W questions of Indian life

In India, the life of the middle class differs significantly from occidental culture. India boasts a vast middle-class population, further divided into three distinct sub-divisions: “lower middle-class,” “middle middle-class,” and “higher middle-class.” Understanding the intricacies of Indian society is no easy task. While there are socio-economic variations within these sub-divisions, a common thread unites them all - a collective curiosity about others’ lives, even amidst their own busy lives. This curiosity prompts individuals to ask what, why, when, and where to quench their thirst for knowledge.

Curiosity begins with the birth of a child and knows no bounds. The initial barrage of questions revolves around the child’s developmental milestones: Can the child walk? Has he started speaking? Whom does he resemble? As the child grows, the questioning evolves. Has he started school? The next inquiry swiftly follows: How is he doing academically? Does he top his class? These questions, as if all parents were merit holders, extend to the child’s health and extracurricular activities.

As the child enters adolescence, a different set of questions awaits. How much did he score in high school and competitive exams? This phase becomes particularly challenging, with some of these questions haunting the young mind for the rest of his/her life.

Now, concerning the “stream” the child has chosen - if it’s science, especially with mathematics, it’s considered a promising path towards engineering; if it’s biology, it’s deemed mediocre. Next in line is commerce, followed by arts, and lastly, home science and others, where the student is considered good for nothing, even if they’ve earned a gold medal.

Upon entering a new stage in life, the questions persist. Does the individual have a job? If yes, where? If it’s abroad, there’s an assumption of financial prosperity, regardless of the actual destination. No need to worry about money – your child is going to be an NRI soon.

As the child reaches marriageable age, particularly for a girl, a series of questions ensue, becoming a nightmare for both parents and child. Proposals for alliance come in, and as a girl’s parent, one is expected to remain gentle and calm, irrespective of the pinching. After marriage, the immediate query concerns family planning, as if others will be looking after the baby. Once the baby arrives, the life cycle of the same set of questions repeats endlessly.

The question arises: Why can’t we refrain from asking these questions that might unintentionally hurt someone? At times, it feels truly disgusting. Could these questions be the glue that binds us together to some extent, in a society where millions live amidst cacophony - roaring vehicles, surging crowds, jammed apartment buildings, busy commercial establishments, loudspeakers, blaring movie tunes - all while breathing the poisons of industrial and automotive pollution?

Perhaps these questions reflect an Indian belief in sharing happiness and sorrow, where festivals and celebrations transcend the confines of a family or home. Or could they be an expression of the beauty of Indians lying in the spirit of tolerance?