Oh, to be a Gujarati Indian Bengalurean
On the tricky and slippery affair of belongingwhat does it mean to feel Indian?
I only feel Indian when we play Pakistan. Since we don’t play them much these days, there is little opportunity to show my nationalism. The triumphs of Sania, Saina and the rest I do not register as Indian wins so much as individual achievements.
I feel sort of Indian when travelling abroad, but not that much. On the one hand, our blue passport has found some respect. It is not as difficult to get a visa (older readers will remember a time when people came to the US consulate wearing a tie to look the business), even for this Patel. And because I am now grey of hair, and I suppose more avuncular and therefore more harmless, the colour of my skin is less important as a factor in airport security. What I am trying to say is that being treated like anyone else means I do not notice the particularity of being Indian.
I don’t feel Gujarati all that much, or perhaps even at all. Other than betting, which I have given up since going respectable (see the job description later) and eating paan laced with qimam (given up because the gums have gone into rebellion), I cannot see much I have in common with other Gujaratis.
I have no particular ability or inclination to make money. I have a streak of pragmatism, yes, but no more than another person of my age and experience will have. I have taught myself to separate my vowels and I do not think I speak English or Urdu as a Gujarati might.
The Gujarati disinterest in learning I have never felt. And about the Gujarati love for Hindutva, what more can I say than I already have on these pages? Cow and pig are to me, as they were to Saadat Hasan Manto, only meat.
I feel Patel. I have a powerful sense of caste identity, as a Patidar. I can tell that because I observe the eagerness with which I qualify that by adding leuva, the subgroup (which my mother assures me is the higher one) from which we emerge.
Also, in an argument, I sense the peasant’s instinct coursing through me, switching off my thinking and taking over my emotions. I suspect it is the instinct that seeks to settle things with violence. Fortunately, that pragmatic side kicks in more often than not.
Physically, I feel like a Patidar. Those who have seen me will know what I mean and other peasants reading this, like Jats or Gowdas, may perhaps even identify with me.
I do not feel “Hindu" in the religious sense because I have not needed religion in my life. I have had no crisis worthy of seeking intercession. I can handle my lot by myself (I agree with the sentiment in the last stanza of that short poem by William Ernest Henley, Invictus, which I recommend to readers unfamiliar with it).
The scholar Daud Rahbar said that polytheism and monotheism were two universal modalities. Meaning that we were hard-wired to be one or the other. I do not think I have any such inclination though the thought of pantheism (Parmenides, Adi Shankara and ibn Arabi all having said the same thing) warms me somewhat.
Politically, I don’t feel anything, nor do I identify with a party. I incline towards individuals rather than platforms or ideologies, which in Indian parties I find inconsistent if not fraudulent. I vote for the Bahujan Samaj Party, but without ever reading its manifesto. It is an emotional vote: I have surrendered my political agency in atonement. Readers will know what I mean and I need not add more in explanation.
Ideologically, I have moved away from the conservatism that my background forced on me. The prejudices and hatreds that so easily informed my view of communities no longer come easily. I can see people more easily as individuals. That is a relief and I think it is my biggest achievement. I do not know if it came automatically but it is just that I observed my prejudices taking over my thinking so often that perhaps in time they have started to fall away (as writer Jiddu Krishnamurti observes).
I feel Bengalurean, more and more as the years roll on. The gentleness and innocence of the local culture, the acceptance of the outsider, the absence of the single-minded focus on corporate careers and money in many of its citizens. Its hosting of the great non-profit organizations, including the one I work for, because of this spirit in so many of its youth (no chance of this happening in Surat). Its greatness in establishing itself as the centre of South Asian philanthropy (zero chance of this happening in Amdavad). All of these I want to own as being mine.
Aakar Patel is executive director of Amnesty International India. The views expressed here are personal. He tweets at @aakar_amnesty.
Also read | Aakar Patel’s previous Lounge columns
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