Indian “Secularism”

The BJP government has been in power at the federal level in India since 2014, and in various Indian states, e.g. Gujarat, for much longer. While BJP, like most national-level parties in India, is a broad church representing the entire spectrum of views from just Right-of-Centre to fringe Far Right bigotry, it seems (to me at least) that the Far Right has definitely been gaining ground. This is visible through a lot of what’s said explicitly or dog-whistled by various persons of consequence in the party. Besides, there’s an obvious attempt being made to influence ostensibly non-political institutions like the academia, cultural bodies, research funding agencies etc which directly/indirectly depend on the Government for funding and/or management.

The use of institutions for political gain is unfortunately not a new thing in India. This is an art perfected by the previous Congress governments, under whom, entire central university departments, the University Grants Commission (of which my Dad has many horror stories to recount!), historical and cultural research centres, scientific and industrial research centres, even the national archives were veritable arms of state propaganda and political power-play in true socialist fashion! Anyone can tell you that a country where even mathematics is politicized is fairly screwed up – yet that has been the condition of India for a very long time. And the rot really started setting in under the patron saint of Indian autocracy, Indira Gandhi, who subverted many institutions into instruments for projecting the ruling Government’s influence and narrative. Her rule was characterized by extreme nepotism – the main beneficiaries being the old and influential Kashmiri Pandit khandaan (families) of the erstwhile Moghal belt related to Nehrus, the Dhars, Haksars, Kaws, Razdans, Kauls and Katjus, who played a major part in running the country through the 70s and most of 80s.

The nepotism, corruption and utterly hollowed-out state of India’s public institutions headed by the ruling party’s yes-men contributed in many ways to the strong disestablishmentarian politics of the 70s and 80s in India – Janata Party & Jai Prakash Narayan‘s movement – in turn spawning off the modern day Rashtriya Janata Dal of Laloo Prasad, Samajvadi Party of Mulayam Singh Yadav and Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) with its RSS affiliations. These parties rode on the popular mandates against the Congress and when in power at either state/central levels, used exactly the same sorts of networks Congress (I) had created precedents for to project their own influence and narrative. The current BJP-led dispensation is not doing anything new or radical on the Indian political scene that the “secular” Congressis did not do. They are replacing Congressi stooges by Hindutva ideologues, using the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) to go after the sort the opposition had patronized and have subverted institutions in the same Indira-esque fashion but under the saffron banner this time. In fact, BJP leader Subramanian Swamy is quite brazen about this deliberate “correction” of institutions that he is executing for the BJP (including settling personal scores against the likes of Amartya Sen). This interview is a must see:

Of the many institutions/ideals of Western Enlightenment that animate the Indian Constitution, none has been so comprehensively dragged through mud by Indians as Secularism. From its lofty origins in the French Revolution, Indians have reduced it to mere euphemism for Muslim vote-bank politics and Mullah appeasement, one of the many cynical tools used by Indian politicians to keep hold of power. The infamous Shah Bano case under Rajiv Gandhi’s government is a watershed in the state’s use of “secularism” to further oppress the oppressed to get in the good books of a few regressive Mullahs (and hope they ask their congregations for votes).

The patronizing attitude of the Indian state towards Muslim citizens is a symptom of a wider malaise inherited from the British colonial state, of treating communities as the units of a nation state (and managing their conflicting interests as statecraft), rather than a model of governance based on rights and freedoms of citizens. So, for example, the manner in which the modern Indian state (or even Indian media) deals with the views of a woman who happens to be Muslim is to tag her as “Muslim” and then proceed to respond to her views by using received wisdom on how to deal with Muslims. It is akin to outsourcing all thinking to a colonial era manual on Muslim sensibilities and reducing every individual, suitably tagged, to that outmoded (and patronizing by design) community calculus. The fact that the citizen is a thinking individual with Constitutional freedoms and ideas of her own – which may be completely outside of the narrow confines of how the State thinks Muslims would/should react – is almost immaterial. That is the reason why a state which professes to be a modern Constitutional democracy, tolerated something as regressive as triple talaq for its citizens for as long as it did.

The manual has had a few updates courtesy Nehru since the original British blueprint, due to the creation of Pakistan and the predicament (N Indian) Muslims who stayed behind found themselves in. So, in the immediate aftermath of the Partition riots (more like genocide, actually!) of Muslims in North India, the Nehruvian Consensus took shape as an unwritten government policy to treat Muslims with kid gloves. This meant turning the gaze away from outdated social practices among Muslims, even while Hindu society was undergoing tremendous top-down social engineering (cf. Reservations). This was a well-intentioned, if doomed, policy by early Congress governments to nurture a Muslim middle-class to regain their importance in the politics of North India. However, its effect was exactly the reverse: it increased the importance of Muslim clergy (Deobandis, Jamiat Ulema-e Hind etc) who frequently assumed the role of interlocutors between Delhi and the vast Muslim population of the hinterland, and emboldened the Hindu Right who identified Secularism as partiality to and appeasement of (similarly demented) Islamic religious practices while their own Hindu version (caste-system, widow remarriage, cow fetishization etc) was being proscribed. The frustration of the Hindu Right with such policies led to the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi by an RSS ideologue, starting an ideological war that continues unabated to this day.

The virus of cultural relativism at work here is not just limited to Muslims alone and neither is the dismal state of Muslim society its worst manifestation. Indian government has condoned the practice of ritual murder of children by tribal populations in the name of preserving communities (as opposed to upholding human rights), with the head of an Indian Government organisation even referring to possible arrest of baby murderers as “mishandling”:

The pace of change worries specialists like S. A. Awaradi, the director of the Andaman and Nicobar Tribal Research Institute, who describes the tribe as “our human heritage.”

“This has been a self-sufficient civilization for thousands of years,” Mr. Awaradi said. “By mishandling, you are creating a blunder of civilization.”

BJP’s founding animus for all things Islamic means that, at least on face-value, they are against the cynical use of “secularism” to shield Mullahs and other regressive religious bodies from 21st century moral scrutiny. However, that goodwill for the Muslim downtrodden is ill-motivated, as the Hindutva movement is essentially revanchist in nature. It is a sad denouement of Indian liberalism that they have ceded moral high ground to the Hindutvavadis, when it comes to rights of the weak or minorities within Muslims. Hindutva movement itself was borne out of a deep-seated insecurity about the medieval Muslim rule in India, and the desire to reestablish continuity of modern-day India to some (frequently imaginary) pre-Islamic India of milk and honey. As the famous Bollywood movie song (sung by the Punjabi King Puru, just before he had his arse handed to him by Alexander) goes:

jahaN Dal-Dal per soney ki chiRiyaN karteeN haiN basera, voh bharat desh hai mera, voh Bharat desh hai mera.

