New marketing in Kashmir

If it is still serious about preserving borders, the Union government needs to dim its patriotic pitch and replace the spiritual sadhu with a good marketing guru instead

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

Last year, as I visited Kashmir with my family, every few feet we came upon army officers and their bunkers. That did not jar us as much as their signs though.

“Proud to be Indian”

“100% Indian”

“Jai Hind”

Really, all the Indian Army needed to drive its proverbial stake in the land any further was a map including Kashmir in our borders, drawn bold and thick. (Of course, they save that job for illustrators of school textbooks.)

“Do you think the army needs an advertising firm to help soften these messages up a bit?” I asked my brother on that holiday. “Because, somehow, I don’t think these slogans are winning anyone over.”

Fast forward 14 months to last week when the Union government despatched its brand ambassador du jour to resolve the conflict. Secular mediator or politically savvy negotiator? Neither, they sent...Sri Sri Ravi Shankar.

As in the man behind the Art of Living Foundation, which admittedly does some good social work and has taught a lot of chief executives the art of the chill. But hardly a secular figure. In fact, a 2003 article in The Economist detailed the blurry lines between the teachings and reality among Hinduism’s so-called godmen, saying it was very difficult to separate Hindutva ideas from Hindu sages, the spiritual from the religious.

“On the issue of Ayodhya, for example, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar might be expected to urge compromise on his Hindu disciples. He has a huge following, a message of universal human values and access to, as he sees it, ‘desperate and helpless’ politicians who ask him for a blessing and spiritual support,” The Economist wrote. “Art of Living, moreover, is open to people of all faiths. But, in fact, discussing the Ram temple, its guru starts to sound less like a spiritual leader and more like a politician, talking of the long history of ‘appeasement of the minority community’, and of the unfairness of a system that subsidises Muslims to go on the haj to Mecca, while making Hindus pay a fee to take a dip at the Kumbh Mela.”

Shankar used similar logic last week, finding himself in a Muslim-majority region and imploring the state government to provide basic facilities to Hindu pilgrims visiting the Amarnath shrine. In letters he wrote, as reported by The Hindu newspaper last week, Shankar also made the controversial suggestion that if Kashmir remains in favour of autonomy, Jammu and Kashmir should be made into separate states, echoing long-standing demands of the Hindu religious right.

But, of course, Shankar himself insisted, along with the government ironically supporting him, he was there on a mission of peace.

For a moment, let’s put politics and religion aside — impossible as that may be in Kashmir. Judged on solely dispassionate grounds, say in the sphere of a business (the government) trying to gain a consumer (Kashmir), it becomes clear India has failed on many levels — the greatest failure of all its inability to win over the Kashmiri people. It’s not for lack of trying, from crores of rupees poured into the region and goodwill missions that fly Kashmiri children around the country to see what they are missing. There have been countless peace summits and much humanitarian aid, especially during the 2005 earthquake.

Yet, as a marketing campaign, India’s strategy in Kashmir needs some work.

Since I’m no marketing expert, I called the best one I know. He’s in Mumbai but his communications office caught one word of my question (the K-word) and said he couldn’t be consulted. Thankfully, he agreed to talk on condition of anonymity.

“I don’t think the government has done even a reasonably good job in the way of communication here,” he said. Over the last few weeks, it’s gotten worse, he noted, citing surveys showing that even the rest of India is sick of the issue, even ready to give up the region.

I am not taking a stand one way or the other on Kashmir’s fate — let them stay, let them go — but if the government has decided it values the valley, then at least make an attempt to get the messaging right. Slogans amounting to “we own you” are counter-intuitive. How about something to the tune of, “We’re on your side, too.” Or, “Come join our team. We’re winning right now.” How about a brand ambassador who doesn’t plan a rath yatra next month on behalf of mostly Hindu causes?

The more we try to shove India down the throats of Kashmiris in the valley, the more they are going to head over the hills in the other direction — to Pakistan. Already, this week, the green flags begun waving.

