India - A Long Way to Go

When you think of India, what is the first thought that comes to mind? An economic powerhouse, industrial hub, a population of one billion and growing, the next potential superpower..... These are the terms being tossed around by popular media outlets in Canada and the US. One cannot deny that India has made considerable economic gains over the years. The Indian economy has taken off and is showing no signs of slowing down. When Europe and North America were being battered by the financial crisis, India's fledgling economy was still displaying modest growth. There were daily discussions in the media about India gaining a permanent seat in the United Nations, no less for a country that vies for equality and justice.



In the Plane

I always had a positive impression of India, being of South Asian background myself, my sense of pride and national patriotism was unwavering. This all changed, the day I landed in India on June 7th, 2010. Before I begin to talk about my account, I want to point out that I have primarily been raised in North America, hence my standards of cleanliness, equality, justice, are in comparison to North American standards. Some cultural and social aspects may seem normal in other parts of the world but being raised in Canada, I beg to differ.


After a lengthy plane trip from Toronto I finally arrived. I was ecstatic ! My first trip to my native homeland. I wanted to touch, feel, sense everything that made me who I was. We touched down at Indhira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. I looked out through the small square shaped windows in the plane. It was an interesting scene. The first thing I noticed were the tractors. They were lugging baggage, pulling carts, etc. You might be wondering what I mean when I say tractors? These tractors are similar to the ones used in North America by farmers, two big wheels in the back and one front wheel with a single rider. Interesting, I thought to myself, as long as the job gets done I guess thats what counts.


Indira Ghandi International Airport, Delhi


After picking up my luggage, my next task was to get a taxi. As I stepped out of the airport the first thing that sort of hits you is the dense air and ackward stench. It was heavy taking in a breath and I can only imagine the nightmare it would pose for individuals with respiratory illnesses. The stench was something I could'nt exactly make out, one of body odor mixed with spices. There were a number of taxis waiting to pick up passengers. A young boy around the age of twelve offered to take my luggage and put it into the taxi. He was not wearing shoes and his shirt was partially ripped. I refused and asked him who he was. The boy did not respond. A taxi driver who was in the queue, quickly came up to me. He grabbed the boy, slapped him repeatedly and pushed him on the road. He told him to get out of here, or next time he wouldn't be so kind. The young boy got up, rebellious but beaten, quietly walked away.


At this point I was in utter dismay. "He was only a boy," I said to the driver. I was received with a puzzling look. I was even more disappointed that I stood by and watched. He was only a boy.

Ginger hotel was the hotel that I had pre-booked. It was a modest accommodation for 1000 rupees per night (22 $), a steal in the city of Delhi. I was exhausted, tired from the long plane trip and transient insomia. The first night quickly passed, I was eager to explore the city of Delhi with a population of 14 million people crammed into a small area. (For comparison, the population of Toronto is 2.5 million spanning over a much larger area)


The next morning I woke to someone knocking at the door. Room service had arrived, a young man around my age, 20-24. Over next few days, we became friends, speaking candidly to each other and talking about life and personal aspirations. He was from Assam, a northern province known for its beautiful landscape and tea, a have-not province where jobs were scarce and development stagnant. He came to Delhi in search of work at the age of 15. The hotel had provided him work, a pittance for a salary, and a living quarters with 14 other people in one room.  Hearing this brought tears to my eyes, but I soon realized this his situation, his trials and tribulations were not isolated.

With a population of one billion people, your primary resource is living people. You might ask, what do you mean by living people? Well Canada has an abundance of natuarl resources (oil, gas, lumbar, freshwater) and its greatest asset on a global scale would be natural resources. India on the other hand has limited natural resources but an abundance of people. Hence, cheap labor is the best asset that India can provide on a global scale. As a digression, there was interesting article about circuses in India and how they were changing their strategy to cope with a decrease in revenue. Animals were too expensive to keep. They had to be fed, properly cared for and given a decent environment. So it was decided that humans were the future of circuses. It was cheaper to keep a human in a circus than it was to keep an animal.




Right outside Jama Masjid, Delhi




Picture taken around 11:00 AM

 
When you have one billion people, largely uneducated, labor is really cheap. Just to give you an idea of how cheap it is, you could get someone to work for you doing physical labor for a mere 100 rupees a day easily. (Approx 2 Canadian Dollars) Taking it a step further, it is plausible that electricity costs and equipment operating costs would be higher than actually having things hand made. Hence, in India, a vast majority of items are hand made. Where machines have taken over manufacturing functions in Canada, Indians are taking advantage of manual labor, a cheaper alternative.