Trans: Where on every (tree) branch sparrows-of-gold nest, 
that Bharata nation is mine, that Bharata nation is mine.

To the Hindutva movement Indo-Islamic art, architecture, music, dress, names, even Arabic/Farsi/Turkic loanwords in Indian languages and, above all, the existence of hundreds of millions of Muslims in India are inconvenient reminders of India’s indelible Islamic past. These facts are hard to swallow for a dyed-in-the-wool Hindutva fanatic and a daily reminder of the centuries of perceived humiliation of Hindus and their culture at the hands of successful Muslim invaders. Therefore Hindu Right has a tendency to distort/efface history taught in schools, discriminate in research funding for the study of specific periods of Indian history or display outright unwillingness for upkeep, maintenance or promotion of historical sites that do not gel with the government’s idea of what ought to be preserved. While Central Board school history syllabus in India has been largely spared of the Hindutva bile at least for now, the project has been on-going in state-level school boards (school education in India is not a Central Government responsibility) for a while. E.g. Maharashtra school board textbooks focus on history of relatively insignificant early Maratha kings to the point that Moghals seem little more than an occasional irritant in local politics, as opposed to overlords of the whole of Deccan. The latest controversy on UP Government’s decision to not include Taj Mahal in its tourism sites booklet is another case in point, a high-water mark in the rising tide of Hindutva politics. In terms of ideological bent, therefore, Hindutva ideologues, both old (like V D Savarkar) and new, totally concur with the views of Muslim nationalists like Jinnah, articulated beautifully in his historic Lahore address to the Muslim League:

The Hindus and Muslims belong to two different religious philosophies, social customs, and literature[s]. They neither intermarry nor interdine together, and indeed they belong to two different civilisations which are based mainly on conflicting ideas and conceptions. Their aspects [=perspectives?] on life, and of life, are different. It is quite clear that Hindus and Mussalmans derive their inspiration from different sources of history. They have different epics, their heroes are different, and different episode[s]. Very often the hero of one is a foe of the other, and likewise their victories and defeats overlap. To yoke together two such nations under a single state, one as a numerical minority and the other as a majority, must lead to growing discontent, and final. destruction of any fabric that may be so built up for the government of such a state.

While the pro-BJP swing seen in India since 2014 actually had as much to do with anti-incumbency sentiment against the Congress as Modi’s personal charisma and good PR of selling vikas (economic development) to the masses, it has inevitably led to strengthening of the cultural Hindutva core of the BJP. So, besides economic experimentation (not bad or ill-motivated in itself; though consequences are arguable) we also have the rise of cow-protection politics – an old pet project of the Hindu Right. The best example of this is Modi’s home state of Gujarat, where the BJP government has instituted a gauseva (lit. cow service) board, funded by taxpayers’ money of course. Besides the usual cow welfare monitoring, the board apparently issues advisory notices. The latest one is for women to switch to natural cow products for beauty treatment and claims gaumutra (lit. cow urine) can cure 108 (why not 110?) diseases including AIDS and cancer. Consider this gem, which is meant as advice to Gujarati women to turn them into “cleopatras”:

For healthy, glowing skin like Egyptian queen Cleopatra, use panchgavya, which is a concoction of cow urine, dung, milk, curd and clarified butter.

Gaumutra will remove dark circles, black spots and pimples. Use of panchgavya will give you long-lasting beauty.

We want women to understand the benefits of using cow milk, urine and dung to beautify themselves instead of damaging their skin by using chemicals.

While many may laugh off the above example as just a local idiosyncrasy, there is unfortunately a pattern to this growing government involvement with pseudo-Science that is deeply worrying and dangerous. Not to mention, cow fetishization has murderous social repercussions too: cow-protection vigilante violence, mob lynching, attacks on businesses etc.

But are these fears legitimate? As the argument goes, any Hindutva dream of converting India to a Hindu Shuddhsthan (land of the pure) modelled on Islamic Pakistan, only much larger and way more powerful, has to contend with the rough and tumble of Indian reality: the quotidian shoddiness of Indian bureaucracy, the general lack of civic duty within every mohalla (let alone pan-Indian paroxysms of patriotism which Hindu Right would like to engender), the deep-seated social cleavages of Hindu society, plurality of beliefs in the broad church of Hinduism, linguistic and racial divides (if caste weren’t enough already), the rise of an affluent and fairly Westernized middle-class that looks down on attitudes described above, and (most importantly of all) the Indian democratic setup.

Most of these frictions in India are rather obvious for a country of the size and population of India, yet they should not be taken for granted as a natural bulwark against authoritarian rule. Aggressive-nationalism is a very effective social meme (especially in combination with a pervasive victimhood complex) and its effect on human societies (esp. one as religious as India) must not be underestimated. In India, Hindutva ideology has also successfully managed to co-opt symbols of the Indian Republic, notably the flag and the Constitution as quasi-Hindu icons – the same symbols their ideological Jan Sangh forebears hated:

In an editorial published in the RSS mouthpiece, the Organiser, on the eve of India’s independence, the Sangh opposed the tricolour flag, declaring that “it never be respected and owned by the Hindus”. “The word three”, the editorial went on explain, “is in itself an evil, and a flag having three colours will certainly produce a very bad psychological effect and is injurious to a country.”


“But in our constitution, there is no mention of that unique constitutional development in ancient Bharat… To this day his laws as enunciated in the Manusmriti excite the admiration of the world and elicit spontaneous obedience and conformity. But to our constitutional pundits that means nothing.”

To be fair, India is not alone in this quasi-religious use of national symbols. American Right (e.g. Tea Party activists) also tend to apotheosize the Founding Fathers of the USA and the American Flag arouses similar devotional feeling. This is not entirely a negative thing (if kept in check) as patriotic idiocy is useful for the functioning of democracy and often such useful idiots make the best attack dogs protecting the same Constitutional values that obviate them. What keeps such people in check, however, is a solid institutional framework (judiciary, policing etc) that can enforce the rule of law and a social contract of abjuring the use of violence for political gain. These institutional and social checks are present in the United States but largely missing in India.

Therefore, I find the oft-touted Indian diversity argument to be quite parochial and really no match for genuine Hindu authoritarianism. Think about what the Pakistan movement could achieve by mobilizing opinion around religion with far fewer people and lesser resources. A politically unhindered Hindu Right is capable of just as much of a transformation within India – in spite of all the aforementioned social frictions. A rudderless opposition does not help matters either.

