I met Madhu and Sangeeta in a café. I would go there by myself sometimes in order to relax in an air-conditioned environment and to have a really nice cappuccino, which had always a surprise image on top of the foam. I had run into them before. The two young ladies always sat in the only section of the café with couches, which were located in a corner of the cafe. They were pretty loud. This time they were not sitting in their usual space and Madhu was behind me, which made it impossible not to eavesdrop. When they would switch from Hindi to English and then back, they would crack jokes and laugh. I heard them discuss how some other people were sitting in their usual spot and they wanted to go fight with the owner because he had not reserved that spot for them considering they were here every day at this time. The café provided self-service, but the women knew the names of the young men behind the bar, they would call them over, ask them to bring their coffees and sandwiches to their table, or return the coffee to be warmed up, or to add some cinnamon, or more milk. In the beginning it bothered me that they would make the young men run back and forth for small tasks, but later I figured out why it was happening; every time they left them a very big tip and all the waiters were eagerly waiting for their special customers to show up the next day.
Suddenly, Madhu turned around and began talking to me as if she had known me for years. I had ordered a pretzel and a cappuccino and instead of asking me whether the pretzel was fresh or good, she said in English with a large smile:
“So, should I get one too?”
“Should I break off a piece for you to try?” I asked in Hindi.
After I quickly responded to the inevitable questions about how I knew Hindi and where I had learned it, we started an interesting conversation. It turned out that we had a lot in common. We often went to the gym for workouts in the same place, which was nearby. We preferred a good espresso or cappuccino without sugar to the traditional sweet tea. We enjoyed massages and all sorts of similar procedures. We loved to travel. We each had two children of similar ages. Mahdu’s son was going to get his masters in England, while Sangeeta’s older daughter started college in the city, but for a masters and doctors degree, she was going to go to the United Sates, and my older daughter had just been accepted to New York University. Both were interested in discussing wine and cheese, as was I.
In the next two weeks we all got to know each other so well it seemed we had been friends since elementary school. They would come to pick me up, drive me around, or send a car for me to take me where they were; they did not allow me to get into a taxi again. They would alter their plans in accordance with mine, and God forbid that I should tell them I needed something because they would turn the whole city upside down to find it. They were very positive, generous, flexible and easy-going.
They were also very wealthy. Their husbands were manufacturers. Sangeeta owned a huge jeep, which she drove herself. Madhu was driven around by a chauffeur, but in order to free him for her younger son, she had recently started taking driving lessons, while her eldest son had his own motorcycle. She said she wanted to be able to get around independently. She was tired of always having someone behind her like a tail, as if she was under surveillance. In their cars, besides an air conditioner there was also a special carbon filter which cleaned the polluted air entering from outside. No room for complaints, I figured. From the car they would enter the office, from the office the car, from there the beauty salon, then the gym, the cafe, home, the new mall, the restaurant – everywhere with air conditioning. Not bad at all!
Both said that they do not work. Yet, Sangeeta went in the morning to the office of the family company, in order to help her husband. She claimed to be a specialist in his business related logistics. Her phone was always to her ear. It would ring and she would immediately give some sort of instructions. No one dared to undertake any sort of task without consulting it with her first. Where, when, how, with whom one should go – she arranged all the details. Sangeeta began organizing my program as well, since she noticed it was quite chaotic and poorly planned. Every night she would ask me what my to-do list was for the next day and she would reorganize my tasks in such a way, as to allow me to have more free time to spend with them – my two new friends. Madhu was also busy in the morning working at the foundation for aiding the poor. because of my curiosity, she took me once to to her events in a temple, which she financed, she just needed to supervise the preparations and make sure that needed was delivered and available.
