Articles - India Shining

It was the 2nd of October 2003, as I packed my suitcase preparing to be away from my darling India for a few months. Not that I
wanted to leave my magical country. But under threat from my literary agent, I had decided to leave for a quiet and peaceful
destination - somewhere, where I would not be disturbed, where I could focus primarily on finishing my long overdue novel. Luckily,
MJ, a prosperous NRI friend, his heart as big as his bank balances, invited me to hang about at his castle, just north of Nottingham.

As I checked out of the Radisson that night, all seemed normal. Every square inch of the lobby of the hotel was as shining as always,
big huge chandeliers cascading light on the pure white marble. Important looking fat, obese businessmen dressed in Armani's,
accompanied by overjeweled women, smelling of Chanel and painted in kilos' of rouge and mascara, dominated the scene. The elitist
crowd feeling good and high, thanks to the abundant flow of Campari's, Royal Salute's, Finlandia et al. Opulence, luxury, splendor -
big plump words competed in my mind to define the gala like scene.

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As I sat sipping hot chocolate and reading a World Bank Report on India, the Radisson effect wore off. Written by a team of realistic,
level headed people it was like a notice for our social and political leaders. The damning report outlined as to how India remained one
of the poorest country in the world with over twenty five percent of the populace living below the poverty line. It went on to brand our
dear country as one of the most corrupt nations in the world where infrastructure was in short supply and literacy below the measly
fifty percent mark. But it didn't end there, page after page it went on about the problems of child labor, female infanticide, disparity of
income not to mention the lesser evils of human rights abuses, social injustice and so on. The truth hard to swallow, I pushed it away
and thought about the months ahead and the plot of my magnum opus.

The next few months rolled on with patches of some furious writing, leisurely spotted by long walks at the well manicured lawns of the
massive castle, long drives in the countryside and visits to the many historic pubs in and around Nottingham. While I wrote, MJ would
read, listen and watch to all Indian news and newspapers filling me out daily as to the goings on in our beloved country. As weeks
passed by and my novel gathered some critical mass a great transformation came in MJ. Usually a big Indian critique he would
everyday relate as to how India was progressing getting transformed into an economic and social power house second to none.
"AJ I feel good. India is shining. Finally our India is shining. Maybe I can also think of relocating back to my motherland." He quipped
excitedly as we watched a national Indian channel playing Bharat Uday.

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"Hmm," I mused. Something phenomenal must have happened, something revolutionary to alter and change the fate of a billion
people in just a matter of weeks.

As some more weeks raced by and my novel inched closer to completion, it seemed, going by all the euphoria in the Indian press, that
India indeed had transformed itself. Jumped, leaped and more, into the category of developed nations, was not less than anyone and
its citizens apparently having a gala time. It seemed, going by the viewpoint of a few, that we Indians were the happiest and luckiest
of people in the world and that we had captured and enslaved all our problems.

"Quite a feat MJ, for a few months." I said slightly confused by all the hoopla.

As we drove to The Heathrow for my flight back to Delhi, I thanked MJ profusely for his colossal generosity, bigger than his huge
mansion and the massive team of Butlers hosting me.

"As soon as you reach back AJ, buy me a good house. I have made up my mind. I want to be part of the shining developed country. I
had left it decades ago because it was struggling. But now look," he replayed some advertisement on the limousine's video. "It is now
a happy problem less nation. Why the hell should I spend time here." MJ said excitedly peppering his lecture with similes of
intoxicating, incomparable, incredible, impressive, inimitable, inspirational land of India.

"Yes MJ, it seems in the six months I have been away, India has frog leaped into the developed nation category. Just let me go and
see as to how this transformation took place. Then I will set up base for you." I replied.

Twelve hours later as the British Airways aircraft descended and the co pilot announced our descent to Delhi I anxiously looked out.
Lo, the aircraft was descending rapidly but I could hardly see a single light. Alarmed I asked the hostess who looked quizzically at me
and said, "Relax, Sir, nothing to worry about. Its just a routine power breakdown in the Capital. Don't worry at the airport they have
generators." She said nonchalantly.

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"Thank God, its just a power breakdown," I thought.

As we landed and walked into the terminal a burst of hot wind hit me. Probably some new way of greeting perhaps in the new shining
India, I thought. As we sweated for the next two hours waiting for our luggage, the attendant informed, " The power is back but the
air conditioning system has broken down. Actually," his voice was conspirational, "its under capacity sir. After all the contractor also
has to make some money."
Finally I got my luggage and hurried for the exit, eager to get out of this hot hell into the Shining India.

But as they say, hurdles abound on the way to good things. A customs officer, not satisfied with my writer looks asked for a search of
my baggage. Having failed to find anything of value he concentrated on my second hand IBM think pad I had bought in the Delhi
duplicate bargain market.

"You have to pay duty on this." He was adamant. No amount of arguments would move him. Finally four, five hundred rupee notes
thawed him.

Dawn was already breaking as I stepped out of the airport where a bunch of Taxi wallahs waited. I settled down on one who spoke
fluent Oxfordian English.

"You speak pretty good English," I said to him as the Taxi took off towards Delhi.

"I am an Engineering graduate sir. I was dismissed from my job. You remember the job for money scam. I had paid five lacs for the
Engineering degree and another ten for the job. All in a loan. Now besides driving a Taxi, there is no hope." He snapped.
As we entered the city, trucks, buses, cars, scooters, motorcycles, rickshaws, all jostled for movement and space. The impact as hard
as it had been when I had left India: vivid colors, strong smells, strong contrasts. Huge luxurious buildings crowded with small
hutments and shanty cottages all around. The rich backdrop of abundance overpowered by the small poor hutments and houses of
mud - the poor and unlucky people, living in the streets. Thousands of men and women, working, fighting every day for their life.

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Before we could even reach back to Radisson there was a road blockade. Farmers, tractor trolleys, women beating their chests
blocking the road.

" What's going on," I said alarmed.

"Nothing, don't worry sir, it's a daily occurrence. Whenever a farmer commits suicide they come and demonstrate on the streets. But
don't worry all of them will soon die, because of hunger. Nobody will remain to demonstrate." he gave a hyeny laugh.

We reached the Radisson, I paid and walked into the sparkling lobby. Everything was perfect. The air a comfortable eighteen degrees,
the huge chandeliers shining brighter than the emerging sun, smartly dressed janitors with designer haircuts shining up the spotless
marbled floor, Elvis sneering soothingly in the background.

"Good Morning Mr AJ, I hope you are feeling good." The lady at the reception greeted

"Yes. Hopefully not like the rest of India." I mumbled as I looked out into the now harsh sunshine and harsher reality