Thursday, 24 September 2020 at 02:43 PM, Kashi
This photograph of a small pharmacy in Varanasi, taken after the first wave of the 2020 pandemic, offers a poignant glimpse into the intersections of cultural resilience, economic survival, and the negotiation of modernity. At the centre of this image is the medical store owner, whose calm, almost meditative presence contrasts with the bustle of the surrounding city, now slowly coming back to life as tourism returns. The sense of relief is palpable—freed from the constraints of face masks and lockdowns, the city is regaining its rhythm, and with it, the shopkeeper’s business is experiencing a modest but meaningful recovery. His quiet interaction with a basic mobile phone—a device that stands in stark contrast to the sleek smartphones that dominate the digital landscape—becomes emblematic of a larger tension between global technological shifts and local adaptations. The scene, though simple, offers rich material for considering how informal economies, particularly those in culturally vibrant and historically layered cities like Varanasi, embody forms of resistance, resilience, and adaptation.
Beyond its immediate aesthetic appeal, this photograph speaks to broader themes of cultural preservation and economic continuity within the context of the informal sector. By positioning the shopkeeper within the frame, we gain insight into the complex ways in which informal businesses navigate the pressures of modernisation, globalisation, and technological encroachment. The photograph captures a microcosm of these broader dynamics, and through a combination of theoretical lenses—particularly James Scott’s concept of “everyday resistance” and Partha Chatterjee’s “vernacular modernity”—we can explore how seemingly mundane elements of the shop’s environment become subtle acts of resistance and negotiation with external forces.
James Scott’s theory of “everyday resistance” offers a crucial perspective on how informal businesses like this pharmacy function as quiet sites of defiance against the pressures of formalisation and global standardisation. The door latch on the shop's entrance, for example, can be seen not only as a practical tool for controlling access during the pandemic but as a symbol of autonomy—an everyday form of boundary-making that resists the imposition of external regulatory or economic structures. In informal economies, where the distinctions between public and private spaces are often fluid, the act of closing and securing a door with a simple latch becomes an assertion of control over both physical space and economic activity. This seemingly mundane object thus encapsulates a broader tension between the intimate, locally grounded practices of informal businesses and the larger systems of governance and control that seek to formalise them. During the pandemic, when physical space became a contested and regulated commodity, the door latch also functioned as a protective measure against external threats—both from health regulations and from the encroachment of more formal, global economic practices.
The basic mobile phone the shopkeeper holds becomes another site of resistance. In a time when digital payment systems and sophisticated smartphones dominate much of India’s business landscape, the shopkeeper’s choice to use a simple, basic mobile phone signals a rejection of the digitisation that increasingly excludes those operating in informal sectors. In this light, the phone is not merely a tool for communication; it becomes a powerful symbol of technological exclusion, particularly in semi-urban and rural areas where access to advanced digital infrastructure remains limited. While UPI (Unified Payments Interface) and other digital payment systems have rapidly gained traction in formal sectors, the shopkeeper’s reliance on a basic phone—unconnected to the broader digitalisation of transactions—represents a quiet but significant form of resistance. It is not just a reluctance to embrace new technology; it is an act of preserving the shopkeeper’s connection to a local, informal economy where personal relationships and face-to-face transactions remain central. In this way, the phone also embodies the shopkeeper’s resistance to the corporate-dominated digital systems that threaten to render informal businesses like his obsolete.
This preference for a basic mobile phone must be situated within the contemporary debates surrounding digital economies and technology adoption in informal sectors. As India’s government pushes for a cashless economy, particularly through platforms like UPI, a digital divide has emerged, reinforcing social and economic inequalities. While tech-driven solutions like UPI promise convenience and speed, they also marginalise small shopkeepers who lack the resources or infrastructure to integrate digital payments into their businesses. The cashless economy—while touted as a driver of modernisation—often overlooks the realities of the informal economy, where people may prefer to deal in cash and where smartphone penetration and access to internet infrastructure are far from ubiquitous. The shopkeeper’s use of a basic phone thus illustrates not only resistance to technological encroachment but also a broader critique of the assumption that digital solutions are universal and should be adopted by all sectors without consideration of local realities. This is part of a broader global discussion on financial inclusivity and the digital divide, which affects not only developing countries but also developed nations that rely on systems like wallet payments, bank-to-bank transfers, contactless payments, cryptocurrencies, and consumer incentive programs such as reward points and cashback on card transactions. While digital inclusion is increasingly seen as a key driver of social and economic mobility, significant barriers to access and technology adoption continue to persist.
The photograph also speaks to the broader global debates about localised technology adoption. While much of the world embraces the latest technological advances, informal economies—particularly in countries like India—often adopt technology in ways that reflect local needs, constraints, and practices. This concept of "appropriate technology" has gained significant attention in development studies, particularly as a way to critique the assumption that Western technological models can be seamlessly transplanted into non-Western contexts. The shopkeeper’s decision to use a basic mobile phone can be read as a form of localised technological adaptation, where new technologies are selectively adopted based on their fit with local practices, cultural values, and economic realities. It challenges the dominant narrative that the adoption of digital technologies, such as UPI and smartphone apps, represents the inevitable progression toward modernity. Instead, it offers a counter-narrative in which technology is integrated in ways that are meaningful and functional within specific social and economic contexts.
