---

Since July 2025, a quiet yet remarkable shift has occurred in the world of chess. India now leads the world with seven Super Grandmasters, all players rated 2700 or above, which is more than the USA’s six or China’s four . These players are the elite of the elite—among the top 0.01 percent of chess talent globally. Think of them as Olympic athletes of the mind. But beyond their strategic brilliance, they represent something deeper: the blend of national pride, personal discipline, and cultural strength.

As the world watches, India isn’t just fielding champions—it’s forging them from its own culture. While powerhouse nations often attract talent through migration, India nurtures its champions from childhood. Legends like Gukesh, Arjun, and Praggnanandhaa didn’t come from anywhere else—they grew here, trained here, and now stand as proof of India’s rising stature in the intellectual world .

Defining the Super Grandmaster

In chess circles, a “Super Grandmaster” refers to any player with a 2700+ Elo rating, a threshold that only about 40–50 elite players ever reach . To cross—and consistently maintain—that barrier requires more than talent. It demands relentless focus, extensive preparation, and psychological resilience. These individuals are not one-off performers; they stand firm against the best, time and again. Their success signals not just personal excellence, but also the strength and support of the system that surrounds them.

The Global Landscape of Super Grandmasters

By mid-2025, the world’s top countries by count of 2700+ players are India (7), USA (6), China (4), followed by France and Uzbekistan with two each . This list marks a seismic shift in global chess power. Earlier, countries like Russia, Germany, or Ukraine dominated the elite circles. Today, Russia doesn’t even contribute a top-ten player in classical rankings. The USA’s entries are often players born elsewhere—Caruana from Italy, So from the Philippines—while India’s entire share is homegrown talent . This shift points to where infrastructure and cultural investment are making real differences.

India’s Cultural Roots in Chess

Chess was born in ancient India under the name Chaturanga, rooted in strategy, mind discipline, and philosophy . Centuries later, the core values that gave birth to the game remain embedded in Indian culture—concentration, humility, and perseverance. Today, these values are reflected not just in boardrooms and classrooms, but across digital chess platforms, YouTube channels, and online training hubs. From rural towns to urban centers, this cultural resurgence has enabled talents to flourish far from the traditional chess hubs .

How India Nurtures Champions vs Other Chess Nations

India’s seven top-tier players—Gukesh, Arjun, Praggnanandhaa, Vidit, Harikrishna, Nihal, and others—are all born and trained within Indian systems. For example, Arjun Erigaisi became only the second Indian ever to break the 2800 Elo barrier in December 2024, a milestone earned entirely within Indian training infrastructure . Meanwhile, Gukesh Dommaraju, born in 2006, became the youngest to cross 2750, defeating Magnus Carlsen in 2022—a move signaling that Indian youth are no longer waiting—they’re challenging the best at home .

In sharp contrast, the USA’s leading figures often represent the global appeal of American chess infrastructure. Talents like Caruana and So were trained elsewhere before becoming American stars. China relies on state-controlled academies and discipline, producing champions but often lacking the cultural spontaneity found elsewhere. Russia’s influence has diminished significantly post-2014, with fewer top-rated classical players and no top-ten entrants in recent lists .

Stories from the Indian Chess Revolution

Gukesh Dommaraju’s story is one of belief and sacrifice. His meteoric rise—becoming World Champion at 18 and surpassing 2750 Elo—sprang from unwavering support from his family, who relocated cities and invested in his potential . Arjun Erigaisi, dubbed the “madman” for his fearless, creative play, stormed past 2800 in late 2024, proving that bold thinking can come from quiet determination .

Then there’s young Praggnanandhaa, the youngest of this trio. At 19, he surged to 2779 Elo in July 2025 and currently ranks fourth in the world . His victories at Tata Steel and the UzChess Cup in June and July 2025 are driven by thorough preparation and mental clarity . Each of these champions cut their teeth in local academies and online arenas, their dedication echoing the spirit of the Indian middle class: hardworking, hopeful, and humble.

Chess as a New Form of Soft Power

These top players are more than sports champions—they are India’s diplomats of intellect. Like Yoga or ISRO, chess offers a distinct narrative: one of quiet strength, cultural depth, and strategic thinking. Hosting global events like the 2025 World Cup in Delhi and achieving gold at the Chess Olympiad reinforce India’s position not just in cricket or technology, but as a battleground for mental excellence .

Facing the Challenges Ahead

Still, this story isn’t without obstacles. Many rural areas with great potential lack access to quality coaching or internet connectivity. While women are making strides in chess, few have cracked ratings above 2600, let alone 2700, highlighting a gender gap that needs attention . Younger talents struggle with performance pressure and mental burnout—there’s a clear need for mental health support. And while families invest greatly in chess, the costs of coaching, travel, and tournaments remain high.

Building a Sustainable Chess Ecosystem

For India to maintain and expand its lead: integrating chess into school curricula could help develop critical thinking. Scholarships and mentorship programs—linking SGMs with aspiring juniors—could democratize high-level training. Investing in rural centers and women’s leagues would open the game to millions more. Media storytelling and corporate sponsorship would ensure that chess is not just seen as a hobby, but as a viable and celebrated career.

India’s Quiet Checkmate

India’s climb to the top of the Super Grandmaster charts is more than data—it’s a cultural triumph. These seven SGMs embody India’s ability to create, not just consume, elite talent. Their journeys are rooted in silence and sacrifice, but their victories echo on global stages. As India grows not only as a global economy but an intellectual powerhouse, these players remind us that true strength lies in the deep soil of culture, youth, and opportunity.

---

Introduction: When Ambedkar Took on Empire with Evidence

In the early 20th century, as British officials busied themselves categorizing Indians by skull shapes, nose lengths, and skin color, a quiet intellectual revolution was brewing. It came from a man who knew what it meant to be labeled, to be cast aside, and to be made invisible in his own country. That man was Dr. B.R. Ambedkar.

After poring over thousands of pages of colonial data, Ambedkar made a bold claim. He declared, with clinical precision, that if Brahmins were Aryans based on their physical measurements, then so were Untouchables. If Brahmins were Dravidians or Nagas, then so were Untouchables. The logic was simple, but the implication was revolutionary: there was no scientific basis to claim that caste was rooted in racial difference. In fact, the very science used to divide Indians could be used to dismantle that division.

