Akash, Sameer, and Siddharth (played by Aamir Khan, Saif Ali Khan, and Akshaye Khanna respectively) in the 2001 movie Dil Chahta Hai became the most authentic figures of a new generation. Now a cult classic in India, the movie was perhaps the first real expression of the desires and dreams of a generation that would later identify itself as the Millennials.
But what separates one generation from another? The boundaries are porous and those born closer to the cut-off years are also likely to find similarities with the generation preceding or following them. Besides the year they were born, how does a person identify with a generation? The markers are quite arbitrary but mostly have to do with coming of age in a certain cultural, social, and political climate. Simply put, the reason why we mostly befriend and fall in love with members of our own generation is that we share similar similar experiences growing up and therefore, our anxieties about the present and the future are similar too. To put numbers to the name, the Millennial generation spans from 1977 to 1997. It is also the topic of interest in AM Gautam’s debut nonfiction book Indian Millennials: Who Are They, Really?.
Since Gautam is a Millennial himself, it is understandable why he would be interested in looking at the bones of the creature that proudly wears its generation identity on its sleeves. Unlike the generations before, the Millennials were the first to grow up in an increasingly connected world. Before them, the politics of the times were so local and diverse that people from the same generation – but different parts of the world – found it difficult to identify with each other. But soon, the percolation of the internet in every home and the superfast news cycle kept the new generation on top of things and prevented them from turning their eyes away from both the gory and the ridiculous. The “democratisation” of traditional forms of media has made the dissemination of information that much easier – therefore, be it music, movies, or conspiracy theories, everything is accessible and “relatable” for those who show even the tiniest bit of interest.
Being a Millennial in India
In Indian Millennials, Gautam looks at what being a Millennial feels like in India. He imagines the generation as “a giant toddler with its head in glittery American clouds and its feet that walk on Indian soil, stumbling at potholes even as its eyes follow CGI-saturated technicoloured dreams.”A colourful, vivid description. Gautam is not wrong. For all the America-influenced aspirations and barometers of success, young Indians are still deeply entrenched in the caste-class-religion-related values that they find difficult to shake off, and in some cases, give up. While their parents have become more encouraging of choosing “unconventional” career routes and love marriages are seemingly gaining more popularity, Millennials are caught between a rock and a hard place trying to live a life they really want and fulfilling social and moral obligations that they believe are silently imposed on them.
In addition to these, as Gautam points out, there are new anxieties (now also in men) about body image, gainful and stable employment, the degrading quality of democracy, and social media presence and pretence. Through fourteen essays, Gautam tackles each topic that occupies the Millennial mind. As a young boy who grew up in Haridwar and an adult professional who lives in Bangalore, Gautam offers views from both sides of the spectrum – the small towns that are bulging into big cities and big cities that are at capacity with dreams and nightmares.
His visits to his hometown let him see more clearly the devastating effects of climate change and environmental pollution. The Ganga has become the nation’s sewer as billions of litres of waste are discharged into it every day, the pollution caused by fossil fuel giants and billionaires cruising in private planes is quite literally unimaginable to the common man, and so is the grossly unequal consumption of a first world nation as compared to India and other poorer countries. Fighting these irreversible damages are lone warriors like you and me who have made the switch to mushy paper straws and going “sustainable” to save the planet. Individual action is important, but as Gautam reminds us, we are also unfairly pitted against corporate and capitalist forces that have much to gain from shifting the blame of the climate crisis on helpless individuals.
If corporates are the big evil forces, so are caste, religion, class, and eating habits in India. It is difficult to outgrow any of these – especially when the “choices” you make are also unknowingly based on these markers. We hesitate to marry outside of our caste, we would rather not date someone worse off than us, inter-faith marriages can turn deadly, “pure” vegetarians routinely discriminate against meat eaters and if you are a Muslim – beef-eating or not – you could be lynched on the basis of mere suspicion of a Hindu mob.
Despite the loosening stranglehold of caste and class in matters of love and marriage, faith and eating habits are strictly not to be messed with. Using personal anecdotes of being in an inter-caste relationship and transforming from a “pure” vegetarian into a meat eater, Gautam quite correctly treats the issues like the landmines that they are. One wrong step and you invite the deadly ire of a mob-like majority that will bay for your blood and kill you in broad daylight. In doing so, he gives us the real picture of the dissonance a Millennial feels – on the one hand, you are buying and flaunting the most expensive phone while on the other, you would prefer to give into an arranged marriage than go “against” your family and be with someone who isn’t socially identical as you.
The jobs that are already difficult to come by are even harder to keep. This is especially true for fiercely competitive industries such as engineering which every second Indian seems to want to have a career in. “Moonlighting” – having two jobs at the same time – was quite likely popularised by Millennials. Little to no savings, uncontrolled inflation, and being first-generation urban earners have had a deep psychological impact on how the new generation treats work. If the boss doesn’t give a damn, then why should I? so they feel.
But what does spending almost all your waking hours at work do to your mental and physical health? It’s too early to tell, but the results might not be rosy. By using one such corporate worker Daksh’s story as an example, Gautam highlights the desperation that forces one to moonlight. He offers us a clearer picture of the systemic failures of the government, which has failed to create enough well-paying jobs for one of the biggest young populations in the world.
Mapping a generation
Instead of treating social media with distrust and cynicism, I enjoyed how Gautam studies it to show its deeper influences on our language, spending habits, and the nature of our aspirations. All of us are guilty of using social media to build our “personal brands” and looking to “influencers” before making our next big (or small) purchase. The homogenised vocabulary, sartorial sensibilities, and political outlooks that the Millennials suffer from can very likely be traced to being hooked to our apps 24/7. But like every phenomenon that is fed more than its fill, social media has become a cesspool of hate, violence, and conspiracy theories.
While during the CAA-NRC protests, social media was used to mobilise people for collective good, Bollywood actor Sushant Singh Rajput’s death led to a witchhunt for his girlfriend and allowed bogus theories to not only germinate but gain legitimacy through titillating “journalism” espoused by primetime TV. Unlike the former, social media users still find it difficult to let Singh’s death fade from the news cycle and it is not surprising to see new hashtags and posts take up the cause every other month. The author’s dedication to tracking down one of the “SSR Warriors” is truly commendable – I’d have been quick to dismiss it as nonsense and lose my temper in the process.
My favourite part of the book is Gautam’s conversation with author Ruskin Bond. He hikes to Ivy Manor in Landour and gets everyone’s favourite author to talk about his life – a wise addition to understanding how stories affect a person and the larger impacts of art and literature on an entire generation. It was good to know that Bond’s sense of humour is not lost with age. His recollections of his early days of writing, the changing publishing landscape in India starting in the 1960s, and talking about his favourite books and writers were a happy breather in a book that can otherwise be quite a serious, sober read.
Gautam’s efforts to streamline the Millenials – their absolute and emotional reality – are worthy of appreciation. Cleanly dividing each concern into the topic of an essay allows the reader to think deeply about its effects on their own lives, and what they might be doing differently about it than the previous generations. Even though Indian Millennials is a map of a generation, Gautam does not hesitate to write about his most private experiences to illustrate what the term means for him and the several dilemmas of the labels that he has chosen to identify with.
My only complaint – and I am reluctant to call it one – is that I wish there were more third-person anecdotes to support (and contradict!) with the claims that Gautam makes. I would have loved to read about more Millennials who moonlight, marry for love, make “cringe” content on social media, eat meat without their family’s knowledge. Perhaps I’m an incorrigibly curious reader, but for me, the subjects are always a bit more interesting than the author.
Indian Millennials: Who Are They, Really?, AM Gautam, Aleph Book Company.
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