My own opinion on what can really save India from a terrible Hindu utopia is an unassuming, almost technical, feature of Indian electoral democracy: the first-past-the-post system that makes the fate of political leaders extremely sensitive to swings of public opinion. Note that the current BJP government only had 31% of the Indian voteshare, with Congress at 19.3%. This means just 5.9% swing of BJP voters to Congress would decimate BJP seats throughout the country’s constituencies. Obviously this mere technicality is contingent on a democratic culture, where the mandate is accepted by political parties and peaceful power transitions can occur. Obviously no body can predict the future, but if India’s post-Independence record is any indication whatsoever, I can safely wager Indians (for all their terrible shortcomings) manage that very well indeed!

Review: Hell! No Saints in Paradise

AK Asif’s debut novel mixes dystopian science fiction, sufism, politics, humor and Salafist Islam to create a stunning and unexpected joy-ride through post-apocalyptic Pakistan in 2050. Of course it is no longer called Pakistan (there being no P in Arabic), it is now called Al-Bakistan, and it is ruled by a Khalifa who established law and order after the proletariat rose in revolt and decapitated the ruling elite in a paroxysm of rioting and holy war a few years earlier.

Continue reading “Review: Hell! No Saints in Paradise”

Race is not just skin color

“The southern Indians resemble the Ethiopians a good deal, and, are black of countenance, and their hair black also, only they are not as snub-nosed or so woolly-haired as the Ethiopians; but the northern Indians are most like the Egyptians in appearance.”

– Arrian

I might almost say that the same animals are to be found in India as in Aethiopia and Egypt, and that the Indian rivers have all the other river animals except the hippopotamus, although Onesicritus says that the hippopotamus is also to be found in India. As for the people of India, those in the south are like the Aethiopians in colour, although they are like the rest in respect to countenance and hair (for on account of the humidity of the air their hair does not curl), whereas those in the north are like the Egyptians.


The plot above is from Genetic Evidence for the Convergent Evolution of Light Skin in Europeans and East Asians. It’s a 2007 paper. For those of you not versed in genetics, 10 years is like the difference between the First Age and Third Age on Middle Earth. For those of you not versed in Tolkien, 10 years is like the difference between Gupta India and Maratha India? I think?

Basically, the authors looked around the regions of the genome of loci known to be implicated in pigmentation variation in 2007, which mostly started from differences between Europeans and Africans. In the plot above you see pairwise genetic distances visualized in a neighbor-joining tree. The populations are:

SA = Asians, IM = Island Melanesians, WA = West Africans, EU = Europeans, EA = East Asians, and NA = Native Americans

What you see is that pigmentation loci are not phylogenetically very informative. Because of ascertainment bias in discovery Europeans are an out-group on many of the genes. But overall you see that the trees generated by a relationship on pigmentation genes do not conform to what we’d expect, where Africans are an outgroup to non-Africans. This is not surprising, as any given locus is not too phylogenetically informative. Additionally, pigmentation is a trait where selection has likely changed allele frequencies a lot, so it’s not a very good trait to look at to determine evolutionary relationships.

A white actress?

I bring this up because The New York Times and other publications are reporting on a new paper in Science, Loci associated with skin pigmentation identified in African populations, with headlines like Genes for Skin Color Rebut Dated Notions of Race, Researchers Say.

The Science paper is very interesting because it helps to make up for the long-term ascertainment bias in the literature, whereby European differences from other groups helped to discover pigmentation loci of interest. The big topline result is that there’s a lot of extant variation within Africans, and much of it is very old, pre-dating modern humans by hundreds of thousands of years, implying long-term balancing selection to maintain polymorphism.

Here’s a quote from The New York Times piece:

For centuries, skin color has held powerful social meaning — a defining characteristic of race, and a starting point for racism.

“If you ask somebody on the street, ‘What are the main differences between races?,’ they’re going to say skin color,” said Sarah A. Tishkoff, a geneticist at the University of Pennsylvania.

The widespread distribution of these genes and their persistence over millenniums show that the old color lines are essentially meaningless, the scientists said. The research “dispels a biological concept of race,” Dr. Tishkoff said.

I can go along with all the sentences more or less except the last. Skin is the largest organ we have, and it’s pretty salient. West Asian Muslims regularly referred to Indians as “black” (early Islamic Arabs referred to the people of Sindh as “black crows”). They defined themselves as white (though contrasted their own olive complexion with ruddy Europeans). The Chinese referred to themselves as white, and Southeast Asians, such as the inhabitants of the ancient Cambodian kingdom of Funan, as black. Among South Asians, skin color is also very salient. During the period when Pakistan included a western and eastern half the West Pakistanis were known to refer to the Bengalis as blacks, while East Pakistanis who went to study in the West, like my father, were surprised that not all Pakistanis were white like Ayub Khan.

Sharon Muthu, Indian American actress

But racial perception and categorization are not identical with skin color. The ancients knew this intuitively, as the quotes from Arrian and Strabo above suggest. They were aware that South Asians were dark-skinned, but those in the north were lighter than those in the south, and that those in the south resembled Africans in the range of their complexion. But, they also knew that it was not difficult to distinguish a South Asian from an African in most cases, because South Asians have different hair forms and to some extent facial features, from Africans.

I know this myself personally. Living in almost white areas of the United States for most of my childhood I encountered some racism. My skin tone is within the range of African Americans. But when it came to racial slurs I was usually called “sand nigger”, or more sometimes “camel jockey.” Please note that the modifier sand. Even racists understood to distinguish people of similar hues who were clearly physically distinctive.

Conversely, African Americans did not usually recognize me as African American. Living in the Pacific Northwest there aren’t many non-whites. It’s also very rainy. Sometimes when I was wearing my Columbia jacket with hood black men walking from the other direction on the sidewalk would start to nod at me, assuming I was black. But mid-way through the nod as they approached me they recognized that despite my brown color I was not African American and would stop the motion and switch to a manner of distanced politeness as opposed to informal warmth.*

Finally, I also had East Asian friends who were very light-skinned. As light-skinned as any white person of Southern European heritage. That did not prevent racists from calling them “chinks” or (more rarely) “gooks.” These racists were seeing beyond the skin color.

If ancient authors from 2,000 years ago understood that race is more than skin color, and if genuine bigots understand race is more than skin color, I fail to understand why so often the public discourse in the United States acts as if race is just skin color. We know it’s not so.