His exact words still echo with clarity and defiance:

“The measurements established that the Brahmin and the untouchables belong to the same race… such being the facts the theory must be said to be based on a false foundation.”

This was not just a critique—it was a scientific rebuttal. Ambedkar wasn’t fighting superstition with sentiment. He was fighting institutional oppression with hard evidence.

Nasal Index: How British Science Invented Indian Races

To understand Ambedkar’s insight, we first need to understand what he was reacting to. In the late 1800s, the British colonial administration, led by officials like Sir Herbert Hope Risley, was obsessed with classifying India. Inspired by European race science—especially phrenology and anthropometry—they believed that physical measurements could reveal not just someone’s race but their culture, character, and even intelligence.

One of the most infamous of these tools was the nasal index, a ratio comparing the width of a person’s nose to its height. A narrow nose supposedly indicated Aryan ancestry—civilized, light-skinned, intellectual. A broader nose, according to this logic, signaled a more “primitive” race—Dravidian, tribal, or “non-Aryan.” Risley applied this pseudoscience across India, measuring thousands of people, often reducing their lives to numbers on a chart.

He went even further. He claimed that the social status of a caste varied inversely with its nasal index—in other words, the broader your nose, the lower your place in society. The arrogance of such a conclusion is staggering. Risley wasn’t just measuring noses; he was writing a racial script for Indian society that would endure for generations.

But this wasn’t merely academic curiosity. It became official policy. The data collected using this flawed method informed the structure of the British census in India. Over time, this pseudoscientific system turned into a bureaucratic machine that categorized people into castes as though these were fixed racial identities. Jatis—which had once been local, occupational, and often flexible—were suddenly presented as rigid racial hierarchies.

Freezing Fluidity: How Colonial Bureaucracy Locked Us into Castes

Before the British came, Indian society had its own deep inequalities—but also a certain fluidity. People often shifted professions, migrated to different regions, or moved between jatis over generations. This doesn’t mean the caste system was just or benign—but it was more complex and local in practice than the British were willing to admit.

However, when the British began conducting regular censuses starting in 1871, they sought to organize Indian society the way they organized their empire—through rigid classification. By 1901, under Risley’s influence, the census took a dramatic turn. It began tying every Indian’s identity to a specific caste category, often based on physical traits and theoretical hierarchies.

This process essentially froze caste identities, transforming them from flexible social roles into permanent administrative labels. It also introduced new binaries. Communities were now defined not only as high or low but also as “Hindu” or “tribal,” “Aryan” or “non-Aryan,” “civilized” or “wild.” These terms were not neutral—they carried deep moral judgments and were used to justify unequal treatment, access to resources, and even legal rights.

This classification had a long shadow. The last full caste census was conducted in 1931, yet the data it produced is still used to define policy, reservation categories, and political constituencies today.

Ambedkar’s Scientific Rebellion Against Racial Caste Theory

When Ambedkar confronted these ideas, he did not rely on emotion or mere ideology. He relied on the British’s own data. He studied the massive anthropological surveys and nasal index tables and came to a striking conclusion: there was no consistent racial difference between the so-called upper castes and lower castes.

In fact, Brahmins and Dalits often shared the same nasal index measurements. The idea that they belonged to different “races” simply didn’t hold up under scrutiny.

This was a game-changing moment in the history of Indian social science. Ambedkar showed that the caste system was not a natural outcome of biology or race. It was a social and political construct, one that had been shaped, hardened, and justified by colonial power.

He did not stop there. He questioned the very motives of colonial anthropology and argued that these classifications were not about understanding India—they were about controlling it. By turning caste into racial destiny, the British ensured that social mobility was stifled, and resistance was fragmented.

The 1931 Caste Census: A Legacy That Refuses to Die

The 1931 census was the last time the Indian government officially collected comprehensive caste data. After independence, the state consciously moved away from caste enumeration, fearing that it would reinforce divisions.

Yet caste remained very much a part of the Indian reality—and the legacy of that 1931 census loomed large. To this day, reservations for Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, and Other Backward Classes are based on categories that trace their roots to colonial classification.

In legal terms, too, the idea of “tribe” versus “Hindu” identity was crystallized by the British census. What began as anthropological curiosity turned into official policy, with legal implications that still define access to affirmative action, land rights, and political representation.

Back to the Future: The 2027 Digital Caste Census

Now, nearly a century later, India is preparing to reopen the box that was sealed in 1931. The government has announced plans for a digital census in 2027, and the demand for including caste in that enumeration has become one of the most powerful political issues of the day.

States like Bihar and Telangana have already conducted their own caste surveys, generating new conversations about inequality, representation, and affirmative action. The Congress party has advocated for a national caste census based on socio-economic and educational indicators. The BJP, while cautious, has begun acknowledging the need to revisit data-driven policy for backward communities.

However, this renewed push comes with serious concerns. A digital census could risk violating privacy, especially without robust data protection laws. There are also fears that caste data, once again, could be used not to dismantle inequality but to deepen political polarization. The very act of counting caste carries the danger of reifying it.

Why Indian Youth Must Question Both Science and Power

For Indian youth today, the caste census is not just a bureaucratic issue. It is a mirror. It asks us: Do we understand how deeply colonial science shaped our social identities? Can we use data to empower rather than divide? Do we know the difference between scientific truth and institutional bias?

Ambedkar’s example teaches us that we must always ask who is collecting the data, why it is being collected, and how it is being interpreted. Caste is not biology. It is not written in our noses, skin, or bones. It is written into our laws, our institutions, and our imaginations—and it can be rewritten.

Conclusion: A New Census, or a New Beginning?

As India prepares for its next census, we are not just counting people—we are revisiting a history of misclassification, manipulation, and injustice. But we also have the opportunity to do things differently this time.

We can demand a caste census that is transparent, ethical, and scientifically sound. We can insist that data is used to uplift, not stereotype. And we can remember the man who once looked into the colonial state’s numbers and found a deeper truth—Dr. Ambedkar, who turned data into dissent.

Let this moment be not a return to racial caste theories but a bold step forward—to use data for equality, not division.

---

In the 1980s, Japan stood as a symbol of efficiency, ambition, and technological power. It dazzled the world with bullet trains, walkmans, and economic miracles. But today, that same country is facing a crisis far deeper than GDP graphs or geopolitical charts. It’s a crisis of emotion. Of energy. Of purpose.

