- Kranthi Chand
- Jun 3, 2020
It is time I put more words to a confession that started as a chat on Hinge. Inherent biases developed over our lifetime are subtle until they grow to a stage where you attribute a value to them. A bias now seemingly ingrained in me is that against the city born and bred.
I refer to myself as a 'Village lad' being born and brought up until class 10 in a large village or a small town. (Let us not get into the legal definition of a village or its growth over the three decades to be a town). Parents were government employees. So, not a typical villager. It took me years to realise how my paternal uncle influenced me through my childhood. I only spent my holidays at his house.
I remember the routine. Wake up with the sun, brush the teeth, drink up hot milk, and eat a little breakfast. The next task was to take the buffaloes out to graze with a bottle of water, a stick and a long walk. I wasn't alone. My cousin used to be around, and so did the neighbour kid who worked on the farm. Around noon, we return home, wash and feed ourselves. Irrigating the field was the next task, with the third phase of electricity starting at 3 pm. Equipped with a spade, we built 'dams' and regulated the water flow to the rows of plants. I remember pollinating the cotton flowers, harvesting and packing brinjal and other vegetables. My last memory with my paternal grandfather was cutting the paddy and injuring my toe with a sickle.
It didn't end there. We had a mud floored house. So, for the festivals, we plastered the floor with a mixture of clay and dung. As a kid, dirtying hands and feet was fun. Picking up the muck, haystacks and washing the cattle came naturally. Evenings started with the dropping off milk in the diary and ended up in eating street food. The process repeated itself daily.
On the farm, I shared smiles with labourers. That's how my uncle and dad taught me equality at work. As any kid who didn't demand but shared, I received a lot of love and affection from the labourers. Casteism was undeniably present. But, we got to play with other kids in the village as equals despite the economic inequality and education barriers.
Fast forward a decade. I fully exploited the privilege of educated and aspiring parents. I studied at the best institutions in the region, including a move to Chennai for Senior School and Europe for Masters. As early as high school, I was given access to my mother's debit card and taught to ensure I carried money in my wallet. I lived in a multicultural environment with flatmates from Brazil and the US. I did splurge on high-end gadgets, travel and food. Travelled to over ten countries before I turned 23, including solo travel.
But, those holidays in childhood have ingrained something into my lifestyle. Getting off the airbus and catching a red bus was very easy. Living in a remote village with a minimal salary and bland food felt normal. Walking barefoot is comfortable, especially in wet mud. Working with social enterprises brought happiness. I jumped to volunteer for mundane jobs as long as they were not repetitive.
The adaptability to both high-end urban lifestyle and peaceful village brought with it an inherent bias. I feel as if I am a part of two distinct societies, which sometimes don't meet with each other. Sustaining conversations with people who are on either side of the fence became harder. My bias reads through the lines separating the thought processes and enlarges them to make me feel that their arguments lacked a holistic approach.
While I try to listen to different viewpoints, my natural inclination is towards those expressed by people who have lived on both sides of the spectrum. I have immense respect to those who left their urban lifestyle to work in rural areas, or those from the rural background trying to bring in a change in the exclusionary thought process of the urban areas. When conversations lack participation from such people, I air over-confidence in the efficacy of my thought process. That is how my bias now creeps into every socio-political conversation I make.