Showing posts with label indian. Show all posts

Friday, December 12, 2025

The Bystander Apathy in India: When Human Suffering Turns into Entertainment

In the bustling streets of India, where chaos reigns supreme and traffic moves like a lawless river, a chilling reality unfolds all too often. Imagine this: a pedestrian is struck by a speeding SUV — a Thar, perhaps — careening through the crowd. The victim lies on the footpath, bleeding profusely, screaming in agony, their cries piercing the humid air. Passersby glance momentarily, then avert their eyes and continue on their way, as if the scene is just another pothole to sidestep. If a crowd does form, it’s not to render aid but to gawk at the “tamasha” — the spectacle. Phones emerge not to dial emergency services but to capture videos and photos, turning a life-or-death moment into viral fodder for social media groups. This isn’t fiction; it’s a grim snapshot of societal indifference that plagues the nation, where empathy seems extinct and human lives are reduced to entertainment value.

This barbaric behavior raises profound questions about the state of humanity in India. Why do people ignore the pleas of the injured? Why does suffering amuse rather than alarm? Drawing from numerous reports and studies, it’s clear this isn’t isolated but a widespread phenomenon rooted in psychological, legal, and cultural factors. A 2013 survey by the SaveLife Foundation revealed that 74% of Indians are unlikely to help an accident victim, even when alone or with others. This apathy, often termed the “bystander effect,” explains how individuals in a group assume someone else will step in, diffusing responsibility until no one acts.

Real-Life Horror Stories: From Ignorance to Exploitation

Tragic incidents abound that illustrate this heartless detachment. In 2017, a man in Delhi was run over multiple times by vehicles while lying injured on the road; motorists and pedestrians alike ignored him, leading to his death. Similarly, in 2021, a man stabbed his wife to death on a crowded Delhi street, with bystanders filming the assault rather than intervening. These aren’t anomalies — in fact, research shows that in India, bystanders are far less likely to help strangers compared to protecting loved ones, amplifying the isolation of victims.

The crowd’s role often exacerbates the problem. Instead of calling an ambulance or police, spectators pull out smartphones to record the gore. Why? For the thrill of sharing “shocking” content among friends or on platforms like WhatsApp and Instagram. This voyeurism turns personal tragedy into public entertainment, a disgusting twist where a person’s final moments become memes or group chat fodder. As one report notes, urban desensitization has made us immune to violence and accidents, treating them as background noise in our chaotic lives. In a country where road accidents claim over 150,000 lives annually, this behavior isn’t just negligent — it’s complicit in preventable deaths.

The Roots of Indifference: Fear, Psychology, and a Broken System

At the heart of this issue lies the bystander effect, a psychological principle where the presence of others discourages individual action. In India, it’s compounded by practical fears: 88% of people believe good samaritans face harassment from police or hospitals, including endless questioning, legal entanglements, or demands for payment. A national study on impediments to bystander care highlights how attitudes from law enforcement deter help, with many fearing they’ll be blamed or dragged into court.

Cultural and societal elements play a role too. In fast-paced cities like Delhi or Mumbai, life’s hardships breed a survivalist mentality — why risk your own stability for a stranger? Some argue that India’s dense population and constant exposure to poverty and accidents normalize suffering, turning empathy into exhaustion. Yet, this doesn’t excuse the glee in spectating; it’s a sign of deeper moral decay. As the user aptly puts it, these individuals’ lives seem so devoid of meaning that watching someone bleed out provides a perverse form of entertainment. It’s barbaric, stripping away the humanity that should bind us.

Even youth, often seen as agents of change, show reluctance. A study on predicting intentions to help accident victims found that perceived behavioral control and attitudes influence action, but barriers like fear persist. And while the Supreme Court introduced the Good Samaritan Law in 2016 to protect helpers from legal hassles — offering anonymity and no liability — awareness remains low, with 77% still hesitant due to police fears.

A Nation Not for the Faint-Hearted — or Anyone?

They say India is not for beginners, but perhaps it’s not for anyone at all. In a land of ancient philosophies preaching compassion — like ahimsa — modern reality paints a picture of monsters masquerading as men. When suffering is entertainment and sympathy is scarce, what does that say about us? Victims don’t just bleed from wounds; they bleed from the collective indifference that lets them die alone amid a sea of faces.

Change is possible, but it demands education, stricter enforcement of protective laws, and a cultural shift toward empathy. Until then, the next time you see a Thar-rammed pedestrian crying on the sidewalk, remember: ignoring them doesn’t make you neutral — it makes you part of the problem. India deserves better than this spectacle of savagery.

Saturday, December 6, 2025

The Name We Discard: How Indian Immigrants Adapt in the US

Rajesh becomes Ray. Priya becomes Pree. Arun becomes “Aron” because, well, it’s easier. These aren’t just spelling variations — they’re microcosms of a larger asymmetry in how immigrant identity works in America

Walk into any American tech office, startup, or corporate floor. You’ll find Indians with anglicized names filling their professional lives while keeping their “real” names for family WhatsApp groups. The pattern is so routine it feels natural, almost inevitable. Yet the opposite rarely happens: when Americans move to India or anywhere else in Asia, they rarely feel compelled to change their names. This asymmetry reveals something uncomfortable about how power, discrimination, and assimilation work.

The Numbers Don’t Lie: How Common Are These Changes?

The practice is widespread but often invisible because it happens gradually. My older brother, Nirmalkumar, became Norm. My sister, Savita, became Sammy. These aren’t dramatic rebrandings — they’re accommodations, convenience, survival tactics in a system not built for them.