If it’s still serious about preserving borders, the Union government needs to dim its patriotic pitch and replace the spiritual sadhu with a good marketing guru instead.

Your comments are welcome at widerangle@livemint.com

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Please, Airtel, Hear My Call

Merely complaining about the sorry state of customer care in India will not solve much

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

The headline, quite frankly, scared me: “Bharti Airtel set to increase outsourcing.”

An article in Monday’s Mint detailed Bharti chief executive Manoj Kohli’s plans to hand over even more of the company’s internal processes and functions, such as human resources and billing, to a third party. While media coverage of the Bharti success story has breathlessly marvelled at its ability to cut costs and scale up quickly by farming much of its work elsewhere, I have often cursed customer service at the mobile giant and blamed the said model for my woes. If you need any service — a plan change, an enquiry about an old bill, a desire to understand why something, somewhere, might not work — it becomes readily apparent that one hand (i.e., the third-party services provider) rarely talks to another, let alone five fingers acting in sync on anything. That is why five different people call on the same issue, but you can’t find one who has the right answer.

But merely complaining about the sorry state of customer care in India won’t solve much. And so over the next few months, I plan a few columns that will dissect the issue from multiple vantage points, effective service to worker training to the examination of our own high expectations in an economy that has galloped uphill. In my findings so far, the undercurrent of good service is an empowered work force — those who interface with customers have been given the tools, confidence and information from the higher-ups that they can appropriately defuse the situation at hand. Simple but effective. And sadly, very rare.

A lack of empowerment is why a waiter cannot give you a free drink or dessert, even as he mixed up your order. Or why the bank declines the signature on your cheque, even though you have proof showing you are who you say you are and verify the amount. Or why a customer service representative directs you to Airtel’s website, which will require you to hope she really text messages your password, instead of sending you a duplicate bill from May.

On that note, let’s return to Bharti.I asked a former manager at the company, a self-described “die-hard loyalist”, why things were so bad.

“It’s awful,” she said bluntly, requesting anonymity. “The service executives are outsourced...so they don’t feel an iota for the company.”

The problem is hardly Airtel’s alone, as global outrage over outsourcing — xenophobia and job security aside — comes from the same hunch, that agents “don’t feel one iota” of your pain. Sure, there are the accents, the distance, the misunderstandings. But mainly, there’s a lack of a connection.

They are not a part of the same work culture of the client company, nor do they have incentives to climb up its ladder. Meanwhile, business process outsourcing firms have not mastered yet how to plug growth opportunities , tap into worker potential and truly partner with their clients.

One software firm I visited recently tries to duplicate most roles in the US with a person in India; so besides the majority in customer support, there’s sales, product management, marketing, even accounting. What does that do? It prevents the teams in different countries from seeing the US as client and the Indians as those who kowtow. It forces the workplace to integrate across departments, across countries, and sometimes both at the same time.

So would it be better if Airtel’s operations were captive, or in-house?

Not necessarily.

In fact, a report last year from analyst firm Forrester Research found more than 60% of captive BPOs (business process outsourcing firms) were not in healthy shape; it predicted that by 2009, more and more companies will shelve their captive models in favour of third-party players, notably in customer support.

So maybe Bharti has had the right idea but wrong approach?

Interestingly, Jai Menon, director of customer service and information technology for Bharti Airtel, wouldn’t totally disagree. I asked, point blank — how do you think customer service is going?

“The most important pillar of our company is service... We’re not at cruising altitude yet,” he says. “But we are rising towards it.”

I appreciate his honesty, even empathy, and ask how Bharti will do it.

He says the plans to increase outsourcing rest on using a fewer number of service providers but more people. To me, that made sense. So hypothetically, if all the services I need are handled by IBM’s folks, then maybe the other firms contracted by Airtel will stop calling or messaging me after I have already paid my bill?

Right, he says, but Airtel must also ensure the technology backs them up to truly streamline and smoothen processes. He concedes those workers need to feel a part of “our DNA... We view them as part of Airtel.”

For my sake, but also for the company’s future, I hope they feel the same.