Delhi is an exquisite city, a beauty to ponder. The markets are colorful, filled with products from around the world. You have high end stores like Addidas and Nike, which line Cannaught Place. A city rich in history with the reigns of rulers, emperors, rajahs, and ranis. Forts, temples, mosques, and palaces are key focal points within the historic city. The markets are lively and boisterous. In many markets prices are usually not listed for products. It is up to the consumer to bargain with the vendor. In fact, if your perceived as foreign, expect to pay 2 to 3 times what a local would pay for the same product. But, don't despair, in comparison to North American prices, products are much cheaper!

Delhi is also a city of migrants. You will hear many different languages and dialects being spoken: punjabi, hindi, malyalam to name a few. The fusion of all these different nationalities sets Dehi up to be a cultural epicenter. Yes, that means great food, from pakoras, parathas, to mouth savoring vege thalis. The spices spread over a spectrum of colors, beautiful and damaging at the same time. Vomitting, diarrhea, upset stomach commonplace to foreigners. But, if you ever plan on going to India always remember NEVER drink the tap water.

The one aspect of India that struck out as being a shocker is the poverty. Walking around Toronto streets you see the occasional homeless person on the sidewalk, a few drug addicts plagued by addiction and mental health problems. But in India, theres a whole breed of poverty that has never been addressed. In the city of Jaipur, my next destination, I resided at a five star hotel. This is the view from the room of the hotel.

The jutaposition of poverty and wealth is a common sight. Your'll have the most luxurious buildings next to shanty towns. It really is a traumatic experienece when I saw this for the first time. I convinced myself that I wanted to talk to these people. I wanted to find out how they lived on a daily basis. I went into their makeshift shanty town.

Water is a scarce resource in this part of the desert. Locals fill a plastic water tank from a nearby well.

The small sleeping quarters to the left was created from left over bricks. In the background of the picture you can clearly see the divide that seperates the hotel from small town.

The little red truck was the only toy these kids had to play with. Also do you notice the youth with the distended belly, indicative of malnutrition.

As I walked around the shantytown, it was fascinating to learn about their hardships and lifestyle. Moreover, the people themselves were suprised that someone from the hotel would ever venture into their makeshift area. Now, just to give you some perspective, the hotel and shanytown were located in the outskirts of Jaipur. There were no markets in walking distance, restaraunts, or other places to get and eat food so it begs the question, how did they get supplies, cook food, or and who was doing the cooking?

Meet this man:

The man in the picture above singlehandedly takes care of about 100 residents of the shanty town. In the morning he is off making chai for 3 rupees a glass (Approx. 6 cents). In the evening the residents can expect dal or some form of lentils. Throughout the community this man was praised as being the savior in an increasingly expensive society.

After picking up some tasty chai and a few photos, I was off to meet the dhobi (laundry man/woman). They would come to the town twice a week to collect clothes from the residents and wash/iron them. Below is a picture of his children who would come to collect the clothes.



The clothes that need to be washed are wrapped in cloth as you can see in the background of the picture.

 Note that in India, your fathers buisness is your buisness. The notion of "generational occupation" is commonplace in most parts of India, unless your from a wealthy family that can afford higher education. I would even go as far as to say that in most large buisnesses or multinational indian companies, the owner of the company is likely to hand down his position to his son. Education and merit do hold value but not as much as direct blood line.

Indian culture is deeply embedded in the families success as opposed to individual success, collective aspirations as opposed to individual aspirations. The word "family", does not only apply to nuclear family alone, in India it consists of grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. In fact, it is commonplace to find extended families that reside in a single household, a cost effective approach to collective success.

Going back to the Dhobi, his work consisted of taking clothes to a nearby nali (stream) and hand washing each piece in water. Then he would come back and iron each article of clothing. Not suprisingly, the clothes usually came back stretched and discolored. The iron they would use is approximately 10 pounds. Since electricity is an expensive commodity, the iron itself has a chamber to fill coal with. The hot coal would heat the metal frame and hence you have a cheaper alternative, coal iron.