Welcome to the “Low Desire Society.”

This haunting term was coined by Japanese strategist Kenichi Ohmae, who described a cultural condition where an entire generation begins to pull away from life’s core desires — not just romantic or sexual, but also social, professional, and aspirational. It’s not laziness. It’s not a lack of talent. It’s something far more profound: a collective emotional shutdown.

And if you think this is just Japan’s problem, think again. Because many of the signs that began to emerge in post-crash Japan are now starting to quietly appear in urban India.

What Exactly Is a “Low Desire Society”?

Kenichi Ohmae’s idea wasn’t rooted in just personal habits. He was pointing toward a deep societal transformation. A “Low Desire Society” is a place where people no longer chase after dreams, avoid big emotional investments, and live in what you might call ‘survival mode.’

In Japan, this looks like:

• Young adults uninterested in marriage or even dating,
• An alarming number of men and women reporting no romantic or sexual experiences well into their 30s,
• Career goals being replaced by risk aversion and emotional retreat,
• Entire communities living in social withdrawal.

This isn’t about giving up — it’s about opting out.

And it didn’t happen overnight.

From Boom to Burnout: How Japan Got Here

To understand how this emotional fatigue took hold, we need to go back to Japan’s economic story.

After World War II, Japan rebuilt itself from the ashes. By the 1970s and 80s, it was the envy of the world — with a booming export economy, skyrocketing urban growth, and some of the highest living standards on Earth. Then came the crash of 1991. Japan’s real estate and stock market bubble burst, sending the country into a prolonged economic coma now known as the Lost Decade — which actually lasted for more than thirty years.

The jobs dried up. Salaries stagnated. Promotions stopped coming. And an entire generation grew up watching their parents work themselves to death only to lose everything in a crash. What emerged was a youth population that learned to avoid risk, limit emotional exposure, and stay in their lanes.

Why bother with desire if desire only leads to disappointment?

The Human Fallout: Loneliness, Low Birth Rates, and a Culture in Retreat

Today, the social consequences in Japan are staggering.

The country now has one of the lowest fertility rates in the world — just 1.26 births per woman, far below the 2.1 needed to sustain a population. More than 40% of people in their 30s say they’ve never been in a romantic relationship. Marriages are increasingly sexless. Loneliness has become so widespread that there’s even a word for dying alone: Kodokushi.

In the absence of real-world intimacy, many have turned to AI girlfriends, anime characters, and paid cuddling services. Japan’s once vibrant human connection is being replaced with hyper-efficient emotional substitutes.

Where Does India Fit Into All This?

At first glance, India couldn’t be more different. We are young — with a median age of just 28. Our social fabric is still rich with family, festivals, and deeply personal relationships. Love marriages, joint families, and weekend weddings are still the norm.

But scratch beneath the surface, especially in our metro cities, and you’ll see the early signs of emotional fatigue creeping in.

Urban fertility rates are quietly falling, with cities like Delhi and Mumbai now well below replacement levels. Marriage is being delayed, if not avoided entirely, especially among professionals in their 30s. Burnout is a common buzzword, and so is “quiet quitting.” Young people talk openly about relationship anxiety, emotional detachment, and the inability to focus on long-term goals.

It’s not widespread yet. But we are slowly drifting — especially among the educated, digitally connected, overworked segments of our youth.

The Global Context: We’re Not Alone

This isn’t just Japan or India. Around the world, we see the same low-desire trends manifest in different ways.

In South Korea, the fertility rate has fallen to an unprecedented 0.72 — the lowest in the world. In Western Europe, despite financial safety nets and generous parental leave, many young adults are choosing not to have families at all, driven by a desire for individual freedom, or simply the fear of being emotionally drained.

What makes India different — and more hopeful — is that we still have emotional infrastructure intact. We still value connection. We still long for meaning. But that too can be lost if we don’t actively protect it.

India’s Crossroads: Desire vs. Disconnection

India stands today at a critical crossroads.

On one hand, we have the energy of the world’s youngest workforce. On the other, we’re seeing rising signs of digital addiction, social comparison fatigue, and emotional burnout. Our cities are slowly creating a lifestyle where relationships feel like a burden, ambitions feel unattainable, and rest feels like a luxury.

The choice ahead is simple, but not easy:
Do we become another Japan? Or do we carve a more balanced path forward?

Because a country that loses its desire — loses more than just its population.
It loses its soul.

So What’s the Way Forward?

Japan’s story isn’t just a cautionary tale — it’s a lesson. And India doesn’t have to repeat it.

Here’s what we must focus on:

1. Redefining Desire

We need to teach our youth that desire isn’t just about salary, sex, or success. It’s about the will to live deeply — to create, to connect, to commit. Desire, when guided, is energy. We must celebrate it, not shame it.

2. Normalize Mental Health

Japan’s mistake was treating emotional pain as private shame. India must not follow that. We need mental health support in schools, colleges, offices — not just as crisis intervention, but as daily hygiene.

If India does not step in with urgent regulatory reforms, it risks becoming a testing ground for global tech giants experimenting with emotionally manipulative AI systems — with Indian children as their first and most vulnerable users.

3. Promote Real Connection

Social media can’t replace social bonding. We must encourage deep friendships, community circles, long conversations — both online and offline. Relationships require time, not just swipes.

4. Stabilize Youth Economically

Emotional risk thrives where there is financial safety. We need better support systems for gig workers, freelancers, and creators — so that chasing dreams doesn’t mean gambling survival.

5. Make Purpose Cool Again

Our culture is rich with stories of sacrifice, service, and soul. Let’s reconnect with that. When youth have purpose, they don’t retreat — they rise.

Don’t Just Grow. Glow

We’ve always thought of progress as moving faster. Earning more. Automating everything.

But Japan teaches us something different: Even the most advanced society can feel empty if it forgets how to feel.

India still remembers.
Let’s not forget.

Let’s protect our desire — and grow into a country that’s not just successful, but emotionally alive.

Like this piece? Share it with someone who’s been feeling emotionally drained. Maybe they’re not lazy — just living in a world that forgot how to feel.