They lived in Gurgaon, a satellite city on the side of the united territory of Delhi. It is not a suburb because it has its own, independent governing body and enough work opportunities for its residents, but due to its proximity to the metropolis a lot of people commute daily outside the city while others come into it. The history of Gurgaon has mythological roots. According to the epic Mahabharata, the princes from the two dynasties, the Pandavas and Kauravas, presented their great guru Dronacharya with a gift of a village, which acquired the name Guru-gaon, literally ‘the village of the teacher’. In the last twenty years the city expanded beyond anyone’s expectations. A large number of international companies have built their headquarters here, which led to the development of a more efficient infrastructure and improved services. It turned into a beautiful and well-arranged modern city of the 21st century, often referred to as the corporate center of South Asia. The residential complexes are all surrounded by colorful gardens, fountains, and large grass lawns, which are all next to commercial centers and streets. The area is exceptionally clean and beautiful.
Madhu’s place was decorated in a very modern style; the living room and dining room had orange walls adorned with abstract paintings and glass shelves. The tables and all the furniture, made of metal and wood, was upholstered in grey and black leather and French windows in one wall complemented the feeling of spaciousness and light. Her apartment had four large bedrooms, each with its own bathroom and closet. Her mother-in-law lived in one of the bedrooms, the second one belonged to Madhu and her husband, and their sons occupied the last two. They had a cook and a maid from six in the morning to eleven at night. Other help came separately for more specific work and once the job was finished, the servants left. Madhu gave instructions from time to time, but one of the women appeared to be a housekeeper. She worked quite independently and did not require constant supervision.
One evening I sat in front of the computer in her younger son’s room to check my email. As was her custom, Madhu asked me what I wanted to eat, so I said that I would love coffee and some fruit. Soon enough the maid brought a tray with coffee, roasted nuts, and a fruit salad. When I finished my work, I took the tray, went into the kitchen, and just as I was about to leave the empty bowl in the sink, the woman rushed over in a panic, followed by another woman who had a stunned look on her face, and immediately grabbed everything from my hands. They explained to me that this place was where they did work, and that I should be relaxing in the living room. Then they asked me what else I wanted. In order to compensate for the stress I had caused, I asked them for lemon tea. They smiled happily and we forgot about my faux pas.
“It’s so disappointing that I am still making these culturally insensitive mistakes. When will I learn to be more careful in these kinds of situations?” I complained to Madhu.
She laughed and said:
“Everything depends on your habits. Don’t worry. They are really nice. They are like family to us. Did you know they are sisters? A cousin of mine brought them to me years ago. They were from her village. They were still kids then. Orphaned and starving. I took them in, educated them, married them off, paid for their husband’s driving lessons and found them jobs. I send their children to a special boarding school that teaches English. They are like family. I don’t know what I would do without them.”
Sangeeta lived in a two-floor unit. On the bottom floor there was a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, and a room for the servants. Two women were bringing us the next set of bites of toasted bread with cream cheese or smoked fish, while the host, Sandeep, Sangeeta’s husband, teased them and told them that they did not respect him enough since they refused to have the cocktail he loved – whiskey and coke. They shyly giggled. They were mother and daughter. When Sandeep and Sangeeta moved out of his parents’ house, they hired the mother. At that time she was pregnant and her father had just kicked her out of the house. He did not believe the story that one of his own friends had raped her when visiting his home. She, of course, had not told anybody about this when it had happened, but after some time her pregnancy became noticeable and obvious. An old family servant told Sandeep about the girl and what had happened to her, and guaranteed that she was from a good family, that she had known them for a while and she promised that the girl would work hard and act responsibly. She pleaded Sandeep and Sangeeta to save her and her child, about to be born, from a life of misery on the streets.
So they hired her. They never regretted it, even for a second. A little after they took her in, they went back with the old maid to her father to convince him to accept her back. He agreed and after all, she had started making good money now. She was given her own room on the ground floor, where she lived during the week. She was free to go back to her village on weekends. Afterwards, Sandeep and Sangeeta even found her a husband. He was a very nice and honest man, a widower, with no children of his own. Sangeeta and Sandeep helped him open his own small business, a bike repair shop. The child grew up, graduated from school and was now studying to be a nurse. Sandeep and Sangeeta supported her financially.
