking down on whom?
Upwardly mobile young professionals are struggling with similar contradictions. They want to appear ‘cool’. They don’t actually get cool. It isn’t about striking a pose. Cool is being yourself. Relaxed and at ease. If India is in transition, so are we. We aren’t our parents. We aren’t our children. We are us! Chill, and accept change as it happens, when it happens. The man from Bihar was touchy about his past, his antecedents, his ancestors, his beliefs. Unnecessary. No explanations asked or needed. His wife wasn’t complaining (she could have rolled her eyes) but I wasn’t judging. It was he who was judging me, slotting my ‘Bombay Life’ without knowing a thing about it. This exchange was taking place in Mumbai, at an upscale venue. Our man was there to hustle for new contacts and pump-up business but being stupidly defensive! I smiled and left the couple to network; he was busy grilling a stockbroker about the outcome of the next general elections. ‘Will the big man be back as PM?’ he asked. The stockbroker raised his eyes and hands skyward and shrugged. Good answer.
The very next day, a major scandal broke in the media – an estranged wife of a billionaire went public about her troubled 32-year-old marriage and accused her husband of battery and assault. Within hours, stock prices of the blue-chip company started to crash, and tumbled more than 12%, erasing Rs. 1,500 crores. The wife’s widely circulated videos, podcasts and print interviews painted a grim picture of a marriage defined by emotional and physical battery. Despite all the trauma, she had chosen to keep silent till the dam finally broke. The wronged lady also mentioned the advice given to her by her mother-in-law (herself a victim of domestic abuse). It was to keep mum, no matter what, and think about the family’s reputation.
‘Keep mum’? Instructions handed down to Indian women over centuries. Keep mum.
What has changed? Don’t be stupid! Nothing has changed. Two words that women grow up hearing, absorbing, believing. Why is it that more women than men ‘voluntarily’’ donate a kidney to family members in need? 4 out of 5 living donors are women, a majority of them wives responding to coercion from families. Research establishes that most have no choice. It is a part of our parampara. Keeping mum is equally a part of the same parampara. If the wife of the financial whiz kid is okay being reminded in public that her husband is a benevolent man for ‘allowing’ her to work, how different is her way of thinking from the socialite -wife who accepted her mother-in-law’s advice and endured abuse for years ‘for the sake of the family’?
Popular commercial films and successful OTT series reinforce these attitudes, while simultaneously, there is a sexual revolution raging across the country with women leading the charge. Divorce remains a bad word, but sexual adventurism is accepted more easily, what with countless apps that offer sexual gratification and services in many and varied guises. Access to pornography has never been this simple. Alarmingly young Indians have become blasé and shock–proof, as hitherto taboo subjects are openly discussed on bold podcasts that celebrate inclusivity and diversity, even as India waits impatiently for same sex marriages to be legalised. ‘What attracts you to a partner?’ a dour-faced man asks an animated woman dressed in red. ‘Boobs,’ she answers brightly and clutches her own. As a lesbian activist working in Pune, she goes on to describe her multiple erotic encounters at local bars, clubs, restaurants. The interviewer looks bored. The podcast ends with the lady in red urging everyone to ‘connect’ with their sexual selves minus fear. The Queer Literature Festival and Gay Pride parades in Delhi attract thousands of participants and supporters. Despite the shift in attitude, life is still not easy for those struggling with sexual identity issues at the workplace and within closed family circles. Priyanshu Yadav, a 16-year-old beauty influencer, committed suicide recently, unable to handle cruel trolling.
Despite the multiple challenges, our Queer communities continue to bravely push through and seek courage through role models like my friend, scholar/activist Parmesh Shahani, who employs his considerable clout to sensitize corporate India, conducting workshops and presentations nationally and internationally, leveraging the celebrity status he garnered after the success of his well-researched book, Queeristan. When will gay marriages be legalized, ask those who endure endless hardships, denied rights available to straight couples. There is hope, assure those lobbying for change.
Breaking through stereotypes comes with price tags that can be prohibitive for some. At the launch of her book, Madam Commissioner former top cop Meeran Borwankar spoke candidly about the prejudices she faced throughout her illustrious career. Nobody in the audience was surprised when she spoke about male batchmates taunting and testing her at every stage. Clearly, Meeran was made of sterner stuff and went on to leave the same men behind in her quest to excel – and the quest involved taking several ‘takkars’ with powerful politicians trying to derail her from doing her job. She names people in her book, which is a first of sorts. Despite her obvious courage in dangerous confrontations with criminals, her former bosses remain unimpressed. One of them said, ‘Meeran is full of herself. She is too pushy…’ A familiar charge faced by countless successful women who’ve made it in what were once considered solely men’s jobs – like policing.
