The Indian Story of Discrimination

Travelling in an air-conditioned compartment of the Geetanjali Express from Calcutta to Bombay, I once again come face to face with the reality, the two different Indias that exist side-by-side. While me and my co-passengers in the air-conditioned compartment crib about the battalion of cockroaches that keeps coming out of the window seals and the rags, inhabitants of the Other India line up in front of the general, unreserved compartment at every station during the journey of almost 2000 kilometres.

As a student, I had once travelled in the unreserved compartment from Pune to Calcutta. After I reached my destination, I swore never to board the unreserved compartment again. Today when I look at my fellow countrymen fighting with each other to get a toehold in the unreserved compartment, I can’t help but feel guilty of being born in the privileged section of the society in a country that is often described as a poor country of rich people by observers. As I think about this glaring discrimination in every walk of life in this country of contradictions, a railway worker silently appears outside my window at Chakradharpur station in Orissa. His job is to wipe the water off the windows of the AC compartments since it’s raining outside.

The book that I am reading currently also talks about discrimination that has led to a bloody revolution in certain parts of the country. Titled Red Sun, Travels in Naxalite Country, the book is one among many that try to trace the root of the Maoist movement in various states of India. Even the most ignorant member of the India that I represent is vaguely aware of such discriminations but most of us choose to look away from such gloomy realities. We simply don’t have enough time to spare for the Other India.

I decide to take a break from reading and watch a movie. The one that I pick from a collection of about 200 in my laptop is the 2008 Hollywood blockbuster Milk starring Sean Penn. Ironically enough, the movie is about the gay rights movement in the United States in the seventies. There is simply no running away from discrimination it seems.

Red Sun, written by Sudeep Chakravarti, a journalist of some repute and who also comes across as a sympathizer of the Maoist movement throws up disturbing facts. It is a well known fact that Chhatisgarh, the state in central India is where the nucleus of the Maoist movement is. Decades of discrimination against the local people of the state, mostly tribals have led to an armed rebellion today. Chhatisgarh was earlier part of Madhya Pradesh but the story of discrimination continued unabated even after the separate state was formed.

Surprisingly, both Madhya Pradesh and Chhatisgarh have witnessed stable political establishments in the last decade. Both Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Raman Singh, the respective BJP Chief Ministers of these states command respect from all sections of the society for their clean public image. Still, the rebels run parallel governments in certain parts of these two states.

Discrimination in India though is not everywhere defined by armed rebellions. It’s pretty much in-your-face wherever you go. If you travel in the big cities, you get an impression that India is indeed on its way to become a force to reckon with, if not a superpower. BPOs compete with each other to set shop in these cities as according to industry analysts, India has more English speaking people than most of the developing nations. Shopping malls, multiplexes, discotheques and an ‘upwardly mobile’ urban population dutifully decorate these cities. Figures show that engineering and business graduates from India form the backbone of a number of companies in the US and UK. The number of post-graduate students from the country in various universities in different corners of the planet is also proof enough that India is going places in the 21st century. At the same time, one can’t possibly miss the huge army of homeless people, beggars and the ones who don’t even enjoy the basic civil amenities such as electricity and water in these cities.

I had once met a guy called Koos Stellema. He was from a village near Amsterdam. At the time when I met him, he was working as a nursing assistant to my father who is a doctor. Koos had come to India through a student exchange programme and like most foreigners, had quickly adapted to the lifestyle of middle-class Indians. He used to travel by bus when most of the ‘upwardly mobile’ section would simply frown upon the idea and he used to smoke Wills Navy Cut, an immensely popular but not expensive brand of Indian cigarettes which according to him was one of the best cigarettes he ever smoke (I take pride in mentioning this particular fact as I also smoke the same brand).

When I drove Koos to the cheap, shabby hotel where he was putting up in Calcutta one night after dinner at home, he said something that embarrassed me. He said he had never seen a country where contradictions had reached such a level. While he came across the aristocrats of Calcutta in Calcutta Club, Bengal Club and similar places, who according to him resembled the European elite in every possible way, he routinely came across beggars asking for alms right outside these clubs.

It only added to my embarrassment when he asked me to explain this contradiction. I was sixteen or seventeen then and I had no clue. Not that Koos was the first to point out such contradictions to me. I, as I do now, lived with these contradictions all around me even then.

Among the members of the privileged section of the Indian society, it’s almost a norm to show off with a handful of exceptions who in my opinion are the truly educated ones. Whether it’s a fat paycheque or a degree obtained from a university abroad or a simple gadget, it becomes a prize possession in no time. Whereas, there is hardly anything that the inhabitants of the Other India could be proud of in their daily struggle to stay alive. A handful of rice or a roof above the head could justifiably be a reason to be satisfied, if not proud for them.

India with all its English speaking junta, the sexy, skimpily clad bollywood babe lookalikes who can’t sleep at night unless they ‘shake a leg’ in the discos and its ‘upwardly mobile’ population that promises to define its future can’t feed all its citizens, can’t provide a roof above every head, can’t provide electricity to all the houses and can’t unite the two different Indias with a sense of togetherness. The inhabitants of My India refuse to even acknowledge the inhabitants of the Other India as their fellow citizens. And the textbooks approved by the government keep teaching the students about a farcical term that according to the self-proclaimed patriots is the essence of the Indian society: Unity in diversity.