Being Indian

What does being Indian mean to those who are not quintessentially Indian The Mumbai Age brings you a few tales from the peripheries

Although home to some of the most ancient civilisations in the world, the concept of “India” itself is relatively young. Even as the country celebrates its 70th year of Independence, 1947, as it appears, was not the end of India’s struggle to grasp a sense of identity as a country. Some might argue that the struggle to identify what it means to be a part of the country has spilt over to present times, with conflicts still rampant in the borders, especially in Kashmir and some parts of the North East. The concept of what is national and what is anti-national has also come under the scrutiny several times, especially since the protests at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, earlier this year. Slogans about “azaadi”, “nationalism” and “patriotism” have been thickening the air since then, and some of the most quintessentially Indian citizens have been grappling with questions of nationality and identity. And then there are those, the not so quintessentially Indian citizens, whose perspectives are often sidelined in daily discourse. Interestingly, on gleaning insights from some of them, we found their concept of being Indian a lot clearer.

Asking the questions: Individuals, who are not typically Indian, often have to fight to prove their Indianness — that could be a major reason for their sense of awareness as Indian citizens. For actress Kalki Koechlin, who was born to French parents, identity has always been a point of struggle. “My parents are French, but I was born and brought up in Tamil Nadu. When I was very young, I had Tamil friends and there wasn’t much of a consciousness of being any different from them. I think the first time I realised there was something to be conscious about as far as my identity as an Indian is concerned, is when I went to study in Ooty, where everyone expected me to be proficient in English because I look foreign,” she says. Years later, when she went to London to study, she faced the same problem. “This time round, they would think that I’m one of them and when I’d tell them ‘I’m Indian’, they would say ‘but you don’t look Indian’. I’d say my parents are French, but then, I didn’t sound French. I started picking up a British accent because, that way, it was just less of a hassle to explain,” she says.

Even now that she is a famous name, there are times when her struggle to establish her national identity persists. “Recently, I visited Arunachal Pradesh. If you are a citizen of India, you can get a permit to go in right at the Army border to the state; otherwise, you need to get a permit from Delhi. I asked for a permit, showed them my identification; but they simply could not fathom that someone white could be Indian,” says Kalki. “I had to speak in Hindi and make references to films I’ve acted in before they finally caught on to who I was and only then would they let me through.”

For Padmashree award-winner Tom Alter, who is of American descent, there is however no struggle. The actor states, “My story is very simple — I was born in India and I am an Indian. That is how I see myself.”

Choosing India:Having given much thought to what it means to be an Indian, Kalki believes that a true nationalist spirit shows itself in choosing to live and work for the country, despite having a choice not to. “The contribution can be through social or cultural activities, or something as simple as paying taxes. It is through the active choice that one makes each day to continue to be a citizen of the country that one shows patriotism,” she says.

Although officially not a citizen of the country, renowned jazz musician D. Wood, who has been living and working in India for over 30 years, concurs with this view. “Unlike the many people who have been born in India, I have chosen to live here after getting married. I have learnt a lot from the culture here and have even been lucky enough to be blessed with a half-Indian daughter,” says Wood. However, the self-proclaimed Indian-at-heart, has to face several issues every time his temporary authorisation to be in the country runs out. “There is no equivalent of a green card in this country. So, despite the fact that I have been living here for decades, and I have been paying my taxes and have done some community and social work, I still have only a temporary permit to stay here, which has to be renewed every year — it is a harrowing process,” he laments.

Tales from the enclaves: The instances become more complex as you get closer to the borders. Take for instance, the people who had been living in the enclaves around the India-Bangladesh border, who had to come face to face with a lack of a defined nationality in their daily lives. Known as Chitmahal, these enclaves were officially Indian land in Bangladesh and vice-versa, until, in 2015, through a popular vote, the people of the enclaves were able to choose their nationalities and gain the civil rights of the country they had chosen. Diptiman Sengupta, chief coordinator of the Citizens Rights Committee, formerly known as the Bharat Bangladesh Enclave Committee, remembers the plight of these communities: “The people here were not recognised by the surrounding countries. They did not have medical and educational facilities or even an organised municipality,” he says. Diptiman believes that the Chitmahal enclaves being accepted by their surrounding countries in 2015, is as vital a part of the country’s freedom struggle as was its Independence in 1947. “This was perhaps a demonstration of the freedom of choice at the most fundamental level. The people of Bangladesh who were living in the enclaves in India saw themselves as Indians. They had Indian friends, shopped in Indian bazaars, and sometimes, had Indian husbands and wives. Similarly, those in Bangladesh’s Indian enclaves saw themselves as Bangladeshi. When the time came to choose, they obviously chose the surrounding country, because they identified themselves with that country,” explains Diptiman.

The porous Bangladesh border: Chitmahal is not the only ambiguity in the West Bengal-Bangladesh border. Several districts of West Bengal also fall within Bangladesh territory, which continues to create confusion. Adwaita Haldar, a school teacher who lives just a little more than a mile away from Nadia district’s Bangladesh border, gives us an insight into the reality there. “The border has divided the district into two. So, there are plenty of comings and goings between Bangladesh and India, near the border. I remember, as a child, before the wired fence was put up between the countries, there was much more intermingling between Bangladeshis and Indians. Even now, many farmers here have land on both sides of the border,” says Haldar. He goes on to explain how the farming process works. “The farmers submit their voter IDs with the border patrol and then cross over everyday to farm their land. Every evening, they have to be back by five and collect their IDs from the BSF (Border Security Force),” he says.

Haldar’s neighbour, Santosh Kumar Dey, who crosses the border to go farming, shares how it has become a way of life. “The feeling is not so much that we are crossing a border to go to a foreign country but rather a part of routine, with a set number of rules that need to be followed,” he says.

According to the Haldar, it is only during Independence Day and other national celebrations that they feel the divide the most, because the security is much tighter at such times.