My India where English doesn’t exist

Half a century past independence, just walk down five kilometers from the highway and you will still find the same India that bald Gandhi had left. The very same, where chapattis are made on a chulha, where defecation is still done in the open. The India where women reap grain-fields, and men gather on a crossroad at sunset with hookahs and tobacco. The India where one can spot more buffalos than motor-cars, and more hand-pumps than streetlights.

‘Rural’ is the word we use for such India, in more contemporary words also called ‘backward’. The India that supplies milk to every house in the city, grain to every kitchen in the country and sugar to every single Barista and Café Coffee Day, is backward. One prime reason for this is the non-existence of the international foreign language, English. The proximity that hasn’t yet been met by the farmers, the easiness which the natives of these places do not find in comprehending it, or be it the unsuccessful inheritance of the language that still prevails is what makes it backward.

Toiling big malls, going for late night shows and swishing down the highways leaned back in air-conditioned cars is perhaps not what can make a particular region forward. Accepting it or not, doing the righteous thing and bearing one’s responsibility is perhaps what matters more. Terming a region backward with brains full of arrogance, and eyes hazed with differences and hostility is perhaps not what lays the foundation stone of being categorized under backward, okay and forward.

Considering the ongoing elections, enter any village stepping down five kilometers from a highway and you’ll listen curious voices all around discussing and debating over the national governance. In their talks is a concern for their village, faith for their neighbors and an attachment for the nation. They give priorities for matters like these; you’ll see plethora of men, women and children listening peacefully and co-operatively to their future leaders during a campaign. Matters like elections are considered as another form of a festival there. The so called backward-class folks, the poor farmers, the dalits and majdoors residing in kuccha-houses and huts line up vigorously on the day of election to use their franchise and help bring a better governance in their nation. They decide to sacrifice the day’s wages, and who knows perhaps a few families do even sleep empty stomach. But, on a whole they keep their dream alive to upgrade the state of their country.

On the contrary the people of the busy streets, of metros and malls, of Audis and Benz remain busy in their business deals, family issues and other daily tasks. Ask them, whom they’re supporting and they’ll look down your face with a blank expression. The primary thing of concern here is the invaluable money-mantra that they chant day and night. Amidst their occupied life they often forget small things, like family celebrations, children’s academic meetings, and unfortunately in the same list adds up the national elections. The one and only chance where we, the citizens of this nation come at par with those who rule us is often sadly missed. For some it happens unintentionally, and for many it comes as a day of leisure, of relaxation.

But, one thing that remains alive forever is- dissatisfaction and complaints. Whether one has voted or not but no one in this sovereign and democratic nation remains back in cursing the ruling party at times of inflation and crisis. It is true enough that some answers, regrets and guilt often come late to one’s realization. How logical is it thus to call a region forward when people remain so lethargic in one such important issue. The other India that is termed backward is the same India that heaps the entire nation’s kitchen with bread and butter. But alas! It is called backward just because it is the place where PVRs, Baristas and CCDs are hard to spot, where nightlife doesn’t happen, where Audis and Benz aren’t drove, and where English doesn’t exist.

*Also catch this blog on TOI's website. Click the link below:

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/nri/contributors/contributions/udai-narayan-singh-bisht/My-India-where-English-doesnt-exist/articleshow/34730151.cms