Touchstones: How much is enough?

This is my first column of 2025, so here’s hoping that this year may wipe out all the ills and turbulence of the last. However, given the lingering stench of the past year, this may seem a little unrealistic right now. We have lost some really special Indians in the last year and finding such exceptional human beings is not going to be easy. That level of honesty, integrity and unshaking belief in the courage of their convictions is what made them role models. Those who try to emulate them will struggle to find people who still have faith (or interest) in such personalities.

After the unseemly row over the legacy of Ambedkar, we now have an even sharper exchange over who valued Dr Manmohan Singh more. There can be no uglier way to celebrate the quiet dignity that Dr Manmohan Singh brought into his political life. How utterly sad that this noisy and despicable trade of accusations between political parties is becoming our only way of offering his memory our respect.

It is with this in my mind that I look back to reflect on the basic decency that is receding rapidly from our people. We now pay more attention to outward appearances than inner values. A cursory glance at our ways of reporting news is a good place to start. The most banal and sensational nonsense hogs the limelight now, while the editorial pages get hardly a glance. Clothes and fashion trends, food and drink, parties and gossip about film stars and the rich and famous are eagerly gobbled and then swirl around on social media as memes, high-decibel reels and re-posts among inane chatter groups.

Before I sound like an old auntieji, let me move on to what offers me joy and hope. It is this: that there is, away from the vacuous lives of entitled folk, an India that is alive and growing rapidly. These are the people we see all around us but never bother to address by their proper names. A guard, a driver, a gardener, a cleaner, the autowala, the sabzi wali, the dhobi — the list is endless. While our Gen Z children know the names and pet names of all the Page Three people, their shocking indifference to those who really hold this country together and keep it going is a fact we all know. Yet, how many of us really know of the quiet revolution that is waiting to explode? The energy and aspirations of those who have only occupied the margins of our lives is limitless. Unhampered by the pressures of being seen at all the right places, they have quietly worked their way up in the world. They know the value of education and recognise the skill their families have handed them and built on that. They do not hanker for the latest garments but are content to wear hand-me-downs, their mothers darn and stitch old clothes, they go to the local cobbler to re-sole their shoes, buy only what is strictly needed and wait their turn patiently. They eat home-cooked meals, never demand treats they know the family cannot afford and walk or cycle rather than drive to work. Naturally, we never hear of them collapsing after a vigorous workout at a gym because their bodies are conditioned to handle stress.

What I have written above may sound unrealistic and a romanticised version of the levels of difference between us and them, but believe me, the meek shall inherit the world. Of course, there are some disturbing stories even among them: the desire to earn a quick buck leads many to petty crime and to drug abuse. Despite these aberrations, I still believe that those who grow up in straitened circumstances have an inner strength that our spoilt over-indulged children lack.

Sadly, young parents who come from homes where many pleasures were denied by stern parents try to make up for their lost childhood by giving in to their own children’s demands. Look around you and see for yourself how such children are unable to fend for themselves without a hovering parent. Each morning, I see parents hurrying after school-going children, a heavy satchel carried by the parent (not the child) and being fed breakfast as they race to catch the bus. I would say, let the child face the consequences of arriving late and learn to catch that bus without a parent’s urgent ‘Chalo, chalo…’ chant.

In a world that has lost its patience and wants instant gratification, biryani or ice-cream ordered on Blinkit or Swiggy, it may seem laughable that some of us still practise self-denial. Throwing away anything, most of all food, is another trend I watch with despair. Using leftover food was an art we learnt from our mothers who believed that chucking food — particularly ‘anna’ or grain — was a morally punishable offence. Not a bad view, I think.

My final and most sincere prayer is for all wars and conflicts to find a resolution this year. Enough blood, tears and deaths have devastated our planet, but nothing seems to smote the conscience of those who will not step back. How many more homes will be destroyed, how many families orphaned, how many old people left without their sons and daughters and how many simply freeze to death before it all ends? How much is enough?

— The writer is a social commentator