For every Meeran Borwankar who remained undeterred despite the put downs, there are several young women touching the skies once dominated and controlled by men. 15 women cadets at the National Defence Academy (Khadakwasla) made history this year, when they participated in the passing out parade along with their male batchmates. Captain Zoya Agarwal is an aviation pioneer, a respected commander with Air India who confidently flies the Big Birds (Airbus 347). In 2021, she created an aviation first by flying an all-woman crew on an inaugural flight from San Francisco to Bengaluru – one of the longest non-stop routes in the world. Later that year, Zoya signed on as the spokesperson for Generation Equality at the United Nations. Her mission in life is to empower other women and inspire them to make informed career choices based on their passion, not gender. Articulate and ambitious, Zoya has over 700k followers on Instagram, and is admired as much for her bold, cutting-edge fashion choices as for her competence in the cockpit.
When people refer to ‘many’ Indias, they are not wrong. We have extraordinary women like Meeran and Zoya leading the way, along with millions of other women, whose ambitions may not be as lofty, but who aim to ensure their own daughters never lack confidence and never lag behind. Having interacted with Meeran and Zoya, I was left with feelings of tremendous hope and anticipation. These are exciting times! Women must grab them! Take advantage of every worthwhile opportunity, make the most of all the options – and there are many. Our women are the backbone of our complex society. It is only now that government agencies have woken up to the untapped wealth women represent. There are 662.90 million of us, 48.04 of the total population, impatiently waiting to break down traditional barriers that have held us back for centuries. We are finally telling our stories and the narrative is changing. Our songs and poems, music and dance, drawings and words are being celebrated across the world. To be heard, simply that – heard – is, in itself a huge breakthrough. We are not invisible! Look at us! As the rousing slogan for a cricket team, Kolkata Knight Riders goes: Korbo! Larbo! Jeetbo Re! – we will perform, fight and win!
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Coming back to Mumbai from Delhi, I ran into a wordsmith known for his gift to strike the right chord through his lyrics which captivate and inspire India’s young. Prasoon Joshi heads the Central Film Certification Board (in simpler language he is the chief censor, who clears films before they can be seen by audiences in theatres). He has the ear of the Prime Minister, it is said, and his feedback matters. ‘The pride in India is at the highest it has ever been,’ he shared. Undoubtedly, it is. With all the fault lines and flaws, wounds old and new, the surge of unbridled optimism is hard to miss. The young no longer shrink away from their ‘Indianness’ as they skillfully navigate and negotiate a blindingly bright future glowing attractively like a golden sunrise… illuminating a myriad opportunities.
The producers of a series for the BBC titled ‘Streets of Gold’, spent close to two years researching material that would showcase today’s Mumbai. A sixteen-year-old girl, daughter of a domestic worker in Avas – a fishing hamlet in Alibag, capitvated the crew during her interview when she was asked what her dream was. ‘To study hard and become an astro-scientist,’ she replied, glancing at her proud mother, whose meagre salary pays for the girl’s school fees.
These days, each time I travel out of Mumbai, and land at our fabulous airport, even after a short break, I feel disoriented and frequently get lost driving home. This is not the Mumbai I know. The ever-changing skyline misleads and mesmerizes, as I look around in wonder and stare at frighteningly high buildings. Have I landed in Singapore by mistake? Is this Dubai? Where am I? The familiar landmarks have disappeared, replaced by glittering chrome and glass structures with strange names nobody can pronounce. Take Beau Monde, home to tycoons and movie stars. The city’s enterprising courier and food delivery boys have given up trying to articulate Beau Monde. They identify the luxe complex in their own fashion when they ask for directions: ‘Deepika Padukone ka ghar kidhar hai?’
Cities change. Countries change. People change. Dreams change. Some call it progress. Maintaining the status quo is so uncool.
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‘Chhaa Jaa,’ a digital initiative of Girl Effect, a non-profit NGO launched by Jessica Onede in Nairobi, Kenya, states that its main objective is to inspire a generation of girls in India to write their own story. The statistics underline the urgency of what Girl Effect is working towards. 20% of the world’s adolescent girls live in India. So far, Girl Effect has reached 23 million girls across social media. This number is going to multiply given the accessibility to mobile phones and content. A girls-only online community is helping adolescent females to address concerns and look for solutions. While talking to the bright -eyed twenty somethings at a focused event where Jessica outlined her vision, I remembered my younger, brash self – a twenty-something working woman who never for a moment doubted her destiny. I grew up simultaneously with India, being the same age. My destiny was linked to India’s. From being that enthusiastic career woman in the ‘70’s to my present status as an equally enthusiastic career grandmother, still putting in the same hours and looking forward to the next challenge, it’s a great feeling to realize how far we have come as a nation on varied fronts. Of course, there have been massive disappointments and disillusionments. But, personally speaking, it has been a surprisingly seamless transition to where I am today – a senior citizen who remains optimistically invested in the future.