The examples are endless and mundane:

Shrinivasan → Shri or Steve
Priya → Pree or even just “P”
Deepak → Dave
Anjali → AJ
Vikram → Vik or Victor

Some Indians officially change their names on resumes, LinkedIn, and job applications. Others switch between contexts — their legal name in one setting, an anglicized version in another. This code-switching becomes second nature, so normalized that it barely registers as a choice anymore

Why This Happens: The Machinery of Discrimination

The reasons are deceptively simple but rooted in real harm:

1. Hiring Bias Is Measurable

Harvard research demonstrated that resumes with Indian names receive callback rates 26–50% lower than identical resumes with “white-sounding” names. This isn’t anecdotal — it’s statistical. When a hiring manager sees “Priya Gupta” versus “Priya Gardner,” the outcomes differ meaningfully. Discrimination is real, quantifiable, and immediate

2. Pronunciation Becomes a Burden

There’s a subtle cruelty in workplaces where your name requires explanation every time you introduce yourself. Hiring managers stumble over it. Colleagues butcher it repeatedly. In meetings, you’re constantly correcting people — a micro-aggression that drains energy while signaling that you don’t quite belong. Changing your name removes this daily friction.

3. Professional Advancement

Indians quickly learn that their ethnic identity can be a ceiling, not a bridge. Names become a calculus: Is keeping my identity worth limiting my career? For many, the pragmatic answer is no. Changing your name isn’t about preference — it’s about survival in a system that penalizes difference

4. Social Integration

Beyond careers, there’s a social dimension. Getting hired is one thing; actually fitting in is another. An anglicized name makes social interaction frictionless. Americans don’t have to feel uncomfortable around difference. Indians don’t have to be the foreign one. Everyone is more comfortable.

The Hypocrisy Is Structural

Here’s where your original critique hits hardest: Americans almost never do this in reverse.

When Americans move to India, the UK, Australia, or anywhere else, they keep their names intact. A “Mike” remains Mike. A “Jennifer” doesn’t become “Jaya.” They face no equivalent pressure, no hiring discrimination tied to their names, no systematic barrier that rewards assimilation.

This isn’t because Americans are individually more principled. It’s because they carry institutional power with them. American names aren’t foreign in most of the world — they’re prestigious. They suggest education, wealth, reliability. An American’s name is assumed to be correct; an Indian’s is assumed to be difficult.

The asymmetry reveals the truth: name-changing isn’t a choice born from respect for local culture. It’s a symptom of power imbalance. Indians adapt because they have to. Americans don’t adapt because they don’t have to.

The Trap of Individual Solutions to Systemic Problems

This is where the hypocrisy becomes philosophical. By normalizing name changes, we’re essentially telling Indian immigrants: “The system discriminates against you, so change yourself to fit it.”

This approach has consequences:

It makes discrimination invisible. If discrimination isn’t obvious because everyone has adapted to it, it becomes self-inflicted rather than systemic.
It shifts responsibility. Instead of asking “Why does American society penalize different names?” we ask “Why don’t you just change yours?”
It surrenders identity. Each name change is a small surrender of cultural identity on the altar of professional acceptance.

Researchers themselves have pushed back: “We do not suggest immigrants to Anglicise their ethnic names in order to avoid discrimination,” warns Harvard research, because “this puts the onus on immigrants to promote equity

The Growing Resistance

Not everyone accepts this bargain anymore. Some Indian immigrants and their children are consciously resisting, keeping their names despite the friction, treating it as “a symbol of successful resistance to assimilation.”

Activists are pushing systemic solutions instead. California passed a historic ban on caste discrimination. Recruiters are learning to value diversity rather than demanding homogeneity. Some companies now anonymize resumes to remove racial bias.

But these changes move at glacial speed. Meanwhile, individuals still face rent to pay and careers to build.

What This Reveals About Assimilation

The name-change phenomenon exposes how assimilation really works in America. It’s not a free exchange of cultures — it’s a hierarchy where the dominant culture’s comfort is prioritized over minority identity. It’s a system that says: “You’re welcome here, but only if you make us comfortable by becoming more like us.”

Meanwhile, Americans anywhere in the world remain comfortable as they are. No one asks them to change. No one makes it worth their while. They don’t have to choose between their name and their career.

That asymmetry is the hypocrisy. Not that Indians change names — that’s rational survival. But that we’ve normalized it so completely that it feels like personal preference rather than what it actually is: adaptive response to discrimination masked as cultural assimilation.

The real question isn’t whether Indians should change their names. It’s why, in a diverse nation built by immigrants, we still make it necessary.

Thursday, December 4, 2025

The Shadow of Karma: How an Ancient Doctrine Cemented Centuries of Suffering for India’s Untouchables

In the labyrinth of India’s social history, few concepts have wielded as much power — and inflicted as much pain — as the theory of karma. For millennia, this philosophical pillar of Hinduism has been invoked to explain, and often justify, the rigid hierarchies of the caste system. At the bottom of this pyramid lay the “untouchables,” now known as Dalits, whose lives of destitution, discrimination, and dehumanizing labor were framed not as societal failures, but as cosmic consequences. Imagine being told that your poverty, your exclusion from temples, and even the violence inflicted upon you are all deserved — payments for sins committed in a life you can’t remember. This is the insidious logic that karma imposed on millions, turning oppression into divine decree.

But how did this happen? How did a idea meant to encourage moral living become a tool for perpetuating inequality? In this exploration, we’ll unpack the historical and philosophical threads that wove karma into the fabric of untouchability, revealing a system so entrenched that even its victims often accepted it as fate.

