Poor, Not Really

India is a diverse country and with so much variety, there is varied understanding and varied notions. But, as a country if we had to define poor, in monetary terms we ought to have a benchmark. It cannot be so difficult to ascertain how heavy a citizen's cash box is. But, we have certainly made it difficult. A farmer who farms on his own land is underlined as 'poor', even without batting an eyelid and exempt from all sorts of taxes, not to forget the sack of subsidies that come along. Even if he is debt free, with enough yield to make him eligible for tax, he still doesn't pay tax. A man staying in the carnivorous metro, earning just enough to pay rent and food bills is rich. Working in swanky offices, earning peanuts and saving flakes makes me rich, owning land double its size still keeps you poor. Irony! When dad got transferred to Nagaland, and we moved to our bungalow, I felt nothing short of a Yash Chopra set up. Sprawling gardens, pond of my own and a huge bedroom all for myself. The next morning, the gardener walked in. If you looked at him, you could mistake him for an official off to work. He came with no tools, no spade. He had come to inform my mother that 'his servant' (you got it right) would look after the garden. The house we occupied belonged to his father-in-law and he owned a nursery. Dad explained us that under Income Tax Act 10 (26), people staying at certain states in India are exempt from taxes if they operate a proprietorship. "But how did he manage this huge bungalow with a pond and garden", Mumma asked. Dad didn't really have one text book answer to this one. Perhaps, surrender ALPHA, may be forefathers, or just struck pots of gold while gardening. There are so many such instances where the beneficiary has amassed significant wealth just by being eligible to government benefits. So, is my gardener poor? Does he pay tax? The best is yet to come. His nephew was sent on state scholarship to Singapore for higher education. He was the first ST to score more than 85% in 12th standard. Statistics never fails to amuse me. The state topper struggled for admission at Kolkata, because he scored 92%, what with no tuitions and professional coaching like metros. Poor guy..you may guess whom I am referring to. It is disdainful how a man who is struggling to make ends meet in the wake of inflation is forced to shut shop to fight for LBT, while some people enjoy lazy evenings and still find claim to poverty. Why would a child, whose grandfather is an IAS, dad from IIM A and mother from LSR need support of reservation while writing his CAT exam. It amazes me how common sense is defeated so easily by all the laws and amendments. What happens behind the closed doors of the parliament, I shall never know. Who votes for whom, you will never know. All you know is you are poor when you have to compromise on your ambitions because your surname is not qualified enough. Brain drain has hit us worse, when we needed it most. The drain has been steady and consistent. Any specific reasons we never bother to discuss it at the Indian diaspora? The questions that the migrated will ask the country will exceed the number of articles its constitution boasts of. Rajdeep Sardesai recently tweeted while walking at his alma mater, Oxford “Yet to meet an Indian who is not successful abroad”. I asked him, are Indians successful in India. I hit the block again. The varied definition of success, the diverse interpretation of the word; doesn’t look like I am getting anywhere. So much like my motherland. India is a young country. It is, without doubts. But, with constant struggle for life’s basic necessities like public transport, clean toilets and nutrition the young are ageing faster than ever and anywhere. Blame it on whom? Blame it on my parents for the surname, blame it on the company for not paying me well, on the government for being as lousy as it gets, on the country for being so diverse, on British who didn’t divide it small enough to be managed, on myself for still sticking around and being able to do nothing about it. Am a rich man’s poor daughter, rich in values and patience and perseverance. Poor in being so stranded by the norms and the pitiful state of affairs that my motherland goes through.

O dear India, Yours is a struggle, your children can fathom, for what you see is the dashboard of each Indian’s life. You have some selfish children who want to eat it all, leaving their siblings hungry, asking for more. Don’t blame them if they abandon you soon, they will cry when you die, which thou shall, very soon.

Goodnight India!! This one seems to a long winter night..