Nilakantan RS opens his book “South vs North: India's Great Divide” with a quiet thought experiment that stays with the reader long after the last page. Picture a child born somewhere in India, he suggests, and then notice that the child is statistically less likely to be born in the south at all, because the southern states have slowed their population growth. Suppose, nonetheless, that she is. From that moment, her odds begin to diverge from those of a child born in the Hindi heartland. She is less likely to die before her first birthday, and her mother is less likely to die bringing her into the world. She will be better fed, stay in school longer, and probably earn more as an adult and raise fewer, healthier children of her own. I spent several years of my doctoral work studying how poor households pay for illness, and the arithmetic of that opening did not surprise me. What it did was make me uncomfortable in a way that tables in government reports rarely manage to, because it...
Every fifth of September, schools and colleges across India pause to honour their teachers. Corridors fill with hand-made cards and marigold garlands, senior students borrow a formal shirt or a saree so that they may teach a class in imitation of those who once taught them, and felicitation programmes recall the familiar words of Dr Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan on the dignity of the calling. Having stood before classrooms for more than a decade, I have been on the receiving end of that affection, and I remain grateful for it. Yet as the applause settles and the auditorium empties, I keep returning to a question that the celebration tends to leave untouched. While we are so generous in praising what teachers do for students and for society, how carefully are we looking at the conditions in which they are asked to do it? Let me begin with the matter that is least comfortable to raise in polite company, which is money. There exists in this country a well-developed architecture of pay commissi...