July 2025 – Page 3 – Brown Pundits

Ramayan in Karachi ?

Extremely surprised to see this bit of news.

views ?

This Pakistani theatre group brought Ram and Sita to the stage. ‘It’s our Ramayana too’

Hans Zimmer and the Polite Dismissal of the Ramayana

When producer Namit Malhotra began explaining the Ramayana to Hans Zimmer, the legendary composer cut him off:

“You don’t have to explain it to me. Something that has lasted thousands of years clearly has meaning. Let’s just do our best. It’s beyond us.”

Malhotra took this as reverence. In fact, it was erasure.

No serious Western artist would score The Ten Commandments or Schindler’s List without knowing the story. Imagine a composer saying, “Don’t explain the Illiad to me, it’s beyond me.” They’d be fired. But when it comes to Indian epics? The bar is subterranean. That’s not reverence.

That’s: I’m Western, I’m famous, I’m here for the cheque; not the history. The tragedy isn’t Zimmer’s line. It’s Malhotra’s awe. A Westerner shrugs off our most sacred text, and we call it wisdom. That’s not cultural pride. That’s civilizational confusion. It’s a pattern. Many elite Indians are fluent in the language of Islamic grievance; but tone-deaf to Western condescension.

Divide and rule still works:

Hindus thank the British for “freeing” them from Muslim rule
Muslims thank the British for “protecting” them from Hindu majoritarianism

Meanwhile, the West shrugs at our stories and we applaud.

Shravan Monday at the New England Temple

Continue reading Hans Zimmer and the Polite Dismissal of the Ramayana

Open Thread: From Flattery to Fatigue — What the Iranian Diaspora Can’t Admit

On July 14, I wrote about Ta’arof ; the millennia-old Persian art of flattery, refusal, and ritualised courtesy. It’s often misunderstood in the West as “saying no three times,” but it’s really about emotional high-context negotiation, reading the room before the room speaks.

The next day, on July 15, Sharghzadeh posted a powerful video, calling it Iranian Diaspora Fatigue. A searing takedown of the Iranian Diaspora’s toxic racial insecurities, internalised Islamophobia, misogyny masked as modernity, and cultural denialism. He’s mostly right.

What he calls fatigue, I’d call poisoned flattery turned inward. Because Tehranglos are no longer performing Ta’arof to honour guests or elders. They’re doing it to whiteness itself. Hoping if they refuse our own identity long enough, maybe the West will say: “Yes, come in.”

That’s not assimilation. That’s exhaustion. And the worst part? Even the racism feels borrowed; against Arabs, against Afghans, against Iranians back home. It’s not even Iranian. This isn’t just about cringe TikToks or awkward panel guests. It’s about who gets to narrate Persian culture. And what gets flattened when tradition becomes product. I was stunned when Zachary Newman — one of the most prominent Persian-Jewish American chefs — endorsed Netanyahu’s strikes on Iran. That moment crystallised something.

Sharghzadeh and I are saying the same thing: Persian culture is being gentrified by its own children. What survives isn’t tradition. It’s content. It’s vibes. If Iran is an unreadable poem, diaspora is turning it into a slogan. If Iran is lived, diaspora is increasingly just captioned. And they wonder why they’re tired. Is the Persian diaspora preserving a culture, or just performing it for the algorithm?

Pakistaniat & Urdu from Qasim to Quaid

UP’s very long shadow:

As I board my flight back to the UK after a brief but productive trip, I find myself reflecting on a language that continues to haunt and inspire me: Urdu.

It is a tongue caught between paradoxes. The language of courtesans and qawwals, of sacred supplication and sly seduction. It carries within it the scent of jasmine and blood, of Delhi’s dusk and Lahore’s lingering grief.

The Beloved Guardian of the Baha’i Faith once noted that while most Baha’i texts should be translated from English, Urdu alone is trusted for direct translation from Persian and Arabic. That proximity, that spiritual siblinghood with Persian, the language of kings, and Arabic, the language of God, renders Urdu magical.

Sanskrit, of course, is the language of gods, but Urdu, its stepdaughter of sorts, captures the longing of poet to partisan.

