Growth is a math problem that politicians love to simplify.
India’s current obsession is a number: 2047. That’s the deadline for "Viksit Bharat," the government’s grand project to turn the country into a developed nation by the centenary of its independence. It’s a bold, shiny target. It looks great on billboards and even better in PowerPoint presentations at Davos. But President Droupadi Murmu just decided to kick the tripod.
In a recent address, she pointed out the glaring glitch in the software. India can’t claim the "developed" tag, she argued, until every citizen has an equal shot at the prize. It’s a basic sentiment, sure. But in a country where the distance between a Bangalore tech park and a village in Odisha is measured in centuries rather than miles, it’s a radical thing to say out loud.
We’re obsessed with the "India Stack." We love talking about UPI, the digital payment system that makes credit cards look like relics. We brag about the sheer volume of data being sucked up by 1.4 billion people. But tech is often just a thin veneer over deep, jagged cracks. Murmu’s point is that you can’t build a first-world nation on third-world foundations.
The friction here isn't just social; it’s economic. Look at the price of admission. To participate in "Digital India," you need a smartphone. A decent, non-laggy 5G device costs at least 12,000 rupees. For a laborer earning 300 rupees a day, that’s forty days of work just to get the hardware. That doesn't include the data plan or the electricity to charge the thing. It’s an entry fee that millions can’t pay.
Then there’s the "Aadhaar" factor. India’s biometric ID system was sold as a way to fix the leaky pipes of welfare. In theory, it’s brilliant. In practice, it’s often a nightmare of "server down" messages and worn-out fingerprints that won't scan. When a grandmother in a remote village can’t get her grain ration because a sensor can’t read her skin, that’s not progress. That’s a bug in the system that hasn't been patched in a decade.
The hype cycle for India is at an all-time high. Global CEOs are flocking to New Delhi like it’s the new Silicon Valley. They see a massive market. They see a young workforce. They see a country that’s finally "unblocked" its potential. But Murmu is asking the uncomfortable question: who is this development for?
If "developed" just means a higher GDP and a few more billionaires in Mumbai, then India is already halfway there. But that’s a hollow victory. Real development is boring. It’s about sewage systems that don't overflow during the first monsoon rain. It’s about schools that teach kids more than just how to rote-learn for a standardized test. It’s about a justice system that doesn't take twenty years to settle a land dispute.
You can’t download a functioning healthcare system. You can’t "disrupt" poverty with a clever app interface. The trade-off we’re seeing right now is a heavy investment in the "shiny" stuff—semiconductor plants and bullet trains—while the basic plumbing of the nation remains clogged. The price tag for a truly developed India isn't just in the trillions of dollars; it's in the political will to fix the unglamorous things.
Murmu’s intervention is a reminder that the "Viksit Bharat" brand needs to be more than a marketing slogan. It’s easy to build a high-tech bubble for the top 10%. It’s much harder to drag the rest of the country into the future without leaving them behind in a digital ditch.
The government wants to move fast and break things. That’s the tech mantra. But when you’re dealing with 1.4 billion lives, the "things" you break are people. If the progress isn't lateral—if it doesn't reach the woman at the back of the line—then the "developed" label is just a vanity metric.
We’ve seen this movie before in other emerging markets. The skyscrapers go up, the luxury malls open, and the Gini coefficient hits a record high. Is India building a nation, or is it just building a gated community with a very large backyard?
If everyone doesn't get a seat at the table, what exactly are we celebrating in 2047?
