The other day, I got a text message from my bank. It asked me to send an SMS from my registered mobile number to signify my assent to taking accident insurance cover under the Pradhan Mantri Bima Suraksha Yojana, along with my nominee’s name. All I had to do was type in PMBSY, followed by a ‘Y’ (for Yes), and my nominee’s name. That was it. The premium of ₹12 would be automatically deducted from my account, and I would be covered up to ₹2 lakh for a year, against accidents leading to loss of life, limb or livelihood. It was as simple as that.

The interesting thing about this little episode was not just the ease of the process, impressive though that alone was. The way the participating banks have rolled out the PMBSY, as well as the other major insurance-based social security scheme launched by this government — the Pradhan Mantri Jeevan Jyoti Bhima Yojana, which provides life cover of ₹2 lakh a year for a premium of less than one rupee a day — demonstrates what can be achieved by simply leveraging available technology, and using a customer-centric approach.

Treating citizens well

Of course, critics have carped that this was merely rebranding and repackaging schemes which already existed. True, but I am willing to bet a substantial chunk of my meagre earnings that this time around, a heck of a lot more people would actually realise some tangible benefit from the scheme, pre-existing or not. What’s even more impressive is that by removing red tape, by simplifying the process, by leveraging technology, and most importantly, by going to the beneficiary instead of making the beneficiary come to it, this government has done what its predecessors failed to do — treat citizens as customers deserving of service, not supplicants seeking largesse from the ‘ mai baap sarkar ’, who need to be made to jump through hoops in order enjoy that privilege.

But that’s not even the most impressive thing about this experience. To me, a middle-class Indian, the son of a middle-class bureaucrat, and the grandson of a schoolteacher, the most impressive aspect was that for the first time in my life, I had actually been at the receiving end of a government welfare measure (it would have been two, but I missed out on the ₹2 lakh life insurance because I am over 50!).

More inclusive

To my mind, this signals a significant change in the usual mindset which used to prevail in the elected arm of the government. Past governments have done their bit, especially after the initial hardship years were over after Independence, to try and make the lives of their citizens a little better, healthier or more secure. But all such efforts — or almost all of them — were targeted at shrinking India’s vast ocean of poverty. So, from basic healthcare, to rudimentary social security to basic food subsidy through PDS to basic livelihood guarantees, everything was targeted at the poor.

There’s nothing wrong with that. When resources are limited, it is only fair that the most deprived get the larger share. The problem was that the others — and this includes everyone from the 98th percentile of the income distribution table, down to the 35th, who perforce, being neither filthy rich or abjectly poor, fell in the ‘middle’ class — had to muddle along the best they could. They had to find their own food security and healthcare, pay for their education, find employment or livelihood any way they could.

The Indian middle-class may crib and complain about not seeing the benefit of the taxes it pays, but when push comes to shove, it does pay up. And, grumblings apart, it has no quarrel with any government actually trying to do something for the genuinely poor. But the poverty mindset which has driven our policymaking has so distorted this over the years, that anyone not poor is classified as rich, and therefore, not deserving of any attention at all. Worse, not being poor meant that your life was one long indulgence, the more gratuitous of which could then be taxed to ensure that you did your bit for poverty reduction.

Equally deserving

So, the petrol you buy for your vehicle — which you can’t afford and which you need because reliable public transport is missing — carries a cess on it to help educate those less fortunate than you, and an idli in an Udipi hotel with a noisy airconditioner is treated as a ‘luxury’ service deserving of being taxed more. Of course, all this does not apply to the actually rich, who get all the benefits of being friends with the powers that be, but that’s another matter.

Which is why I’m so excited about my little ₹2 lakh policy. For the first time, the government of the day has treated me as just another citizen — neither rich nor poor (or even worse, middle- class!).

This universal approach — exemplified by the Jan Dhan Yojana, which aims to give everyone a bank account — is a significant change in mindset, and hopefully, one which signals a realisation that as a nation, we are no longer poor (even if we do have many poor, and are not quite rich), and that while poverty is, and will always be the most shameful blot on our society, everyone else in the country is equally deserving of some policy attention, even if it’s just a token.

It’s getting to be a year since the ‘Modi sarkar’ came into being; there will be many report cards on what it is getting right and what it’s not. To me, basing the policy paradigm on a universal approach is one thing it is getting right. Because when you go universal, inclusiveness comes included — at no extra charge.

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