Delhi is currently experiencing what meteorologists are calling ‘a bloody hot Tuesday’ and what British aid agencies are calling ‘a fundraising opportunity.’ As temperatures hit 45 degrees Celsius, the poor are dying while the rich are simply ‘uncomfortable.’ It is the Indian summer’s equivalent of a Victorian cholera outbreak: mostly fatal for the lower orders.
Let us be clear. Heatstroke does not discriminate, but air conditioning does. The wealthy retreat to their cooled enclaves, sipping mango lassis and complaining about the humidity, while the pavement dwellers cook slowly, like rotis on a griddle. The death toll is rising, but nobody is checking the thermometer in the slums because that would be ‘depressing.’
Enter British aid agencies, swooping in like benevolent eagles with branded water bottles. They issue press releases with phrases like ‘emergency response’ and ‘life-saving interventions.’ One can almost hear the rattling of collection tins from here. ‘Just £5 can provide a fan for a family,’ they plead, as if a fan is any match for a blast furnace. A fan at 45C is like spitting on a wildfire. But it makes us feel better, doesn’t it?
The government of Delhi has issued warnings: ‘Stay indoors. Hydrate. Check on the vulnerable.’ This translates to: ‘We have no plan. Good luck.’ The power grid is straining like a hungover marathon runner. Blackouts are common. So the poor, who cannot afford generators, sit in the dark and sweat. It is a sauna without the towels or the cucumber water.
Meanwhile, the British press is having a field day. ‘Delhi roasts,’ they declare, with photographs of emaciated men lying on pavements. It is horror tourism of the highest order. We cluck our tongues and donate a tenner. We feel virtuous. We change the subject.
The real question is: why does this keep happening? Because building heat-resilient infrastructure is expensive, and dead poor people do not vote. Or they do, but their ballots are not counted until after they’ve cooled down. The answer, as always, is capitalism. It is a system that values profit over people, and when the mercury rises, it is the people who melt first.
So here we are. Another heatwave. Another charity appeal. Another set of statistics. The Delhi heatwave is not a natural disaster. It is a social one. And until we address the inequality that makes 45C a death sentence for some and a mild inconvenience for others, we will keep writing these reports, and they will keep dying. And the gin will flow, lukewarm, in my glass.
Biff out.