Your comments are welcome at widerangle@livemint.com

Forget jobs, find purpose

I believe in lifelong learning and not spending on learning that does not work and actually keeps one from working

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

What could possibly be the downside of more children in schools?

Not too long ago, in 2001, 32 million children didn’t attend school. Then the government announced a universal education programme, or Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan, and today enrolments have soared to about 96% — 7.1 million in 2006. There are still problems, such as dropout rates and continuous funding battles between states and the Centre, and the fact that many children go to school for the free midday meal alone. But the statistics are impressive and speak to some changing aspiration levels in this country.

That, according to some experts, is precisely the problem.

Last weekend, I travelled to Jaipur for the Rajasthan Skills and Employability Summit and the issue formed an important backdrop to discussions on vocational education and what employers want. Experts detailed a scary state of social unrest with unemployed youth feeling like they have been shut out of the Indian society that pervades their television sets, magazines, advertisements.

They turn to education as their great hope, their equalizer.

“There were 40 million kids once out of school. Now there are four million,” said NIIT chairman and co-founder Rajendra S. Pawar. “Can you imagine the hell that will break loose with expectation?”

If you’re cringing at his words and my rendering of them, I understand — I did the same at first. Don’t we want them to dream?

But stay with me and his thought. The problem is that the first-generation learners, if they complete class VIII or even all the way through class XII, are going to learn something millions of Indians already know, at least the three-quarters of them deemed unemployable: Their education is worthless. If India’s approach to schooling does not keep up with their expectations and industry’s, then we really are heading for a crisis.

We have expanded the users of our education system, but we have not expanded that same system’s utility. And so it has become necessary for graduates to go on to finishing schools, to training academies, to certification courses run by the private sector. And then we slip into this cycle of funding education, then funding courses to fix the education, then funding skills development, then funding training to keep up with technology. It’s just not an expense for taxpayers but also for the poor Indian, the one whose livelihood we are all trying to improve.

In my 22 February column, “Develop skills and minds,” I wrote “Shouldn’t a liberal arts background at least instil the ability to input, analyse and produce — the very basics of a job? ...the 11th Plan’s spending must inspire Indians to embrace more than degrees or skills — but true lifelong learning.” (See www.livemint.com/skills.htm)

So I believe in lifelong learning — but not spending on learning that doesn’t work and actually keeps one from working. Consider the semantics. How do Indians refer to their degrees? Not as education — but their qualification.

“Qualifications are not why you are in a job,” said S. Chandrasekhar, head of human resources for Capgemini Consulting India Pvt. Ltd. “Skills are. It is better to be the best sweeper than to be a mediocre engineer.”

But try telling that to someone who could have gotten the job of sweeper without any degree or diploma.

“I still believe the majority of the country is struggling with the change of vocation,” continued Chandrasekhar. “We have a clerical mindset, to get a secure job, the air-conditioned office..”

Indeed, the buzzword of this year has been jobs: jobs for land, job centres, job training, job hotlines.

Our promise of “jobs” is a part of the problem. Remember what we used to call it, that question my farming or contracting (read unemployed) cousins and uncles all dread: “So are you in service?”

Here’s my replacement: purpose.

Let’s promise purpose and stop separating education, training, vocations and “jobs”. Instead of letting first-generation learners enter the absurd pressure of arts versus science, we need to have a conversation, say by class VI, when dropout tendencies begin. It can be simple questions, such as “What do you like to do?” And then a skill can be imparted, alongside Tagore and civics, which I fear are often shafted.

Perhaps the divide between training and education made sense when only rich people went to school. But as the government and industry begin their massive roll-out of training institutes and model schools and guarantees of jobs and education, they need to send a message that all of the above go hand in hand. All are worthy.

And let’s not get bogged down in technicalities ourselves. In a nation of more than one billion, many of whom have come to see a degree as their ticket out and up, what stops us from expanding the idea of a bachelor’s degree to the so-called vocations? If we can offer it to astrologers, we can surely do the same for plumbers.