The reason I’m posting this on Brown Pundits is that the focus on skin color made sense to me growing up in the United States, but as someone of South Asian ancestry I also knew it was not sufficient as a classifier. I knew when I was probably around five. Many South Asians see a huge range in skin color within their immediate families. That is, empirically the fact that there were large effect QTLs segregating within South Asians is obvious to any South Asian who grew up around South Asians.**

My mother is of light brown complexion. My father is of dark brown complexion. My mother’s complexion is fair enough that she is usually assumed to be Latina if she doesn’t speak (her accent is clearly South Asian), and in cases has been misjudged to be Southern European. My father, like his mother, is in contrast on the darker side. Their Bengali friends would joke that they were an interracial relationship.

My father’s father was very light skinned, and his mother was very dark skinned. Some of his siblings were dark, some of them were light, and some of them were between. One of my father’s brothers is basically a doppelganger of my father, except he is lighter skinned.

And yet there was never a question that both my parents were ethnically Bengali. They were both people with deep roots in Comilla in eastern Bengal. Now that I have their genotypes I can tell you that my parents are genetically clearly from the same region of Bengal; they cluster together even compared to other Bangladeshis. In fact, my father is more Indo-Aryan (every so slightly) shifted than my mother. I suspect it is through his mother, whose father was born into a family of recently converted Brahmins. It is clear that skin color is not predicting phylogeny in this case, and I am sure many South Asians intuitively grasp this because of the variation in complexion they see across their families, who are usually from the same sub-ethnic group in any case.***

A multiracial United States is going to be more complex world than the situation before 1965, when America’s racial consciousness was partitioned between black and white (notwithstanding Native Americans, Hispanos and other Latinos in the Southwest, and a residual of Asian Americans). But sometimes I feel the intellectual and cultural elite of this nation is stuck in the paradigm of 1964.

* I have a friend from Kerala in South India who has talked about being mistaken for being Ethiopian.

** I am the only South Asian my daughter has grown up around, and her complexion is far closer to her mother’s than my own. She did have a difficult time distinguishing me from black males in her early years because to her my dark-skin is very salient. When her mother asked her to give reasons why African American males might look different from her father, she immediately clued in on the hair and facial features.

*** Black Americans and Middle Easterners, and a whole host of other groups where pigmentation loci segregation in appreciable frequencies, can all see that differences in skin color do not necessarily denote differences in race, since there is so much intra-familial variation.

Home – Lost, Found and Imagined

One of Brown Pundit’s commentators, Ruchira, wrote a wonderful piece (titled similarly to this post) on her sadly discontinued still archived but profound blog, Accidental Blogger, in 2007 about being an NRI. It was really very well-written and I thought I would reproduce it here for its 10+ year anniversary. For someone like myself who has such diverse origins and is also “peripatetic” (it’s always nice to have to google words to refresh on their exact meaning); this piece really resonated with me.

This is one of the few personal essays Ruchira had written on her blog and her father-in-law, mentioned below, passed away last year in 2016. I have excerpted & italicized a particularly moving passage on him as he was a noted Urdu writer. 

It is bittersweet that Urdu, an exalted melange borne of poets, warriors & nomads, is cursed to wrestle with death every few generations in the bloodiest of circumstances (1857, 1947, 1971). Truly a tongue more suited for war than peace, for pain than pleasure but then perhaps that is what makes it so achingly beautiful and ephemeral.

A noted Urdu writer, my father-in-law has written extensively on his experience and that of others during these traumatic times. One of his most acclaimed books tells the story of Indian Muslim refugees in Pakistan transforming their new domicile in Karachi into the Indian city of Lucknow from where they were displaced, brick by brick in their dreams. His literary account of the losses on both sides of the border vacillates between regret, fear and doubt – sometimes harshly critical, sometimes sadly sentimental and always nostalgic. Unlike my own family, my husband’s parents have visited Pakistan several times – until fairly recently. I have often wondered why my father-in-law couldn’t let go of the memories while my own parents were able to. Was it because he made the partition his literary genre and therefore it remained on his mind long afterwards or conversely, did he write about it because he couldn’t get over the loss?  Could it be that the carnage he witnessed was so etched in his mind that he bears a far greater sense of betrayal? I don’t know.

All in all a very wonderful and lyrical piece, which I’m very happy to share below.

Home – Lost, Found and Imagined

More than twenty six years ago, I left New Delhi, India to follow my peripatetic husband on a journey that would take us across two new continents and four different cities. Until then my birthplace Delhi, was the only home I had known.  Most of my family and all my friends lived there and frankly, I had never imagined leaving that comfortable zone of familiarity except for travel and tourism. In the years since the initial uprooting, the idea of home has undergone dramatic changes in my mind, as has the definition of comfort zone. What exactly is home for any one of us?  Where the heart is or where the hearth is? Is it the place we ourselves grew up in or where we bring up our children?  Do we define it by the food, the smells, the climate or the faces around us? Or is much of it in our minds?

For ages humans have left their homes in search of food and adventure, as also in fear. They have set down new roots in unfamiliar landscapes . Having done so, they have surely at one time or another reflected back on that decision and wondered if their lives were better or worse for having left. Good and bad fortunes are both ascribed to the decision to leave one’s homestead.

Severing ties with once familiar surroundings can come about in two ways – voluntarily and involuntarily.  For some it is a deliberate choice of a new life in a new place. Others leave under the threat of natural or man made disasters. There is no doubt that the initial trauma and the feeling of helplessness is much greater for the latter group. But after years, when things have settled down and a modicum of normalcy returns, do things even out?  Do those who are violently uprooted from their nests continue to pine for their loss longer and more keenly than those who leave peacefully? During WWII did European Jews fleeing the horror in their homeland miss Poland, Germany, Hungary and Lithuania once they found safe haven elsewhere? Or were they able to shed their attachment for the “home” that didn’t accord them dignity and provide sanctuary? Will Palestinian refugees ever accept a peace settlement with Israel without a “right of return” clause?  Are displaced persons from war torn regions more or less nostalgic about their homes than immigrants such as myself who chose to relocate under placid circumstances? Or is it all in our head, how rooted or uprooted we feel in one place or another?