We had gathered for a wine tasting in their living room, on the top floor of their house. From there one could enter the three bedrooms, each of which had its own full bathroom and a closet. A staircase led to the roof, which they were currently remodeling. They wanted to install a skylight in order to have an indoor-outdoor patio, in which they could gather with friends for barbecue parties. Their living room was small, filled with light beige wooden armchairs. The wooden floor was covered with rugs made up of dark and light brown lines. Next to the sliding door, leading out to a veranda decorated with flower pots, there were many beautifully embroidered pillows tossed about on the floor. In the opposite corner, there was a bar with glass doors, where they kept all the wine glasses. The walls were covered in landscape paintings done in warm earthy colors.
I noticed in one corner of the room an engraved round side table, on which stood a tall statuette of the dancing Shiva, called Nataraja, which literally means ‘King of the Dance’, which had an oval shape fire around him, jot round as I had seen it most often. Sandeep noticed my interest and said:
“This is no special antique. It used to be my mother’s favorite item she owned. This iconographic representation of Shiva is my favorite. This is his cosmic dance. Shiva destroys the world and then once again creates it. It integrates so many symbols of our religion. You see, the circle of fire surrounding the figure of the god, represents his divine energy but also destruction, the way cremation fires destroy the mortal body. The dance, on the other hand, is the eternal rhythmic movement of the universe and an offering. His right leg is placed on the body of the demon-dwarf Apasmara, which signifies triumph over ignorance and he points to it with his lower left hand. His left leg is lifted up across his body as if ready to step over it again. His four arms indicate the four directions of the world. You see the drum in his top right arm? It symbolizes the cosmic sound of creation. Look also at his lower right arm, do you notice the palm turned outwards? This is the abhay mudra, the gesture of fearlessness. In his top left hand he is holding a flame, which symbolizes obliteration. Throughout this process he reveals the real essence of the universe to his devotees. His dance symbolizes the never-ending cycle of birth and death, creation and destruction. I just love how he shows us his divine powers through a dance.”
“But, we are not very religious.” clarified Sangeeta. “This is the only statue of a god we have in this house. We really like it and honor it. But not as a sign of godliness. Rather it is a symbol of the idea that everything within us and the universe changes all the time, has a beginning and an end.”
“Come on, take a glass,” Sandeep pointed to the tray in front of me on the cocktail table, I want to pour you some wine from the first bottle.”
The hosts offered a couple of Indian wines, I had brought a couple of Australian ones, and their friends, a captain of an overseas trade ship and his wife, came with French and Italian wines. Sandeep started a conversation about how in India there are vineyards that are gradually receiving recognition at international festivals. He told us that Sula, for example, whose Sauvignon Blanc we had established as the winner of the night, produces more than a million bottles of wine a year. Recently the demand and the consumption of wine, including imports and exports had increased tremendously and according to our host, India would take the lead in this business very soon.
“Just like the film industry! We are number one!” he laughed. “We will become the number one wine producers as well. No one will be able to catch up with us. People in all parts of the worlds who watch our movies will soon drink our wines as well. And not only because they are cheaper to get, but also because they are good!”
“This is true and it is already happening.” interjected the captain. “And this is good, you know. New businesses are opening, more and more jobs are offered, as well as programs for training the qualified workers. Look at our automobile industry. The new cars made by Tata are only 100,000 rupees. How much is this, I guess, about 3,200 dollars. We will revolutionize the automobile industry, you will see!”
“Well, it’s a double edged sword,” Sandeep interjected. “The families that drive their motorcycles, illegally carrying three to four on one bike, you must have seen them, will buy themselves new cars. So far so good, right? However, there is a problem very difficult to solve. What about the traffic?”
“Yes. That’s how it is, but we will be able to handle it. We’ll find a way. What’s important is that we produce everything with our own hands. Wal-Mart just entered India. This should not have happened! Small businesses and agriculture are the two strongest sectors of our labor force. Wal-Mart will swallow up all the small businesses in no time. It will affect everyone – manufacturers, retailers, farmers. It will drive them to bankruptcy and it will take away their means of living. It will create opportunities for importing cheap stocks from China, Thailand. A protection exists against foreign investments in the sector of small businesses, but Wal-Mart has already collaborated with Bharati Enterprise. It tipped-toed its way in and will ruin us completely, the fine balance we have of employment. Listen to what I’m telling you.”