Your comments are welcome at widerangle@livemint.com

New marketing in Kashmir

If it is still serious about preserving borders, the Union government needs to dim its patriotic pitch and replace the spiritual sadhu with a good marketing guru instead

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

Last year, as I visited Kashmir with my family, every few feet we came upon army officers and their bunkers. That did not jar us as much as their signs though.

“Proud to be Indian”

“100% Indian”

“Jai Hind”

Really, all the Indian Army needed to drive its proverbial stake in the land any further was a map including Kashmir in our borders, drawn bold and thick. (Of course, they save that job for illustrators of school textbooks.)

“Do you think the army needs an advertising firm to help soften these messages up a bit?” I asked my brother on that holiday. “Because, somehow, I don’t think these slogans are winning anyone over.”

Fast forward 14 months to last week when the Union government despatched its brand ambassador du jour to resolve the conflict. Secular mediator or politically savvy negotiator? Neither, they sent...Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

As in the man behind the Art of Living Foundation, which admittedly does some good social work and has taught a lot of chief executives the art of the chill. But hardly a secular figure. In fact, a 2003 article in The Economist detailed the blurry lines between the teachings and reality among Hinduism’s so-called godmen, saying it was very difficult to separate Hindutva ideas from Hindu sages, the spiritual from the religious.

“On the issue of Ayodhya, for example, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar might be expected to urge compromise on his Hindu disciples. He has a huge following, a message of universal human values and access to, as he sees it, ‘desperate and helpless’ politicians who ask him for a blessing and spiritual support,” The Economist wrote. “Art of Living, moreover, is open to people of all faiths. But, in fact, discussing the Ram temple, its guru starts to sound less like a spiritual leader and more like a politician, talking of the long history of ‘appeasement of the minority community’, and of the unfairness of a system that subsidises Muslims to go on the haj to Mecca, while making Hindus pay a fee to take a dip at the Kumbh Mela.”

Shankar used similar logic last week, finding himself in a Muslim-majority region and imploring the state government to provide basic facilities to Hindu pilgrims visiting the Amarnath shrine. In letters he wrote, as reported by The Hindu newspaper last week, Shankar also made the controversial suggestion that if Kashmir remains in favour of autonomy, Jammu and Kashmir should be made into separate states, echoing long-standing demands of the Hindu religious right.

But, of course, Shankar himself insisted, along with the government ironically supporting him, he was there on a mission of peace.

For a moment, let’s put politics and religion aside — impossible as that may be in Kashmir. Judged on solely dispassionate grounds, say in the sphere of a business (the government) trying to gain a consumer (Kashmir), it becomes clear India has failed on many levels — the greatest failure of all its inability to win over the Kashmiri people. It’s not for lack of trying, from crores of rupees poured into the region and goodwill missions that fly Kashmiri children around the country to see what they are missing. There have been countless peace summits and much humanitarian aid, especially during the 2005 earthquake.

Yet, as a marketing campaign, India’s strategy in Kashmir needs some work.

Since I’m no marketing expert, I called the best one I know. He’s in Mumbai but his communications office caught one word of my question (the K-word) and said he couldn’t be consulted. Thankfully, he agreed to talk on condition of anonymity.

“I don’t think the government has done even a reasonably good job in the way of communication here,” he said. Over the last few weeks, it’s gotten worse, he noted, citing surveys showing that even the rest of India is sick of the issue, even ready to give up the region.

I am not taking a stand one way or the other on Kashmir’s fate — let them stay, let them go — but if the government has decided it values the valley, then at least make an attempt to get the messaging right. Slogans amounting to “we own you” are counter-intuitive. How about something to the tune of, “We’re on your side, too.” Or, “Come join our team. We’re winning right now.” How about a brand ambassador who doesn’t plan a rath yatra next month on behalf of mostly Hindu causes?

The more we try to shove India down the throats of Kashmiris in the valley, the more they are going to head over the hills in the other direction — to Pakistan. Already, this week, the green flags begun waving.

If it’s still serious about preserving borders, the Union government needs to dim its patriotic pitch and replace the spiritual sadhu with a good marketing guru instead.