There’s a reason the Bahá’í prayer I share below is so piercing in Urdu. So here, before I cross back into another timezone, I offer this prayer—without commentary, without translation. Just Urdu, as it was meant to be heard.

And I wonder: perhaps this is what Pakistan truly is—a project in transcending the local. Not rooted in soil, but in sentiment. A place where Punjabis, Pathans, and Muhajirs are asked to shed skin and commune in Urdu. Where Pakistaniyat, for all its fractures, has succeeded in producing a common idiom: of piety, pride, and pain. Continue reading Pakistaniat & Urdu from Qasim to Quaid

Ta’arof & The Art of Flattery

I recently saw a cringeworthy clip of Rainn Wilson, yes that Rainn Wilson, earnestly trying to explain Ta’arof (while not even being able to pronounce Tahdig). The famed Iranian art of polite refusal was reduced, predictably, to the idea of “saying no three times.” A charming simplification, perhaps, but a misleading one.

The Ritual of Misunderstanding

Ta’arof is a millennia-old Persian artform; rooted perhaps as far back as the Achaemenid Empire. It is centered on flattery, politeness, and ritualised courtesy and is not merely etiquette; it is the performance and ritualisation of it.

Because Tarof isn’t about numerical formulae. It’s not just “no means yes after the third try.” It’s not a knock-knock joke.

Onunchi, Ta’arof, and High-Context Societies

Tarof is best understood as high-context negotiation within deeply hierarchical and emotionally attuned societies; a kind of cultural Onunchi (온눈치), for those familiar with Korean sociolinguistics. It’s the art of reading the room before the room speaks. More than etiquette, Tarof is a performance of dignity through flattery, deferral, and intuition.

And that’s precisely what’s being lost; not just in Rainn’s version, but in the Westernisation of diasporic Persian culture more broadly.

Visibility, Voice, and the Indian Muslim Dilemma

In the aftermath of the extremely tragic plane crash in Ahmedabad (the photo features the late Ali family, may they rest in the Highest Heaven), one tiny detail stood out; not the cause of the disaster (still contested), but who was being heard. Many of the victims’ families interviewed by the BBC were of Muslim origin (it was also during the Eid Holiday break). And while that may seem incidental, it reveals a subtle, recurring pattern in India’s public discourse.

Three threads emerge:

Continue reading Visibility, Voice, and the Indian Muslim Dilemma

Was Partition Good for Muslims?

Kabir:I will remind you of the Sachar Committee Report which stated that the condition of Indian Muslims was worse than that of Dalits. This was a report commissioned by the Congress government not by Pakistanis. India has never had a Muslim Prime Minister. I would be willing to bet that this is not going to happen in my lifetime. The Muslim League succeeded in getting the Muslim majority provinces a country of our own. This is a huge achievement.

Partition was sold as deliverance. In hindsight, it may have been the most sophisticated act of self-disinheritance in modern Muslim history. A century ago, Muslims on the subcontinent were a political force — deeply embedded, numerically significant, and intellectually diverse. Today, they are divided, disenfranchised, and disoriented. Three nations. No unity. No power. No clear path forward. Let’s take stock:

1. Divided into Three

Pakistan. Bangladesh. India. Three fractured expressions of one civilizational legacy — none of which fully represents or protects the totality of South Asia’s Muslims.

2. No Electorate Leverage

In India, Muslims lost their negotiating bloc overnight. From being a decisive vote in undivided India, they became a permanent minority — politically cautious, rhetorically silenced, and often viewed with suspicion. In Pakistan, Muslim identity became so hegemonic it erased internal plurality. In Bangladesh, it became suspect altogether.

3. Psychological Cleft

Two-thirds of Muslims had to unlearn India. Partition forced them to disown their history. The other third had to choose between being Muslim or becoming more Indian. This psychic wound — of being here, but not quite belonging — has never healed.

4. Urdu: From Bridge to Burden

Urdu, once the cultural glue of the Muslim elite, is now:

Enforced in Pakistan (to the resentment of Sindhis, Baloch, and Pashtuns)
Marginalized in India
Extinct in Bangladesh

A shared language was replaced by suspicion and statecraft.