Both of my parents and my father- in-law lost their ancestral homes during the partition of India to what was to become Pakistan (east & west). My own parents came from the eastern wing of partitioned India which saw far less sustained violence than the western part to which my husband’s family belonged. My parents’ side of the family lost considerably more in material wealth and social standing than did my in-laws. Yet there was a dramatic difference in the way the two families chose to remember their loss. Although their circumstances had been seriously and even brutally altered, my parents and other close relatives went on to live reasonably comfortable lives in India, going about their business in a forward looking manner. They explained the partition in terms of politics, history and the perfidy of the British. Their progeny (me included), born in independent India in safe and peaceful circumstances heard their stories and in their imagination, often conjured up a sense of loss more wrenching than the refugees themselves felt. But that is always the peculiar burden of subsequent generations – to feel more helpless, more enraged and more emotionally bereft for the sufferings of their elders. The victims themselves who live through the terror and the humiliation manage to often remember their experience with aloofness and perhaps even triumph, looking back at discrete events which they managed to survive against all odds.

Like my family, my father-in-law too did well for himself in east Africa (he left India soon after the partition) and in India where he returned several years later. But to this day, he remains very sentimental about his interrupted life and his erstwhile home from where he and his family escaped with little more than the shirts on their backs. He witnessed widespread violence during the bloody mayhem that accompanied India’s wrenching territorial partition and population exchange. A noted Urdu writer, my father-in-law has written extensively on his experience and that of others during these traumatic times. One of his most acclaimed books tells the story of Indian Muslim refugees in Pakistan transforming their new domicile in Karachi into the Indian city of Lucknow from where they were displaced, brick by brick in their dreams. His literary account of the losses on both sides of the border vacillates between regret, fear and doubt – sometimes harshly critical, sometimes sadly sentimental and always nostalgic. Unlike my own family, my husband’s parents have visited Pakistan several times – until fairly recently. I have often wondered why my father-in-law couldn’t let go of the memories while my own parents were able to. Was it because he made the partition his literary genre and therefore it remained on his mind long afterwards or conversely, did he write about it because he couldn’t get over the loss?  Could it be that the carnage he witnessed was so etched in his mind that he bears a far greater sense of betrayal? I don’t know.

Last month I came across the poem, “How Do You Like Austin?” by Maurice Leiter at Brian Leiter’s blog. It is apt to quote a few lines from the poem here.

How do you like your new home? …

But isn’t it different from New York?

I am different from them both.
Once the sightseeing is done,
There is really no place
That is not home.

After initial few years of slight disorientation (especially the two years in Germany), like Maurice Leiter, I too no longer fret about where “home” is. It now is a state of mind that transcends  geography. I have found wonderful friends and a rhythm of life that I can enjoy almost everywhere I have lived. In the early days when I visited Delhi, I felt I was going “home.” Gradually as the years went by, the return flight to the US began to acquire the feel of “coming home.”  Since the death of my parents, Delhi, which I still love to visit, feels less and less like the home I knew.  Also, I am now much less connected to the political / social reality in India, a connection which for me, is vital to feeling at home. Delhi will never fully cease to be “home” for me – it is thoroughly integrated in my memory and my imagination. But “home” now no longer evokes a single concrete image as it did in my youth. Several others vie for that honor – places where I have been, where I am now … and hopefully  also where I will be in the future. I can now go back and forth physically between these spaces at different times and emotionally inhabit them simultaneously.  All feel equally comfortable and I don’t have the need to transpose one upon the other to create an illusion of the perfect “home.”

The Mujahid Revolt in Arakan in 1952 (and a SOAS report on the Rohingyas)

The following is a report prepared by the British Foreign office about the “Mujahid Revolt” in Arakan around the time of Burmese independence. It provides good background on the Rohingya issue and is worth a read..

Below that is a report prepared by a researcher at SOAS in 2005, which gives some more background..

“This document is a transcript of an original British Foreign Office document held at the National Archives in Kew, Richmond, Surrey under File Reference FO 371/101002 – FB 1015/63”

FB 1015/63
The Mujahid Revolt in Arakan


1. The Akyab district of Arakan, the northern parts of which are now the scene of a Muslim rebellion, is even less well provided with communications than are most parts of Burma, and its inaccessibility and its remoteness from the centre of government are principal factors in making the rising possible. The district is separated from Burma proper by the hills of the Arakan Yoma, and west of this range a series of rivers, running roughly from north to south and divided from one another by parallel ranges of higher ground, split the district into several parts between which, as between the district as a whole and the rest of Burma, communication is difficult. On the west, the Naf river flows south to the sea, and in its lower reaches forms the frontier between Burma and East Pakistan.
2. The northern part of the Akyab district comprises two administrative areas, known as townships, namely, the Buthidaung township consisting of the upper part of the Mayu river valley and the adjacent hills, and the Maungdaw township consisting of the lower Naf valley with the coastal strip running south from its estuary. The two townships, now the scene of so much disorder, are separated by hills known as the Mayu range. Though most of the Buthidaung township consists of hills, the Maungdaw townships contains the flat, intensively cultivated land along the lower Naf, and this is one of the most fertile and densely populated parts of Burma. In both townships, the people depend on agriculture for their livelihood, and apart from minor village handicrafts, there is no industry.
3. Owing to the nature of the country, the easiest means of communication both within it and between it and other parts of Arakan is water-transport, either by coastal craft plying to the Naf estuary or by inland-water transport along the Naf and Mayu rivers. Roads are few and poor; railways do not exist. Formerly a light railway ran from the town of Maungdaw on the Naf to the town of Buthidaung on the Mayu, passing through two tunnels on the way; it was constructed by the Arakan Flotilla Company to link their services on the Naf with those on the Mayu and to provide an inland route by which the rice of Maungdaw might reach the rice-mills at Akyab, but it was later abandoned and developed into a metalled roadway. In general, land movement in Buthidaung and Maungdaw townships must be effected by bullock-cart track or by jungle-path. Thus the north of the Akyab district is essentially isolated.
Continue reading “The Mujahid Revolt in Arakan in 1952 (and a SOAS report on the Rohingyas)”

Where no one has gone before

I have been watching the new Star Trek series, Discovery, on Netflix. It is canon, by which trekkies (a tribe I claim membership of) refer to the Star Trek stories that are consistent with the timeline and events of the Original Series by Gene Roddenberry. The consistency is not only narrative but also referential, i.e. characters and stories explicitly refer to, and sometimes presume knowledge of, previously shown stories.

For the uninitiated, Star Trek has had 5 television series so far: Original Series, Next Generation, Deep Space 9, Voyager and Enterprise, and Star Trek Discovery is the latest addition. The series started in the late 60s, which was a time of much cultural tumult in the West. The impact this TV series has had on human (esp. Western) culture for the last half a century has been nothing short of phenomenal and this is a topic for an entire book, probably several books, let alone a blog. So I’d rather not wax lyrical about this and just summarize my opinion of the series for this review.

