Gali Janardhan Reddy is a very pious man and he must now think he has just bought a one way ticket to heaven after gifting Lord Venkateswara at Tirupati a diamond-studded crown that came for a staggering Rs 42 crore. Of course, the crown is heavy at 20 kg and would probably break the neck of the God if He ever attempted to wear it.
But then Reddy, Karnataka's tourism minister and Bellary mine baron, doesn't give the impression that he is a very sensitive man. Had he been, he would have set aside most of the money that went into procuring 32kg of 'aparanji (pure)' gold, 70,000 diamonds weighing 4,000 carats and a huge 890-carat emerald from Africa, to some trust that benefited fellow human beings in his impoverished country - a surer ticket, I am sure, to heaven if there be one.
This display of superfluous piety, in stark contrast to the deprivation faced by millions of us all around, merely underlines two very important aspects of our society - the misplaced sense of benevolence and the utter lack of a culture of true charity in India. Why is this so in our country? In January, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation edged past Britain's Wellcome Trust to become the largest in the world, with assets of $21.8 billion. The Microsoft man has given away most of his fortune to those in need and says he will give more.
According to the Chronicle of Philanthropy, Andrew Carnegie donated - to man, not God - $350 million before he died in 1919, a sum that would be worth about $3 billion today. John D Rockefeller contributed $540 million to various organizations before his death in 1937, an amount that would be more than $6 billion today. It would be interesting to know how much our rich, the Ambanis, Mittals, Birlas, Tatas, Hindujas, Premjis et al, have given to the cause of humanity.
This is a problem with Indians. They will look upwards and give money to God to drive away their sins, ensure a safe seat in heaven or a comfortable life in case they are reincarnated, but they will not glance around and dig a well for the thirsty hordes, set up a free kitchen for the hungry millions or build schools for the innumerable illiterates. And there cannot be a greater irony. According to a government census, just Kolkata has about 1, 27,000 of the absolute poor, of which 67,000 have no shelter. Internationally, an income of less than $1 per day per head is defined as extreme poverty. By this estimate, about 45% of Indians are extremely poor. That's half the country, Mr Reddy. If the daily income per head is less than $2, then the family is described as poor. This would mean about 80% of Indians.
Even now, after all these years of "growth", the per capita income is 2,500 per month. For a family of five that boils down to Rs 500 per head, which is less Rs 20 a day for food, shelter and water, forget luxuries like electricity. In the cursed KBK belt of Orissa (Kalahandi-Bolangir-Koraput), people still eat poisonous mango kernels when they are starving and the mortality rate is a highly disturbing 140 per 1,000. But I haven't seen either politicians like Reddy or businessmen exactly lining up to mitigate the misery.
Reddy's offering, and to be fair he's just one of the rich who lavish their wealth on God, has added to a Tirupati kitty that already holds over 11 tonnes of gold ornaments, making Lord Venkateswara one of the richest in the world. That's indeed a very rich God in a very poor country.
One last word, Mr Reddy. I do hope for your sake that you see the Lord wearing your diamond crown strutting away in all glory when you meet your maker. Till then, will you please dedicate your next offering to the poor and hungry.
Showing posts with label poverty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poverty. Show all posts
Sunday
Selected ethnography of marketing in India
Biscuits (cookies) in India are marketed for their “glucose shakti(power)”, bath soaps are marketed for their ability to get rid of germs, hair oil for its efficaciousness in keeping “lice away”, and the famous “fair and lovely” for its eponymous abilities. We have popular biscuits made by “Britannia”, a popular red tooth-powder that left chalky marks on your teeth sometimes and turned your spittle red, neem (mainly known for anti-bacterial properties) soaps and toothpastes, a “farmer” brand ketchup, “brooke bond” tea (after English tea retailer), “clinic” shampoo, “kwality” ice-cream (I always found it perversely ironic that somebody would misspell quality), and “prickly heat” powders. We have multiple competing mosquito repellents including the famous “tortoise brand” mosquito coil and “good knight”. We have ads showing joint families cheerfully celebrate and lighting fire-crackers and earthen lanterns after getting their houses painted with “Asian” paints, or buying a “Maruti” car, or for that matter a Chetak (after the horse of Rana Pratap Singh) or a “hero”-Honda. Our movie studios often have introductory banners that are full of religious signage.
