[Themaintainers] Antidotal Infrastructure

[Varun Adibhatla]

In this Linkedin post, I discuss how the Nizams of Hyderabad distributed
free tea and subsidized tea stalls as a way of creating, what I call,
"antidotal infrastructure" to counter the rampant increase of alcoholism
across Hyderabad during the early 20th century.
https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7228116451977547776/

I would appreciate any thoughts or be pointed towards discourse of
maintenance or care that serve as  *antidotal* mechanisms.

I am curious how folks here interpret such antidotal interventions and
whether there are other examples of such interventions or infrastructure
that serves as an antidote.

The full text of the post is here



































*This clip from the cult classic Angrez captures important features of
privately owned communal infrastructure in Hyderabad that we called the
Kayf. Kayf is slang for Café. They are lowbrow tea stalls that, like
diners, serve as critical third spaces.Syed Mohammed, recently published an
article in The Hindu that traced the origins of these Kayfs that I
previously unaware of. It revealed to me how some of the infrastructure I
sought comfort in was subsidized by private patronage.Kayfs played host to
the psychodrama of our lives as college students. As seen in the clip, the
casual camaraderie of Kayf bros is a hallmark of Hyderabadi culture.In
1917, a "hukm" (order) by the Nizam's government funded the distribution of
free tea and tea stalls near liquor stores to counter the rampant
alcoholism taking over the city. The Hyderabadi people loved their state
sponsored Irani chai so much that they incorporated it into the fabric of
the city.This *antidotal* legacy of Kayfs is absent from contemporary urban
infrastructure and prompts questions about how we ought to build spaces to
escape from the scourge of modern addictions.Like all things in India,
these semi-public Kayfs were overwhelmingly occupied by men, although women
sometimes frequented them.Like the clip shows, a steady stream of low-cost
chai & samosas, consumed over hours, fueled low-compute banter and chest
puffery. There were days where fights would break out over petty things and
other days where we confided, with each other, our deepest feelings. Kayfs
offered a sanctuary from overbearing parenting, boredom, and the quiet
desperation of loneliness.My statement of purpose for getting into grad
school was authored at a Kayf.Kayfs conformed to two principles that made
them a public good.They were a) non-excludable and b)
non-rivalrous.Non-excludable as it was difficult to prevent others from
using them. As you can see in the clip, anyone can waltz into a kayf, take
a seat, and expect to be served without having to stand in a queue, or make
a reservation. Like public transit, we would often find ourselves sharing
space with the homeless or decrepit or with families seeking shelter from a
sudden downpour.Non-rivalrous means that when one person uses a good, it
doesn't prevent others from using it. This is important to discern. Kayfs
served as places of rest for the Hyderabadi working class.They were made up
of tables and fans where tea & snacks were brought to you - that's it.
Unlike other third spaces, there was little to commandeer or get lost in.
(TV / dartboard).As students from middle class backgrounds, I wondered if
we had a gentrifying effect on these spaces.Ironically, while Kayfs emerged
as antidotes to alcohol consumption, they also became gateways to tobacco
use amongst us.A few years after I left India, they banned smoking in these
joints. A few years later, most of the kayfs we haunted, disappeared
altogether.*

-- 
Thanks,
Varun
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