Shashi Tharoor, the Indian author and former diplomat, once remarked that in India, even dreams are recycled. That observation has never felt more apt than in the current political climate, where the promise of India as a global superpower is dusted off and re-presented with each election cycle.
The optimism was not always baseless. In 2010, The Economist ran a cover story titled “How India’s growth will outpace China,” pointing to India’s young population, a dynamic private sector, and a robust democratic system as advantages over Beijing’s state-led model. The IMF then projected India growing at 9.7%, close to China’s 10.5%. Many in Delhi and Mumbai genuinely believed the gap would close.
Fifteen years later, the numbers tell a different story. China’s GDP in 2010 was 3.6 times India’s ($6.1 trillion versus $1.7 trillion). By 2025, that multiple had stretched to nearly 4.9 times, with China at $19.5 trillion and India at $4 trillion. On a per-capita basis, the divergence is even starker: China’s GDP per capita rose from $4,500 to $13,862, while India’s crept from $1,350 to $2,702. The gap widened from 3.3 times to 5.1 times.
This is not to say India has achieved nothing. It has. But the chasm between the narrative of a rising power and the actual capacity to shape outcomes has grown. Prime Minister Narendra Modi understands that modern politics rewards perception. A grand summit, a diaspora rally, a warm handshake with a world leader, a catchy slogan—these can create a powerful image of India’s arrival. Yet symbolism does not build capability. When confidence rests on promises rather than performance, it risks becoming false pride—the Vishwaguru (world teacher) illusion that substitutes strength with spectacle.
The power gap widens
The 2025 Lowy Institute Asia Power Index ranks India third in comprehensive power in Asia. But the same index notes that India’s actual regional influence is below what its resources would suggest. Its “power gap”—the difference between potential and realized influence—has reached its widest point in the index’s history. That is the paradox of Modi’s India: it holds more potential power than it converts into real leverage.
The clearest evidence is not in GDP figures but in where Indians choose to build their futures. Over 18.5 million Indians live abroad, and India receives the world’s largest remittance inflow, around $150.7 billion in 2025. Among the diaspora, Indian Americans are the most visible success story. But how much of that success was built on Indian soil? They studied at American universities, advanced within American companies, and thrived under American institutions. The U.S. system provided the foundation, yet their achievements are often claimed as proof of India’s rise. The irony is hard to miss.
Recent tightening of H-1B visa rules and the suspension of some Indian IT firms from the U.S. Permanent Labor Certification Program (PERM) are reminders that success abroad depends on the institutions of the host country. When leaving India becomes the pathway to Indian success, we must question what national development really means.
Narrative versus capability
Since 2014, Modi has turned the diaspora into a diplomatic brand. The 2019 “Howdy Modi” rally in Houston was a masterclass in this strategy. But diaspora success reflects the strength of foreign systems, not necessarily the performance of the Indian state. The Vishwaguru image was built on the achievements of Indians who succeeded outside India.
Meanwhile, China has focused on building capabilities. It has spent decades relentlessly developing industrial, technological, and scientific strength. When India announced its arrival as a world teacher, China responded with a technological leap: the AI model DeepSeek, which stunned global markets. Today, in the AI age, the next superpower will be the one that wins the AI race. And the world’s most populous country is conspicuously absent from that race—not for lack of talent, but because it has spent years exporting that talent to build America’s AI empire instead of its own.
Consider the contrast. Sundar Pichai and Satya Nadella, CEOs of Google and Microsoft, are celebrated examples of Indian talent reaching the pinnacle of global corporate power. But there is another kind of success. Yang Zhilin, a 32-year-old graduate of Tsinghua and Carnegie Mellon, worked at Google Brain and Meta in the U.S. tech ecosystem, then returned to China to co-found Moonshot AI. His company’s Kimi K3 model now rivals leading U.S. models from Anthropic and OpenAI. According to Bloomberg Intelligence, the performance gap between top U.S. and Chinese models has narrowed to just 3%.
The difference is clear: one country exports talent, the other absorbs, retains, and mobilizes it for its own technological power. Both Pichai and Yang are successful, but their stories diverge. One shows how far talent can rise within an extraordinary system; the other shows how talent can help create an extraordinary system. For a country aspiring to be a technological power, the latter matters far more.
India’s superpower dream, as currently framed, is a recycled slogan. It is time to move beyond rhetoric and invest in the institutions, research, and industrial base that actually create power. Otherwise, the gap between India’s story and its reality will only widen. For more on India’s strategic posture, see India’s recalibration of its global posture and the potential for a BRICS open-source AI push.
