A few years ago, Ramesh’s family lived in a mud-brick home on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by wheat fields and buffaloes. Life was simple, governed by seasons, tradition, and tight-knit village ties. Then came the letter — the government had acquired their land for a highway. Within months, Ramesh was a crorepati.
He wasn’t alone. Across Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, and Maharashtra, hundreds of families like his suddenly found themselves holding cheques with more zeroes than they had ever imagined. The once-rural outskirts of cities like Gurugram, Noida, Pune, and Nagpur transformed into booming real estate frontiers. With money in hand, villagers began trading farmland for floors, mud houses for marble-tiled towers, and tractors for SUVs.
It was supposed to be a leap forward — and economically, it was.
But something subtle, and deeply human, was left behind in the rush to upgrade: empathy.
When Concrete Walls Replace Open Courtyards
Ramesh and his family moved into a posh residential society — a gated community with manicured lawns, a gym, CCTV, and a swimming pool they rarely used. His children began learning English. His wife learned how to operate a microwave. And yet, they struggled with something more essential: how to live with strangers.
In their village, everyone knew everyone. The rules of conduct were informal but respected — based on family standing, elder authority, and collective memory. But in the apartment tower, no one knew who lived upstairs, and no one cared.
So Ramesh parked his Fortuner in someone else’s slot — because in his mind, space was flexible, and he was used to informal adjustments. His cousin played loud Bhojpuri songs at midnight during a wedding — unaware that urban laws viewed sound differently than celebrations. When the security guard politely asked them to follow society rules, he got a hostile reply: “Do you know who I am?”
The Quiet Clash
This isn’t just about one family or one society.
All across urban India, a quiet clash of values is unfolding — between old wealth and new money, between inherited civic discipline and sudden prosperity. Between people who grew up with town planners and those who grew up with community panchayats.
The problem isn’t that these new urban residents are wrong — it’s that they were never prepared for what city life truly demands: not just private wealth, but public responsibility. Not just gated security, but shared sensitivity.
Money Buys Apartments, Not Awareness
There’s a common myth that once someone moves into a posh home, they will “automatically become urban.” But what about:
- Waiting quietly in queues?
- Letting the lift go if it’s full?
- Picking up after your pet?
- Turning the music down after 10 PM?
- Not yelling at domestic workers or security?
These are not rules on paper, but rules of coexistence. They can’t be bought — they must be internalized.
And internalization takes more than possession. It takes exposure, empathy, and effort — things that urban India has never formally taught its new entrants.
A Two-Way Street
To be fair, the burden of change cannot fall solely on one side.
Urban societies, RWAs, and long-time residents must also do more than complain. Instead of exclusion and gossip, why not:
- Conduct civic orientation sessions in Hindi or the local language?
- Celebrate festivals together, bridging old and new residents?
- Create empathy — not just enforcement?
The New India Dream
Ramesh’s story is not an exception — it’s the new India story. And like all stories of transformation, it is messy, awkward, and deeply human.
It is a story that tells us: Economic growth is easy to measure. Social growth is not.
Owning an apartment is only the first step. Becoming a good neighbor is the real achievement.
Let the Change Begin — Not Just in Rules, But in Us.
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