Like many expats I too went through the various phases of resettling back in India: ‘touristy’ excitement, disorientation, annoyance and frustration, gradual adaptation and finally bi-culturality that has now allowed me to find my own sense of belonging in what I still consider my hometown, Bangalore.

This is not the Bengaluru I left in 1978. Regular visits I thought had prepared me for the changes, but holidaying and living here are very different. Of course, it is foolish to expect the place to remain unchanged. So many of the people I knew and loved have moved on or moved away, and even those who are here are so far away in terms of distance and traffic, they might as well be in a different city. The city has changed too in its landscape, its unbelievably chaotic traffic, its high-rise buildings and, most of all, its missing trees.

 It is no longer a garden city. Yet, there is much to come back to: the wonderful weather, especially for someone coming from the UK; the same warmth and hospitality, although the people are very busy and consequently more stressed; the colourful festivals and ceremonies; and the food – always the food! Yes, I love this place, not blindly, but like the love we bear for our children or even parents whose shortcomings do not make us love them less.

When friends express pride in how Bangalore has developed and how people can live here as well, or even better, than they can abroad, I want to agree – and partly do. But it depends on the interpretation of ‘development’ or ‘progress’.  I particularly take pride in the fact that we have clung to democracy by the skin of our teeth when I look around at our neighbours in the subcontinent. But I will be prouder when our political democracy extends to economic and social life, and the divide between the two Indias, or the myriad Indias, is narrowed.

Sadly, there are some things that have hit me hard since my return. Either earlier I did not notice  or conditions have worsened. Perhaps both.

There are four things that particularly concern me about our city and our country: rampant corruption that corrodes everything; filth I see even in ‘rich’ layouts like mine; lack of organisation and discipline (not just on the roads); and time-wasting bureaucracy. But what worries me even more are the 3 As: attitude, arrogance and apathy among many who could make a difference. I do see the good that some do, giving freely of their time and energy to make a difference.

But these are the exceptions. For the most part, we are so caught up in keeping up with the Kumars that there seems little time to spare a thought for the less privileged. We have two alarmingly different lifestyles of the haves and the have-nots, but my visits to our schools and colleges for lectures or training lead me to believe many of our “educated” youngsters do not seem to be growing up with an awareness of this shocking inequality.

So what is the answer? Is there one?

Yes. My hope lies in our children, in their upbringing both at home and their early-years education. As a teacher trainer, I believe our teachers should be trained to holistically educate our children live a life with purpose, with the capacity to care – both for their fellow creatures and the environment. Our parents too need to realise this huge responsibility. They hold the future of our children, and consequently our society, in their hands.  As an educator, when I visit schools and colleges, I sometimes feel with a sinking heart that we haven’t understood the true meaning of education. It seems to be more about passing exams with top marks, passing interviews and securing jobs or further education abroad.  Yes, we want all of these for our children, but we want them also to be responsible and respectable individuals.

Therefore, we need to re-educate our teachers first into becoming inspirational mentors and role-models. Then this awareness can cascade down to our students. Sometimes I lose hope in my own generation to embrace change within themselves and then to make outward change possible. How do we make them care more? It is too late, I think. Old habits die hard, I think. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, I think.

But when I  talk to students in some of the schools and colleges that invite me, I can see the young minds listening, responding and thinking. We connect. Even if 10 out of a 100 can be touched, it is a job well done.

In some of our gatherings, I hear a lot of blame and complaints against our politicians and government. Yes, we are a democracy and therefore it is right that we point fingers where and when accusations are justified. In fact, we must. But I also ache to ask, “So what are you doing to make a difference? Is it not also about individual responsibility and accountability?” Now that I am living here, I had to turn that question around and ask: “What am I doing about it?” My own answer was to work with a small group of friends to do what social service we can. It is a tiny effort, but we are not discouraged. Sky is the limit and we make a start with shaking but unfailing baby steps.

Perhaps we will realise along the way that when we set out to make even a little bit of difference, the biggest difference we end up making is for ourselves.

Rani Rao Innes is the senior partner and lead trainer of Link Communications, a specialized communications skills company based in the UK. She has regularly presented courses and training workshops for private and public business sectors as well as students and teachers in the UK, Belgium, Malaysia, Japan and India. She has also been active in theatre for 30 years and was the director of Canterbury Players in Kent for eight years.