This city’s insomnia has everything to do with its large percentage of youth. At 10pm, driving from Devi Ahilyabai Holkar Airport to Vijay Nagar, this is all too apparent. The 20-something cabbie Rajesh Yadav says, “The young never sleep. The pubs and bars close only in the early hours of the morning.”
In the course of my week-long assignment, stretched longer by the IndiGo fracas, I discovered how iBuses criss-cross the city until 11pm at night. They stop in front of educational institutions, offices and hospitals. And that first night, as we drive past the IT hub of Vijay Nagar, I hear live music.
The loquacious cabbie continues, “You must have heard the bhajans of Sanjay Mittal? His music is popular in our pubs.”
A curious mix of the old and new, that is Indore for you.
Sarafa Bazar
The Sarafa market in the heart of Indore is an oddity. It is dotted with jewellery shops selling gold and silver ornaments. At sundown, a transformation occurs. The jewellery shops shut down and out of nowhere food stalls appear on the pavements in front of them.
At 1am, Sarafa is abuzz. Young men and women in jeans, long skirts, sleeveless dresses and kurtis… not a salwar kameez in sight. Everyone is carrying backpacks or
side bags, high-end smartphones; some are making reels.
Conversations are mostly in Hindi with smatterings of English. A good number of them are students from Rajwada, Pipliyahana, Chhota Bangarda, Navlakha, Chandan Nagar, Dewas — mostly places on the outskirts of Indore. Most live in rented accommodation in the IT Park or Bhawarkua localities where the coaching centres for IAS, CAT and NEET are located.
Many of the students I meet at Sarafa are first-generation learners. Yogesh Viswakarma is preparing for his Madhya Pradesh public service commission exams. His father is a carpenter. Yogesh says, “I want to get a decent government job.”
Madhu’s father is a vegetable farmer in Dewas Naka; she wants to become a trans-
lator. Riya is pursuing clinical psychology at the Shri Atal Bihari Vajpayee Government Arts and Commerce College. She wants to go to Kashmir to understand what triggers
unrest there.
I also meet a bunch at Chhappan, a food street, who have just appeared for the Madhya Pradesh police recruitment exam. They talk about getting into the army as Agniveers.
At the other end of the city, Pipliyahana, the students are from a different social orbit. Their parents run businesses or have jobs in the IT sector. These young men and women want to finish school and move out of the state for higher pay, better “work-life balance” — a much bandied about word.
Anupam Panchal, 24, a hotel management professional, says, “Here we are exploited, we are underpaid. In Australia and Europe,
they work for 40 hours a week and earn so much more.”
Bhabika Mandan, 19, who is pursuing BBA and an ACCA certification, says, “My father keeps telling me to finish college
and leave India at the earliest. I want to go to Dubai or London. I will also apply to universities in Ireland.”
Gouttam Mandan, 22, a BTech from IIT Indore, says, “India khatam hai.” And for the first time in 24 hours, India comes up.
The Great Divide
In the next few days “India” surfaces in my conversations with Indore’s youth populace as a place of darkness and disappointment. Make no mistake, these young people are not making a political argument about it, but neither do they come across as politically indifferent.
In Pipliyahana, I meet a cricketer in her mid 20s; she does not want her identity to
be disclosed. When I congratulate her for the India team’s victory in the Women’s
Cricket World Cup, she is visibly upset. She starts talking about the gender bias in sports, the pay disparities. “Why will our parents let us play if this is the kind of money we earn?” she asks. “And this happens only in India.”
It reminds me of the students I met at Holkar Science College. A third-year student called Samaira had told me, “India is not an equal country. The boy in a family is sent to a private college, the girl to a government college. There is discrimination at every stage.”
That is the other thing that is foregrounded in every conversation, the great divide
between private and government educational institutions.
‘Option hi nahin hai’
Alka, a BBA student at Medi-Cap University, says, “If the government really wants to do something, then tell them to make education affordable for all.” Her tone is bitter and
she pronounces the “them” with utter disdain. Anupam says, “New leaders should emerge. Last time, I voted for NOTA. There is no youth icon. Sab buddhe hain. Maithili Thakur from BJP was elected but she too said she would rename a Muslim-dominated area Janki Nagar. They all turn out to be the same.”
There have not been student elections in Madhya Pradesh for close to four decades. Professor Rajendra K. Sharma of the Indore School of Social Work says, “I was the general secretary of my college in 1983. Student politics was getting murkier those days. So in 1987, the state government decided to stop elections in college.”
Says Ayushi Annaya, who is a final year student of sociology, “Option hi nahin hai” and proceeds to quote something she has come across in a social media post. “I can give you five reasons for not voting for Modi but not one reason to vote for Rahul.”
Retired professor of psychology, M.L. Tiwari says, “Gen Z is living in a bubble. The day the bubble bursts, they will go berserk. The politicians do not know that they are creating Frankensteins. When this disillusioned group will turn against them, it will
be dangerous.”