Most of us living in the metro are part of a bubble. We are part of a parallel universe. It is like living in a utopia: capitalism, consumerism, and modernity is the virtue and elements like cars, housing society, mobile fostering the identity.

I see people complaining about electricity failure or water not coming for a day for maintenance. I see folks fighting with delivery agents or negotiating for a few rupees with vendors.

I also see a class of people speaking at conferences, presenting slides, graphs, data, and echoing India’s development. I also see people doing thought leadership and predictions on various subjects, platforms.

Either we happily neglect the other India, or we don’t want to see it. An India where every year millions go homeless because of the flood, people still kill siblings over land disputes, kids go to eat not study at school. An India where untouchability is deep-rooted, life lost over entering a temple or fetching water from a pond. Cities of India where one bus connects the entire village from the rest, electricity comes occasionally, and pure drinking water is a dream. An India where dowry or honor killing exists. An India where entire families meal depends on the sale of vegetables in the village mandi. An India where eating out once in a month or eating meat, sweets is no less than a celebration. An India where new dresses are bought once or twice a year.

I am not trying to be a cynic. I am part of it. There is another India that forms 95% of our population. An India which serves labor forces to build your apartment, deliver our food, or clean our house, or take you home from the airport. They are like us humans with emotions, cravings for love, respect, and belonging. Do not treat them live robots, slaves, or trash.

This 95% is not the TRP or ad-material for media. Their stories are not worth chasing. Our government has made them invisible long back.