snakes and ladders
India, the land of opportunity? A lot of foreign investors think so. Indian-born writer Gita Mehta does, too.
By Shailaja Neelakantan
(This article appeared in Forbes in June 1997).
"SIT DOWN, for God's sake," Gita Mehta demands, interrupting her phone conversation to light a British Silk Cut cigarette. My eyes run down the bookshelves: Mann, Twain, Okri, Rushdie, Anais Nin.
Gita Mehta is the modern Indian, at home anywhere in the world but definitely Indian. Her first book, Karma Cola, published 18 years ago, is a wicked look at the West's encounter with India: gurus, charlatans, incense, yoga, meditation. "The hippies loved India, hated the Indians," is how Mehta, who is finally off the phone, describes it.
But times change. Mehta's newest work, Snakes and Ladders: Glimpses of Modern India (Doubleday; $22.95, hardcover), is a collection of essays about an India that the West looks to for software rather than mysticism. "The new enlightenment is money," the loquacious lady declares.
Born in New Delhi in the early 1940s, Mehta has lived in New York for the past ten years. Her new book is a patchwork of anecdotes that support her conviction that India can rise above the incompetence and venality of the provincials who rule it. "Anyone who doubts India is changing should cast a quick glance around our cities," she writes. "Whole families dressed in shiny synthetic fabrics squash onto scooters driven by men with pomade hair wearing shades and Terylene trousers....If you've got it, flaunt it. In the old days if you had it, you hid it."
The water is boiling. She scampers off, a lithe figure casually dressed in trousers and a T shirt. I peek at her CD collection. Edith Piaf nestles next to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Marianne Faithfull and Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Phew. She's back with a pot of tea.
In Germany last March to promote her book, Mehta was asked why Germans should be interested in India. "Just remember," she responded, "the next century is ours, and you will become interested because it will matter to your pocketbooks. Gates knows it."
We pour out the tea. It's a trifle weak. Mehta moves on: "The two great countries of the next century are China and India, and India will win the race, because of its culture of ongoing debate." That's a rather polite way of describing India's elections--which tend to be chaotic and sometimes bought rather than won--but still, India is a democracy while China remains a dictatorship.
India's dynamism, she says, shows in its contrasts. She marvels at the rapid growth of the Indian computer industry while much of the population remains illiterate; she's struck by the sight of cell phones in the hands of poor rural Indians; she delights at meeting traditional folk balladeers in the state of Rajasthan singing about telecom scams.
"Once it was the dream of educated Indians to be hired by government. The dreams are changing," she writes. "[Indians] can sense that the wind is now blowing from another direction."
On the elevator down, I read what she inscribed in my copy of Snakes and Ladders, a message to a fellow Indian: "With many thanks and don't rush with the Green Card. The next century is ours."
By Shailaja Neelakantan
(This article appeared in Forbes in June 1997).
"SIT DOWN, for God's sake," Gita Mehta demands, interrupting her phone conversation to light a British Silk Cut cigarette. My eyes run down the bookshelves: Mann, Twain, Okri, Rushdie, Anais Nin.
Gita Mehta is the modern Indian, at home anywhere in the world but definitely Indian. Her first book, Karma Cola, published 18 years ago, is a wicked look at the West's encounter with India: gurus, charlatans, incense, yoga, meditation. "The hippies loved India, hated the Indians," is how Mehta, who is finally off the phone, describes it.
But times change. Mehta's newest work, Snakes and Ladders: Glimpses of Modern India (Doubleday; $22.95, hardcover), is a collection of essays about an India that the West looks to for software rather than mysticism. "The new enlightenment is money," the loquacious lady declares.
Born in New Delhi in the early 1940s, Mehta has lived in New York for the past ten years. Her new book is a patchwork of anecdotes that support her conviction that India can rise above the incompetence and venality of the provincials who rule it. "Anyone who doubts India is changing should cast a quick glance around our cities," she writes. "Whole families dressed in shiny synthetic fabrics squash onto scooters driven by men with pomade hair wearing shades and Terylene trousers....If you've got it, flaunt it. In the old days if you had it, you hid it."
The water is boiling. She scampers off, a lithe figure casually dressed in trousers and a T shirt. I peek at her CD collection. Edith Piaf nestles next to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Marianne Faithfull and Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Phew. She's back with a pot of tea.
In Germany last March to promote her book, Mehta was asked why Germans should be interested in India. "Just remember," she responded, "the next century is ours, and you will become interested because it will matter to your pocketbooks. Gates knows it."
We pour out the tea. It's a trifle weak. Mehta moves on: "The two great countries of the next century are China and India, and India will win the race, because of its culture of ongoing debate." That's a rather polite way of describing India's elections--which tend to be chaotic and sometimes bought rather than won--but still, India is a democracy while China remains a dictatorship.
India's dynamism, she says, shows in its contrasts. She marvels at the rapid growth of the Indian computer industry while much of the population remains illiterate; she's struck by the sight of cell phones in the hands of poor rural Indians; she delights at meeting traditional folk balladeers in the state of Rajasthan singing about telecom scams.
"Once it was the dream of educated Indians to be hired by government. The dreams are changing," she writes. "[Indians] can sense that the wind is now blowing from another direction."
On the elevator down, I read what she inscribed in my copy of Snakes and Ladders, a message to a fellow Indian: "With many thanks and don't rush with the Green Card. The next century is ours."
posted by Shailaja at 4:54 AM
