I just came across this article from the New York Times which was written right after India won the Cricket World Cup for the first time in 28 years.
The author says "It might have appeared on Saturday that there is much that connects the different rungs of the Indian society and that cricket is the proof. But the truth is that cricket is the only manmade phenomenon that connects the nation’s upper classes with its vast masses. There is absolutely nothing else."
He goes on to talk about how the goal of India's elite is to protect themselves from India; to build a bubble around themselves that the crowds, dust and poverty cannot penetrate. I see this in action all too well every day here.
My in-laws are far from the most wealthy family in Pune. But they are far from the poorest too, and that's what counts here. They didn't inherit their money like many of the elite here. On the contrary, Mama grew up in a village, the youngest of too many kids to count, and her father died when she was very young leaving them struggling to get by. Papa grew up in a two room apartment (not two bedrooms, two rooms - kitchen and everything else - the bathroom was quite a walk outside) and his father was a teacher. Not exactly the makings of a billionaire family.
But Papa went on to become an engineer and started his own company at the ripe old age of 25. Ten years ago they were able to buy a plot of land and build their own house. When they bought this land, there was nothing else around them. They had no control over what buildings became their neighbors. When I stand in the yard looking out over the wall that encircles their property at the poorly maintained bordering on dilapidated apartment buildings around us, it gives me a surreal feeling. I wonder what the tenants of those buildings think, looking out of their grimy windows at our house?
The house is three stories high with three separate terraces. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms...it's more like an American house than an Indian house. The floors are all made of marble. A giant picture window graces the front of the house, covering all three floors. Despite the lavish details, the house still becomes dirty at breakneck speed from the dry dustiness that is India. No sooner has it been cleaned then a fine layer of dust resettles on everything. Of course this hardly matters because the maid will clean it again tomorrow.
Yes, my in-laws have a maid. Who comes every single day. She does the laundry and hangs it to dry. She washes ALL of the dishes. She cleans every room in the house every day. We do...nothing. We don't even call her by her name, this woman who spends several hours in our house every day. We call her bai, the marathi word for female servant (not to be confused with bhai, the hindi word for brother...the only difference seems to be an exhalation...damn these languages!).
There is also a...let's say groundskeeper, Bua. Bua was hired by in-laws to watch the property while the house was being built. He spent his days and nights on a construction site. He stayed on with them after the house was completed. My in-laws seem to view his employment as some sort of charity. He's too old to get work anywhere else, so he should feel lucky to have this job.
The man is probably in his 70s, though no one seems to know for sure. He washes the cars (there are three, even though there are usually only two people living here). He opens and closes the gate every time someone leaves or comes home. He carries everything in from the car, whether it's groceries, Papa's laptop bag, whatever. No one else carries in anything. He maintains the lawn and garden Papa is so proud of. He runs any errand my in-laws need, coming running when they holler for him from any part of the house. They even expected him to carry my 50 pound suitcase up the stairs, but I refused to let him.
For all this work, he is fed tiny meals compared to what is heaped on our plates. He must eat them outside. In fact, he must stay outside all of the time unless expressly asked to come into the house. If no one is home, he is locked out. He spends most nights sleeping on the porch. I'm pretty sure in the U.S. this would qualify as elder abuse. But he's getting paid, so he should feel lucky is my in-laws take.
Last night my mother-in-law told me that, when hiring people to work at Papa's factory or in the office, they give preference to Hindus. The provide school books and uniforms for the workers' children. "You should not go anywhere to do social work," she told me. "You should only do within your community." That's all well and good unless you're telling me to only help people who are like me (which it really sounds like you are), in which case you can shove it. If you're telling me not to only help people in other countries without also helping those in my own, ok. But I really don't think that's what you're saying. Considering you refer to the children and staff I interact with at Manavya as "those people."
Both of their children have gone to university in the U.S. I'm not complaining, it gave me the opportunity to meet the man I love, but it's not like they got in-state tuition or anything. It cost them a pretty penny. Both kids also went to private school here in India. My father-in-law was trying to convince me to get involved with the Rotary Club here, and began telling me about a tutoring program they have for underprivileged kids. He then proudly told me he started a chapter of that program at his kids' school. He started a tutoring program for underprivileged kids at a private school. Doh!
My in-laws are sweet, well-meaning people, don't get me wrong. They just don't seem to know any better. The only people they interact with are well-educated affluent people who live just like them. It's no wonder nothing can connect India's wealthy with its much poorer, and much larger, masses.