---

A new wave of artificial intelligence (AI) companions — emotionally engaging chatbots and avatars that simulate intimacy, love, and even sexual behavior — has begun to reshape how humans, particularly young users, interact with technology. Elon Musk’s Grok chatbot, which recently added gamified 3D avatars like “Ani,” a possessive and flirtatious anime girlfriend, marks a turning point. These virtual companions respond in romantic and sexually explicit ways based on how frequently the user interacts with them, yet the app remains rated as suitable for users as young as 12.

India, home to the world’s largest adolescent population and one of the fastest-growing digital user bases, lacks a coherent policy to regulate such AI-driven experiences. With emotional safety, consent education, and age-appropriate content at stake, this paper argues that India must urgently update its legal and ethical frameworks to confront the rise of AI companions — before these technologies outpace public awareness and child protection mechanisms.

The Rise of AI Companions and the Gamification of Emotions

AI companions represent a significant shift in the digital relationship paradigm. Unlike traditional chatbots designed for transactional or functional use (like booking tickets or answering FAQs), these new systems simulate emotional closeness, romantic interest, and personal attention. In Grok’s case, avatars like Ani evolve their tone, behavior, and suggestiveness as users engage more frequently — unlocking “levels” that reward persistence with flirtatious or sexual language and behavior.

Gamification techniques, such as progress bars, reward tiers, and personality evolution, increase user engagement by creating emotional dependencies. In essence, these avatars don’t just mimic human interaction — they incentivize emotional and romantic investment, often blurring the line between play and psychological manipulation.

The Ethical Crisis: When AI Companions Reach Underage Users

One of the most pressing concerns is that these emotionally manipulative AI systems are readily accessible to minors. Grok, for example, is currently rated 12+ on Apple’s App Store, which allows preteens and teenagers to interact with avatars that simulate adult relationship dynamics, including expressions of jealousy, sexual attraction, and possessiveness.

Such exposure raises critical questions. Are children equipped to understand the difference between fictional AI affection and real-world emotional boundaries? Do they comprehend concepts like informed consent or emotional manipulation in a relationship? When a virtual partner responds with validation, sexual compliments, or submissive behavior, a young user might internalize harmful ideas about relationships — especially if they haven’t been taught otherwise.

These AI companions often fail to reflect realistic relationship dynamics and can distort young minds’ understanding of intimacy, consent, and interpersonal respect. In the absence of parental controls, child safety filters, or clear app warnings, these interactions happen in silence — unmonitored and unchecked.

Global Trends vs. India’s Digital Preparedness

Across the globe, governments are beginning to respond to the challenges posed by emotionally intelligent AI. The European Union’s AI Act, for example, explicitly classifies AI systems that influence emotions, behaviors, or decisions — especially for vulnerable groups like children — as “high risk.” This classification triggers mandatory transparency, consent mechanisms, and independent audits for such systems.

In the United States, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) is evaluating several AI companies offering intimate AI relationships for potential breaches of consumer protection and child safety regulations. State-level regulators have begun examining whether underage exposure to sexualized AI content falls under harmful conduct.

India, in contrast, lacks any such focused regulation. Although the Digital Personal Data Protection (DPDP) Act, 2023 is a positive step towards data privacy, it does not address emotional safety, content moderation, or age-sensitive AI behavior. Most existing digital laws, including the IT Rules 2021, target social media platforms and OTT content providers — leaving AI chatbots and emotionally intelligent avatars largely unregulated.

There is no clear legal mechanism for age-verification in AI-driven mobile apps. Nor is there any obligation for developers to disclose whether an AI system can engage in emotionally or sexually suggestive conversation. This vacuum leaves Indian users — particularly young users — exposed to technologies that would be regulated or blocked in other democracies.

Why India Cannot Afford Delay

India is not just a massive digital market — it is also a country where cultural taboos around mental health, sex education, and emotional literacy persist. In such an environment, young people are often left to discover the boundaries of relationships on their own, increasingly through screens. The emergence of always-available, emotionally validating AI companions can fill emotional gaps, but may also stunt the development of real-world social and emotional intelligence.

According to UNICEF, India has more than 253 million adolescents between the ages of 10 and 19 — the largest in the world. At the same time, smartphone penetration among youth is rising sharply, with low-cost devices and data packs enabling 24/7 digital access. In this context, AI avatars that flirt, simulate romance, or respond sexually pose a unique mental health and moral hazard, particularly in the absence of public awareness and protective policies.

If India does not step in with urgent regulatory reforms, it risks becoming a testing ground for global tech giants experimenting with emotionally manipulative AI systems — with Indian children as their first and most vulnerable users.

Building a Regulatory Framework for AI Companion Safety in India

A. Immediate Policy Actions

India must update its app store content rating standards to reflect the reality of AI companions. Any AI system capable of emotionally engaging or simulating intimacy with the user should be rated 18+ — and made subject to strict content disclosures.

Simultaneously, India should require mandatory AI audits for any platform that engages in emotionally personalized user interaction. These audits should analyze:

How the AI behaves across different engagement levels,

Whether sexually suggestive behavior is triggered by user input,

And how emotional dependencies are being designed and gamified.

Moreover, all AI apps used by minors must offer parental dashboards and usage summaries, so that guardians can make informed decisions about their children’s exposure to such systems.

An AI Ethics Board under MeitY (Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology) must also be established, comprising psychologists, education experts, child safety advocates, and AI technologists. This board should draft India’s first national guidelines on ethical AI companions.

B. Long-Term Reforms

India needs to introduce a dedicated AI Governance Framework — separate from general data privacy laws — that deals specifically with the emotional and psychological risks posed by generative and emotionally intelligent AI.

This framework should also include the creation of a centralized grievance redressal system, where citizens can report problematic AI behavior. Just as India has helplines for cyberbullying and mental health, there must be a mechanism to report AI tools that violate ethical norms or manipulate vulnerable users.

Lastly, public-private partnerships should be initiated to promote digital emotional literacy, especially in schools and colleges. Awareness campaigns — similar to “Cyber Suraksha” and “Digital India” — should address how to responsibly interact with AI systems, recognize red flags, and maintain a healthy digital mindset.

Responsible Innovation, Not Exploitative Technology

India stands at the frontier of the AI revolution — not just as a consumer, but as a creator. While we celebrate our startups and tech exports, we must also demand ethical integrity and human-centric design in everything we build and adopt.

Unregulated AI companions — even those built outside India — can deeply affect Indian minds. If we fail to act now, we risk creating a generation more emotionally dependent on responsive avatars than real human relationships.

