
BENGALURU: It is in the nature of Indian cities to be more alike than not. When the shimmers and spectacles of culture are put aside, infrastructurally and socioeconomically, the Indian metropolis is a formulaic, concrete Goliath, whose living contexts stand fundamentally opposed to the Davids trying to etch a space of safety.
Amongst many related vectors, Srikar Raghavan’s recently released book – Rama Bhima Soma (Context; Rs 595) – talks about the migrant Bengali population in Whitefield, and the systemic oppression they face at the hands of corporations, to whom they exist as mere incidentals of of operation at best, and collateral damage at worst.
An excerpt of the book, whose primary focus lies on the aforementioned migrant Bengali population, paints a grim reality of the underbelly of the city, wherein a paradox ensues due to Whitefield’s perceptible distance from Bengaluru’s heart. “These migrant workers eke out an existence by bringing the garbage of the city into their very homes, to be cleaned and segregated by hand.
The refuse of the metropolis travels to many of these settlements across the city’s outskirts, on agonisingly pedalled cycle rickshaws, or in a fury of autos, vans, trucks and other assorted modes of transportation. They are paid no fixed salary, and must subsist only on the money they make from turning over the junk, which is abysmally low: anywhere between Rs 3 and Rs 10 per kilo of segregated waste.”
While the ambit of this particular excerpt zones in on the migrant Bengali population in the city, Raghavan duly mentions that the larger issue at play here has to do less with the particular ethnicity itself, and more with the intersection of immigrant labour and caste:
“It is not just immigrant Bengalis who get exploited of course, but also various other immigrant labour communities; in general, you may say that the rising costs of living in India, compounded by agrarian and job crises, together create the conditions in which migrant labourers are forced to take up whatever jobs they might find.
And because there is such a large floating population of workers clamouring for jobs, the corporations are assured of a steady work force through contractors who mobilise labour at low wages and zero security. ”
Readers of the book (and this piece) will be hardly surprised by the site of this oppression: Whitefield; after all, the emergence of a mutated limb of township and industry is not a phenomenon specific to Bengaluru, but is the case for every Indian metro one can think of.
“Whitefield was built as an exclusionary settlement, so it is unsurprising that it continues to be one,” states Raghavan, continuing: “Still, this polarisation isn’t particular to Whitefield – it is a global feature of neoliberalism. The primary reason is that inequality has skyrocketed over the last couple of decades, and there is a general ignorance and apathy on the part of the wealthy elite who basically segregate themselves from ordinary society.
They live in gated communities, send their children to private schools, visit private clubs, almost oblivious to the outside world. Migrant labourers sort putrid trash by hand, without any safety equipment at all, in a city known for being a tech-hub – the irony practically writes itself. It is ultimately the symptom of a merciless economic system that prizes private enrichment over societal growth.”
The answer, as one can imagine, necessarily involves the upheaval of capitalism. Raghavan echoes: “We need a new socialist politics that manages our resources better and distributes wealth more equitably.”