Air India Shifts From Growth Mode To Cost Cutting Mode, As Losses Mount

India is the world's largest democratic country. East Indians populate the majority of high-tech staff in Silicon Valley. Heck, Google and Microsoft CEOs are East Indians. Yet, I have no positive perception towards India solely based on its caste system. A couple of years ago, a congress woman introduced a bill that eliminated caste system practice in her district. She was crucified by the Indian community and stunned by the reaction. The bill got no traction. I do not want to live in a culture in which people anchor at the financial echelon via birthright in the form of nepo babies, like the Bushes and the Trumps, while others with intelligence, skills and talent are languished at the bottom with no opportunity to advance. For years, I do not see India will advance itself further and higher than where it is today the same way that MBS' Neom illusion will be open for business, in its original plan, in my lifetime. I spent summer 1994 in Malaysia (KL and Penang), Singapore and Vietnam. The Singaporean host informed me that his government, the founding father Lee Kwan Yew, would never invest in any project without earning profits. Well, this year SQ announced it lost nearly $1B in its currency ($900M) in its investment of Air India. Two cultures contrast each other at extreme ends of the pendulum and cannot be mixed like oil and water. Human resources, especially leadership, determines the country's destiny. For any business and government entity to function efficiently and effectively, the culture of leadership and rank and file must change before all else. The below link clearly explains Indian's culture that pulls the country backward. A reader of the article on India and China posted an exceptional commentary on Indian culture and government bureaucracy.

In the grand theater of global geopolitics, India stands as a colossal paradox, a nation brimming with potential yet perpetually ensnared in the webs of external influence and internal disarray. Despite its aspirations to sovereignty and superpower status, India finds itself inexorably positioned as an ally, servant, or subject to more dominant forces. This predicament is not merely a quirk of history but a structural inevitability, rooted in systemic patronage, institutional decay, and a fragmented national ethos. To understand this, one must dissect the layers of dysfunction that undermine India's autonomy, from its military and legal apparatuses to its fractured polity and duplicitous foreign policy. At the heart of India's vulnerabilities lies a pervasive culture of patronage, where appointments and promotions in critical institutions are dictated not by merit but by caste affiliations, religious loyalties, or political connections. This malaise is starkly evident in the nation's armed forces: the Indian Air Force, Army, and Navy, once envisioned as bulwarks of national defense, have devolved into second-tier entities plagued by inefficiency and favoritism. The police force fares even worse, resembling less a guardian of public order than a cadre of well-armed enforcers, often complicit in extortion and brutality. The rule of law, ostensibly enshrined in India's democratic framework, exists more as an aberration than a norm, enforced sporadically and selectively, contingent upon the whims of those in power. Constitutional observance, too, is a matter of expedient interpretation, bending to the prevailing winds of political expediency rather than upholding universal principles. This internal rot extends to India's polity, which remains profoundly fractured along linguistic, regional, and ideological fault lines. Unlike cohesive nation-states that rally around shared objectives, India grapples with a conspicuous absence of unity of purpose. National goals are obscured by parochial interests, and the federation's centrifugal forces, exacerbated by disputes between the center and states, undermine any semblance of coherent governance. Compounding this is India's myopic obsession with China, a fixation that has proven both distracting and humiliating. In the early 21st century, as India preened over its burgeoning middle class, the largest in the world at the time, China methodically transformed itself into the globe's manufacturing powerhouse. Today, a quarter-century later, India scrambles to emulate that model, its ambitions thwarted by the very divisions that allowed China to surge ahead unencumbered. Foreign policy, ostensibly a domain of strategic acumen, reveals another layer of duplicity. India operates a bifurcated machinery: the official channel, spearheaded by the eloquent and assertive External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar, projects a veneer of diplomatic sophistication. Yet, paralleling this is an unofficial apparatus dominated by sensationalist media figures such as Arnab Goswami and Palki Sharma. These television personalities, far from embodying journalistic integrity, peddle a brand of outrage journalism that is loud, brash, and bereft of nuance. Their broadcasts, marred by grammatical lapses, mispronunciations, and a cavalier disregard for news prioritization, routinely flout international norms by labeling adversaries with inflammatory epithets like "terrorist" states. This selective indignation conveniently sidesteps India's own domestic afflictions: rampant drug addiction, entrenched sexism and gender discrimination, dowry-related femicides, caste-based atrocities of the most grotesque variety, political corruption, police malfeasance, and virulent religious bigotry. In stark contrast, China's more regimented society, albeit authoritarian, prioritizes order and progress, unburdened by such pervasive chaos. Historical grievances further illuminate India's propensity for self-sabotage. The 1962 Sino-Indian War, often invoked as a symbol of Chinese aggression, was in fact precipitated by India's own provocations. By permitting U.S. forces to train Tibetan insurgents on Indian soil, New Delhi actively abetted harassment against Chinese interests in Tibet, inviting the retaliatory incursion it now laments. Decades later, echoes of this hubris resurfaced in the 2020 Galwan Valley clash, where General M.M. Naravane's forces attempted a surprise maneuver amid the COVID-19 pandemic, only to suffer a decisive defeat. Once again, blame was swiftly apportioned to China, absolving India of its tactical miscalculations. These episodes underscore a deeper truth: India's lack of unified language, laws, customs, and political priorities renders it ill-equipped for sustained confrontation or cooperation, unlike China's disciplined, if harsh, regime. The culmination of these frailties is evident in contemporary realpolitik. Under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, India now seeks rapprochement with China not from a position of strength, but desperation, clutching at Beijing's coattails to shield its Hindu nationalist government from mounting Western scrutiny over human rights and democratic backsliding. This pivot, born of vulnerability rather than vision, epitomizes India's enduring subordination. Until it confronts its internal fissures and forges a truly cohesive identity, India will remain ensnared in the orbit of others, forever the ally, servant, or subject in a world it aspires to lead. The path to genuine independence demands introspection, reform, and unity, qualities that, for now, remain elusive.