Brand new Indian

The Indian goldrush is the unfolding story of this decade. The new teeming urban millions have arrived at the nearest mall, with their aspirations to a better life which have been promised to them in the latest sale offer, as they juggle their overflowing checkout basket and multiple credit cards and a phone wedged between their head and shoulder, and the loud optimism of their voice that shakes the mall while they chat with their friends/ family at the other end of India or maybe with someone at the end of the same line, oblivious to the world around them. All they want now is a bigger car – nano didn’t cause the Indiawide traffic jam we all were anticipating because it got positioned as a cheap car, and that isn’t cool in India now, atleast not for a status symbol like a car. They all want to goto Switzerland, want a bigger TV, and maybe even want to get into the program itself too to become a singer or a dancer and rub shoulders with those TV celebs, who are reflections of their audiences since they are selected by the Darwinian process of TRPs, which in some ways is also a pure democratic vote, and which creates new and lower benchmark of national sensibilities, the incestuous output of which results in the downward spiral of quality – a contest between munni Vs Sheila, which is then eclipsed by the even bigger hit the dum maaro dum, the ultimate potty song. Welcome to the new urban Indian and his world!

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