Darjeeling is a busy tourist center in northeastern India along the Nepali-Chinese-Bhutanese border. Unlike the surrounding areas of American cities, which consist mostly of sprawling suburbs, Darjeeling offers no transition from the city to the rural farms that encircle it.My train to Darjeeling departed from a station in the midst of low-lying farms. It edged up to the top of the Plateau, where the city is located. Entering the city, the small two-lane highways passed into the town and became streets, and then the few streets became many, as more buildings and more people sprang out. Clusters of people wearing cane cloaks to protect themselves from the rain and sun while picking tealeaves disappeared, while shirts, pants and saris became more frequent. In the town's sprawl, I almost forgot about the villages on the bottom of the plateau centered around tea plantations.

Nearing the town, people with brochures began soliciting for tours to nearby attractions. The air was neither clear nor crisp, but air in India seldom is. Among commotion that would make even the worst traffic back home look organized, several men meandered between the cars, trucks, jeeps (because this is the only place I have seen in my life where jeeps are truly necessary) and train tracks.

These tour guides were pros at finding tourists. They went straight to cars with foreigners and dished out attractive tour packages.

I was able to talk to some of the tour guides while I took a tour. I began to ask about the local economy, which is overwhelmingly dependent on tourism. One of the tour guides spoke of the loss of tea jobs, which forced many farmers to migrate to Darjeeling and other cities in the vicinity.

This made me think of all the farmers I saw throughout the rural towns on my way to Darjeeling. In close-knit bands, they seemed cool, at ease and natural while they sifted through the tea bushes to find the newly grown leaves. Their activity was like taking breaths of air without thinking - spontaneous - even though it was hard work. There was some degree of dignity to their toiling. In comparison, I looked at my tour guides who spent their days scavenging for tourists.

All around me, I saw expensive hotels and several tourist resorts under construction. Later on, I found out that losing your tea-picking job generally meant working in one of these resorts as a bellboy, janitor, or some other low-paying job.

This loss of tea-picking jobs comes as a result of tea farms being consolidated into larger plantations. Signs proudly flaunting names like "Starbucks" and "Seattle's Best" were something of an encroachment.

I realized that two things were happening here: The farmers were losing their jobs because family owned farms and small locally owned plantations were going under.But at the same time, tourists were fueling a growing "service sector" to the local economy. Unfortunately, it wasn't a service sector that created middle-class jobs. Instead, emerging shantytowns in corners of Darjeeling were trickling down the mountainside as the town grew, ruining the splendor of the countryside famous for its centuries of farming tea.

This observation reminded me of a Marxian society. The economy was turning into owners and workers. The profitable enterprises were owned by outsiders, and the local farmers and villagers were forced to do something to sustain themselves. Sure there were more lucrative jobs, but those were few and far between.

I was struck by the change occurring in the surrounding areas of Darjeeling and the town itself. It made me wonder what progress and modernization really are. What is the point of progress if it doesn't improve the livelihoods of the people - or can that even be referred to as progress?