The future of AI in India must not only be about efficiency and growth, but also about safety, dignity, and mental well-being. In this moment, public officials have the opportunity — and the responsibility — to build the world’s most forward-thinking AI ethics ecosystem.

“Tech should be transformative — not exploitative. India must regulate, educate, and lead.”

---

Introduction: The Untapped Power Beneath Our Economy

Behind the glowing billboards of India’s top corporates and tech startups, there lies a quieter force — consistent, deeply rooted, and surprisingly dominant. It’s the Family-Owned Business, or FoB.

Often dismissed as legacy structures or traditional setups, FoBs are, in fact, the unsung heroes of India’s economic engine. They account for more than 75% of India’s GDP, and McKinsey projects this could rise to 85% by 2047, when India celebrates its 100th year of independence. Unlike venture-backed unicorns or government employment schemes that make headlines, FoBs work behind the scenes — absorbing shock, generating income, and, most importantly, creating jobs.

But the question is: can they become the future of employment for India’s youth?

The answer is a resounding yes — if we understand their strengths, transform their mindset, and integrate India’s youth as co-drivers of the future.

India’s FoBs – A Giant Hidden in Plain Sight

India is home to hundreds of thousands of family businesses — from textile traders in Surat and auto part makers in Pune to conglomerates in Mumbai and retail chains across the country. These businesses aren’t just running — they are outperforming.

According to McKinsey’s 2024 report on Indian FoBs:

From 2017 to 2022, FoBs achieved 2.3% higher revenue growth than non-FOBs.

Over a 10-year period, their shareholder returns were double that of other firms.

The top 20% of FoBs in their performance analysis had operating margins 6.3 percentage points higher than the rest.

Yet their real power isn’t just in financials. It lies in their potential to provide sustainable employment across geographies and demographics. Where tech startups focus on automation and consolidation, FoBs spread growth horizontally, especially in tier-2 and tier-3 cities — often the only source of formal jobs in small-town India.

How FoBs Can Unlock Massive Employment Potential

While FoBs have always created jobs, McKinsey’s report shows they now face a choice: stagnate or scale. The good news? Top-performing FoBs have shown how scaling — and job creation — is possible.

Here are five key levers through which FoBs can unlock massive employment:

1) Diversification Across Sectors

Top FoBs move beyond their core industry to explore non-adjacent sectors. This not only reduces risk but creates entirely new verticals of employment — from agri-tech to e-commerce, logistics to green energy. McKinsey found that highly diversified FoBs with professional management are far more likely to reach “at-scale” revenue levels (₹6,500 crore+ per year) — and such scale demands a larger workforce.

2) Professionalization of Leadership

Traditionally, family control was tightly held, but top FoBs today bring in external executives. These professionals:

Enhance operational efficiency

Introduce global best practices

Expand hiring pipelines for skilled youth

3) Localized Job Creation

Unlike centralized corporations, FoBs often operate in smaller cities and even rural areas. This makes them powerful engines of inclusive employment — from craftspeople in Rajasthan to electronics assemblers in Tamil Nadu. A single growing FoB in a small town can become the largest employer in a 100-km radius.

4) Digitization and Start-up Incubation

Forward-thinking FoBs are investing in digital transformation — building their own in-house tech platforms, launching D2C brands, and even incubating startups within their ecosystem. Each of these opens doors for young engineers, marketers, UI/UX designers, and AI specialists.

5) Supply Chain Expansion

FoBs often operate across interlinked verticals — from manufacturing and logistics to retail. As these chains grow, so does the demand for talent across levels — drivers, warehouse managers, digital sales agents, procurement officers, and more.

In essence, FoBs are capable of producing not just high-paying white-collar jobs, but also dignified blue-collar and grassroots employment, where the Indian economy needs it most.

Preparing India’s Youth to Power This Revolution

What the Youth Must Learn:

Business Fundamentals: Understanding operations, finance, and strategy — whether in family businesses or through education and apprenticeships.

Digital Agility: From basic CRM tools to AI implementation, digital fluency is essential.

Sustainability Thinking: The new economy values green and ethical business models.

Leadership from Within: Learning to lead without entitlement — proving one’s worth through capability, not surname.

One critical insight from McKinsey: the performance of FoBs tends to decline across generations — largely because of leadership gaps and reluctance to adopt professional governance. Youth from business families must see this not as a burden but as a call to action: to modernize, uplift, and lead with humility and innovation.

Even those without family businesses can benefit. Many FoBs today seek young partners and co-founders to launch new initiatives under their umbrella — offering a powerful entry point for entrepreneurial youth.

Building a More Ethical and Inclusive Society Through FoBs

FoBs are value-based by nature. They’re built on trust, legacy, and long-term thinking. This gives them a unique position in shaping a more ethical and inclusive India.

Imagine if every FoB:

Committed to gender-balanced leadership

Invested in local community education and health

Adopted transparent governance and succession planning

Created employment specifically for marginalized groups

This is already happening in some top-performing FoBs — with family constitutions, professional boards, and philanthropic arms. A business that is ethical at its roots doesn’t just create jobs — it creates dignity.

Youth involvement is critical here. Younger generations tend to be more socially conscious and tech-enabled. They can be the bridge between tradition and transformation — making FoBs more agile, more transparent, and more responsible.

India’s Strategic Edge – Youth × FoBs = Global Leadership

India has the world’s largest youth population — over 66% below the age of 35 — and one of the most entrenched FoB ecosystems globally. No other country combines these two assets at this scale.

If we empower this intersection, India can:

Outperform China in manufacturing employment

Lead the Global South in inclusive entrepreneurship

Redefine capitalism with a human-first, family-centered model

Already, global investors are eyeing Indian FoBs not just for their revenue but for their resilience, adaptability, and long-term returns. With the right support, they could become India’s greatest export — not just of products, but of principles.

Conclusion: The Blueprint Forward

Family-owned businesses are not relics of the past. They are the soil in which India’s future can be grown — if nurtured properly.

Let us imagine an India where:

Youth from every corner see FoBs as platforms to lead, not just work

Families embrace change as a sign of strength, not threat

Every job created is infused with purpose, culture, and ethics

In such a future, employment is not just a statistic. It becomes a shared responsibility — between generations, between urban and rural, between tradition and technology.