The Foundations: Caste and Karma in Ancient India

India’s caste system, one of the world’s oldest forms of social stratification, traces its roots back to the Vedic period around 1500 BCE. Described in the Rig Veda, society was initially divided into four varnas (classes): Brahmins (priests and scholars), Kshatriyas (warriors and rulers), Vaishyas (merchants and farmers), and Shudras (laborers). Outside these varnas were the outcastes, or untouchables — groups deemed so impure that contact with them was believed to pollute higher castes. These untouchables, often indigenous tribes or defeated communities, were relegated to the fringes of society, performing the most menial and degrading tasks, like cleaning sewers, handling dead bodies, or manual scavenging.

Enter karma, a core tenet of Hindu philosophy derived from the Upanishads (circa 800–200 BCE). Karma posits that every action — good or bad — generates consequences that carry over into future lives through reincarnation (samsara). The cycle of birth, death, and rebirth continues until one achieves moksha (liberation), breaking free from this wheel.

In theory, it’s a system of cosmic justice: live righteously, and you’ll reap rewards in the next life.But in practice, karma was twisted to reinforce birth-based hierarchies. Texts like the Chandogya and Kaushitaki Upanishads linked one’s rebirth to past deeds, suggesting that good karma led to birth in higher varnas, while bad karma resulted in lower ones — or worse, as an untouchable.

The Manusmriti, an influential legal text from around 200 BCE to 200 CE, codified this by prescribing harsher punishments for lower castes and restricting their access to education, property, and rituals. Thus, an untouchable’s suffering in this life wasn’t random; it was penance for sins in a previous existence.

Justifying the Unjust: Suffering as Deserved Fate

This linkage created a powerful narrative: If you’re born an untouchable, it’s because of your own past misdeeds. Your current hardships — poverty, social isolation, and backbreaking labor — are not the fault of the upper castes or the system, but a direct result of your soul’s history. Upper castes, conversely, enjoyed their privileges as rewards for prior virtue, giving them a moral license to maintain the status quo.

The doctrine went further by tying karma to dharma (duty). For untouchables, salvation lay in faithfully performing their assigned roles — no matter how degrading. Manual scavenging, for instance, was seen as their dharma; by enduring it without complaint, they could accumulate good karma, potentially earning a higher birth in the next life and eventual moksha. The Bhagavad Gita reinforces this in verses like 18:47, stating that it’s better to perform one’s own dharma imperfectly than another’s well, implying that straying from caste duties invites more bad karma.

This framework didn’t just justify exploitation; it sanctified it. Untouchables were barred from entering temples, drawing water from common wells, or even casting shadows on higher castes, all under the guise of preserving ritual purity. Violence against them, including beatings or killings for “transgressions,” was rationalized as upholding cosmic order. For thousands of years, from the Vedic era through medieval times and into colonial India, this ideology held sway, ensuring social stability at the expense of human dignity.

The Tragic Acceptance: Internalization and Brainwashing

Perhaps the most heartbreaking aspect is how untouchables themselves internalized this belief. Through generations of religious indoctrination, many came to view their plight as self-inflicted, a form of radicalization that turned victims into unwitting enforcers of their own oppression. System Justification Theory in psychology explains this: Believing in karma provides a sense of certainty and security, making unbearable suffering feel meaningful rather than arbitrary. It fosters low self-esteem and diminished aspirations, perpetuating the cycle without needing overt coercion.

This brainwashing was amplified by religious leaders and texts. Shankaracharya of Puri, a prominent Hindu figure, emphasized that caste (jati) is determined by birth alone, not actions, to preserve “pure” lineages. Untouchables were taught that rebellion would only worsen their karma, dooming them to even lower rebirths. Even today, echoes of this persist in rural India, where Dalits sometimes accept discrimination as fate, despite constitutional protections.

Breaking the Cycle: Lessons for Today

The story of karma and untouchability is a cautionary tale about how philosophies can be co-opted to serve power. It reminds us that true justice requires questioning inherited beliefs, not accepting them as destiny. As India evolves, shedding these shadows could pave the way for a society where birth doesn’t dictate worth — and where karma inspires personal growth, not perpetual chains.

Saturday, November 1, 2025

The Unwitting Allies: How Western Liberals Fuel India’s Right-Wing Ascendancy

In the glittering diaspora hubs of Silicon Valley, New York, and London, upper-caste Indian immigrants — often Savarnas — project an image of cultural vibrancy and progressive assimilation. They light up Diwali lamps on public streets, advocate for diversity in boardrooms, and decry Western racism with fervent op-eds. Yet, back home in India, many of these same individuals and their families champion policies that entrench caste hierarchies, vilify inter-caste unions, and stoke xenophobia against Bangladeshi migrants. This chasm isn’t mere personal inconsistency; it’s a systemic hypocrisy that Western liberals, in their earnest embrace of multiculturalism, unwittingly amplify. By shielding these voices from scrutiny, they provide ideological cover and material support to India’s right-wing ecosystem, allowing it to flourish unchecked.

The Mask of the Model Minority

At the heart of this dynamic lies the Indian diaspora’s selective identity politics. Upper-caste Indians, who dominate the skilled migration pipelines to the US and Europe, arrive as “model minorities” — highly educated, economically successful, and culturally “exotic” enough to fit neatly into progressive narratives. They leverage affirmative action critiques in the West while opposing India’s reservation system that uplifts Dalits and Adivasis, revealing a profound double standard rooted in caste privilege.

In Silicon Valley, these “tech bros” rail against American xenophobia, yet fund campaigns in India that demonize Muslim “infiltrators” from Bangladesh, echoing the BJP’s anti-migrant rhetoric.This isn’t abstract ideology; it’s lived duplicity.