The use of Hindi on the shop’s signage further underscores the cultural resistance embedded within this everyday practice. As English becomes increasingly dominant in both business and official spheres, the choice of Hindi is a deliberate assertion of local identity and linguistic pride. In an era where the globalisation of English often leads to the marginalisation of local languages, this decision signals a form of linguistic resistance—one that seeks to preserve the cultural and communicative practices deeply embedded in the community. The shopkeeper’s use of Hindi thus becomes an act of cultural preservation, reflecting a broader desire to resist the erosion of local languages and the cultural homogenisation that often accompanies the spread of English. This resistance is not merely symbolic but practical, as the shop’s primary clientele—local residents—are more likely to engage with a business that speaks to their cultural and linguistic sensibilities. The act of writing in Hindi, therefore, serves not only as a form of identity assertion but also as a strategic economic decision that aligns with the social fabric of the community.
The photograph’s inclusion of the universally recognised “+” symbol, typically associated with medical establishments, introduces a layer of complexity to this narrative. While the shop remains firmly grounded in the local, its engagement with this global icon highlights a moment of negotiation between local identity and global systems. This symbol allows the shop to communicate with non-Hindi speakers and international tourists, positioning the pharmacy within a broader, globalised economic network. Yet this global symbol, by coexisting with the shop’s Hindi signage, also illustrates how local practices and global systems can be intertwined in ways that allow the informal economy to navigate the global-local divide. This coexistence is a key feature of what Partha Chatterjee terms “vernacular modernity”—the idea that modernity, far from being a linear process of Westernisation, can emerge in forms that are deeply rooted in local cultural traditions. In this way, the shop’s use of the “+” symbol signals an adaptive strategy, acknowledging global economic trends while simultaneously resisting their full integration into the local economy.
Moreover, the spiritual inscriptions on the wall—“शुभ” (Shubh, meaning auspicious) and “लाभ” (Labh, meaning profit)—add another dimension to the shopkeeper’s practices, linking the material and the spiritual in a way that is characteristic of many informal economies in India. These symbols, far from being decorative, embody the shopkeeper’s prayers for prosperity and protection. The invocation of divine blessings in a business context reflects a broader cultural pattern in which the economic and the spiritual are deeply intertwined. In informal sectors, particularly in India, economic success is often understood not only as a material achievement but also as a spiritual one. The shopkeeper’s appeal to auspiciousness and profit illustrates how the local economy is shaped by values and practices that cannot be reduced to mere market rationality. Rather, these spiritual symbols act as active agents in shaping the daily workings of the business, offering both a cultural safeguard and a means of grounding the shopkeeper’s economic activities in a broader social and spiritual context.
The absence of women in the shopfronts of Varanasi’s narrow alleys adds another layer of complexity to this analysis. The exclusion of women from public-facing roles in informal businesses is not a mere oversight but a reflection of the systemic gender inequalities that persist in this setting. The concept of structural violence, as discussed by Nancy Fraser, can help us understand how such exclusions are not accidental but rather the result of entrenched social structures that limit women’s access to public spaces and economic opportunities. This absence of women in the visual field of the photograph is therefore not just an individual choice but an outcome of broader patriarchal forces that shape the economic landscape. Exploring the gendered dynamics of informal economies in this context would require a more nuanced understanding of how cultural and social expectations restrict women’s mobility and access to public business spaces, thus reinforcing patterns of inequality within the local economy.
The historical context in which this photograph is situated is equally important. Varanasi, like much of India, is a city where the colonial legacy, post-independence reforms, and neoliberal economic policies intersect. These broader historical forces have shaped the contours of the informal economy in profound ways, from colonial-era trade policies that transformed merchant economies to the neoliberal policies of the 1990s that encouraged globalisation but also deepened inequalities. In this context, the shopkeeper’s business is not just a site of resistance to contemporary pressures but also a product of a long historical trajectory. This interplay of local and global forces underscores the resilience of informal businesses, which, far from being passive relics of the past, actively negotiate modernity through selective adaptation.
This photograph, then, is not just a record of a single moment in time but a reflection of the complex ways in which informal economies navigate the tensions between local and global forces. By considering contemporary debates about digital economies, technological adaptation, and localised resistance, we gain a fuller understanding of the ways in which these microeconomic spaces remain both adaptive and resilient. Far from being passive sites of resistance, informal businesses like this one actively engage with the global economic landscape while preserving local cultural and social identities. The photograph, in this sense, offers a window into the dynamic, hybrid forms of modernity that emerge at the intersection of global and local economic, technological, and cultural systems.
(Shot on iPhone 7 - Thursday, 24 September 2020 at 02:43 PM, Kashi)