5. Islam as a Spent Force

Partition Islam was meant to be political. It became performative. There is no robust Muslim political expression in the subcontinent today — only tokenism, sectarianism, or silence. It resembles post-revolution Iran: Islam was not discredited by the West, but by what its stewards did in its name. Partition didn’t solve the “Muslim Question.” It just made it unspeakable — in three different politicised idioms.

The Gratitude Trap: On Escaping Asia but Staying Captive

In a recent video, a young Punjabi woman, likely Sikh, candidly shares her discomfort upon returning to India after living in Canada (this kind of echoes the Aussie influencer’s comments on chronic Indian inequality). The noise, the pollution, the density. Her frustration is raw, familiar, and deeply sincere.

But beneath her words lies something larger: the aesthetic asymmetry that defines the postcolonial condition. Wide roads, clean air, manicured parks; these are not just amenities. In the global South, they become symbols of escape, status, and salvation. And so, millions migrate. Or aspire to. Not just for jobs, but for dignity. For air that doesn’t burn. For order that doesn’t humiliate. For a feeling of being seen.

And when they do, when they arrive in Canada, the UK, Australia, something subtle happens: they become grateful. Not just for opportunity, but for escape. For the fact that the West “works.” That gratitude then curdles into deference.

They begin to believe that the world outside the West is meant to be chaotic, dirty, loud. That governance is a Western gift. That clean streets and quiet parks are civilizational rather than institutional. This is the gratitude trap; the soft power of asphalt, symmetry, and silence.

And it’s why postcolonial recovery is so difficult. Not because the global South lacks culture or potential, but because its own elites, shaped by extraction, not architecture, rarely build for elegance. Rarely build for pride. Rarely build for joy. What the West exported was not just railways or rule of law. It exported a built environment that still shames us. And until that is understood, until we take seriously the spatial dignity of our cities and the material form of our futures, the colonial spell will remain unbroken.

Why Pakistan Is a Colonial Project & India a Civilizational One

Over the past few months, I’ve noticed a marked improvement in the quality of conversation on BP. A large part of this, I suspect, is due to eliminating trigger-response dynamics; as seen when I barred Q on a technicality. It created space: suddenly, the commentariat was thinking, not reacting. In that quiet, something became obvious.

Whenever Kabir invokes “neutral experts,” they always seem to be Western, usually venerably white, often from institutions directly involved in the colonial rape of India. And yet these same voices are elevated as if they were impartial or above it all. They aren’t. They are the architects, not the observers. This is the paradox at the heart of Pakistan. Continue reading Why Pakistan Is a Colonial Project & India a Civilizational One

Comments, Censorship, and the Cultivation of Voice

Over the past 45 days, I’ve had far less time for BP than I’d have liked. But now that I’m back in the US, I finally have space to refocus on what matters most for BP: stewarding it as a platform for intelligent, plural, and principled discourse.

Updated Commentator Guidelines

We’re evolving how we manage our comment threads. Here’s the updated approach:

1. Authors moderate their own threads.

Each Author is free to shape the conversation under their posts. If you post it, you own the thread. Also to the commentariat, if you put a picture and capitalise your handle, it makes you more “human” and memorable (without having to trade in your anonymity, thank you Indosaurus).

2. Do not delete comments; void them.

Deletion removes our memory. If a comment crosses the line, Authors may void it (ideally only the offending items but I can understand the temptation to void it all), but we preserve it as part of the archive. Cultivating a robust commentariat is a core BP value.

3. Authors may never moderate another Author’s comment.

If an Author has a concern with another Author’s comment, they should reach out to me directly. I will arbitrate. No unilateral actions between Authors.

4. Want to avoid moderation? Become an Author.

If you’re serious about your voice, join us. Monthly posting is enough. I ask only for basic human decency; plural views are welcome, and I’m always happy to edit drafts to preserve your tone and intent.

5. Respect BP for what it is.

Brown Pundits isn’t just a site. It’s a conversation space. And like any serious space, it requires some light rules; not to control, but to protect. Let’s build something lasting where people from all sides of the divide can meaningfully engage with one another.