FoBs are ready. The youth are hungry. It’s time to connect the two and build the India of tomorrow — one job, one idea, one family at a time.

---

Introduction: A New Age of Dreams

In today’s digital-first world, the meaning of ambition has changed drastically. Where once Indian youth dreamed of becoming doctors, engineers, or IAS officers, many now aspire to be YouTubers, Instagram influencers, and full-time content creators. It is no longer surprising to hear a 16-year-old declare they want to be the “next CarryMinati” or make crores from Instagram reels. This shift has been brought on by the explosive growth of the creator economy—a rapidly expanding digital ecosystem where individuals can earn money by producing and sharing content online. It is the first time in history that so many people have had direct access to a global audience and the ability to monetize their ideas, talents, and personalities without a traditional gatekeeper. But behind the bright lights of viral fame, a more complex and often darker reality exists—one that demands deeper reflection.

What is the Creator Economy?

The creator economy refers to the world of individuals—known as creators—who build their careers and incomes by engaging audiences through content. This can include videos on YouTube, reels on Instagram, podcasts on Spotify, or newsletters on Substack. What connects them all is a direct relationship with an audience. These creators don’t work for a company in the traditional sense. They create value in the form of entertainment, education, or inspiration and monetize it through various channels. These include ad revenues (as on YouTube), brand sponsorships, affiliate links, merchandise sales, online courses, fan donations (such as on Twitch or Patreon), or exclusive content subscriptions.

This model has democratised creative expression. Anyone with a smartphone, a decent internet connection, and a spark of originality can technically become a content creator. From rural vloggers to urban finance educators, India has witnessed an explosion of new-age digital entrepreneurs, blurring the line between influencer and educator, artist and entertainer, hobbyist and professional.

The Scope and Scale of the Creator Economy

The creator economy is not a fringe phenomenon—it is a global force. As of 2024, it is valued at approximately $250 billion, and investment firms such as Goldman Sachs predict that this figure could nearly double to $480 billion by 2027. Platforms such as YouTube alone pay between $15–20 billion annually to creators, while TikTok, Twitch, Patreon, and OnlyFans also distribute billions across their ecosystems. This economy is supported not only by advertising but also by consumer tipping, paid subscriptions, and massive brand collaborations.

India is a unique engine within this space. With over 80 crore internet users, the cheapest mobile data rates in the world, and one of the largest youth populations globally, the country is experiencing a digital revolution. Regional content in Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, Bhojpuri, and other Indian languages has opened up creator opportunities far beyond the English-speaking elite. Yet despite this growth, the rewards remain highly uneven. Studies and platform data suggest that less than 2% of creators earn enough to make a sustainable, full-time income. The rest either do it as a side hustle or drop out entirely after seeing little return on effort.

What It Takes to Succeed

Success in the creator economy is not determined by luck alone. It requires an intricate combination of creativity, business acumen, technical skills, and emotional resilience. Successful creators often spend hours researching content ideas, scripting, filming, editing, analyzing performance data, and engaging with their audience. The process is closer to running a startup than uploading a few funny clips. Building a niche is critical, as audiences today crave authenticity and expertise. Whether it’s tech unboxings, cooking recipes, educational explainers, or lifestyle vlogs—standing out means offering consistent value.

Moreover, platforms reward regularity. Algorithms on YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok prioritize creators who post frequently and keep viewers engaged. Thus, creators must commit to a schedule, constantly optimize their content, and adapt to new formats. Even after achieving some recognition, they are expected to diversify their income through merchandise, partnerships, online classes, or fan support. In essence, to succeed as a creator today is to become a mini-enterprise, complete with its own brand, operations, and audience strategy.

The Hidden Dangers of the Creator Dream

However, the bright surface of the creator economy hides many cracks. One of the biggest problems is oversaturation. Every minute, thousands of creators publish content, leading to fierce competition. For a new voice to be heard amid this digital noise is increasingly difficult. Algorithms, which determine which videos go viral and which disappear, are often opaque and unpredictable. This creates anxiety and instability. A change in YouTube’s policies or Instagram’s reach mechanics can dramatically affect a creator’s income overnight.

Burnout is another critical issue. The constant need to remain visible, relevant, and engaging takes a heavy emotional toll. Creators report high levels of stress, anxiety, and depression—especially when videos underperform or online trolls target them. There is also the danger of financial insecurity. For most creators, income is highly volatile. Some months may bring in lakhs, while others bring in almost nothing. Without benefits such as insurance, retirement plans, or job security, creators live in a high-risk professional space.

Scams and unethical practices are rampant too. Many young creators, eager to grow fast, fall for fraudulent brand deals, fake collaborations, and even phishing attacks that steal their channel credentials. Moreover, the platform-centric nature of the economy means that creators are essentially building their careers on rented property. If a platform decides to ban their account or change their monetization rules—as YouTube did in July 2025 with stricter AI content enforcement—creators can lose years of work in an instant.

Why Not Everyone Should Become a Creator

Given these challenges, it is important to recognize that content creation is not a one-size-fits-all career. The romanticism around “working from anywhere” and “earning crores” masks the brutal reality that most creators do not make it. Many young people today start YouTube channels or Instagram pages not out of passion, but out of a desire to get rich quickly. They drop out of college, abandon skill-building, and chase virality. But fame is fleeting. And in the creator world, there is no fallback if things go wrong.

It is also vital to understand that India needs more than just entertainers. We need teachers, doctors, civil engineers, scientists, farmers, and researchers. These are not backup options—they are professions that build society. The economy does not need every student to become a content creator; it needs people who know when and how to use digital platforms to amplify real, meaningful work.

India’s Unique Role and Youth Responsibility

That said, India’s potential in the creator economy remains unmatched. The next wave of successful creators may not come from metro cities, but from Tier-2 and Tier-3 towns. Youth who speak in regional languages, share their lived experiences, or teach others through YouTube or podcasts have a genuine shot at success. But they must also be taught digital ethics, storytelling skills, platform literacy, and financial discipline.

Rather than seeing content creation as an “escape” from education or employment, Indian youth should see it as an extension of their career and identity. A science student explaining physics on YouTube is just as much a creator as a fashion stylist showcasing their work on Instagram. By combining technical education with content production, young people can create careers that are both sustainable and impactful.