Consider the everyday: In India, a Savarna household might maintain separate utensils for their lower-caste domestic help, enforcing untouchability under the guise of tradition. Abroad, that same family sues employers for discrimination, invoking the very civil rights frameworks they undermine at home.

As one observer notes, Indian Americans often lean left domestically — supporting Democrats and social justice causes — but pivot rightward on India, backing Narendra Modi’s Hindu nationalist agenda without a hint of irony.

This paradox isn’t accidental; it’s a survival strategy in a globalized world where caste networks provide economic lifelines, from H-1B visas to venture capital.

Cultural Celebrations as Cultural Imperialism

The hypocrisy sharpens during cultural displays. In the US, Diwali has evolved into a spectacle of fireworks, street block parties, and corporate sponsorships — often with little regard for noise complaints or environmental impact. If a neighbor objects, cries of “cultural erasure” ring out, bolstered by allies in city councils and media. Yet, in India, the same diaspora remits funds to families and organizations that protest public namaz (Muslim prayers) as “public nuisance,” filing petitions to ban them from streets and parks. God forbid a Hindu festival faces similar curbs; it’s decried as “appeasement politics.”This selective outrage isn’t isolated. South Asian feminists in the West, many upper-caste, amplify Palestinian solidarity or Black Lives Matter while ignoring caste atrocities or anti-Muslim pogroms in India.

Priyanka Chopra, a Bollywood icon and diaspora darling, embodies this: She headlines global women’s rights panels yet remains silent on the Gujarat riots that killed over 1,000 Muslims in 2002, under Modi’s watch as chief minister — a silence that shields right-wing narratives abroad

Western Liberals: Enablers in Progressive Clothing

Enter Western liberals, whose well-intentioned multiculturalism becomes a Trojan horse. Eager to atone for colonial sins, they celebrate Indian “diversity” without interrogating its caste-infused underbelly. Invitations to TED Talks, university panels, and Democratic fundraisers flow to these diaspora figures, who frame themselves as authentic voices of the subcontinent. In doing so, liberals launder right-wing ideas: Modi’s “digital India” gets applause as innovation, not surveillance; yoga retreats ignore the erasure of Muslim heritage sites.This support isn’t benign. Diaspora remittances — $100 billion annually to India — often channel into BJP coffers, funding campaigns that suppress Dalit activism and queer rights.

Tech CEOs of Indian origin lobby against H-1B reforms in the US, citing their own immigrant struggles, while their Indian counterparts push “citizenship amendments” that sideline Muslim refugees. Western liberals, by amplifying these stories without context, normalize the narrative that India’s right-wing is merely “cultural conservatism,” not ethnonationalist authoritarianism.

The irony peaks in minority protections. These immigrants demand safeguards against Islamophobia in the West — rightfully so — yet fund groups that lobby against caste discrimination bills in California, arguing it “stereotypes Hindus.”

Abroad, they play the “garib” (poor immigrant) card for sympathy; in India, they embody the elite, ensuring lower castes remain outsiders. As one X user laments, this is the diaspora “bending backwards to find redeeming values in Hindu fascists,” all while Western enablers applaud the performance.

The Ripple Effect: Thriving at Home, Empowered Abroad

The consequences for India are dire. Emboldened by uncritical Western acclaim, the right-wing doubles down: Reservations are branded “reverse discrimination,” inter-caste marriages face “love jihad” laws, and migrants are scapegoated amid economic woes. The diaspora, safe in their suburban enclaves, exports this toxicity via WhatsApp forwards and Zoom fundraisers, eroding secular fabrics without personal risk.Yet, cracks appear. Younger, intersectional South Asians — Dalit activists and queer Muslims in the diaspora — are challenging this hegemony, demanding accountability.

Western liberals must listen to them, not the high priests of hypocrisy

In the end, true allyship demands discomfort: Scrutinize the Savarna abroad as rigorously as the migrant at the border. Only then can progressivism dismantle the very hierarchies it claims to oppose — before India’s right-wing, fattened on Western goodwill, consumes the pluralism both sides purport to cherish.

Monday, October 13, 2025

From Bamiyan to Delhi: The BJP’s Hypocritical Embrace of the Taliban

How India’s Ruling Party Shifted from Condemning Buddha’s Destruction to Hosting Taliban Leaders — and Why Questioning It Makes You an Enemy

In March 2001, the world watched in horror as the Taliban regime in Afghanistan dynamited the ancient Bamiyan Buddhas — two towering statues carved into cliffsides in the 6th century, symbols of Afghanistan’s rich Buddhist heritage. The act was not just cultural vandalism; it was a deliberate erasure of history by religious extremists. India, under the BJP-led government of Atal Bihari Vajpayee, was among the loudest voices in condemnation. The Ministry of External Affairs issued statements urging the Taliban to protect the relics, and India co-sponsored a UN General Assembly resolution decrying the destruction.

Protests erupted across the country, with Sangh Parivar affiliates — often vocal defenders of Hindu heritage — taking to the streets to decry the Taliban’s barbarism. Fast forward to October 2025, and the same BJP government, now led by Narendra Modi, is hosting a high-level Taliban delegation in Delhi. Foreign Minister S. Jaishankar shakes hands with Taliban FM Amir Khan Muttaqi, and India announces the reopening of its embassy in Kabul.

What happened to the outrage? Apparently, it’s all “diplomacy” now.

This isn’t just a policy shift; it’s a glaring example of political hypocrisy, where principles bend to the winds of power. The same “sanghis” who once burned effigies of the Taliban are now defending the regime’s visit as strategic necessity. Question it, and you’re dismissed as ignorant of geopolitics — or worse, anti-national. But let’s unpack this turnaround, because it reveals a deeper rot: the demand for unconditional loyalty to the government, no matter how contradictory its actions.

