Talking Point

Danny Boyle’s, eight Academy Awards winning yet controversial film Slumdog Millionaire, set and filmed in India, gave the country another name derivative – the Slumdog Land. The name tagging apart, the film also carried a deeper symbolism for India, a land of many contradictions.

As India surges forward in taking big strides of development, there are millions of slumdogs, aspiring to become millionaires all over the country in their own entrepreneurial ways. The making of new India thus needs a thoughtful blend of big ticket macro development as well as the inclusive growth of micro-small-mid sized enterprises for a sustainable growth trajectory.

18th Feb 2009: We finished work by lunchtime. I then went to visit my BITS friend Ram Nagina Tripathy, who is a Chief Engineer with the Gaziabad Development Authority. After the cordial reception at his office, he treated me to light lunch comprising of sandwiches, ‘pakora and bharer cha’ i.

Ram Nagina, version 2009 bears no resemblance with Ram Nagina version 1984.  My mental image of a short, slim chap, constantly moving around campus in ‘hawai chappals’ ii was in sharp contrast to the plump, portly, almost completely bald, middle-aged gentleman who sat across the table, with piles of files and government paraphernalia, cramming a ‘paan’ iii into his mouth from time to time. The initial pleasantries over, he lit a cigarette and sheepishly confessed to me that smoking was prohibited in his office and attracted a fine of Rs. 200, but then……. 

I left Ram Nagina’s office after a good hour or so. He accompanied me to the gate and profusely regretted the fact that he was not advised in advance about my visit, thus preventing him from arranging a gala party the previous evening. I assured him that we would make amends the next time.

I went back to the Guest House, rested a while and then got ready for the journey to Jaipur. My colleague arrived shortly after 6 and we set out for the New Delhi Railway Station to board the prestigious Delhi-Ahmedabad Rajdhani Express.  After a traffic-choked, occasionally frustrating journey, we arrived at the station.

Unlike Ram Nagina Tripathy, New Delhi’s platform no.# 1 seemed to be in a time wrap.  The scene exactly matched my mental picture. Groups of people squatted in all parts of the platform shepherding their children and belongings. A portion of the platform was cordoned off, apparently undergoing some kind of repair. Crowds were gathered in front of the eating stalls, tucking in puri-sabzi, samosas, dosas iv and sipping tea and coffee from small plastic cups. There were the two book stalls, displaying a range of magazines hanging from a string in front. Assorted paperbacks cluttered the rest of the stall. The only change was that the magazines were now packed in plastic jackets, and priced around Rs. 10 higher than a decade earlier. A series of doors at the back of the platform led to the various railway offices tasked with ensuring smooth operations in the world’s largest railway system that transported 18 million people and 2 million tons of freight everyday and employed more than 1.4 million people! Peering through the open doors, I could see officials busily working behind desks piled with paper files even in the era of computerization and e-tickets.  

By now, the majestic Rajdhani Express chugged into the platform. We found our designated berths. The blue-seat-and-curtains interior décor of the air conditioned two tier coaches looked very familiar and evoked memories of many journeys undertaken across the length and breadth of the country.

Before long the train rolled out and we settled in for the four-hour ride. The not-so-cleanly-uniformed attendant passed by and took our preferences for dinner. I settled for the non-veg option and was soon served a ‘thali’ v comprising rice, daal, chicken curry, a couple of slightly oily but hot ‘parathas’ vi, a spot of pickles and a cup of curd. Having tucked in the food and gulped down water from the accompanying ‘mineral water’ bottle, I was about to call it a day, when the waiter came around once again, this time distributing cups of vanilla ice cream! Finally, I crouched uncomfortably into the lower side berth allotted to me, but with the comforting thought that only a couple of hours separated the speeding Rajdhani from the ‘pink city’.

The train finally thundered into the station shortly after midnight and we all got out, still sleepy eyed, amid a flurry of activity. While the food was reasonably good and the ice cream a ‘customer delight’, the Indian Railways seemed utterly clueless in the matter of cleanliness.

The vestibule area connecting two compartments was strewn with packaging material, paper, cardboard and most of the solid waste associated with the food and ice cream that was served. The toilet, mercifully I did not have to enter. It seemed that in the overall scheme of things, cleanliness and waste management received the lowest priority. Without wasting any more time on the subject of waste, I hopped out of the train and together with my colleagues, walked out of the station and located our car waiting to take us to our guest house.

The Pink City Guest House was located conveniently, in what looked like an upscale segment of the city, with wide roads and stately mansions.  To my surprise, the owner of the Guest House, an elderly gentleman by the name of Mr. Mathur, was standing at the front gate to welcome us, immaculately dressed in three-piece suit and scarf, even at that unearthly hour. Introductions over, he directed us to our respective rooms. Bahadur, the Nepalese attendant hovered around, rendering his share of hospitality in the wee hours of the morning. The room that I was allotted had two single beds, clean and spotless linen and towels, a clean but old fashioned bathroom, a writing table and a bookcase consisting of assorted books including P.G. Wodehouse, the Chambers Dictionary, and a stack of old INDIA TODAY magazines. The room had that kind of a ‘homely’ feeling that you would expect while on a holiday visiting an uncle in the military or in the higher echelons of government service. I made sure that the various doors and windows were properly shut (fearing the chill and mosquitoes more than possible break-ins) before calling it a day.  

To be continued …

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i Pakora and Bharer Cha: A popular India snack, in which various types of vegetables like onion, potatoes and even green chilies are dipped in batter and deep fried. Pakoras go very well with tea.  Bharer Cha: A Bengali phrase for tea served in small earthen cups, meant to be thrown away after consuming the tea.

ii Hawai-Chappals: Flip-flops, rubber slippers

iii Paan: Betal nut, chewed in India by people from all levels of the pyramid, even in offices and business places.

iv Puri-sabzi, Samosas and Dosas: These are popular Indian snacks, available at platforms throughout the Indian railway system.

v Thali: Literally a stainless steel plate with shaped depressions to avoid mixing up of the various items of the menu. Thali meals are popular throughout India and a convenient way for serving various courses of the meal at one go.

vi Parathas: Wheat-based Indian flat-bread, similar in concept to  roti or chapatti, but pan-fried in oil.