The rise and fall of the heavenly NRI

Kolkata: When I was definitely very little, the NRI was certainly very big. An emissary of divinity, mostly in winter, overloaded with goodies and legends from an unimaginable wonderland.

In cohorts of Birla Ambassadors and Indian Fiats, entire clans would descend on the aerodromes, rapidly purchasing entry licenses to the open-air viewing area. In the not undue course, the aircraft would descend magnanimously on the colonial shores, pausing just sufficiently for the comeback to civilisation. With staccato trepidation, the NRI would set patent-leather foot on the tarmac, the temporarily redundant overcoats truly an unbecoming appendage, in these appallingly unworthy climes.

The ride back to the residence would be replete with stories of insufficiencies and glories, the former clearly an Indian prerogative. A popular culprit could be the plumbing system in terminal toilets, no match for the Niagara Falls clones in the adopted home, capable of drowning the most obstinate toilet paper. Perhaps our primordial habits of watering our ablutions accountable for technology inefficiencies would certainly be the basis of a resounding condemnation.

Narratives could swiftly shift to the naïve disposition of immigration officials, worthy of Death Row when compared to the fine fellows in Heathrow. Or possibly, the lack of observational development in the modest streets since the last state visit, unlike the permanently Viagra-inspired stature of Western development. Occasionally, a chuckling cross-reference to the Morris Oxford origins of the designated carriage deemed worthy of our primitive state.

Those who were residents indulged these diatribes with tactical humility, as the suitcases bearing gifts were yet to be unleashed, and stray dissent could well lead to the bottle of Scotch being allotted to an obliging peer. Some, who were younger and brighter, considered this annual barrage to be a sufficient inspiration and booked bus tickets to the USEFI and British Council with hasty tenacity.

While others, consigned to their seemingly mediocre lot, resisted manfully with the finest Hilsa and the sweetest Sandesh, only to be rebutted that the ones in London are prettier by far. Truthfully, the rotund wallets of the wealthy brigade were rarely bared to local cash tills unless linked to curio shopping in curious boutiques.

But then, one day, courtesy of the many-fangled wings of liberalization, so much changed quickly and the NRI was caught napping, quite like Shreyas Iyer on a steaming Perth wicket. Morale was palpably shattered when the fast food heroes became omnipotent (KFC et al), in tune with that supreme vestige of Western civilisation, the Coca-Cola can. The parity expressway clearly had no speed limits, as category after category, from liquor to fashion to technology, became commonplace in these designated boondocks. A carnage that was actually cast in debilitating stone by the easy access to luxury cars and a culture of high-end shopping and services that would embarrass the entitled and lazy West.

Nowadays, the arriving NRI is neither an evangelist nor a boastful magnet, instead, she is a sincere customer of the rebooted Indian eco-system, transforming with infallible aplomb. The family who stayed behind is now viewed in a fresh light, considered to be unlikely long-term visionaries, thriving on a beautiful equilibrium of past and present. Many of the Hindustan leavers are buying opportune real estate, wishing earnestly for lengthy autumnal stints. The airport pickups are still as sincere but the vehicles are automatic and the pace of urban growth bemusing the chronic cynics of yore.

In the last thirty years, our country has surpassed the historical chieftains of growth (West) in immeasurable parameters, and we need to be more proud than we actually are. We still love the NRIs as much as we did earlier, but with a slight twist. As customers of their greedy tourism boards and indulgence brands are tormented by endlessly plateaued growth and thus are desperately seeking sustainable revenues. Happy to oblige as per our inherent nature, we surely have forgiven the slights of the legacy NRI, who descended in Nehruvian times with impudent sparks.

For the first half-century of our independence, the NRI was a worthy successor of the imperial forces, skinned differently while coated similarly. Now we are all seamless agents of a global Indian success story, location indeed no bar. To this we must raise an appropriate toast, multigrain surely preferred to white if bread is the chosen poison.