The 2001 Outrage: When the Taliban Were the Ultimate Villains

Back in 2001, the Taliban’s edict to destroy “idols” like the Bamiyan Buddhas was met with global revulsion. Mullah Omar’s regime justified it as Islamic purity, but it was widely seen as an assault on shared human heritage.

In India, the BJP government didn’t mince words. On February 27, 2001, it condemned the decree and called for the protection of the statues.

Reports from the time describe widespread protests, including in Buddhist communities and among right-wing groups who framed it as an attack on ancient Indic civilization.

The Sangh Parivar, with its emphasis on cultural preservation, was particularly vocal. RSS affiliates organized demonstrations, drawing parallels to historical invasions that targeted temples. It was a moment of unity: the Taliban were the bad guys, pure and simple.Even years later, BJP leaders referenced the Bamiyan destruction as evidence of the Taliban’s fanaticism. In a 2021 speech, Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath equated support for the Taliban with anti-humanity and anti-India acts, warning against sympathizers and even jailing people accused of celebrating the group’s takeover of Kabul.

The message was clear: The Taliban represented everything the BJP claimed to oppose — religious extremism, destruction of heritage, and threats to India’s security.

2025: From Protests to Protocol

Cut to October 2025. Taliban Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi arrives in India for a groundbreaking week-long visit — the first by a senior Taliban official since the 2021 takeover.

He’s greeted warmly, meets with Jaishankar and NSA Ajit Doval, and discusses trade, humanitarian aid, and regional stability.

India upgrades its Kabul mission to a full embassy, signaling deeper ties.

Muttaqi even visits Deoband in Uttar Pradesh, home to a prominent Islamic seminary, under heavy security provided by the state government.

The irony? This is the same Yogi Adityanath who, in 2021, accused Deoband clerics of backing the Taliban and arrested Muslims on flimsy charges of Taliban sympathy.

Now, his administration is rolling out the red carpet, complete with Z-plus security and transportation for the delegation.

Critics like PDP leader Mehbooba Mufti have called out the hypocrisy, noting how the BJP embraces the Taliban abroad while targeting Indian Muslims at home.

When questioned, the response is predictable: “It’s diplomacy.” “Geopolitics demands it.” India needs to counter China’s influence in Afghanistan, secure trade routes via Chabahar, and isolate Pakistan amid its tensions with the Taliban over the Durand Line.

Fair points, perhaps. But why the selective amnesia? The Taliban hasn’t changed — women’s rights are still curtailed, minorities persecuted, and terror groups like TTP find safe havens. Engaging them might be pragmatic, but pretending the 2001 outrage never happened? That’s gaslighting.

Yogi’s U-Turn: From Jailing Supporters to Guarding Leaders

Yogi Adityanath embodies this flip-flop. In September 2021, he declared, “Supporting Taliban means backing anti-India, anti-humanity acts.”

His government cracked down, arresting young Muslims for alleged pro-Taliban posts or celebrations.

Fast forward to 2025, and Yogi’s UP police are providing security to Muttaqi’s delegation during their Deoband visit.

Old videos of Yogi’s rants have gone viral, sparking debates on social media.

This isn’t isolated. It’s part of a pattern where past condemnations evaporate when convenient. The Taliban, once equated with terror, are now partners in “regional stability.” And if you point out the inconsistency? You’re told to trust the government’s wisdom.

The Bigger Picture: Trump, China, and the Cult of Unquestioning Loyalty

This Taliban tango isn’t unique. Look at Donald Trump. In 2020, BJP supporters built a temple for him in Telangana and organized havans across India praying for his election win.

Modi called him “my friend,” and crowds chanted “Namaste Trump” at rallies. But by 2025, with Trump back in power and slapping 50% tariffs on Indian imports, he’s the villain.

Relations have soured over trade, Kashmir mediation offers, and energy disputes. Overnight, the narrative flips — no questions asked.

Same with China. For years, Xi Jinping was the enemy — border clashes, economic boycotts, apps banned. Yet in August 2025, Modi meets Xi in Tianjin, shakes hands, and calls for partnership.

“India and China are partners, not rivals,” they declare.

Tomorrow, it could be Pakistan: “Oh, they’re friends now.” And the faithful are expected to nod along.

This is the essence of “andhbhakti” — blind devotion. You’re not supposed to think independently. If the government says Taliban bad, echo it. If it says good, pivot. Spread the WhatsApp forwards, defend the Godi media’s mental gymnastics, and shut down dissent. Questioning isn’t critique; it’s betrayal. The real message: Loyalty to the party trumps principles, history, or logic.

In a democracy, diplomacy should be debated, not deified. The Taliban visit might serve India’s interests, but erasing the Bamiyan memory to justify it insults our intelligence. If “geopolitics” excuses everything, what’s left of accountability? Perhaps it’s time to stop being sheep and start asking why the shepherds keep changing direction.

Monday, September 22, 2025

Conservatism or Reactionary Politics: What Defines India Today?

Politics in India has always been a delicate balance between the pull of tradition and the push of reform. In this tension, two closely related yet distinct currents often appear: conservatism and reactionary politics. While they are sometimes confused, they carry different implications for democracy, society, and governance.

Conservatism in India

Conservatism refers to the preference for continuity, gradual change, and respect for tradition. It is not necessarily anti-reform, but it resists sudden or radical transformation. In India, conservatism manifests in several ways:

Social sphere: Reluctance to rapidly accept changes in gender roles, LGBTQ rights, or interfaith marriages.
Economic sphere: Skepticism toward aggressive privatization, with greater comfort in a mixed economy and welfare-oriented state.
Political sphere: Commitment to constitutional democracy and parliamentary traditions, even amidst turbulence.
Cultural sphere: Deep respect for festivals, customs, and family structures, with selective adaptation to modern lifestyles.

