IN THE THIRD WORLD.

As I look through the wire mesh of the little window in my room, I see clouds of dust and muck bounce into one another through the air. No, it is not a dust storm. Its development –construction of a new building. It’s some magnificent real estate affair. The owner has lawfully bought a couple acres of land and is realizing his dream of having a house of his own built. In the spacious backyard of this house, he will bask away the afternoons, and in the evenings, his grandchildren will run on the splendid Italian granite floor that sweeps around the house garden.

In this country, I feel there is a special significance of owning your abode. What is bothering me is the sight of this home in the making - slender women, with children, sometimes more than two, clinging to their bodies, like baby monkeys cling to the mother monkey. The women look devoid of fluids, like a stack of hay, which has not felt the caress of raindrops a midst scorching temperatures for long periods. I want to admit that nothing could not obstruct my gaze at them when I first saw them eating lunch. The woman, who briskly walked with half a dozen sandstone bricks on her head some time back, now makes perfectly round rotis. She does not use a rolling board. She’s innovative. A little lifted plank made on the ground is her work desk, substituting the rolling board. Another woman who was also employed at the site lends a helping hand in feeding the five men and three children. They all sat down with the sabzi already on their plates

Since a very long time I know that I live in a third world country. I do not exactly know when I came to know of this, but I clearly remember that it pinched me. Its not the best feeling that one belongs to the third world. But the feeling would only be marginally different if the third world experience were restricted to mere knowledge of some other people living that life. The third world I belong to, no doubt has stark differences as well. The grandeur of the affluence of some Indians is massive. In some cases, the sheer splendor mocks the misery of the destitute like the ones engaged in construction work. Many a times, the better off lend a helping hand, presumably for the joy of their conscience. The social ladder, to which I connote a blend of economics, literacy and mindset , is peculiar for this part of the world. According to UNESCO’s 11th Education for All (‘EFA’) Global Monitoring Report, while the richest young women in India have already achieved universal literacy, the poorest are projected to do so only by 2080. Globally, the report projects that universal education will not be reached until the next century. This is only one example of the contrast that runs through our country. The report also gives a suggestion to improve the alarming situation of learning crises in poor countries like India. It says that good teachers are the key in this regard.

The third world countries deal with problems of poverty and hunger, dearth of amenities and resources, low per capita incomes and high populations. In my special third world country, we have this peculiar problem of caste. When I first came to know of it, I was quite fascinated by this classification. I thought it is something to be proud about, another thing to celebrate – the way you and I have varied festivals and traditions. Inevitably, our perceptions about things change one day. We become oblivious to some, and start viewing others in a different light all together. The newspapers put forth the stark reality of the caste system. The ugliness of such things as caste supersedes many a good things about our civilization. For instance, the Guruvayur temple purification a couple of years back is only one of the many testimonies to the filth the caste system. The temple priests carried out the purification of the temple because a man, who’s mother was a Christian and father a Hindu had entered the temple premises. His half Christian identity qualified him to be considered impure. Then there was a furor that Kisan Baburao Hazare ended his fast at the hands of a Dalit. Why not stop labeling people? Why not look at people for what they do and think, and not for which caste they belong to? I confess that caste is not a universal facet of the third world ; it just happens to be prevalent in my third world.

A midst all such adversities lies the reality of the third world. The urge to draw ourselves out of this labyrinth of unpleasantries is sure there in some measure. Generalization in this regard is not apposite, and so it is safe to say that this urge must have the right tenacity. Till we really get hooked on with that almost Utopian tenacity as a nation, we shall remain the third world. Our children will be born and die as citizens of the third world. 

Natasha Bardia,

Editor, The Bohemians.