Developing India’s Personality

Indranil Mukherjee/Agence France-Presse â€" Getty Images An instructor from a British training firm offering a personality development class at the Indian School of Integrated Learning in Mumbai, Maharashtra on Aug. 5, 2009.

The personalities of Tina Nagpal, a 26-year-old banker with ICICI, and Akshay Agarwal, 18-year-old graduate of Delhi Public School seemed to have nothing in common â€" except, apparently, the need for urgent intervention.
And that’s how, on a balmy June morning, the well-turned-out woman and the goofy teenager ended up trying to make party conversation without breaking into a sweat as a roomful of peers and a patient, yet firm, instructor watched, some of them with notebook and pen.

“Wish you a very happy birthday,” began Ms. Nagpal.

“Thanks.”

“It is a very nice party. Must have taken a lot of work.”

“Kind of. Caterers, lighting, the D.J., the songs and all.”

It was only a small component of a multilevel course in social graces aimed at training its visibly upper-class participants in the vital skill of not coming across as a loser.

A stop for prospective brides eager to learn dinner-table arrangements and ballroom dancing in the 1990s, the finishing school run by the former beauty queen Priya Warrick, located in Delhi’s swanky New Friends Colony, now functions as one of the proliferating number of institutes that claim to train Indians across social and economic groups in “confidence” and “sophistication” - qualities deemed indispensable for success, social or professional, in a society increasingly preoccupied with image. If the volume of text-message spam is any indicator of business density, personality development schools are up there with real-estate peddlers and fitness centers.

At this particular school, framed photos of a young Ms. Warrick posing in a tiara and veil looked down at us from every wall. “What is common between Lady Diana, Carla Bruni and Maharani Gayatri Devi ?” asked a poster.

“I am fine dealing with people as part of my job, but I used to be awkward when it came to socializing at clubs, at parties, while ordering at five-star hotels,” said Ms. Nagpal, who wore a white lace top and careful makeup, leaning just slightly forward and stressing every word.

I turned to Mr. Agarwal, a bespectacled young man with floppy hair and a shy grin, who told me that he felt no one in his social group took him seriously because of his lack of self-belief, and he was working on a more appealing persona as college was due to start. Like the others in the class, Ms. Nagpal and Mr. Agarwal, who had enrolled in programs titled “Confident Lady” and “Polished Executive Level One,” respectively, had paid half a million rupees ($8,300) toward the pursuit of charm. The duration of these programs is between four to six months with full-day classes, five days a week.

That June morning, it eluded them. After the mock conversation, the two were criticized for awkward silences, poor eye contact and shuffling, then they slunk back to their seats.

Later in the day, a different, and a considerably less wealthy, group of young men and women streamed into the Rajouri Garden office of W.A.B.S. Talk â€" also called L.S.E., or the “London School of English” â€" an academy for personality development and public speaking, which has several branches in west Delhi.

Charging 7,000 to 10,000 rupees for courses that start with “Smart English” and go up to “Advanced Communications,” the institute markets itself to those who have or are looking for entry-level jobs in the country’s ever-expanding service sector. From lessons in placing an order at McDonald’s to making a “phone call to an America-based uncle,” W.A.B.S. functions on the time-tested idea of fluency in English as a shortcut to any and all accomplishment in India.

A standard inquiry on its Web site goes: “hi sir/madam, I’m Mohit Gaur and i’m 21 years old. I can speak english but i don’ feel confident because i don’t have the fluency. If someone talks to me in english, i got freeze… There is no atmosphere of english speaking in family or friend circle too…What should i do to speak fluently, to be confident.”

“English is becoming the general language. In M.N.C.’s, they are doing their work in English,” said Anshul Kalra, a 17-year-old from rural Rajasthan, referring to multinational companies. He moved to Delhi four months ago to do an accounting course. “You have to talk to top-level management. Speaking good English can increase your salary double or triple.”

The topic for discussion that day at W.A.B.S. Talk was politics. “My dear fellows,” said Rocky Saggoo, the founder and chief instructor, cutting a striking figure in nerdy glasses and an air of studied cool, “start taking interest in politics if you want to change this country.”

On the wall outside, a framed certificate attested to Mr. Saggoo’s training in public speaking with Dale Carnegie and Associates. Mr. Saggoo later told me, after some hesitation, that it was a three-day program in New York. The 32-year-old also said he was a “vagabond” before he realized how much he loved “preaching to people, and making his point.” And he loved politics.

Indeed, institutes like Mr. Saggoo’s bring up the rear of the self-improvement juggernaut. Its vanguard: what is estimated to be a multibillion-dollar business teaching the Indian corporate workforce the fundamentals of social etiquette, whether it is chewing with their mouths closed or dealing with the opposite sex.

Among companies with increasing stakes outside of India, many are having their entire teams groomed in Western-style etiquette, starting with the solution to the trickiest test of strategic lunches â€" what should you do if you drop your fork?

“Most of the deals are decided at business lunches, and if you can make an impression with your manners, in how you rest your fork and spoon in the middle of a meal, for example, it can mean a lot in terms of impression,” said Sunainaa Arora, 31, who founded the Academy of Etiquette Internationale in Chittaranjan Park in Delhi a year ago to fill what she sees as a huge gap in civility training. “I even have a special course in eating Chinese food, since trade between India and China has become so regular, and the Chinese are so attached to their customs.”

A former journalist, Ms. Arora charges 50,000 rupees for a monthlong course. She said she has a diverse clientele, from 11-year-olds from “very rich families” who won’t look up from their iPads to housewives who need to organize their wardrobe according to their eye color. “Anyone can teach you style,” she said. “I teach you class.”

The class rules of the trade are simple: the unenlightened learn English, and everyone else, etiquette. And the common idea is that everyone in the country needs some kind of help with their personalities. And therefore, in a stunning variety of operations spread all over the city, a multitude of people across the economic ladder are turning into one sprawling mass of social raw material.

By the end of their class at the Priya Warrick Finishing School, the students had learned a number of tips to see them through common roadblocks: the best way to deal with awkward silences was to never allow them in; it was impolite to criticize the bride’s clothes and makeup at a wedding; the topics to avoid at parties are religion and politics; you shouldn’t ask anyone his or her secret to weight loss; and no matter the scenario, never, ever exit a party conversation with, “I will be back.”

Mr. Saggoo’s class wasn’t going to be over that easily â€" not before each of the 13 participants had presented a speech on politics, without fumbling. One by one, they walked out of the class, tucked shirts into trousers, or adjusted T-shirts and dupattas, took deep breaths and re-entered the room with a smile and self-introduction:

“Hi, I am Neelima. Politics is very important thing in our country.”

“Hi, I am Subhranshu. Few days ago I was traveling with a friend in metro, and he asked me, ‘What do you think about politics?’ I didn’t know what to say.”

“Hi, I am Rajeev Kumar. What politics teaches is how to rule, how to influence people. Let me tell you a story about my village in Bihar.”

Snigdha Poonam is Arts Editor at The Caravan. She is on Twitter at@snigdhapoonam