Conclusion: Create with Clarity, Not Just Hype

The creator economy is here to stay. It is one of the most exciting and accessible industries for a digitally connected generation. But it is not a shortcut to success. It is a long, uneven, often lonely journey filled with experimentation, rejection, reinvention, and sometimes, recognition.

For Indian youth, the message is clear: Create, but create consciously. Don’t follow trends blindly. Don’t compare your journey with influencers showing only the highlights. Learn. Build skills. Start small. Think long-term. And remember, a smartphone can give you access—but only wisdom can give you direction.

In the end, becoming a creator isn’t about gaining followers. It’s about creating value—for yourself, your community, and your country.

---

We’ve all seen it. A file stuck for weeks until a bribe is paid. A government officer who won’t move a finger without “something under the table.” A permit that should take 7 days takes 7 months—unless you “know someone.”

This is bureaucratic corruption—the quiet, everyday theft that doesn’t make breaking news, but slowly breaks a nation from the inside.

Across the world, many countries have faced this problem. But what makes the difference is what they did about it. In Brazil, a massive investigation called Operation Car Wash exposed powerful people, including presidents, and sent them to jail. In Estonia, they turned almost every government service digital, so there was no one to bribe. In Rwanda, officials use GPS tracking and digital audits to stop money from leaking. Even in South Korea, a president was held accountable and imprisoned.

Brazil – Operation Car Wash: How One Investigation Shook an Entire Continent

In 2014, a seemingly routine money laundering investigation in Brazil spiraled into one of the largest anti-corruption operations in history—Operation Car Wash (Operação Lava Jato). It began with suspicious transactions at a gas station in Brasília, but what followed was a trail of corruption that ran through Petrobras, the national oil giant, and deep into Brazil’s political heart. Federal police uncovered a massive bribery and kickback scheme: construction companies like Odebrecht and Andrade Gutierrez were colluding with Petrobras executives and government officials to inflate project costs, and the extra funds were being funneled back as political bribes.

The operation had a clear, multi-agency structure—the judiciary, the federal police, and public prosecutors worked in tandem. They used plea bargaining (delação premiada), a legal tool which allowed arrested businessmen and politicians to turn informants in exchange for reduced sentences. This created a domino effect—every arrest exposed new links.

Between 2014 and 2020, the operation led to over 1,000 search warrants, 278 convictions, and over $3 billion in recovered public funds. Notably, former president Lula da Silva was convicted, along with dozens of senators and CEOs. The model emphasized autonomous prosecutors, special anti-corruption task forces, and international cooperation—since many bribes flowed through offshore accounts in Switzerland and Panama.

While later political interference did slow down Lava Jato’s momentum, its impact was historical—it proved that powerful elites are not untouchable if systems are empowered to act without fear.

Estonia – How a Small Country Coded Out Corruption

After gaining independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, Estonia faced a choice: rebuild using old bureaucratic templates, or start fresh. They chose the latter, and in doing so, created the world’s most advanced digital state—a decision that drastically reduced corruption opportunities.

Estonia’s philosophy was simple: reduce human discretion, increase digital transparency. They launched a national digital ID system, allowing every citizen secure access to over 99% of government services online—including healthcare, banking, voting, and tax filing. This meant fewer in-person interactions with government officials, which in turn meant fewer chances to ask for or offer a bribe.

Every action on Estonia’s digital platforms is time-stamped, encrypted, and logged. If a government employee accesses your file, you can see it. If you apply for a permit, there’s no “line” or middleman—just a clean digital form and a decision based on set rules. Estonia even became the first country to implement blockchain technology to protect national data against tampering.

The government established X-Road, a decentralized data exchange system allowing different public and private institutions to communicate securely. The e-Cabinet system ensures that ministers prepare and vote on policy papers digitally—cutting off opaque lobbying.

As a result, Estonia has climbed the Transparency International CPI to 14th place globally (2023). This wasn’t magic—it was strategic digitization, done with purpose and long-term investment.

Rwanda – A Post-Conflict Nation’s Digital Battle Against Corruption

In the aftermath of the 1994 genocide, Rwanda had to rebuild not just its economy, but its trust in governance. Under President Paul Kagame, the country focused on strong accountability systems, backed by digital infrastructure to reduce manual processes and financial leaks.

Rwanda’s approach is proactive. For instance, all government tenders and contracts are published through an online e-procurement platform called Umucyo (“transparency” in Kinyarwanda). This means any citizen, journalist, or watchdog can access and scrutinize public spending.

Another cornerstone reform was IremboGov—a digital one-stop portal where Rwandans can apply for over 100 services like birth certificates, ID cards, and land titles without stepping into a government office. By cutting down face-to-face interactions, the platform eliminates a major channel of petty bribery.

Additionally, Rwanda implemented GPS-based monitoring of public infrastructure projects. Let’s say a rural road is being built—officials and auditors can track its exact GPS coordinates and status, making it harder for funds to be diverted or for ghost projects to exist.

There’s also the Office of the Ombudsman, a constitutionally empowered agency that investigates corruption complaints and publicly names officials found guilty. They use asset declaration systems and enforce strict conflict-of-interest rules for civil servants.

The result? Rwanda is now ranked 3rd least corrupt in Africa and has seen a drop of over 70% in corruption-related complaints over the past decade. This is an example of how even resource-scarce countries can win the battle if they use data and design smartly.

South Korea – When the Streets Lit Up to Clean the System

South Korea’s most iconic battle against bureaucratic corruption wasn’t just fought in courtrooms—it was fought on the streets. In 2016–17, millions of citizens joined peaceful candlelight protests, demanding the resignation of President Park Geun-hye, who was embroiled in a massive influence-peddling scandal.

At the center of the scandal was Choi Soon-sil, a long-time confidante of the president, who had no official role but was allegedly pulling strings in state affairs and extorting donations from conglomerates like Samsung, Hyundai, and Lotte in exchange for political favors.

The Korean government had already established robust anti-corruption institutions like the Board of Audit and Inspection and the Anti-Corruption and Civil Rights Commission (ACRC). But what made this episode different was the scale of public participation and the political will to follow through.

President Park was impeached by the National Assembly and later sentenced to 25 years in prison, while Samsung heir Lee Jae-yong was also convicted (later paroled, sparking debate).

South Korea also implemented the Improper Solicitation and Graft Act (Kim Young-ran Act) in 2016, which restricted gifts and entertainment expenses for public servants and teachers. This law dramatically reduced “soft bribes,” which were often considered a part of social culture.