Your comments are welcome at widerangle@livemint.com

A clash in class, of class

Locals and newcomers shop in the same malls and send children to the same schools. But they are not the same

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

The shooting has been called “American-style”, “reminiscent of American values” and “a case of violence familiar to US schools”.

In reality, it is none of the above. This week’s tragedy at the Euro International School in Gurgaon demonstrates a collision of the India we once were, the India we aspire to be and, sadly, the India we continue to accept.

At the outset, I concede not knowing how and why two class VIII students killed a 14-year-old in the sanctum of school. But a few facts and conversations with educators and residents make clear that our quest for answers might better come from examining our own behaviours than the West’s.

The day after the murder, I headed to the suburb just south of New Delhi —the outsourcing hub that can at once remind me of New Jersey’s identical housing developments and manicured landscaping, Miami Beach’s art deco towers over swimming pools and golf courses, and oddly, my ancestral village of green fields, jagged boundary walls and herds of goats and cattle.

And that is why so many people begin their description of Gurgaon by saying, “The thing about this place is it’s really a gaon.”

Because of the way Gurgaon came to be acquired and built gradually, large swathes of farmland were parcelled out even as villagers hung onto their pockets of homes, which cluster in the shadows of sleekness. Some took profits and bought into new societies clinically named “sectors”, renting out the old place to migrants or relatives.

Flush with cash or rental income, locals seek the same power—purchasing and political—as the newcomers, observes Sanjay Sharma, who runs a real estate company and the portal, Gurgaon Scoop. They shop in the same malls, attend the same resident welfare association meetings and send their children to the same schools.

But they are not the same.

“There is a struggle between people who are here and people who have come from outside,” says Sharma, a returnee from the US. His attempt to videotape a community meeting in his sector recently resulted in a brawl and seven stitches on his upper lip. “Locals here are quite bottled up. They have money but they are not well read.”

Locals concede as much, pinning their hopes on education as equalizer.

Satinder Grewal, an advocate, traces generations back to Bijwasan village on the Delhi-Haryana border. Some land has been sold, while more— about Rs50 crore, he estimates—remains in the family’s possession.

“A new awareness is coming to Gurgaon and locals, we want our kids to learn English,” says Grewal.

By virtue of shunning government schools, the families of the three boys involved in the shooting seem to hold this aspiration. Media outlets reported that the family of the victim, Abhishek Tyagi, moved into Gurgaon city from their nearby village so he and his sister could attend Euro International.

“They hoped their children would get a better education,” a neighbour told The Indian Express.

Despite its international label, the school’s website says it follows the Indian Schools Certificate Examinations. Misleading name aside, I wonder what role coveted private schools play in bridging the places such youth come from—and their methods of conflict resolution—with the global exposure they promise. School officials did not return calls, emails or text messages.

Police say the gun came from one suspect’s father, a property dealer. Why so many in Gurgaon feel they even need a gun is a question as loaded as the weapon. Status symbol, yes. A response to the general lawlessness outside gated compounds, indeed. Police also say real estate agents brandish guns because so many transactions are a combination of cheque and cash (translation: illegal).

As Katherine Newman articulated in her book Rampage: The Social Roots of School Shootings, shootings occur only when many factors converge, all necessary, but none sufficient on its own. In the suburb these teens called home, not much more seems needed to create a hotbed of conflict and confusion.

As he heard of the shootings this week, Sharma asked himself and his neighbours: How far have we come?

“Civilization comes into the picture when you restrain yourself from violence,” he pronounces. “Gurgaon is getting worse.”

Of course, clashes—by class, caste, profession—now mark countless cities and towns developing their geographical and metaphorical fringes. On a corner of Sharma’s desk, for example, sat this week’s Outlook magazine, its cover depicting two women smoking and dancing. The headline: “Why Bangalore hates the IT culture.”

Yet, it is naïve to say India’s social ills are borrowed from the West; sex, drugs and violence have been a reality of life here for decades. We would better serve our youth by wiping the grime of corrupt, dishonest ways off the mirror. One teen’s death warrants at least one clean, hard look at ourselves.

