Nano to Air India: What sets India’s swag apart now
PremiumA calm certainty unlike any seen previously is pervasive this time around as people prepare for a boom
In the years when kung-fu movies released in theatres, many boys would emerge from a show with a lot of swag, as though they were all martial arts savants you should not mess with. The past few days, I have had a bit of that second-hand sense of well-being after I read that Air India was going to acquire nearly 500 planes from Boeing and Airbus, the largest civil aviation order in history, and that the newly privatized airline might buy a few hundred more, and that other Indian airlines, taken together, might buy over a thousand planes in the next two years. The euphoria reduces when I realize that Elon Musk alone can foot the whole bill, but that is only transient annoyance in the persistence of a joy.
When you derive optimism from the well-being of others, people in Madras used to say, in rebuke, “So why are you happy?" And I can hear an unknown Tamil woman’s reprimand at my borrowed sense of well-being. “Good for Air India, but why are you happy?"
The intent to purchase so many planes suggests that India is thriving and is going to thrive. People who look like me are going to do well. The huge order of Air India was yet another corroboration of optimism that has filled the middle classes despite tech job losses and the perennial laments of salad-eaters in bleak professions that happiness has long died in this world.
This is not the first time I have read in newspapers that the nation is optimistic, but this is the first time I am taking part in it. I did not consider India’s future bright after Pokhran, or during the tech boom from 1998 to 2000, or when India was apparently “shining", or when Tata Steel bought Corus, which was the largest Indian acquisition at the time.
What was the big deal in exploding a bomb, that too one we did not invent? In fact, what I saw in the rejoicing of the Pokhran tests was a deep sense of cultural inferiority of some Indians who had migrated to the West; they were the ones who were the most ecstatic. I was unmoved by “India shining" because in my 20s, India was not shining for me, nor did it for the millions who conveyed this message at voting booths. I was unaffected by bull runs in markets because no one could convince me then that markets were not rigged. In any case, the prosperity of market gamblers only made rents and real estate expensive for the rest of us in Mumbai, and vegetarian restaurants unbearably noisy.
The optimism of 2007 and 2008 was intense and persuasive. It was manufactured and transmitted in my office, as it was in other media offices. It all began around 2006, when steel billionaire Lakshmi Mittal orchestrated a hostile takeover of what was once the largest steelmaker in the world, the West European company Arcelor. Then, in 2007, Tata Steel bought the Anglo-Dutch steelmaker Corus. There were other Indian acquisitions.
Towards the end of 2007, a fervour as never seen before grew around the launch of what Tata Motors said was the “people’s car" or the cheapest car in the world. (A Pakistani countered with a local cheap car, which was in reality a cart with the roof as an optional feature.)
An idea grew that Tata Motors’ mystery car is an omen that India will make smart affordable tech for all emerging markets. There was global attention. Tata Motors escalated the mystery by keeping all major details of the car under wraps, including its name. The Economic Times reported, “Some say it will be called ‘Jeh’ (the first three letters of Jehangir RD Tata’s name) but there is another school that seems to suggest that it will be called ‘Miracle’". But when the Nano was launched, I felt the exact opposite of hope for India.
Later that year, even as the Nano appeared doomed, the Tatas bought Jaguar and Land Rover from Ford. The Indian mainstream press, which was not institutionally nationalistic, patriotic or right-wing or any of those things, was ecstatic. Indian steelmakers were buying steel icons, telecom companies were shopping abroad, and now this. But vast sections of the middle class did not feel the thrill. They read about all the seemingly good things that were happening, and that India was shining again. But I could not feel any optimism around me, among the ordinary people, because the paths to well-being were not clear, even to dream.
By the end of 2008, the optimism was over. India seemed to be sinking, and a deep resentment grew against politicians. It came to the fore when 10 terrorists from Pakistan killed dozens of people in South Mumbai. Young people who had never participated in politics took to the streets, and even chased away a local Maharashtrian politician. This was, in reality, the unsung origin of Anna Hazare anti-corruption movement of 2011, which was in reality an anti-politician movement.
But today, the economic optimism around me has a calm certainty about it, despite the classical fears and uncertainties in the lives of working people. Away from a few dismal professions, all of which are in the media, people are preparing to thrive. They are ready for an age of political stability provided by a right-wing government that reflects the provincial practicality of a majority of new Indians. They are preparing for an age of economic opportunities, of widespread adoption of the internet and the smart phone, a dramatic increase in retail bets on the stock market in the form of mutual funds. And, of course, a boom in air travel.
Manu Joseph is a journalist, novelist, and the creator of the Netflix series, ‘Decoupled’
Catch all the Business News, Market News, Breaking News Events and Latest News Updates on Live Mint. Download The Mint News App to get Daily Market Updates.
More Less