Conservatism is thus woven into India’s societal fabric, guiding how reforms are absorbed over time.

Reactionary Politics in India

Reactionary politics, unlike conservatism, is not about preserving the present but about reversing reforms and restoring a perceived “golden past.” In India, it has taken several forms:

Colonial era: Resistance to reforms like widow remarriage or the abolition of Sati.
Post-Independence: Opposition to progressive initiatives like the Hindu Code Bill or caste-based reservations.
Recent decades: Mobilizations around religious nationalism, backlash against globalization, and moral policing against Western cultural practices.

Unlike conservatism, which accepts change slowly, reactionary politics thrives on confrontation and nostalgia.

Which is More Prevalent Today?

Indian society largely functions on conservative instincts — slow adaptation, negotiation between tradition and reform, and preference for incremental change. However, in the political sphere, reactionary currents have become more visible in recent decades.

Religious majoritarian movements, rewriting of cultural narratives, and caste-based backlash politics reflect reactionary impulses.
Yet, everyday life — from acceptance of technology to gradual shifts in gender relations — shows that conservatism, not reaction, is the dominant social force

Conclusion

India is defined by a coexistence of conservatism and reactionary politics. Conservatism shapes the rhythm of social change, ensuring continuity amidst reform. Reactionary politics, on the other hand, erupts when groups feel threatened, often amplifying polarization and nostalgia-driven politics. The challenge for Indian democracy is to ensure that conservatism evolves into constructive reform, while preventing reactionary tendencies from undermining pluralism and constitutional values.

Friday, September 5, 2025

Gerontocracy in Indian Politics: Why Our Leaders Don’t Reflect the Country’s Youth

India is young. Its politicians are not.

While the average Indian is about 28 years old, the people governing India are among the oldest in the country’s history. This generational distortion — where lawmakers are far older than the citizens they represent — is known as gerontocracy. Recent data from the 18th Lok Sabha, current state assemblies, and the top echelons of government shows how deeply this phenomenon runs through Indian democracy.

The Stark Age Gap: Parliament and Assemblies vs The People

Numbers don’t lie:

Average age of 18th Lok Sabha MPs (elected in 2024): 56 years — the highest ever.
Only 11% of MPs are aged 40 or younger; more than half are 55+, and the oldest is 82.
State assemblies: A nationwide ADR analysis of 4,092 MLAs finds that over 61% are above 50. Just 11% are under 40, showcasing a similar tilt toward the aged.

By contrast:

India’s median age (2024): ~28.4 years — with over 65% of citizens below 35.
The average Rajya Sabha member is estimated to be well over 60.

A Portrait of India’s Greying Power Structure

Despite having the world’s largest youth population, the highest offices of Indian politics and administration add up to a formidable portrait of elder leadership:

Prime Minister Narendra Modi will turn 75 in September 2025; already one of India’s oldest serving PMs.
National Security Advisor Ajit Doval is 80 years old as of 2025 — India’s oldest and longest-serving NSA.
Key Chief Ministers:
Pinarayi Vijayan (Kerala): 80 (oldest CM in office)
Nitish Kumar (Bihar): 73
Mamata Banerjee (West Bengal): 70
Chandrababu Naidu (Andhra Pradesh): 75
Yogi Adityanath (Uttar Pradesh): 53
Pema Khandu (Arunachal Pradesh): 46 (youngest among major states)
Revanth Reddy (Telangana): 55
Mohan Yadav (Madhya Pradesh): 59
Other senior figures:
Sonia Gandhi (Congress leader): 78
Rajnath Singh (Defence): 74
Amit Shah (Home): 60

Lok Sabha youngest and oldest MPs:

Oldest: T. R. Baalu, 82 (Tamil Nadu)
Youngest: Four MPs at 25 (constitutional minimum) — Shambhavi Choudhary, Sanjana Jatav, Pushpendra Saroj, Priya Saroj.

What Does Gerontocracy Mean for Democracy?

A gerontocracy is rule by elders. In India, this means the lived experience and priorities reflected in the law are those of a generation several decades older than India’s average citizen. This can skew legislative focus — employment, digital policy, social media, education, and entrepreneurship issues affecting youth may be interpreted through an out-of-date lens. When older generations dominate, innovation can slow, and youth concerns — including climate, tech, jobs, and mental health — may get less official attention.

Why Are India’s Politicians So Old?

The roots run deep and structural:

Top-Down Nominations: Parties are controlled by concentrated leaderships; tickets for “winnable” seats go mostly to loyal, well-connected veterans.
Weak Intra-Party Democracy: Internal elections or leadership changes rarely elevate younger figures.
Societal Tradition: Seniority is culturally valued, and experience is often equated with age.
No Legal Remedies: While the Constitution sets lower age limits (25 for Lok Sabha/MLA, 30 for Rajya Sabha/MLC), there is no structural mechanism to promote youth candidatures. The Law Commission’s 170th report highlights the urgent need for intra-party reforms and greater transparency.
Safety for Parties: Older politicians are seen as a “safe bet,” especially in risk-averse electoral environments

Is It a Problem Unique to India?

Globally, parliaments are older than populations. However, for a country where the youth form the largest chunk of voters in the world, the disconnect is more dramatic and consequential. The Inter-Parliamentary Union’s data shows that only about 2.8% of global MPs are under 30, underscoring how rare it is to see real youth representation at the top.

Fixing the Gap: What Will It Take?