The basic premise of the Star Trek universe is a post-need human society in the 23rd-24th centuries CE, when technological advances have completely eliminated base needs like hunger, clothing, housing etc. Humans have discovered warp-travel, basically a form of exotic inter-stellar transport that involves warping space-time and have made contact with similar warp-enabled (humanoid) species across the galaxy. In typical 60s fashion, human-alien contact isn’t merely limited to chit-chat .. if you catch my drift 😉

Other than inter-species dalliances, serious political connections have also been forged with ‘enlightened’ aliens to form the United Federation of Planets – essentially a futuristic EU head-quartered on Earth. The (galactic peace & love kumbaya) agenda of the Federation is driven by the Star Fleet, an exploration-cum-military organisation that seems to have diverse duties ranging from terra-forming planets, to humanitarian missions, forging diplomatic ententes, scientific experimentation, fighting wars and, of course, good old SETI. The military character of Star Fleet has been intentionally downplayed, and in quite a few cases, this downplaying has been written into the plot. Star Fleet’s best, a band of quirky but resourceful (and racially, specially and computationally diverse) guys, aboard various flagships with self-congratulatory names like Enterprise, Voyager and now Discovery form the core of the protagonists in various series.

Star Trek ostensibly tries to represent not just technological but moral advancement of the human race. A sensible assumption as one could argue that you cannot have the former without the latter. However, it fails in this goal somewhat. The primary moral of the Star Trek folk, as averred repeatedly in many episodes throughout the series, is the Prime Directive, i.e. the people of the Federation mustn’t interfere in the goings-on of technologically lesser species, even if that means letting entire species perish when you know you can bring superior knowledge/technology to bear to save them. This principle of non-interference (or neutrality) in the face of circumstance and natural evolution is explored in various episodes, sometimes challenged by members of the crew, sometimes bent to suit tactical needs but never explicitly broken. One can fathom and sympathise with the reason this Directive even entered the narrative of a US-based television series coincident with the fag-end of the Vietnam War, but to me this represents a real kink in an otherwise spectacular series.

Prime Directive is essentially moral relativism in disguise. It is about treating sentient beings and rational agents as being little more than apes or animals in reservations, who need to fight it out or do whatever lesser beings do without Federation intervening. The moral laws that animate the Federation do not apply to these lesser sentients, as they haven’t graduated to the technological level at which the Federation considers them worthy of evaluation against Federation’s own moral calculus. In some cases, the Federation even has anthropological outposts to study the culture of primitive natives, without letting the subjects know of course. Things obviously go south and we have the defenders of the Prime Directive saving the natives from themselves. Needless to add this is patronizing and deeply immoral, even though the tone of the series is to make a virtue out of it. Quite akin to the bigotry of low expectations prevalent in contemporary “liberal” elite in Western societies about immigrant communities in their midst, or to the Indian-flavour of “secularism” with its regressive personal laws.

ST series do not follow the chronological order in ST timeline, e.g. the last series Enterprise was also set in the earliest period of the ST universe and events in the currently airing Discovery are set 10 years before the Original Series. Each series is centred around a Starfleet flagship crew, except Deep Space 9, which is situated on a fixed space-station. But don’t let that fool you, as shit gets real with alarming regularity for DS9 folks too as their station is conveniently placed next to a worm-hole connected to a different part of the Galaxy, bringing the proverbial battle home.

Where there are ships and crews, there are captains and trekkies typically have their favourites – often points of deep contention. The original series had the typically swashbuckling do-gooder American hero, aptly named James Tiberius Kirk, given to occassional bouts of extreme risk-taking behaviour. Thankfully, however, his cool-as-cryogenically-treated-hydrogen Vulcan first officer, Spock, is usually at hand to temper the dude’s suicidal mania. Vulcan temperance notwithstanding Kirk manages to get away with a lot usually, including showing fancy alien women a good time, all the while saving the Universe with nothing more than a phaser and a philosophy lesson. And just when you think captains can’t get any better, we get Sir Patrick Stewart, as Jean-Luc Picard, The Next Generation Starfleet captain. Swashbuckling too but with the under-stated suaveness of an Englishman and the baritone of a Shakespearean thespian to boot. TNG is by far my favourite series, partly because I grew up watching it as a kid in the 90s, but also because it is terribly good sci fi. The focus on problem-solving and the exploration of many scientific, philosophical and moral conundrums makes TNG the best science fiction ever on TV in my opinion. Besides the characters always get time to get together for a philosophical brainstorming session over tea, even in the middle of a do-or-die battle with the Borg – cool arch-villains of Star Trek introduced in TNG. Borg are everything that humans are not. They are drone like automatons who love nothing better than assimilating species and make them part of their Borg collective. Inter-galactic commies, basically!

The current series of Star Trek is clearly a lot more visually appealing than the previous ones, as modern CGI tech has come a long way from the clunky, match-box starships of the 60s. The opening theme has been innovated too, but I do prefer the old version. Nostalgia, really! The storyline of Discovery is also a lot darker. None of the cheerful adventure or philosophizing over cups of earl-grey in this one. The episodes form a much tighter narrative arc, unlike the more episodic earlier versions and the perspective has shifted from the captain of the crew to a disgraced first-officer who mutinied against her captain in her previous post. Starfleet officers (including the new captain played by the English actor Jason Issacs, well known for his on-screen villainy) are no longer the do-gooders but morally ambiguous, even malicious, and the general feel is quite gritty as the Federation are drawn into a war of attrition with the Klingons (a formidable martial culture who are yet untamed by the Federation, given this series’ early timeline). I loved the fact that none of the Klingons actually speak English, like they did in earlier series, but tlhIngan hol – an artificial language with grammar & phonetics developed from linguistic first-principles. I don’t know about others, but its clipped nature reminds me of Japanese.

All in all, a good reboot of the classic series, and I eagerly await the remaining episodes. My judgement is clouded by a lifetime of trekkie bias to be too critical of Star Trek. All I can say is they had me at “these are the voyages”.

Life expectancy in South Asia

India is very heterogeneous. Nevertheless, the contrast between Assam and Bangladesh is very curious to me.

