It is unlikely that blitzing economic growth alone will take India to another level.

Dev Nadkarni
As the Boeing 777’s landing gear engages in preparation for taking on Mumbai’s sweaty tarmac, it is hard to keep track of the thousand thoughts that crowd the mind. It’s over five years since I’ve been away from this city where I grew up for the most part; and my expectations are primed—not least because of the global media’s recent glowing coverage of India’s economic dynamism and the juggernaut led by its financial capital, Mumbai.

The growth reported in the past five years has been faster than in the previous 50, commentators have said. The figures bandied about have been astronomical by our humble Pacific standards. Everything down from the country’s population to investments, market capitalisation, growth forecasts, Bollywood and cricket takings have been in the billions—nothing less.

The stats have been no less mind boggling: a burgeoning middle class the size of the American population; an automobile market that will grow faster than any other in the world for 20 years; a mobile phone market that went from 5 million to 250 million in seven years—and will still grow at that pace for several more; the world’s fastest growing aviation market; an IT and media boom like no other anywhere else...

So what should I expect to see below as the plane cuts through the translucent haze of low hanging smog? Hundred storey spires with elevated eight-lane motorways snaking between them—a la Shanghai or Burj Dubai?

And what should I expect on landing? An array of mobile phone kiosks where I can pick a SIM card like I would in any of the world’s major airports? Or get online wirelessly as soon as I flip open my MacBook Pro?

Nothing of the sort! The hectares upon hectares of slums surrounding Mumbai’s international airport that have been the fodder of hundreds of documentaries flashed across TV channels for decades are still intact as I peer out of the window—and, as I learn later, still hold the record of being the world’s largest slum.

Outside, the mobile phone reps inform me that I need to produce at least one form of ID, a passport sized picture of myself and proof of my residential address (a utilities bill in my name) before I can fill out a lengthy form of application for a SIM card. “Security precautions prescribed by the government, Sir,” says the rep. And assuming I did that, it would take at least four days before I could hope to use the service!

Trying to get online is no less cumbersome. Forget WiFi and Wimax: “that’s still a lot of hot air,” says an old journalist friend. I need to go through an application process that will take four days to a week before I can get online—that is if I produce all my papers of identification.

Cyber cafes are a bit easier—but you can’t get online before you’ve given all your details (name, address, phone number, etc.) to the manager’s satisfaction—all in the interests of national security and the country’s “cyber laws”. Yet, the news media is littered with stories of serious internet fraud, identity theft, falsification and suchlike.

The quickest way to get around this astonishingly anachronistic bureaucracy in this digital age, I discover, is the plain old-fashioned way: friends and family. So I grab a friend’s unused SIM card and plug into a relative’s home broadband connection—a truly paperless way at last.

But amidst all the changeless aspects of India, the people’s new wealth is hard to miss. Almost every person in the street irrespective of age, social status, class or caste—often distinctly differentiated by attire—sports a mobile phone.

There are more glitzy cars and bikes choking the roads and honking at one another and at other vehicles and non-vehicles of every description than ever before. And in the middle of the depressingly grey mass of a tin shed slum colony rises tall, and Phoenix-like, a smart steel-and-glass mall emblazoned with the world’s most desirable consumer brands.

The precincts of the malls and shops are nothing short of world class. The service standards, though, fall far too short—yet another example of India’s inherent and timeless propensity for contrasts.

India has been a land of contrasts and disparities like no other place anywhere since times immemorial. But, sadly, despite the unprecedented economic boom of the past few years, the contrasts and disparities persist and in my opinion, shared by many other India-watchers, are in fact growing.

This scenario is set to remain as long as the twin factors of too many people chasing too few resources and the progressively worsening quality of political and administrative leadership remain unchecked.

It is unlikely that blitzing economic growth alone will take India to another level.

Can the Pacific Islands plug into this boom in any way?

The Pacific Islands have no share of voice in the Indian media as of now. By all counts, it is a region too far away, too thinly spread and with far too few people to be of any serious interest to India’s big-figure chasing business houses.
 
But India is vast and has tiers and tiers of businesses and entrepreneurs. It’s just a matter of packaging and presenting the right business opportunities for those of them who are flushed with funds and are curiously looking far and wide to find virgin niches to park their funds. This is the type of India entrepreneur the Pacific Islands need to target.

At a more obvious level, the Pacific’s tourism sector could well look at attracting the increasingly mobile Indian holidaymaker looking for exciting new holiday ideas. Addressing Bollywood’s incessant hunger for virgin locales by presenting the Pacific Islands as a fresh alternative could be another avenue that could produce good dividends.

The regional tourism agency south-pacific.travel is hoping to make a start in that direction with an initiative later this year. It is taking a ‘Pacific Village’ to one of India’s biggest tourism shows in the southern city of Hyderabad this July.