Internal Party Democracy:
Legal reforms enforcing regular, transparent inner-party elections and term limits can force parties to broaden their leadership pipelines.
Affirmative Action:
Youth quotas in ticket allotment, modeled on gender reservations, could be considered.
Institutional Innovation:
Regular youth parliaments, mentorship programs, and seats for youth representatives in important committees would mainstream young voices.
Societal Change:
Voters increasingly demanding younger candidates will shift party priorities.

Conclusion: A Demographic Dividend, Squandered?

India’s democracy is often celebrated for its vibrancy, but its most vital demographic — youth — struggles to be heard where it matters most. Power’s “age wall” is rising at precisely the moment when India needs bold, youthful thinking the most. If the promise of India’s demographic dividend is to be realized, Parliament and state assemblies must reflect not just the wisdom of age but the promise and perspective of youth.

It’s time for India’s politics to grow younger — for the sake of its democracy and its future.

Friday, August 15, 2025

India’s 35 Million–Strong Diaspora: Pride Without Power?

Every January, we celebrate Pravasi Bharatiya Diwas with pomp and pride. Politicians beam about the 35 million Indians abroad, often calling them “India’s ambassadors to the world.” We highlight the parade of Indian-origin CEOs — Sundar Pichai, Satya Nadella, Arvind Krishna — as proof that Indian talent dominates global boardrooms. We’ve even sweetened the deal with OCI cards, allowing them to keep a foot in the Indian door.

And yet, when it comes to protecting India’s core economic interests, this vast network has been silent — sometimes uncomfortably so.

The Test Case: US Tariffs

When the United States imposed tariffs affecting Indian goods — steel, aluminium, and later other sectors — New Delhi expected that the strong Indian-American presence, especially in policy circles and corporate corridors, might help soften the blow. After all, this is the same diaspora that India celebrates at every opportunity.

But there was no organized lobbying, no public campaign, no high-profile voices condemning the move. The Indian-American community, despite its political clout and economic influence, remained on the sidelines.

Why the Silence?

National Loyalty vs. Cultural Roots
Most diaspora members, especially those in positions of power, are now citizens of their adopted countries. When push comes to shove, their legal and political obligations lie there, not here.
Corporate Priorities Over National Affection
A CEO’s primary responsibility is to shareholders, not to the land of their birth. Supporting India against their own government’s trade policy is simply not in their job description.
Fear of Political Backlash
Openly lobbying against a domestic policy of their host country can invite suspicion, accusations of dual loyalty, and professional risk.

The Harsh Reality

We love to imagine that the Indian diaspora is a geopolitical asset, ready to rally for India in times of need. The truth is more sobering: diaspora influence is circumstantial. It can shine in cultural promotion, philanthropy, and bilateral business ties — but when a direct clash of interests arises, their loyalties will align with their passports.

This isn’t betrayal. It’s simply the reality of migration and assimilation.

Rethinking Our Approach

India must recognize that diaspora goodwill ≠ diaspora activism. We can still take pride in their achievements, but we must stop assuming they are a dependable lobbying force for India’s political battles. Instead:

Build our own institutional lobbying capacity abroad.
Strengthen government-to-government channels rather than relying on soft power alone.
Appreciate diaspora contributions where they are effective, but not confuse sentiment with strategy.

Conclusion

Our 35 million–strong diaspora is a source of pride, culture, and connection — but not a shield in economic warfare. They have built lives elsewhere, and when forced to choose, they will side with the nations that now claim their allegiance.

India can celebrate Pravasi Bharatiya Diwas, hand out OCI cards, and beam at the success of Indian-origin leaders. But let’s also accept the reality: in the moments of geopolitical friction, we stand alone.

Monday, June 16, 2025

Inside the BJP-RSS Digital Machinery: How India’s Most Powerful Political Network Shapes Online Narratives

The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its ideological parent, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), have built one of the most sophisticated political “digital armies” in the world. What began in the mid‑2000s as a handful of social media volunteers has grown into a massive, multi‑layered ecosystem encompassing in‑house teams, marquee ad agencies, boutique specialists and grassroots “shakha” networks — all coordinated to shape narratives, amplify messaging and mobilize voters across India’s 1.4 billion population.

BJP IT Cell: The In‑House Engine
Founded in 2007, the BJP IT Cell was the first Indian party unit to treat social media as a core campaigning arm. By 2014, it had formalized operations under then‑convenor Arvind Gupta and head Amit Malviya, building a manpower pipeline that today claims over 5,000 core workers at state and district levels, supported by some 150,000 social‑media operatives spreading targeted posts across WhatsApp, Twitter and Facebook. Wikipedia, Wired .In routine election cycles, these teams deploy data analytics and micro‑targeted messaging — often via proprietary apps like SARAL — to reach up to 100,000 voters per day with campaign updates, policy pitches and get‑out‑the‑vote reminders Source.

While the IT Cell handles grassroots mobilization, the BJP also contracts top industry players for broad‑reach campaigns:

Madison Media: Retained since 2014 for nationwide media planning and buying across print, TV and radio Source1, Source2
McCann Worldgroup–TAG & Scarecrow M&C Saatchi: Awarded creative and digital mandates ahead of the 2024 Lok Sabha polls, overseeing everything from influencer tie‑ups to outdoor hoardings Source1, Source2.
SEO Corporation, Ogilvy & Mather, Soho Square: Handled early digital advertising, social‑media blogging and localized outreach in 2014, with senior BJP leaders personally acknowledging their contributions Source1, Source2.

