India 2.0 part 2: Returning to the land of opportunity

But in recent years the nation’s burgeoning economic fortunes have produced an intriguing reversal, as increasing numbers of PIOs return to India to live and work.

The category of OCI was introduced by the Indian government in 2005, in response to a growing demand from Indians living abroad, and to encourage the development of an educated and skilled workforce at home. The scheme entitles the children and grandchildren of people born in India to a lifelong visa, which enables them to live and work in the country indefinitely. The Confederation of Indian Industry in London has described the numbers of PIOs moving to India since the introduction of scheme as the greatest migration of British citizens to the country since the golden period of the British Empire.

The Mumbai suburb of Bandra is a place of tree-lined streets and colonial-style villas and bungalows. It has a large Catholic population – a place where you see as many Marian shrines as Hindu temples.

With its restaurants, coffee shops, and – a rarity in Mumbai – its relative tranquillity, it is a popular area for young Westerners living in the city. Vikas and Savita Vij, both in their 30s, live with their two children on Pali Hill in a fading mansion block, its original whitewash bleached and weathered in the local fashion to a pock-marked grey. As is the case with virtually every private apartment building in Mumbai, security guards loiter at the entrance.

This has been their home for the past five years, since they decided, as Savita put it, that ‘it was time for something a bit more adventurous in our lives’, and, having only ever lived in London, they packed their bags for Mumbai. Savita’s grandparents had migrated to Britain in the 1960s; her grandfather was a factory worker, and her father followed in his footsteps, working at Ford in Dagenham. Savita, 34, is one of four children. ‘My parents’ dream was to give us a really good education, and they did that,’ she said.

After graduating in sociology from Royal Holloway, University of London, Savita worked for the Runnymede Trust, the race equality think-tank. She and Vikas have been together since they were teenagers. In 2003 they married, and settled in a flat in a new development in Greenwich, south London.

‘We had a good life,’ Savita said. But after the birth of their son, Adi, in 2008, they began to crave a new direction. ‘Something really changed for both of us,’ Savita said. ‘We’d gone with the education, the jobs and the responsibilities. I didn’t know what was missing but we both felt we were looking for something else.’

Growing up, Savita had always felt ‘very Indian’. Her upbringing was conservative, her friends were mostly of Indian origin, like herself. ‘I didn’t listen to Western music until I went to university,’ she said.

She had visited India as a child with her parents, but ‘family politics’, she said, had soured the country in her mind. ‘When we were growing up there were a lot of demands on my parents to send money back home. It became almost like a demonised place. India was a place of no opportunity economically; no one could be trusted; everyone’s corrupt. It was associated with going backwards. So I was fearful of India.’

It was a visit that her sister made to the country in 2007 that began to change Savita’s mind. ‘She had come here and realised that the world doesn’t just revolve around you; it’s about community and other people.’ In Greenwich Savita and Vikas knew none of their neighbours. ‘And as a young mother that had a real impact on me.’

They did not have to wait long after their arrival to discover how different things would be in Mumbai. On their first day in their new apartment their neighbours appeared at their door to welcome them with food. ‘Now we have an open-door policy,’ Savita said.

Some, I suggested, might find that intrusive…

‘We felt the same way,’ she said. ‘On our wedding anniversary we were cooking a romantic meal. Our next-door neighbour is a chef, and he found out. “Oh, you’re cooking!” He just took over. It was strange at first, but we’ve come to love it. You’re not invisible here. People care about you and your life. I love that.’

Vikas, who had been working for a media company in London, has set up his own events business, the Ideas Exchange. Last year he brought Professional Beauty, Britain’s largest health and beauty trade show, to Delhi; this year it will be coming to Mumbai. Bureaucracy and inefficiency made it harder to start a business in India, he told me. ‘It takes for ever to do anything.’ But the opportunities are limitless. ‘People here are hungry for new ideas.’

Starbucks opened its first branch in Mumbai in November. ‘There were queues outside for hours.’

Vikas’s salary has dropped by two thirds, but still, he said, they are able to enjoy a better standard of living. Their four-room apartment costs them £1,000 a month – more than their mortgage in London, but they decided to pay a little more to live in a good area, and save on other things. For four years they did not have a car.

If property in Mumbai is expensive, staff are cheap. In England, Savita said, she would never have dreamt of having domestic help. Here, the family has a cook, a cleaner – ‘and they are very particular about what they will and won’t do’ – a driver and a woman who manages the home. Total monthly outlay: £400. It is something Savita found difficult at first. ‘I didn’t want to hurt their feelings so they were helping themselves to things, using my phone,’ she said. ‘I had to learn that they were employees and you have to have that relationship. But at the same time I think I have a different relationship from a lot of people in this building. I don’t treat them like servants. We talk to them. We’re very aware of what goes on in their lives.’

Their daughter, Kaiya, was born in 2011. In England Savita would have had to return to work full-time to help support the family. In Mumbai she has been able to stay at home and care for the children. Both are now in a Montessori nursery – ‘in England it would be unaffordable’ – but next year Adi will start school, which they will have to pay for, and Savita is going back to work, as a mediator in family disputes. ‘It’s the perfect place to do it,’ she said. ‘You have a lot of disputes over property and family businesses, and a judicial system where court cases can go on for 20 years. The younger generation don’t want to get involved in that.’

One of her fears was that her children would grow up ‘in a bit of a bubble’. ‘You can see India becoming more like a paradise for those with money. There are more and more luxury hotels and homes, and people wanting to enjoy the Western lifestyle. Most middle-class parents go to malls, send their children to international schools. And I think that’s sad.’

Mumbai has few public amenities; but Savita makes a point of taking her children to a local playground, and has started a group, Apples and Oranges, organising heritage and nature walks for parents and children, and volunteering to clean up public spaces. ‘I come from a working-class background,’ she said, ‘and to walk into a world of privilege… I know I’m different; I don’t share the same values about bringing up children, and I can’t sit around having coffee mornings and talking about my maids and my driver. I need to use my brain.’

It was time for Savita’s weekly shop. We set off in auto-rickshaws to an organic farmers’ market a couple of miles away. She moved along the stalls, scooping vegetables into a wicker basket: cauliflower, lettuce, garlic, broccoli, enough fruit and vegetables for a family of four for the week. Total cost: £5.

India 2.0 part 2: Returning to the land of opportunity