On the last day of Rathotsava, flowers and decorations were being taken down, small stalls were being dismantled, and the town of Thirthahalli was going back to its usual routine. The town folk, who have been accustomed to the same routines for many decades, now find themselves deviating in their practices in small, but noticeable ways. How they conducted their business is different from what they used to do a few years ago. They may not be able to put a finger on exactly what is off, but they all feel it; the unstoppable tide of time and progress catching up to this quaint corner of the world.
Thirthahalli has always been the center for the surrounding villages, being locally referred to as ‘pété’, or “market” in Kannada. You would find the streets always busy with merchants and farmers during the day, a bustling town center filled with all the gossip and happenings in the taluk, and a vibrant community steeped in tradition. The orthodox nature of its inhabitants usually dictates their way of life, but they are also surprisingly flexible to bending the rules when the situation demands it. And therein lies their dilemma.
In the last few years, the town had undergone rapid changes in succession. The iconic Tunga Bridge designed by Sir M. Visvesvaraya himself, is now being superseded by a 4 lane bridge and highway. Air-conditioned supermarts dot the town, replacing the small-time general stores and sweet shops that were once run by local families. Internet speeds greater than 40 Mbps now grace 4G phones regularly, where once upon a time placing STD calls was a coin toss due to broken cables in the middle of the dense forest.
Like sand shifting under one’s feet, the locals are seeing everything change around them. Some welcome this change with open arms, priding themselves on being at the forefront of rapid growth, others staunchly reject the changes as they struggle to adapt or are even harmed by them. Through modernisation comes standardization, and many are wary of the breakdown of the traditions, culture, and sense of community this standardization may be causing. But at the same time, they are hooked on the quality of life improvements brought by development.
Nowhere is this conflict clearer than in the youth of this town. No longer interested in the meager monetary yields offered by toiling in the family fields and plantations, they hope to get an easier desk job with higher pay, and an income not left up to the weather. Now competing against a global market, studying at the local university doesn’t cut it. They need to rely on the internet to pick up skills that the antiquated curriculum will never teach. The internet also opens up the world to them, and imports western culture straight into the town. Now with Pandora’s box open, there is no looking back for them. With their sights set on the world, the youth venture out to conquer it, never to return back to this old, small town.
News in the village spreads fast: “Her son is being sent to the US” or “His daughter has shifted to London”. The family is showered with congratulations and celebrations are held. But at these celebrations, one can also hear chatter from the locals: “Who will take over their farm/business after this?” or “Who will take care of the parents if they fall ill?”. Usually, once there is no one to manage the land or business that has been in the family for generations, the inheritors sell it off. A sad, but pragmatic solution. The families that together made up the old culture of the town are now being replaced by new people, kind of like a “ship of Theseus” situation. This culture shifts only compounds with time, causing subtle but noticeable changes to the community itself.
Okay, enough with the bleakness. Modernisation brings along new technology as well, right? With the electrification of the rural areas, and infinite knowledge held within a magical glass rectangle, comes new farming knowledge, and knowledge of the local and global agriculture markets. This, combined with the arcane knowledge of farming passed down through generations, lets these folks squeeze every last bit of value from their land. Labour is still cheaper than buying fancy new farming equipment, so people of lower castes are naturally still the preferred choice. Farmers now can place orders of tailored crop seeds, analyze soil, keep up to date with the local crop diseases and spread patterns, experiment with the newest crops according to price vs value of yields, etc.
Some are sceptical of these advancements due to the complex nature behind each one of these advancements. You don’t need to know how a GM seed is made to use it, but you also don’t know immediately what qualities you are losing out on by replacing the local ones. Due to this mystique, farmers are left to extrapolate all sorts of theories as to why something is a certain way. One farmer asked if his newly installed solar panels are, by absorbing sunlight, somehow diminishing the life of the Sun. Despite two people trying to convince him otherwise, he walked away with three others agreeing with his concerns.
Modernisation didn’t just change the tangible; it also managed to somehow budge the concept of family roles. A man was expressing his concern about how none of the potential grooms earned nearly as much as his daughter. He had a sense of pride that he couldn’t conceal while talking about his issue. However, there is still no chance for anything major changing in this aspect, especially amongst the locals above 40.
In the end, Thirthahalli is a living example of the classic conflict between traditions vs progress. This has been taken to an extreme in the last few years, resulting in all sorts of weird but fun amalgamations happening when tradition and modernisation are combined into a compromise.
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