Sandeep opened a new bottle of wine and said:
“Listen, this is too pessimistic. Remember, what we did in ‘98 about the pollution in Delhi. We succeeded, right? How did we do it? We put pressure on the government through demonstrations, meetings, petitions, media reports, and what not, and finally the highest court did introduce new regulations, right?” Sandeep argued passionately.
I wasn’t sure what he was referring to.
He continued. “The public transportation system in Delhi utilizes natural gas. As a result only in a couple of years the pollution level dropped by 39%. We can’t read statistics that tell us that close to 10,000 people die yearly from the polluted air in the city and just stand here with our arms crossed…And now the metro system in the city is making a serious difference”
“We love our nation,” the captain reassured me. “We are proud of it and there is good reason to feel this way. Within the last decade, after several financial and economical reforms, India managed to achieve what China started thirty years ago. Not only that, but India is the largest democratic country in the world, yet it is so young. It has yet to develop. Our companies are innovative and resourceful. They have quickly reached international markets. India’s economic growth since 2005 has reached 8.4%, which is not due to strategic planning on the part of the government, but rather private entrepreneurship. This is why India is expected to develop at a very fast rate. Specialists are talking of an economic boom. Let’s not forget that we are talking about a country that is expected to become the most populated country in the world by 2015.”
“Absolutely, I completely agree with you, most certainly,” I said. “The process of modernization in India is so intense that when I visit once every year or every two years, the changes are not only noticeable, but surprising. It’s unbelievable. Not only do the building change and become cleaner, not only are the roads much better and safe, but services have also improved.”
“Did you know that tourism increased 20% within the last two years only?” the captain said. “The demand for automobiles and motorcycles has doubled, the number of passengers on domestic flights has increased six-fold, and with the success of our market, the number of Indian billionaires has reached twenty-three this year, ten of whom achieved that status within the last year. Foreign investments have also been flourishing, western companies are competing to open new offices here and the number of foreigners that work in the country is rapidly growing. The huge metropolitan centers, like Mumbai, Delhi, Calcutta, Bangalore, Hyderabad, and Madras, offer unique career opportunities and high living standards, which do not exist to this extent even in London, Paris, or New York.”
“This reminds me,” Sangeeta added,” that more and more Indians who study and work abroad, choose to return back to India. Two million of them are in the United States and the Indian community has the highest income out of all the ethnic groups. Many however come back here to their families, start their own businesses – internet or software companies, or manufacture and invest capital earned abroad. Recently such people started building state-of the-art hospitals causing medical tourism to grow. All types of procedures and accommodations you can imagine are available in them and not only to western visitors. I have a friend, who is a doctor, and he told me that many of these hospitals and health centers are expanding and introducing sub-units in smaller cities in the country. Due to pressure from media and organizations, they began providing hospital beds for the poor and funding tele-medical services reaching out to many more places in the country.”
“Right, right! Listen, let’s drink to India’s future.” Sandeep proposed. “Cheers!” and after we had a sip, he continued: “Even though over 75% of the population lives on less than two dollars a day and 61% of them are illiterate, many economists that have labeled the 20th century as “the American century,” predict that the 21st century will belong to India. It is gradually turning into the country of opportunities and dreams, which become reality.”
This reminded me of a similar projection made by Rabindranath Tagore, a world-renowned Indian writer, poet and thinker. On his last birthday in 1941 he says in his speech “The Crisis in Civilization”:
“[…] I had at one time believed that the springs of civilization would issue out of the heart of Europe. But today when I am about to quit the world that faith has gone bankrupt altogether.
As I look around I see the crumbling ruins of a proud civilization strewn like a vast heap of futility. And yet I shall not commit the grievous sin of losing faith in Man. I would rather look forward to the opening of a new chapter in his history after the cataclysm is over and the atmosphere rendered clean with the spirit of service and sacrifice. Perhaps that dawn will come from this horizon, from the East where the sun rises. A day will come when unvanquished Man will retrace his path of conquest, despite all barriers, to win back his lost human heritage.”