Culture, understood as the constellation of learned behaviours, beliefs, and values that shape a society, carries different meanings for each individual. Yet its gradual erosion reveals an uncomfortable reality—one with the power to unsettle. To confront this concern, the article begins by recalling a quintessential example of cultural engagement.
Quite a few years ago, Dr Kapila Vatsyayan—one of the most distinguished scholars of Indian culture and a towering figure in cultural research—conceived and curated a programme at Delhi’s India International Centre (IIC) centred on a plant that occupies a unique place in India’s cultural and political history: Indigo. In his inaugural address at the seminar, Gopalkrishna Gandhi offered a poignant reflection, deftly weaving together a wide spectrum of ideas around this seemingly simple plant.
He spoke of the colour blue—of indigo dye—as perceived through multiple lenses: as analysed by the physicist C. V. Raman while explaining the colour of the sky; as the hue mythologists associate with Krishna; as the shade immortalised by M. S. Subbulakshmi’s favourite concert sari, later known as ‘MS Blue’; and as the symbolic resonance of the Neelkamal, with which Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay so deeply identified, endowing the blue lotus with a distinctive cultural meaning.
Such programmes are rarely organised, sparsely attended, and even less often genuinely appreciated—typically shaped by thinkers who seek not applause but meaningful engagement. To appreciate culture, one need not be a connoisseur or a highly discerning enthusiast with refined knowledge of traditions and history; one needs only a basic sense of sensitivity, curiosity, and respect.
Cultural decay is widely discussed and unmistakably global. For India, one of the world’s oldest living civilisations, it is especially upsetting, given its profound civilisational depth and rich cultural mosaic of unique art forms, music, dance, faiths, languages, cuisine, and festivals that together reflect enduring social cohesion across diverse castes and communities.
Cultural preservation is therefore an essential intergenerational bridge and a cornerstone of nation-building. While some dismiss what is described as cultural decay in India as mere evolution, others see a corrosive shift—one that erodes tradition, weakens community bonds, and dulls the collective sensibility shaped by India’s layered civilisational ethos.
Whatever the causes, the sense of culture is undergoing a rapid—often silent erosion, driven by collective apathy as well as global, technological, political, and social forces. Phenomena such as McDonaldization and Zara-fication, along with the excesses of carnivalisation and transgression when severed from cultural context and restraint, are symptoms of this deeper malaise.
Let us be clear-eyed about where this ultimately leads.
While news of celebrities’ pregnancies and affairs captures public attention, libraries lie largely abandoned, even as mediocre live events—offering little cultural substance—draw large crowds and demand extensive police arrangements. The nation today confronts disturbing trends that steadily erode its cultural foundations: children growing up unfamiliar with fairness and justice; rampant consumerism and materialism; the ever-increasing commercialisation of heritage; disappearing folk arts and dying tribal languages; declining cinematic and musical standards; growing environmental disconnection; the rise of digital distraction; and places of worship reduced to sites of entertainment.
Taken together, these cultural shifts undermine the nation’s core ethical foundations. A country then risks losing not only its celebrated heritage but also its civilisational compass. Civilisations are defined not by material or technological achievements alone, but by what they preserve in their collective conscience.
It is hardly edifying to suggest that culture is merely about knowing which cutlery to use at dinner, name-dropping famous personalities, or displaying social graces as markers of social status. Nor is it about networking with the “who’s who” as a status symbol. Yet today, both individuals and institutions that host intellectual discussions and cultural programmes are often thinly attended, while bars, restaurants, and trivial entertainment events—sometimes even within the same premises—are packed. Rather than aligning our behaviour with long-standing cultural standards, we increasingly redefine culture to suit our own convenience.
A selfie booth at the Banaras Lit Fest in Varanasi—yes, you read that right. As the festival’s president candidly observed, attracting crowds today requires a masala mix: a bit of something for everyone. Hence, the additions—mime shows, stand-up comedy, handicrafts, carpets and saris for sale, even fashion shows. Literary festivals in India, therefore, are only partly about books; a substantial share of their appeal lies elsewhere. Even the most prestigious of them all, the Jaipur Literature Festival—which reportedly attracted 400,000 visitors last month—is widely believed to draw far fewer people without such embellishments. Nor is this phenomenon unique to India. As one attendee at this year’s World Economic Forum in Davos remarked with disarming candour, many participants skipped every plenary session, yet unfailingly appeared at the evening parties.
To put this in perspective, the sociologist Olivier Roy warns that “deculturation” is sweeping the world, with deeply troubling consequences. From the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas in Afghanistan to the defacement of Mahatma Gandhi’s statue in London and the vandalisation of art galleries at home, the pattern is both clear and unmistakable.
The world is far from ideal. Yet when this reality prevents us from remaining culturally grounded and emotionally resonant, it becomes hostile to the very spirit of culture and corrosive to society and the nation at large.
Way Forward
In a globally interconnected world, cultural trust is far easier to lose than to rebuild. Change cannot be avoided, but its true test lies in harmonising continuity with renewal while protecting the values and inheritance that animate India’s cultural life. Culture functions as a living organism: sustained by care, it thrives; deprived or abused, it declines.
A healthier culture is not self-generating; it requires deliberate stewardship at the individual, social, and institutional levels. The cultural conversation must be redirected toward safeguarding the nation’s legacy, regardless of how much this unsettles ultramodernists or so-called culturists. Power may grant authority and position, but culturally aware citizens possess something equally vital: the courage to stop pretending, to speak out against decay, to nurture cultural life at home and in their communities, and—above all—to act together.
Does this sound quixotic? Perhaps. But that is often how meaningful change begins.
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