Boutique Specialists & Grassroots Tools
Beyond the big names, the BJP’s digital playbook employs:

Meme‑Marketing Agencies (e.g., Acquaint Consultants): Tasked with crafting viral memes around trending topics — spending on Google ads alone topped ₹5.37 crore in a recent 30‑day window, with Meta ad spends of ₹1.31 crore Source
VivaConnect’s “LiveTalk”: A voice‑broadcast service used in 2014 to stream Narendra Modi’s speeches into “media‑dark” rural households via regular phone calls; it reached over a million callers for the Prime Minister’s oath‑taking ceremony en.wikipedia.org.
Secret “War Rooms”: Data teams like those set up by Sapiens Research to mobilize 12.5 million female voters in 2024 — leveraging call centers, WhatsApp and village‑level self‑help groups to track and engage constituents door‑to‑door wired.com.

RSS Digital Infrastructure & Volunteer Mobilization
Parallel to the BJP’s IT Cell, the RSS is revamping its own digital training and outreach:

Digital “Shakhas”: In late 2023, RSS organised “digital shakha” workshops for 150 influencers, equipping them with IT Cell‑style messaging playbooks to amplify pro‑Modi content across social platforms thetimes.co.uk.
Shakha App: Since 2020, roughly 1.5 lakh volunteers in the Kashi Prant have adopted a nine‑module “Shakha” mobile app — covering everything from daily drills to offline event coordination — to stay connected and “take up organisational activities” online timesofindia.indiatimes.com timesofindia.indiatimes.com.
Volunteer Scale: The RSS reports over 37 lakh regular shakha attendances nationwide, with an additional 7.25 lakh join‑requests via its “Join RSS” portal between 2017–2022 — underscoring the Sangh’s digital embrace to bolster traditional ground‑game methods Source .

By integrating high‑tech campaign analytics, marquee agency firepower and deep volunteer networks — both BJP’s IT Cell and the RSS have effectively rewritten India’s playbook for voter outreach. As digital platforms evolve, these structures are likely to become even more granular, personalized and automated — raising both strategic possibilities and urgent questions about transparency, data privacy and the shaping of democratic discourse.

Sunday, May 25, 2025

The Caste-Based Reservation Debate: A Misunderstood Reality

In India, few topics ignite as much public passion as caste-based reservation. For some, it is a necessary corrective to centuries of discrimination. For others, it’s perceived as an unfair advantage. But what if much of the public debate is centered on a numerical illusion?

Contrary to widespread belief, caste-based reservation accounts for less than 2% of all jobs in India. This isn’t an opinion — it’s a hard number based on publicly available data.

Breaking Down the Numbers

Let’s start with the facts:

Total workforce in India (FY 2023–24): ~643 million people.
[Source: Reserve Bank of India, CMIE]
Public-sector employment: Only about 3.8% of India’s jobs are in the public sector (including central/state government, PSUs, etc.).
→ 643 million × 3.8% = ~24.4 million public-sector jobs
Reservation coverage:
Under central rules, 49.5% of government jobs are reserved:
SC (15%)
ST (7.5%)
OBC (27%)
→ 49.5% of 24.4 million = ~12.1 million reserved jobs
Total reservation share in all jobs:
12.1 million ÷ 643 million = ~1.9%

Yes, that’s it. Just 1.9% of all jobs in India are covered by caste-based reservation policies.

What About the Private Sector?

This number is so low because over 90% of India’s jobs are in the private and informal sectors, where caste-based reservation does not apply.

Despite calls from various political parties and social justice activists, no pan-India law mandates reservation in private companies. A few states like Maharashtra have experimented with it, but enforcement is patchy, and many such laws are stuck in legal limbo.

Why This Is So Worrying

Policy vs. Perception Disconnect
Walk into any WhatsApp group, college debate, or comment section, and you’ll hear that “reservation is everywhere” or that “merit is being destroyed.” But this data proves otherwise. The entire narrative rests on just 1.9% of all jobs.
Misplaced Anger
Many upper-caste youth who struggle in competitive exams often channel frustration toward caste-based quotas, even though most of their job prospects lie in the unreserved private sector. The real bottleneck isn’t reservation — it’s a broken job market, low economic growth, and lack of opportunities.
Blind Spot in Social Justice
On the other side, those who believe that reservation has “uplifted” entire communities must also acknowledge that its reach is extremely limited. The vast majority of Dalits, Adivasis, and OBCs are still stuck in informal jobs with no protections — let alone reservations.
Myth of Overrepresentation
There’s a recurring narrative that reserved groups are now overrepresented in bureaucracy or government. But data shows that SCs, STs, and OBCs are still underrepresented in higher government posts, courts, academia, and corporate leadership.

Why It Matters

We are debating less than 2% of the job pie while ignoring the 98% that’s unregulated, exclusionary, and caste-stratified in more subtle ways.

This massive disconnect leads to:

Divisive politics that weaponize identity.
Young people blaming the wrong system for their unemployment.
Neglect of real affirmative action reforms for the private sector.
Little to no pressure to create better universal job policy.

The Way Forward

We need to realign the conversation:

Acknowledge the data: Understand where reservation applies — and where it doesn’t.
Demand broader equity: Instead of fighting over the 1.9%, demand transparency, diversity, and opportunity in the remaining 98%.
Reframe the narrative: Stop treating reservation as a dominant force. Start recognizing it as a narrow tool trying to correct a vast historical imbalance.

Conclusion

The idea that caste-based reservation dominates India’s job market is a myth — and a dangerous one at that. By obsessing over a policy that affects just a sliver of the workforce, we ignore the real structural crises: job scarcity, inequality, and private-sector exclusion.

If we want a fairer India, we must move beyond rhetoric — and start looking at the numbers. Because right now, the perception is wildly out of sync with reality.