The message was loud and clear: in South Korea, no one is above the law. High-level accountability, combined with public pressure, made it a turning point in the country’s fight against entrenched corruption.

These are powerful examples. They show us one thing: corruption can be fought—with the right tools, the right people, and strong will.

In India, bureaucratic corruption feels like part of everyday life. And that’s the scariest part—it has become “normal.” People joke about it. “Chai-pani” is no longer tea—it’s a code word for bribery. It kills ambition, frustrates honest citizens, and blocks progress.

But we can’t afford to stay silent anymore.

Because this isn’t just about bad governance. It’s about lost dreams. It’s about a student who doesn’t get a scholarship because someone paid their way in. It’s about a startup founder whose idea dies because a license took too long. It’s about an old man who doesn’t get his pension without “oiling the system.”

This isn’t fair. This isn’t India’s best. India is not short on ideas. We are not short on technology, talent, or even laws. What we often lack is the urgency to act, the courage to hold the powerful accountable, and the systems that make honesty easier than corruption. From Brazil’s fearless investigators to Estonia’s digital precision, from Rwanda’s bottom-up transparency to South Korea’s top-down reckoning—the world has shown that corruption is not a cultural destiny. It’s a design flaw. And design can be changed.

India’s fight against bureaucratic corruption doesn’t need to start from scratch. It needs to borrow boldly, localize smartly, and execute ruthlessly. We must build a bureaucracy where public service means serving the public—not controlling access to rights. We must create systems where files move faster than bribes, where rules are stronger than relationships, and where every citizen—not just the well-connected—can dream, build, and rise.

In the end, the real reform isn’t just in laws or portals. It’s in mindset. And that begins not in Parliament or secretariat buildings—but in homes, classrooms, exam halls, and election booths. A clean India is not a fantasy. It’s a possibility—if we decide to make it non-negotiable.

So what do we do?

We learn from the world. We adopt what works. We demand accountability. We use technology. We build systems where things move forward because of rules, not relationships.

And most importantly—we start with ourselves. With honesty. With courage. With raising our voice. With not paying that bribe, even when it’s easier.

Bureaucratic corruption may be silent. But we don’t have to be.

Let’s be the noise that breaks it.

The fight against corruption isn’t just about punishing the bad—it’s about protecting the good. And the good begins with us.

---

When Cities Sink, So Do Civilizations. Urban collapse is not inevitable. But neither is urban renewal. It depends on us.

One rainy morning in Gurugram, a truck vanished into the earth.

A gaping crater—formed by nothing more than water and neglect—swallowed it whole. Not far away, in Madhya Pradesh, a newly built bridge curved into a surreal 90-degree turn, defying not just geometry, but logic, safety, and accountability.

These are not freak incidents. They are symptoms. Alarms. Red flags fluttering over the body of a nation that is urbanising without a soul, without a spine.

India’s cities—once imagined as engines of progress—are groaning under the weight of unplanned expansion, political neglect, and ecological ruin. From Delhi’s choked skies to Bengaluru’s drowned IT parks, the message is clear: we are not building cities; we are designing disasters.

The Governance Deficit: A Silent Killer

Every Indian megacity today suffers from a profound local governance deficit. While urban India houses nearly 500 million people, our cities remain governed by a framework that is structurally outdated and politically fragile.

Municipal bodies are weak. Mayors, where elected, are often powerless. Funds are delayed, diverted, or depleted. Accountability is elusive. The three-tier structure envisioned in the 74th Constitutional Amendment has failed to take root because states are unwilling to relinquish control over cities.

What we see instead is competitive blame games between municipal corporations, state governments, and central authorities. In this vacuum, unregulated construction, environmental violations, and poor infrastructure planning flourish.

Urban Politics: Myopic, Majoritarian, Market-Driven

Electoral politics, at both the municipal and state level, has turned cities into war zones of short-termism. Decisions are made to win votes, not to sustain lives.

Flyovers are prioritised over sewers. Slums are evicted to make way for elite housing projects, while the working poor are pushed further into invisibility. Infrastructure is measured not by resilience or equity, but by optics and Instagrammability.

Private developers often hold more power than public agencies. Zoning laws are bent, green belts are erased, and environmental impact assessments are manipulated. It is no surprise then that our cities flood when it rains and burn when it doesn’t.

Privatised Urbanism: Living in Bubbles, Dying in Silence

Perhaps the most tragic aspect of this crisis is the privatised life we now accept as normal. In cities like Gurugram, some of the wealthiest and most influential citizens reside behind high walls, guarded gates, and private power, water, and waste systems.

These urban elites live parallel lives—disconnected from the commons, the streets, and the failures of governance that affect the rest. There is no collective stake in the city’s welfare, only individual escape routes.

And yet, paradoxically, they hold the most potential to drive change. Their silence, therefore, is not just apathy—it is abdication.

The Global Contrast: Cities That Plan vs Cities That Panic

Around the world, cities like Copenhagen, Seoul, and Amsterdam are rethinking urbanism. They prioritise walkability, climate resilience, participatory budgeting, and decentralised governance.

In contrast, Indian cities are still obsessed with building highways through slums, chopping trees for metro lines, and outsourcing public functions to private contractors. We are planning for cars, not communities; for investors, not inhabitants.

India’s Fork in the Road: Reform or Ruin

India is still young. Half of our population is below 30. Urbanisation is not yet complete. This means we have a small but critical window to act.

We must:

Empower urban local bodies with funds, functionaries, and freedom.

Design cities for people, not just for profit or prestige.

Institutionalise participatory planning, where communities help shape their spaces.

Invest in climate-resilient infrastructure, not cosmetic projects.

Educate and involve the youth as city stewards, not just as renters or consumers.

Conclusion: From Collapse to Collective Action

One-off activism will not fix our cities. Nor will tweets, candle marches, or outrage after disasters.

What we need is political consensus—a war footing that rises above electoral greed. Because if we don’t act now, our cities will not just become unlivable; they will become engines of inequality, illness, and irreversible collapse.

Indian cities can still be reclaimed. But only if we stop living in bubbles. Only if we begin to care about what lies beyond our compound walls. Only if we realise that a city is not just where we live, but how we live together.

Urban collapse is not inevitable. But neither is urban renewal. It depends on us.