CII India We Want Essay Writing Contest (1st Prize)

Seema caught the 11:15 pm metro from Dadar. The day had been long and she hadn’t paid attention to the hands of the clock. She was very late.

She looked around the compartment of the superfast metro. Not another passenger. Sitting on the window seat, she pressed her nose against the cold glass, trying to identify the fast moving visuals. Just then someone tapped her shoulder.

“Where will you be alighting ma’am?” A heavily armed female security personnel asked her.

“Asangaon”, Seema answered. She observed the CCTV fixed on the ceiling turn towards her.

“Alright Ma’am, you can take some rest, I will wake you up when the train approaches Asangaon.”

“Thanks”, Seema replied.

The security personnel spoke on a wireless mike, “Coach No. 12 has lady alighting at Asangaon. Over.” The Central Railway Security (CRS) office at CST received the information. The officer on duty marked the coach on the huge LCD touch screen which tracked the routes of all trains running in Maharashtra.

After spending the entire day in the bustling city, the metro felt strikingly quiet. This bothered Seema. She brought out her music system and started hearing songs over the internet. The metro was Wifi enabled and had better speeds than at her office.

She loved her music system. The songs played one by one, each connected in some way to her life’s trajectory. Like a box of memories.

Seema was transported to another world. A childhood where her relatively poor parents always satisfied their children’s necessities. With the help of government supported free education she was able to complete her bachelors in Aerospace Engineering. She had been preparing very hard to get into the world’s best Masters in Engineering Institutes located in different parts of India ever since.

She was currently employed as an intern in the research and development wing of the Ministry of Defence, where the greatest minds in India were working towards creating the world’s first stealth jet plane. Working there infused great pride in her.

The ringing of the phone interrupted her chain of thoughts. It was a video-call from her mother. “Seema, why are you so late today,” she scolded.

“It’s not my fault Ma, the metro stopped for 20 minutes in between for some reason.”

“Don’t blame the metro for your recklessness. The metro is always on time. I know you caught the 11:15 train. I got a message from the CRS the moment you boarded it.”

“Sorry Ma,” Seema blushed. How could she be so foolish to lie? It was well known that all modes of public transportations like busses, railways, cabs were tracked by corresponding officials at all times.

When Asangaon arrived, Seema alighted from the train. The platform was deserted, all but for the CRS guards who were patrolling on the platform with walkie-talkies. The CCTVs followed Seema till the end. Outside the station she saw a fleet of the GPS enabled government taxis. There were two separate lines, one with female drivers and the other with male drivers. She boarded one with a female driver.

On the way she spotted police cars located at significant intervals on the well-lighted street. She replied to e-mails on her phablet in the Wi-Fi-enabled smart city. It was ironical that the city was still called Asangaon.

On reaching her colony gate she swiped her smart card on the taxi’s card reader, thanked the driver and got out. The fare would be deposited in the taxi-drivers bank account, just like how all other transactions took place.

She then answered a call from the CRS enquiring if she had reached home. Once at home, she sat at the dinner table. As usual, her sister Anjali had video-called from Australia, where she headed the Indian Biogenetics Corporation.

Her husband was on the line. “Auntyji,” he spoke, “Me and Anjali were discussing how she used to run the finances of this house before marriage. So if you will allow us, we have decided to transfer a part of our income each month directly to your bank account.”

“But Damadji, that is not required.”

“No Auntyji, I insist. If you refuse I will feel that you do not consider me your son.”

Tears filled her mother’s eyes. Controlling herself she said, “Thank you, son.” Seema hugged her mother.

“Well then, that is a reason to celebrate, I am sending you a cake via the 3D printer. I have mixed the ingredients myself,” he winked.

Later at night, Seema got a message from her friend Lysa in Germany. Lysa was one of her classmates in her bachelor course at the Indian Institute of Aeronautics and Space. The message read –

‘Our project has been accepted by the Indian Patents Office. Congratulations’.

Seema felt elated. She switched on the TV. ‘Breaking News’, the TV flared, ‘India provides Africa with indigenously produced inexpensive cure for AIDS. This is one of the many gestures of goodwill shown by India to the world.”

Disclaimer: The above story is fictitious. Any resemblance to any situation or person will be highly appreciated.

Let’s come back to reality now. This is the India we all want, not the India that really is. Currently in India, Seema is killed before she is born, Seema is denied the right to be educated, she is trafficked or raped and thrown off moving trains, while Anjali is tortured and burnt for dowry; in the India that is, there are no safety provisions, neither are there world class Institutes nor any emphasis on research and development. In the India that is, the national anthem is just sung but not felt.

The India we want is not just a one that is technologically advanced, but one that has social and political maturity, with stringent laws and beneficial policies. It is an India with a mind-set willing to embrace new thoughts, only then will we be a developed country in the true sense. Let’s strive to make the above story a true story. Let’s make India shine!