India is a poor country. It is a post-colonial country. We are as nostalgic about British era ‘quality’ products as we are about the merits of “herbal” remedies even though popular herbal concoctions like Chyavanprash contain mainly sugar.
India came of age, IT age that is, celebrating its “kissans”(farmers) and “jawans” (soldiers). India entered the age of economic liberalization with its own baggage of history - colonialism, and its familial structures, religion, and government propaganda. The specificity of ads, the perversities of the pitches, all are merely scavenging over the body of this skewed, troubled body politic.
I grew up in this strange India. I grew up drawing my houses with slanted tiled roofs even though I lived in Delhi which only has flat roofed houses. I grew up drawing my houses as spare free standing houses, in middle of nowhere, and with a long winding walkway and green brushes even though, I never saw such houses while growing up. I drew colonial beauty - the mimesis of colonial aesthetics in India is deep and resonance, powerful. I grew up in a household where both of my parents were government “servants”.
Commercial advertisement traditions in the country are still cognizant of India’s deep poverty - they focus on the practical and not merely the aspirational though that is rapidly changing. I suppose as the economy grows the ratio of practical pitches to aspirational pitches increases. It is an artificial line - the line between practical and aspirational- and a line that blurs often but a line nonetheless. The fact is that most Indians haven’t reached a level of material comfort where each additional major or minor purchase isn’t looked on as something that materially and significantly improves comfort.
India in some sense is a prime market for marketers, except of course its soul sapping poverty. Indians, ever aware of social position and with brains hardwired to equate price with quality, are almost always willing to buy something costlier that shows better taste or portends better quality. Of course their instincts are roped in by positive social perception about buying something for a “good value” aka cheaply. There is little doubt in my mind that the most successful advertisements will make both pitches. Similarly, the most successful advertisements would also pitch to both its modern commercial aspirational soul, and its traditional religious - changing yet rooted - soul.
India is a poor country. It is a post-colonial country. We are as nostalgic about British era ‘quality’ products as we are about the merits of “herbal” remedies even though popular herbal concoctions like Chyavanprash contain mainly sugar.
India came of age, IT age that is, celebrating its “kissans”(farmers) and “jawans” (soldiers). India entered the age of economic liberalization with its own baggage of history - colonialism, and its familial structures, religion, and government propaganda. The specificity of ads, the perversities of the pitches, all are merely scavenging over the body of this skewed, troubled body politic.
I grew up in this strange India. I grew up drawing my houses with slanted tiled roofs even though I lived in Delhi which only has flat roofed houses. I grew up drawing my houses as spare free standing houses, in middle of nowhere, and with a long winding walkway and green brushes even though, I never saw such houses while growing up. I drew colonial beauty - the mimesis of colonial aesthetics in India is deep and resonance, powerful. I grew up in a household where both of my parents were government “servants”.
Commercial advertisement traditions in the country are still cognizant of India’s deep poverty - they focus on the practical and not merely the aspirational though that is rapidly changing. I suppose as the economy grows the ratio of practical pitches to aspirational pitches increases. It is an artificial line - the line between practical and aspirational- and a line that blurs often but a line nonetheless. The fact is that most Indians haven’t reached a level of material comfort where each additional major or minor purchase isn’t looked on as something that materially and significantly improves comfort.
India in some sense is a prime market for marketers, except of course its soul sapping poverty. Indians, ever aware of social position and with brains hardwired to equate price with quality, are almost always willing to buy something costlier that shows better taste or portends better quality. Of course their instincts are roped in by positive social perception about buying something for a “good value” aka cheaply. There is little doubt in my mind that the most successful advertisements will make both pitches. Similarly, the most successful advertisements would also pitch to both its modern commercial aspirational soul, and its traditional religious - changing yet rooted - soul.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
