Colonial complex or celebration of nationhood?
Barkha DUTT
When steel baron LN Mittal was still jostling for the takeover of
French company Arcelor, India was convinced that racism and xenophobia
stood between him and history. And when he finally won the bid, we were
swept away by a wave of economic patriotism.
We chose to see Mittal’s ascent as another medal for India in the
global race - one more compelling example of why the world could no
longer ignore us.
But now Aditya Mittal - the heir to the giant empire that catapulted
his father into becoming ‘the world’s richest Indian’ - has swiftly
punctured India’s romantic notions. At a seminar in London that debated
the notion of ‘Made-in-India multinationals’ he declared without any
compunction or coyness that Arcelor was “not an Indian company”.
His father, on the other hand, has charmed countless interviewers
(including this columnist) with his soft-spoken and matter-of-fact
refusal to surrender his Indian passport.
But the son - seen to be a key architect of the Arcelor merger - sees
no contradiction between holding an Indian passport and running a
“foreign company”.
Like many expatriates of his generation, Mittal junior is clearly
comfortable being a world citizen with cultural roots in India.
So, Shah Rukh Khan and an entire entourage of Bombay stars may dance
at the family wedding in Paris, but when it comes to the crunch, he will
say unapologetically, as he did to The Times of India, that he “never
saw India as an opportunity”.
But where does all of this leave the Indian propensity to foist a
confused form of national pride and ownership on anyone with a desi gene
in their DNA? For decades we responded to those who left our shores in
search of a better life with an unspoken resentment and, perhaps, even
mild condemnation.
Subconsciously, those of us who stayed back or returned home after an
Ivy League or Oxbridge education believed that we were somehow more
‘Indian’ than the others. We didn’t relate to countries that offered
dual citizenship and held on to our Indian passports as a badge of
honour and optimism.
We were guilty of superciliously ignoring millions of men and women
who had made their home elsewhere but were at least partially shaped and
formed by India.
Somewhere along the way though, a booming global economy and the
startling success stories of expatriate Indians turned us around. We
were forced to concede that the emigres were often the best
advertisements for India abroad.
And now, as we parade our NRIs at the annual Pravasi Divas festivals
and promise them PIO (People of Indian Origin) identity cards, we have
swung entirely to the other extreme. We now want to claim everyone as
fellow travellers. We want to believe that we are all part of the Great
Indian Dream.
But what of those who have embraced new identities and left their
national origins buried firmly in the past? In a world increasingly made
smaller by the forces of globalisation, the notion of home and identity
has become more complicated than ever before.
And yet, we are so compulsively self-congratulatory these days that
we insist on celebrating every global success as our own if it has even
a vague hint of India about it.
When Bobby Jindal became the first ‘Indian American’ Governor of
Louisiana earlier this month, for instance, many Indians believed yet
again that it had something to do with us.
The media devoted an extraordinary amount of space and time to the
story of the 36-year-old whose father left a dusty village in northern
India three decades to ago to chase the American dream.
We mythologised his political victory despite knowing that Jindal’s
story is much more about American assimilation than it is about Indian
assertion. Whether it was hastily abandoning his Indian name (Piyush) in
favour of a more anglicised one or converting to Catholicism to create
an easier fit for himself among Conservative voters, Jindal’s identity
has been deliberately manufactured.
His first words after winning - “I am one of you, a normal,
red-blooded, football-loving Louisiana guy” - tell us everything we need
to know about how little he or his landmark achievements have to do with
India.
We obsessed in a similar way about Sunita Williams’ space odyssey.
Just because she ate samosas while staring out at the stars, we decided
to convert even that into a vindication of India. Williams was born to
an Indian father and a Slovenian mother in Ohio. Unlike her close friend
Kalpana Chawla, who went to school in India, she was shaped and formed
entirely by America.
Her Gujarati relatives may have got their 15 seconds of television
fame when Williams went up into space. But if our militaries are a
measure of national pride it may be useful to remember that Williams
served as an aviator for the US Navy during the Gulf War.
And yet, whether she likes it or not, we are deluded enough to hold
her up as one of our own and we’ve decided that her journey into space
was partially an ‘Indian’ achievement. Even Trinidad-born author VS
Naipaul overawes us and inspires in us a false and misplaced sense of
ownership.
We meekly accept the flagellation when he calls us an “a wounded
civilisation” and feel grateful and proud when he changes his mind and
concedes a grudging admiration.
And yet, each time he comes visiting India, we fall over ourselves to
meet with him and measure our self-worth through his scathing eyes. One
such round of India-bashing finally compelled the current Ministry of
External Affairs spokesperson, Navtej Sarna, to lash out in his other
avatar as a writer.
In an open letter published in the Hindu Literary Review, Sarna
asked, “If this country is so hopeless, its literature so bankrupt, its
literary soul so vacuous, then why not just let us be? You see, we are
like this only.”
The tragedy is that all too often we forget who we are and begin
looking outwards (especially to the West) for approval.
Every time India insists on being a forced stakeholder in a global
event, it makes you wonder if this is really a celebration of nationhood
or some lingering colonial complex.
The writer is Managing Editor, NDTV 24x7, Hindustan Times |