I’ve often taken pride at being an Indian. It’s the outcome of the upbringing, I guess.
Being a fauji kid, allowed me to traverse the expanse of the beautiful country and live in places that feature on the ‘must-visit’ places for the rest of the nation.
Meeting people from varied social, religious or economic or education backgrounds, opened my eyes to the diversity early on. That was my first lesson on diversity and inclusivity, way before the terms were coined or glorified.
So, when I donned the uniform, it felt normal. The same environment. The same inclusivity. The same freedom. And that’s what my children also grew up with.
They learnt the languages needed to feel comfortable on both sides of the family, celebrated all festivals, and knew the stories. And proudly proclaimed they were Indians. Period.
Which is why the shift, when we moved into the civilian world, was difficult to explain. A world governed by very different rules.
Despite its cosmopolitan appearance, there were deep undercurrents where loyalties were drawn along regions or linguistic lines.
It made me question my identity. Was it limited to the region or language, or whether it lay in who I was as a person?
It’s an uncomfortable subject for discussion, not something you can talk about without ruffling a few feathers. But it begs for an open conversation.
When you can be a daughter, mother, sister, aunt, friend, granddaughter, niece, colleague, boss, assistant, and so much more all at once, then why must your identity be restricted to just a state or language?
Some credit has to be given to the politicians; they love getting credit for sowing barriers and creating disruptions. But we too must take responsibility for falling for such narrow thinking, for being gullible enough to stop questioning.
Being proud of your regional identity and language is important. They give you roots, a sense of belonging. But how will you grow unless you spread your wings and step outside your own boundaries?
It’s like sitting inside your own house and thinking this is the universe. It’s not.
What’s more heartbreaking is the duplicity.
You welcome foreign investors and experts but not people from other states in the country.
You’re fine with speaking English or Chinese or German for your clients, but hesitate to speak another Indian language with a fellow Indian.
How is that fair? Or justified?
It’s not about your identity. It’s about your insecurity or under-confidence in yourself as a person.
Indian culture has survived for centuries because it absorbs the differences, becomes an integral part of us, our strength and pride to be us.
So, shift the focus from you as the sole custodians of a region or language. They’ll survive without you. But can you survive without using them? Without clinging to them as crutches for your identity?
Be part of the nation on the move. Stop acting as roadblocks, or potholes, in her path. Let’s not reduce patriotism to mean just a state or district or town, or even lane.