1 Kerala 74.9 74.0
2 Delhi 73.2
3 Jammu and Kashmir 72.6
4 Uttarakhand 71.7 60.0
5 Himachal Pradesh 71.6 67.0
5 Punjab 71.6 69.4
5 Maharashtra 71.6 67.2
8 Tamil Nadu 70.6 66.2
9 West Bengal 70.2 64.9
10 Karnataka 68.8 65.3
11 Gujarat 68.7 64.1
12 Haryana 68.6 66.2
13 Andhra Pradesh (includes Telangana) 68.5 64.4
14 Bihar 68.1 61.6
* India 67.9 63.5
15 Rajasthan 67.7 62.0
16 Jharkhand 66.6 58.0
17 Odisha 65.8 59.6
18 Chhattisgarh 64.8 58.0
19 Madhya Pradesh 64.2 58.0
20 Uttar Pradesh 64.1 60.0
21 Assam 63.9 58.9

Review: Jaya by Devdutt Pattanaik



Dr Pattanaik (a medical doctor who became a pharmaceutical executive and then a writer on mythology and an amateur Indologist) has written ”Jaya”, a modern (and highly condensed) “retelling” of the ancient Indian epic, the Mahabharata.  The Mahabharata, in its canonical Sanskrit version (which was likely finalized sometimes in the first 500 years CE) consists of 18 parts of varying length, and is by far the longest epic poem in the world (a 100,000 verses, ten times longer than the Iliad and Odyssey combined). The poem itself states that this is an expanded version of an earlier, much shorter epic, so there is no question about the fact that it has multiple authors who have added and subtracted (mostly added) material over hundreds or even thousands of years to what was probably a much more compact original. A complete English translation (complete as far as possible at that time) was carried out by Krishan Mohan Ganguly and published in 1896 and is available online at Sacred Texts.  It is, of course, extremely long and is written in somewhat archaic and ornate English (for example the word “puissant” is used every time one of the characters is described as powerful; which, as you can imagine, happens a lot in an epic about powerful people), but it has a certain old-fashioned charm and I can attest that dipping into it to look up a particular episode, or just at random, can be an addictive exercise. Scholars, meanwhile, have continued to refine the canonical text,  and new, presumably more authoritative, collections and translations continue to be published. Not being a scholar of either Indic literature or the Mahabharata, I will say no more on that topic, so on to Jaya. Continue reading “Review: Jaya by Devdutt Pattanaik”

Indian Zero? Pakistani Zero?

Carbon-dating of a Sanskrit manuscript in Oxford’s Bodleian library, originally excavated from the village of Bakhshali in British-India’s North-West frontier province (now renamed Khyber-Pakhtunkhva in modern-day Pakistan), recently created a seismic shift in our understanding of the history of mathematics. It pushed the earliest recorded date of the use of zero as a placeholder in the cardinal number system, that used nine signs for counting and calculation, by half a millennium. The actual evidence for the use of zero as a full-fledged number (in the decimal system) comes from Brahmagupta Siddhanta, by the Indian mathematician Brahmagupta from Ujjain.

close-up image of folio 16v

The Bakhshali manuscript, as it has come to be known, is written in Sanskrit in the Sharada script (the liturgical script still used for Kashmiri, and the ancestor of Gurmukhi). All references to this news, including the few in Pakistani English press, referred to the document as Indian. Unsurprising in itself, as Pakistan treats everything with any relation to Sanskrit as Indian. I am not aware of much Sanskrit expertise in Pakistan’s universities [happy to be corrected, if this is inaccurate!] and conflation of Sanskrit with Hinduism (and Pakistan’s founding animus for it) may have something to do with this notion. E.g. here’s a piece on a rich collection of long neglected Sanskrit documents found at Punjab University Lahore:

A rich treasure of knowledge — an invaluable collection of 9,075 Sanskrit manuscripts on various branches and disciplines of Sanskrit literature — is lying unexplored in Punjab University (PU) library in Lahore since partition. Though they have been preserved properly for decades, hardly any effort was made in the past to study the contents of these manuscripts in detail. Insiders say this indifference was because that the state was least interested in seeking expertise of Sanskrit scholars in India and sharing even an iota of knowledge with them.


So far we have received high-tech cameras and equipment from Koreans to digitise all the contents of these manuscripts. To date, we have not handed them over any manuscript either in original form or in duplicate.” He says at a later stage — once the digitisation process is complete — Koreans can come here to teach Sanskrit to our people

The travesty is that Pakistanis are taught Sanskrit by Koreans. It’s as bad as Chinese giving Latin lessons to the French.

Back to the Bakhshali manuscript, however … I had the chance to see some Pakistanis on twitter express the notion that this manuscript should not be referred to as “Indian”. According to them, India (the state) is a modern state, day younger than Pakistan and cannot lay claim to a document composed anywhere between 224-383 CE (possibly coincident with the Gupta Empire across modern-day N India & Pakistan; 320 CE-550 CE) in a region that’s now Pakistani. So there’s more reason to call it a Pakistani manuscript and a testament to Pakistani creativity, or so the argument goes.

Image result for gupta empire

While many (probably most) Indians will automatically dismiss this claim as another “crazy Pakistani fantasy”, I think that is incorrect and this claim merits some serious thought.

The lowest hanging fruit is the claim that the modern political state (Union) of India was founded a day later than Pakistan. This actually is untrue, and the source is bigdaddy Jinnabhai himself in his “Message to the Nation”:

It is with feelings of greatest happiness and emotion that I send you my greetings. August 15 is the birthday of the independent and sovereign State of Pakistan. It marks the fulfillment of the destiny of the Muslim nation which made great sacrifices in the past few years to have its homeland.

But how about there being no state called “India” in the past and that India is really a modern nation state? I think this holds a lot more water than most people (Indians) realize. India is a modern nation-state, and its political culture differs from what came before in very important ways. E.g. there’s no denying the fact that India never had any culture of universal adult franchise before, or never before in India was an exercise in active, top-down social engineering been attempted (cf. caste reservations for the uninitiated), or women given legally equal status as men, or the existence of a single federal state unifying everything from the Andaman & Nicobar Islands to Ladakh etc. These laws and the culture that animates them are thoroughly unIndian in provenance. To a guy from, say, the Gupta Empire modern India would therefore be politically foreign, revolting and fascinating in equal measure.

India of today in my view is very much a freshly-minted country and so much the better for it. However, cultural continuities exist, just as they do for France from the early Frankish Carolingian kingdom to the ancien regime to the post-Revolution Fifth Republic. Clearly the region under Charlemagne (< Lt. Carolus Magnus) did not have the exact same territorial boundaries as modern France – it in fact included some territories of what’re now Germany, Italy, Switzerland, Belgium and Spain. Politically too French Revolution mutated the very DNA of the French state. Yet, the Frankish Carolingians founded and unified France as a Catholic state. The emblematic French fleur de lis (lily flower) also owes its use to the Carolingian dynasty.

