Kolkata

There are one and half billion people on the subcontinent, at least. As I said, I question this figure. The people in the slums are certainly not all counted, friends and co-workers confirmed to me in recent weeks again and again. How many hundred million more they may be ultimately does not matter.

“India has 20 percent of the world population,” Dipendra Gurung told me during my stay in a WWF-supported ecotourism village in Darjeeling (or “Gorkhaland,” as the people here in the mountains call their home), “but only two percent of the land area.” An interesting thought. And in fact the “world’s largest democracy,” as they like to see themselves, consists not merely of the grey of the cities, but also of an incredible amount of green countryside.

Of course there is poverty here, bitter poverty. One fourth of the population of West Bengal must fight hard to be able to eat two meals a day, estimates Amitava Bhattacharya, who is trying to create perspectives for the poor rural population through art and tourism with his organization Art for Life. And certainly I could have filled the columns of this newspaper over the past few weeks just with photos of slums and beggars.

But that was repugnant to me. I did not come here to “ogle the poor,” I already know what misery is. And I also refused to take a rickshaw. To let someone else pull me about in a cart appeared too perverse to me. I do not want to be the descendent of the colonial rulers and therefore, in solidarity with the Indian people, did not visit the Victoria Memorial, with which the British celebrated their domination over Kolkata and India.

On the other hand, my rickshaw boycott denied someone from earning a few rupees. Among the things that one must put into perspective here in any case is the definition of poverty. The rickshaw drivers are comparatively well off, I am told, for example, by Basav Bhattacharya (no relation to Amitava, but also involved in social projects), even being a beggar is not such a bad job. They are not among the poorest.

Then who is? Now, even the Republic of India has an official version. The poverty line in rural areas is 715 rupees, a little over eleven euros per month. In the cities (such as Kolkata) it is a bit over 15 euros. Those who have less are entitled to welfare.

At the same time, one sees one jewellery shop next to the other in Kolkata and fat Mercedes and Jaguars parked right next to bamboo huts. Amitava Bhattacharya told me about a parliamentary debate in Delhi where about five years ago an MP declared today is a sad day for India. Why? The news had come over the wires that an Indian was now the richest man in the world. Amitava agrees with him, “That does not conform to our soul. For millennia, we never defined ourselves through money.”

Speaking of money, it is just as astonishing as pleasing that there is widespread social debate on corruption in India, which the powerful (regardless of their political shading) can no longer get under control. In this case, it is truly justified to speak of the “world’s largest democracy” (whereby India appears to be both a stronghold of democracy and a police state). In churches, they are praying to be freed from this scourge and it is also a topic of everyday conversation.

The only pathway out of poverty is education

The Mahatma Gandhi-style hunger strike by activist Anna Hazare triggered an avalanche of protests that can no longer be repressed. Now and then one could wish this (new) kind of awareness for Germany, even if the Federal Republic takes an apparently respectable 15th place on the negative ranking list of Transparency International, while the subcontinent holds place 87 (alongside Albania, Djibouti and Liberia). For comparison’s sake China, the biggest competitor, holds place 78. There are therefore no major differences.

Yet this rebellion against the powerful, which has exhausted India since the parting of the British, has a great deal to do with one aspect: education. One can only be amazed at the esteem accorded this sector there. While German children often complain that they have to go to school and do their homework, the boys and girls in India are happy to do so.

For more and more people realize that the only pathway out of poverty and misery is knowledge. Parents in the slums or in the mud huts in the countryside go without (even more) to enable their children to attend school. This already has shown positive effects: the “computer Indians” are just one example of how well educated the young people on the subcontinent now are. But it is also seen very tangibly in everyday life. Those who can read and write, and those who additionally are able to attain some knowledge of politics, are also aware of their rights and do not let themselves be walked upon.

Compulsory schooling, which was only introduced nationwide a little more than two years ago, may have marked the beginning of a rebellion or even a revolution. Many of the people I have conversed with explain the popular anti-corruption movement for example as a result of the higher educational levels. This is also noticeable in another area: those who attended school have fewer children. “My grandfather had 16 boys and girls,” Dipendra Gurung told me, “My brothers had two children at most.”

The status of the arts in Kolkata is also encouraging. While the efforts to anchor Friedrich Hölderlin in the awareness of the city of Nürtingen at times seems to be somewhat contrived and artificial, the literature Nobel prizewinner Rabindranath Tagore is very much a part of the lives of the Bengal people. Even the young people sing his approximately hundred-year-old songs at parties. A party with Hölderlin poems? That would be inconceivable on the Neckar.

Germans could learn a great deal from the Indians where contentment is concerned

Kolkata describes itself as the City of Joy. When one first arrives here, one might think, “These Indians are nuts!” But after awhile, one senses that it is true! Over these six weeks I have almost never encountered any ill-tempered people. While we Germans always want everything to be one hundred percent and complain and talk of scandal when it is only 97 percent, the people in Kolkata are happy and satisfied with ten percent. Mind you that does not mean having to accept everything without a whimper. But, when it comes down to what really matters in life, there is very, very much that we can learn from the people in India.

“Ashi,” the Bengals say when they take their leave: “I’m going.” The response to which is, “Abar esho!” or “Come again!” I can no longer count the times I have heard this sentence in the past weeks. It has been a great pleasure. There is a German song that says, “One never goes away entirely,” and the same applies here, “something of me will remain here and will always have a place with you.”