There is something deeply unsettling about the upper-middle class in India. It is a poignant mix of indecency and good intentions. It is, perhaps, the only class which inflicts damage in the name of learning. Few others respect knowledge so much, thus are unable to desecrate it such. Many of their prejudices find their way into laws and policies. Yet others proceeded to shape our aesthetic sense. Events have repeatedly shown the shallow edifices of these ideas. Yet, an insecure class has stuck to them, celebrating every day the vulgar mutations of these obsessions.
Foremost among these, is the obsession with career. It begins when a child is born, in deliberations about which school he will study. Once in a good school, there is a period of short respite, maybe between the ages of 3 and 8 (the period, thus, of maximum creativity and genuineness), when the child is not molested in the name of career. After school, which more or less shapes the individual into this dastardly upper middle class mold, college is supposed to be a couple of years of rebellion. Far from it. The temporary and artificial sense of freedom granted in college is then reined in as people sit and think and wonder and plot their careers. After they get jobs, be it after an MBA (How to write a resume) or PhD (How to write reference notes), there is the idea of progress and saving enough money and buying a car, home, woman, children, and the never-ending charade of middle class existence. These later pursuits are intertwined with the career syndrome.
Before, professions like medicine, law, engineering were the ones these people used to aspire for. Engineering nowadays has become too difficult (though they still flock there). Poorer people perform better in the examinations. Post-independent India saw a growing number of PhDs, both in the Arts and the Sciences. Essentially those who could sit in classrooms for years, bear the humiliation of being told what to read and which opinion to express in their papers, and spend more time citing others than building their own ideas. The new entrant now, to this list, is Journalism. This latest one is popular because it is easy, these people already know basic English by virtue of their class, doesn't require much talent, yet provides a sense of self importance. The zeal with which they aspire, is like that of reality-TV participants.
What would be most terrifying for these people is the prospect of doing nothing at all. How can you do nothing, they will ask? The emptiness of inaction is too much to bear.
What they are most insecure about, these educated not-that-rich, is health. Leading lives bereft of rigorous physical work, they worry through their pathetic lives as to how to extend them further. All they have for sport is the particular muscles created by gym mirrors and the fake uncertainty of football. The pornography of car racing bends to fill in waking hours. Medicines are poured into children, huge amounts are spent in diagnostic tests, and hours and months are spent waiting in lobbies of clinics for their turn. What is wrong with me Doctor? I have a rash. Am I going to die?
The trait that truly distinguishes this lost people is their respect for knowledge. Having spent years trying to learn, they believe their learning can help. They believe they can shape economic policy which can reduce poverty, or find cures to terrible diseases, or give them new identities. These noble intentions are the most dangerous. Their petty ideas of development invade other's homes, displace them to these shallow seas of betterment. They fail. And thus remain the graves of their noble endeavors, witnessed by those they raped.
The ultimate identity of these people is their complete failure to grasp reality. The texture of urine-stained walls, the crumbling of old trees, the visceral hatred the poor feel, the inevitability of a swollen river, the feces an untouchable carries on her head, leaking through the basket, lining her face. The upper-middle class would like to shut these inconveniences out. They do so, by shutting themselves in. Travel by taxis. Live in air-conditioning. Buy cars. Live in gated communities. Buy from supermarkets. Marry each other.
But most importantly, the upper-middle class shuts out reality with the door of good intentions. It is much easier to deal with swollen drainage ditches and corpses of starving farmers if you think you are here to help. Slowly, we will make this nation a beautiful place. Where we can all eat in McDonalds and then watch a movie.
Foremost among these, is the obsession with career. It begins when a child is born, in deliberations about which school he will study. Once in a good school, there is a period of short respite, maybe between the ages of 3 and 8 (the period, thus, of maximum creativity and genuineness), when the child is not molested in the name of career. After school, which more or less shapes the individual into this dastardly upper middle class mold, college is supposed to be a couple of years of rebellion. Far from it. The temporary and artificial sense of freedom granted in college is then reined in as people sit and think and wonder and plot their careers. After they get jobs, be it after an MBA (How to write a resume) or PhD (How to write reference notes), there is the idea of progress and saving enough money and buying a car, home, woman, children, and the never-ending charade of middle class existence. These later pursuits are intertwined with the career syndrome.
Before, professions like medicine, law, engineering were the ones these people used to aspire for. Engineering nowadays has become too difficult (though they still flock there). Poorer people perform better in the examinations. Post-independent India saw a growing number of PhDs, both in the Arts and the Sciences. Essentially those who could sit in classrooms for years, bear the humiliation of being told what to read and which opinion to express in their papers, and spend more time citing others than building their own ideas. The new entrant now, to this list, is Journalism. This latest one is popular because it is easy, these people already know basic English by virtue of their class, doesn't require much talent, yet provides a sense of self importance. The zeal with which they aspire, is like that of reality-TV participants.
What would be most terrifying for these people is the prospect of doing nothing at all. How can you do nothing, they will ask? The emptiness of inaction is too much to bear.
What they are most insecure about, these educated not-that-rich, is health. Leading lives bereft of rigorous physical work, they worry through their pathetic lives as to how to extend them further. All they have for sport is the particular muscles created by gym mirrors and the fake uncertainty of football. The pornography of car racing bends to fill in waking hours. Medicines are poured into children, huge amounts are spent in diagnostic tests, and hours and months are spent waiting in lobbies of clinics for their turn. What is wrong with me Doctor? I have a rash. Am I going to die?
The trait that truly distinguishes this lost people is their respect for knowledge. Having spent years trying to learn, they believe their learning can help. They believe they can shape economic policy which can reduce poverty, or find cures to terrible diseases, or give them new identities. These noble intentions are the most dangerous. Their petty ideas of development invade other's homes, displace them to these shallow seas of betterment. They fail. And thus remain the graves of their noble endeavors, witnessed by those they raped.
The ultimate identity of these people is their complete failure to grasp reality. The texture of urine-stained walls, the crumbling of old trees, the visceral hatred the poor feel, the inevitability of a swollen river, the feces an untouchable carries on her head, leaking through the basket, lining her face. The upper-middle class would like to shut these inconveniences out. They do so, by shutting themselves in. Travel by taxis. Live in air-conditioning. Buy cars. Live in gated communities. Buy from supermarkets. Marry each other.
But most importantly, the upper-middle class shuts out reality with the door of good intentions. It is much easier to deal with swollen drainage ditches and corpses of starving farmers if you think you are here to help. Slowly, we will make this nation a beautiful place. Where we can all eat in McDonalds and then watch a movie.
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