Your comments are welcome at widerangle@livemint.com

The princess predicament

Do we really want little girls to grow up into damsels who need to be saved, always by wealthy and powerful men?

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

I wish the princesses would stay poisoned, in deep slumber, locked in towers. Really, they should just stay away.

For my daughter’s third birthday, celebrated in the US, she received a half-dozen odes to junior royalty, on T-shirts and pyjamas, tiaras and wands, even a huge pink rucksack stamped with the Disney characters who have been princesses: Ariel, Jasmine, Belle, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella.

I thought India would be safer.

Then, the other day as I bought a lehenga for a friend’s baby, the store attendant says in broken English, “Beautiful. She will look just like a princess.”

It got worse this past weekend when a Wall Street Journal story, published in Mint’s  Lounge, reported all the ways Disney is innovating to keep little girls dreaming of being princesses—even until they become grown-ups (think brides dressed like Snow White prancing down the aisle). Still, I chalked the phenomenon up to the wacky ways of the West, until I came to this line:

“Disney has been trying to introduce the brand in countries like India, where it launched a search for an Indian princess.”

My heart sank. We are not safe.

Leave aside the marketing gimmicks, for a moment. What is it with this newfound aspiration to princess-hood? We cannot even blame little girls because the desire is so clearly something we are encouraging, looking for, egging on. Why?

The feminist writer Peggy Orenstein got so fed up with America’s obsession with princesses that she penned a New York Times Magazine article last year on the subject headlined, “What’s wrong with Cinderella?”

Her conclusion really summarized my frustration: “Maybe Princess is the first salvo in what will become a lifelong struggle over her body image, a Hundred Years’ War of dieting, plucking, painting and perpetual dissatisfaction with the results. …In the end, it’s not the Princesses that really bother me anyway. They’re just a trigger for the bigger question of how, over the years, I can help my daughter with the contradictions she will inevitably face as a girl…”

Despite a few progressive exceptions —namely Diana, although she got much cooler after she stopped being the prince’s prize—princesses basically connote major neediness, damsels craving saving: often with a kiss, sometimes true love, always wealth and power.

In India, many of our girls sadly require a different kind of “saving” (in the womb). Then if they make it, they still grow up against messages that undermine them as less worthy and capable, for no other reason than gender. And now we are asking them to be princesses, to dream of the days when a man will enable escape?

It seems such a step backward from all that has suddenly become possible in this economy for women.

By now, my fellow mothers are either nodding their heads in agreement or have just relegated me to the crazy stepmother category.

The Walt Disney Co. India clarified that the search for the Indian princess was a one-time event staged last year when the products were introduced in India. “Princess is one of our extremely popular franchises in India,” said K. Seshasaye, Disney’s India spokesman. “When the toys were launched, within 45 days, the licensees told us all the products were off the shelves. ...Basic family values are pretty strong here in India. And Disney stories around princesses encourage these girls to take the right values.”

What’s the harm? you ask. They’ll grow out of it. They’ll grow up to be astronauts and managing directors.

Will Will they? Have they?

This week, a study released by education training institute Career Launcher shows the number of women who receive coaching for the Indian Institutes of Management entrance examination is between 28% and 33%. Yet, batch profiles at the prestigious IIMs indicate that just 10-15% of students who gain admission are women.

Despite a steadily increasing female presence on campuses, the discrepancy between those who aspire and those who gain admissions stems from more men having engineering backgrounds (a popular precursor to B-school) and more men having work experience, the study found.

About one out of 10 students in the nation’s top B-schools is a woman —yet double that number wants to be there. And we still want our little girls to be princesses?

As we opened the gifts at the birthday party, I hung on to my mother’s first words to my daughter in the delivery room, minutes after she was born: “I hope you grow up to be president.”

Already, India has achieved the milestone my mother alluded to, while the US is just beginning to consider it: A female president.

Skip the marketing hype. Our girls need to move on to bigger titles—the kind they can earn and seize themselves.