India is often described as the land of ‘jugaad’ – we are very adept at finding unconventional solutions, some of which defy logic and appear bizarre to the unwary. There is no rationality involved when we decide to go full throttle and just do it! The Rat Hole Rescue operation of 41 trapped miners in Jharkhand was a master class in ingenuity, courage and hope. When technology failed to reach the helpless miners, struggling for survival, help arrived in the form of six ‘experts’ who swiftly took charge of the complex mission, and achieved what the best engineering brains couldn’t after 16 days of struggle! That’s us and our never say die optimism which encourages us to try unorthodox methods after conventional ones fail to do the job.
It’s tempting and foolhardy to brag that the future of India is female. Is this a delusionary hope, a distant dream of someone who hangs on to the original idea of India? If we continue with the many schemes and programs especially created for women to come into their own, no power on earth can derail the momentum – not even a change in political power at the Centre. ‘Stree Shakti’ was nothing more than a cliché, a cruel joke, on the women of India not so long ago. This same Shakti is being increasingly harnessed and methodically used for the betterment of our fragmented, complex society in which the vivid symbolism of the multi-armed, all-powerful Goddess is often lost in the labyrinth of widespread oppression. The Goddess mocks us! Mocks the harsh reality of a women’s disenfranchised existence. Divinity comes in many guises. India has always embraced the divine in all its beguiling forms. Spiritual India is its own universe. Spirituality is our spine, our core, our strength. Its essence permeates everything – animate and inanimate. The way we worship, pray, express belief, is an indivisible part of who we are.
Are India’s young as convinced about religion and rituals as an older generation? The ‘pride’ Prasoon Joshi talked about, is that the pride which is linked exclusively to India’s impressive success story as the fifth largest economy in the world? Surely not! Our understanding of karma and the philosophy we have been guided by over 5000 years, assures one and all, that the cycle of life continues regardless of external circumstances. Overcoming challenges and focusing on moving forward in a positive manner is in the Indian DNA and has always defined our attitude to life. We have survived and thrived through centuries relying on our strong self of who we are. The plurality that puzzles outsiders does not confuse us! This unshakeable faith and investment in ourselves as Indians first, is a blessing very few nations can claim.
For too many decades we allowed ourselves to feel inadequate and inferior. We looked small in our own eyes as compared to several Big Brothers bullying us into submission. The bullies were stronger, richer, superior, we were told. Know your place and ‘aukat’. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Meekness defined our low self-worth. Unable to compete fairly, unsure of our own potential, we passively accepted second-class citizenship, consoling ourselves, ‘Apna time aayega… apna number aayega… aaj nahi to kal…’
India had hit ‘Pause’.
Today, our pride and identity are linked to India’s prosperity – there is no debate here. A poor and hungry nation cannot hold its head up high in the world and assume a leadership role. India is at that critical inflection point. It is India’s turn now – our very own Vishwaguru –Amritkaal moment that is poised to take off and stay afloat for years to come. ‘Let them eat millets’, advised Prime Minister Modi, and sure enough millets were declared a global superfood. What was once considered a poor man’s staple, humble and unrefined is dominating culinary conversation. This is called India’s hidden soft power at its cleverest.
‘I dream in India’ is the evocative message on the sturdy canvas tote I carry everywhere. The line and the tote itself attract attention wherever I go. People stop me and ask about the bag’s antecedents, and I boast, ‘It’s the brainchild of my incredibly creative friend Gaurav, who markets these gorgeous totes across several countries’. The message is powerful and poetic. It always makes me wonder: What is it that I dream in India? The answer is deceptively simple. India remains an enduring and comforting dream. India is the soft caress of my razai on a cold winter night. India bears the heady scent of mogras bursting into bloom on a summer evening. India is the taste of mathani mirchi on my tongue as my eyes sting and tears trickle down my cheeks. India is the lilting sound of the shehnai bidding a blushing bride bidhai when she crosses the marital threshold and steps into her husband’s home. India is the clouds of vibrant Holi colours that obscure the sun and mess up our radiant faces as we chorus, ‘Holi Hai!’ India is home.
India’s energetic Dance of Democracy is in full rhythmic flow right now. Our vibrant Bhangra, our Garba, our Lavani. Welcome to the most engaging ‘mehfil’ on earth. The declared word of the year for 2023 by the Oxford Dictionary is ‘RIZZ’. If anybody in India has Rizz and Fizz, it’s India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi.
Shobhaa Dé is an Indian author and columnist. This is a 2024 introduction to her book Superstar India: From Incredible To Unstoppable, first published by Penguin Books India in 2008.