Seen in that light, India really is in some respects the successor state of the Mauryan Empire and India’s founding fathers knew this all too well (cf. Lion Capital of Sarnath). Much of India was divided and re-unified many times over from the first Mauryan unification of the Mahajanapadas, the last (partial) re-unification being under the Marathas until their confederacy fell to the British in 1818. Megasthenes, the Seleucid Greek ambassador in Chandragupta (Sandrokoptos to Greeks) Maurya’s court said this about the country he was the ambassador in:

India, which is in shape quadrilateral, has its eastern as well as its western side bounded by the great sea, but on the northern side it is divided by Mount Hemodos (Himalayas) from that part of Skythia which is inhabited by those Skythians who are called the Sakai, while the fourth or western side is bounded by the river called the Indus, which is perhaps the largest of all rivers in the world after the Nile. The extent of the whole country from east to west is said to be 28,000 stadia, and from north to south 32,000.

I think the description above doesn’t leave much to imagination about what India was in the minds of Classical writers. Modern-day India is not geographically completely identical to the above definition, but the description is well-nigh accurate. Barring the thin NW slice of Punjab and Sindh between Indian border and the Indus riparian, that now exists within Pakistan, and including regions of far NE, which were beyond the pale in the Mauryan period, India more-or-less is the same entity geographically.

Finally, does India have some/any cultural continuity from the Gupta period when the Bakhshali manuscript was written? This is a hard question as a lot of water has flown down the Indus and Ganges since. Nonetheless, some cultural motifs survive, including the most important of all – language. An Indian of the 21st century (like me) learns enough spoken Sanskrit in school to have a rudimentary dialogue with the authors of this manuscript. On the other hand, if the Bakhshali manuscript writers were to suddenly travel in time to modern Indian Punjab they will be able to read some Gurmukhi and recognize a few familiar words in it. They’ll see the people who look like them, have a similar accent in speech, relate to the same cultural reference points (say of the Indian Epics), keep long hair (another old Indian marker of piety) and every second person with “Inder” in their names. Basically enough indication that these modern Indian Punjabis (or Himachalis, Haryanvis, Dogras, Kashmiris etc) are of the same cultural strain.

The same can be said of the French v Latin, or Greeks v Classical (Homeric) Greek, though not of Iranians v Old Persian. A Sanskrit-knowing Pandit from Benaras can understand more of the inscriptions of Darius and Cyrus with some effort than your average Iranian – a testament to how cleanly Arabs wiped that slate. Indeed, Old Persian grammar was reconstructed by modern linguists by directly extrapolating from Sanskrit. An example of how similar the languages are:

  • \ adam \ Dârayavauš \ xšâyathiya \ vazraka \ xšâyathiya \ xšâyathiy
  • ânâm \ xšâyathiya \ Pârsaiy \ xšâyathiya \ dahyûnâm \ Višt
  • âspahyâ \ puça \ Aršâmahyâ napâ \ Haxâmanišiya \ thâtiy \
  • Dârayavauš \ xšâyathiya \ manâ \ pitâ \ Vištâspa \ Vištâspahyâ \ pitâ \ Arš
  • âma \ Aršâmahyâ \ pitâ \ Ariyâramna \

Sanskrit translation:

aham DharavAsu*, kshatriya vardhaka, kshatriya

kshatriyanam, kshatriya paraseya, kshatriya dasyunam

Vishtashvasya putra, Arshamasya napa, Sakhamanaseya. AH iti

DharavAsu kshatriyaH: mam pitA Vishtashva, Vishtashvasya pitA

Arshama, Arshamasya pitA Arya-ramana ..

[Note that “Darayavahus” (which is Darius in actual Old Persian) is the exact cognate of Sanskrit Dharavasu (lit. holder of good), but in Sanskrit this compound is formed as Vasudhara instead, a commonly attested name in India to date. Also the Persian title of kings, “shah” is simply a corruption of Old Persian “khshayathiya” cognate of Sanskrit “kshatriya”]

While classical history in Iran has essentially been lost, in Pakistan the slate is in the process of being wiped clean – as the Sanskrit document collection example indicates. Only time will tell how far this effacing process continues.

To be brown is to be a civilization

Though I often disagree with him, I do enjoy Zach’s perspective on things because they are different from mine, though we exhibit similarities (e.g., both of us generally align with the center-Right in Anglophone societies). Zach may be one of the first cosmopolitan desis in his pedigree; he, himself of part-Persian heritage, marrying a South Indian Sindhi, probably to raise a family in England. In contrast, I may be the last brown person in my pedigree for a while, fading into legend and myth (or infamy!).

But one of the things I think is important to emphasize is South Asia is a civilizational entity straight-jacketed for historical reasons into a few nation-states. Though India and China are often compared together, they are totally incomparable insofar as the Han majority of China exhibit a racial and linguistic unity which South Asians do not (even though southeast Chinese dialects are unintelligible with Mandarin, the written language is the same).

By and large, I am predisposed to agree that someone like Zach is more prototypically South Asian than I am. Despite his religious heterodoxy his cultural rootedness in the Northwest quadrant of the subcontinent does put him at the “center of the action,” so to speak. In contrast, my own family’s recent origins are on the far eastern fringe of recognizably desi territory…. That is, my family is from the eastern portion of eastern Bengal (my grandmother was almost killed by the crazy elephant of the maharani of Tripura!). It’s interesting that 3,000 years after the emergence of Iron Age South Asian cultures the fulcrum of South Asian identity is where it began all those millennia ago (there was a period between the Mauryas and the Guptas when Bihar was the center).

Talking about what is more prototypically desi is like talking about what is more prototypically “European.” Being French or German is more prototypically European than being Albanian or Russian. We could argue why, but in your heart you know it’s true. There are definitions of Europeans which exclude Albanians and Russians (even though I’d disagree with those personally), but no plausible ones which exclude French and Germans.

Finally, I do think it indicates the limits and flexibility around race and brown identity. As Zach has said repeatedly he is very light-skinned (and part Iranian to boot). Myself, I don’t think anyone would describe me as either light-skinned or dark-skinned; I’m pretty much the average South Asian in complexion. Brown. Not light brown. Or dark brown. Literally just brown. But that doesn’t really weight much in terms of who is “more desi” or not. I have never watched a Bollywood film all the way through. That matters more.