Your comments are welcome at widerangle@livemint.com

If I Were Prime Minister...

I dedicate these words not to the two-thirds of the nation I usually pander to — farmers — but the other two-thirds: our nation’s youth

Wider Angle | S.Mitra Kalita

My dear countrymen, countrywomen, brothers, sisters and dear children. Today we celebrate the 61st anniversary of our independence.

But given recent events and the disenchantment many Indians feel over the government, today I will diverge from my speeches past in this august location of the Red Fort, where our forefathers defended and fought for our freedom. I will not invoke the tricolour or the words of Mahatma Gandhi or even those of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. Because, my brothers and sisters, we have reached a critical moment in our nation’s history and the responsibility of its citizens. The state of India and the many fractious Indians within are in crisis, making hindsight and nostalgia a most useless exercise.

Thus, I dedicate these words not to the two-thirds of the nation I usually pander to — farmers — but the other two-thirds: our nation’s youth, those under the age of 35 who stand on the cusp of whether this 61-year-old experiment will prosper or sputter.

For at least two years now, I have come here and laid out my mission for this country: An India that is united in thought, not divided by religion and language. An India that is united in Indianness, not divided by caste and region. An India that is united in seeking new opportunities for growth, not divided by disparities. An India that is caring and inclusive.

I admit today, my fellow citizens, my government has failed on many counts. My party, particularly, has helped fuel this divide with its ambiguous policies on caste and religion. While affirmative action is definitely needed to correct ills, the current system treats lower castes like second-class citizens on college campuses, while general-caste students run around telling everyone how their failure is entirely the fault of others.

Meanwhile, pride in our own Indianness feels shaky. Just as it appears that young people are more confident in their own skin, we have popular nightclubs banning guests in “ethnic” dress. Among lower and upper classes alike, consumer products wage battle with promises of whiter skin.

Our cities have become bastions of resentment between old and new money, old residents and newcomers, often divides cut along ethnic lines. Perhaps you do not flinch when the Diwali party invite in your gated community includes a line saying, “No maids”. The middle class divides the world into two: maids and people.

Opportunities for youth have not been inclusive. Of the one million who graduate every year, only a quarter are ready to report to work. This represents a failure of our education system.

And so today, young people who represent this nation’s future, I offer you an apology. But unlike years past, I make no promises.

Because too many times, from this perch, I have listed all the ways government can and will help your life. Universal education, rural employment, health missions, committees devoted to this and that.

But let today go down in history as the first time an Indian head of state will tell you that government is not the answer to your problems. Don’t get me wrong — there is much we must do, there is much we will do. But somewhere in our conversations about the future of India, we have lost the covenant, the partnership between a people and their leaders, and the idea that only together they can make a country great.

So, brothers and sisters, I have no answers. You do.

For proof of this, look no further than our own home-grown hero Abhinav Bindra, who did us proud in Beijing with his gold medal in a 10m air-rifle competition. It marked India’s first gold medal in an individual sport — but no thanks to the government. Rather, Bindra relied partly on his own fortune and that of the Mittal Champions Trust set up by steel tycoon L.N. Mittal; the trust gave him a physical therapist, a trainer and practice equipment.

Young people of this nation, all of you have the power to be like Bindra. You might say you have no access, you have no connections, you have no clout. Bindra, an MBA graduate from a prosperous family in Chandigarh, had all those things and he had talent — and we in government still didn’t help him. But he did not wait.

At some point, all of you have been entrepreneurial enough to make up for the shortcomings of the government. I ask you to apply the same to your life — and to each other.

You cannot wait. If there are no jobs in your village, migrate. If you don’t speak English, learn. And as you go about your life, find ways to give back to where you came from, to each other and to society at large.

Let me conclude by rethinking the obligatory “Jai Hind”. Instead, I ask you to join me in my deep wish that India in its current form should not live much longer. But if the young of this nation rise — in ideals, compassion, service, responsibility, a belief in self and country — then that would be a New India worth celebrating indeed. Jai Hind.

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