The author says "It might have appeared on Saturday that there is much that connects the different rungs of the Indian society and that cricket is the proof. But the truth is that cricket is the only manmade phenomenon that connects the nation’s upper classes with its vast masses. There is absolutely nothing else."
He goes on to talk about how the goal of India's elite is to protect themselves from India; to build a bubble around themselves that the crowds, dust and poverty cannot penetrate. I see this in action all too well every day here.
My in-laws are far from the most wealthy family in Pune. But they are far from the poorest too, and that's what counts here. They didn't inherit their money like many of the elite here. On the contrary, Mama grew up in a village, the youngest of too many kids to count, and her father died when she was very young leaving them struggling to get by. Papa grew up in a two room apartment (not two bedrooms, two rooms - kitchen and everything else - the bathroom was quite a walk outside) and his father was a teacher. Not exactly the makings of a billionaire family.
But Papa went on to become an engineer and started his own company at the ripe old age of 25. Ten years ago they were able to buy a plot of land and build their own house. When they bought this land, there was nothing else around them. They had no control over what buildings became their neighbors. When I stand in the yard looking out over the wall that encircles their property at the poorly maintained bordering on dilapidated apartment buildings around us, it gives me a surreal feeling. I wonder what the tenants of those buildings think, looking out of their grimy windows at our house?
The house is three stories high with three separate terraces. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms...it's more like an American house than an Indian house. The floors are all made of marble. A giant picture window graces the front of the house, covering all three floors. Despite the lavish details, the house still becomes dirty at breakneck speed from the dry dustiness that is India. No sooner has it been cleaned then a fine layer of dust resettles on everything. Of course this hardly matters because the maid will clean it again tomorrow.
Yes, my in-laws have a maid. Who comes every single day. She does the laundry and hangs it to dry. She washes ALL of the dishes. She cleans every room in the house every day. We do...nothing. We don't even call her by her name, this woman who spends several hours in our house every day. We call her bai, the marathi word for female servant (not to be confused with bhai, the hindi word for brother...the only difference seems to be an exhalation...damn these languages!).
There is also a...let's say groundskeeper, Bua. Bua was hired by in-laws to watch the property while the house was being built. He spent his days and nights on a construction site. He stayed on with them after the house was completed. My in-laws seem to view his employment as some sort of charity. He's too old to get work anywhere else, so he should feel lucky to have this job.
The man is probably in his 70s, though no one seems to know for sure. He washes the cars (there are three, even though there are usually only two people living here). He opens and closes the gate every time someone leaves or comes home. He carries everything in from the car, whether it's groceries, Papa's laptop bag, whatever. No one else carries in anything. He maintains the lawn and garden Papa is so proud of. He runs any errand my in-laws need, coming running when they holler for him from any part of the house. They even expected him to carry my 50 pound suitcase up the stairs, but I refused to let him.
For all this work, he is fed tiny meals compared to what is heaped on our plates. He must eat them outside. In fact, he must stay outside all of the time unless expressly asked to come into the house. If no one is home, he is locked out. He spends most nights sleeping on the porch. I'm pretty sure in the U.S. this would qualify as elder abuse. But he's getting paid, so he should feel lucky is my in-laws take.
Last night my mother-in-law told me that, when hiring people to work at Papa's factory or in the office, they give preference to Hindus. The provide school books and uniforms for the workers' children. "You should not go anywhere to do social work," she told me. "You should only do within your community." That's all well and good unless you're telling me to only help people who are like me (which it really sounds like you are), in which case you can shove it. If you're telling me not to only help people in other countries without also helping those in my own, ok. But I really don't think that's what you're saying. Considering you refer to the children and staff I interact with at Manavya as "those people."
Both of their children have gone to university in the U.S. I'm not complaining, it gave me the opportunity to meet the man I love, but it's not like they got in-state tuition or anything. It cost them a pretty penny. Both kids also went to private school here in India. My father-in-law was trying to convince me to get involved with the Rotary Club here, and began telling me about a tutoring program they have for underprivileged kids. He then proudly told me he started a chapter of that program at his kids' school. He started a tutoring program for underprivileged kids at a private school. Doh!
My in-laws are sweet, well-meaning people, don't get me wrong. They just don't seem to know any better. The only people they interact with are well-educated affluent people who live just like them. It's no wonder nothing can connect India's wealthy with its much poorer, and much larger, masses.
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