Pick and Mix

Ritika Arora-Kukreja

January 2021

Growing up as a British Asian, as a person of Indian origin, often felt similar to the euphoria of wandering along the effervescent aisles of the “Pick ‘N’ Mix” we warmly reminisce over. Surrounded by a riot of colours and cushioned in the privilege of diverse cultures, we were poised to selectively choose which aspects of our Indian identities we would like to adopt. From enrolling in extravagant Bollywood dance classes and gazing in awe at the annual Bharatanatyam performances in Trafalgar Square, to promptly declaring a Bhangra beat as ‘ours’ on an evening out in the city: At one point or another, and to varying degrees, we have all interacted with the idea of ‘India’ in our lives – and an ‘idea’ is exactly what India is. For a democratic country of 1.3 billion culturally, religiously and linguistically heterogenous citizens to exist in symphony is nothing short of a sociological marvel. An extraordinary depiction of a human mosaic, India orchestrates a socio-political sensation and stuns the world with every democratic election it holds.

However, when it comes to our awareness of the events unfolding in our nation, the socioeconomic and political climate, or of the lived experiences of the 1.3 billion ‘Indians’ across the country, our ‘Indianness’ falters; we withdraw from reading more into the national matters which do not directly affect us. Why should we? Are we not, ultimately, British? Here we commence our own Pick ‘N’ Mix of culture, identity and belonging. We rush to the streets to celebrate in our bright blue jerseys when India wins a cricket tournament and share relatable ‘memes’ of growing up in a ‘Desi’ household through various cultural groups on social media yet turn away from the news of historic protests, police brutality and religious discrimination. We participate in #hashtag movements for humanitarian atrocities occurring across the world but hesitate to develop our knowledge of the events unfolding in a nation we so often culturally identify with. It implores us to question: Why is our identity, and sentiment of belonging limited to Movies, Music and Sports? Why do we selectively Pick ‘N’ Mix which aspects of our ‘Indianness’ we identify with, and where do how draw this illusionary boundary?

Let’s take one step back to understand the broader dilemma. Who would you have been, if your parents or grandparents did not take the momentous decision of moving abroad for ‘a better life’? What realities would you be experiencing, and what would you think of the pompousness of the ‘Indian’ youth living in the United Kingdom or elsewhere, whose only association with India is through Virat Kohli or Amitabh Bachchan?

At first thought, you may feel exasperated over the idea of a young person, leading a completely distinct life in what seems to be another world at this point, influencing what happens in ‘your’ nation, and your lived reality, without even recognising this power. 

Essentially, the political support the government is able to rally through Indians across the world, is greatly facilitated by our own sociocultural and economic allegiances. Whether this is through political financing, sponsoring and organising Hindu cultural events at universities, or mobilising millions across the world to stage Pro-CAA protests – our (sub)conscious actions have greater implications than we think. Consider Narendra Modi’s sell-out, electrifying performance at Wembley Stadium in 2015. "Of all the world leaders who have visited Britain, only Nelson Mandela and the Pope have addressed bigger public gatherings than Narendra Modi's rally at Wembley," boasts a spokeswoman for the UK Welcomes Modi organisation. Without an inch of uncertainty, British Indians (including myself) flocked to the arena as we waved our tricolours in thousands, vivaciously exhibiting our Indian identity.

Though simultaneously, in India, the nation was (and is) undergoing an unprecedented, significant reimagining and reconstruction of its social, cultural and political landscape and instrumentally our collective idea of what it means to be an ‘Indian’. These developments have shaped deeper contours of division amongst citizens and politicians alike, than we have ever witnessed. As a result, the Indian populace is increasingly becoming polarised along the lines of their ideological inclinations, with factions lividly promoting their opposing imaginations of the Indian state-idea. Pertaining to our own role as British Indians in this reimagining of the Indian state, the vigour of our ability to influence the state-idea despite no judicial association to the same is indisputable, owing to our strong sense of cultural belonging and the relationships and persona the Indian state continually seeks to uphold with its international diaspora for various reasons. Though, if we had not attended PM Modi’s performance in Wembley, what would have ensued?

The ruling agenda-setters would have perceived that we, as key members of the international Indian diaspora, do not support their particular ‘idea’ of our India, and maybe, just maybe, if no one turned up that evening, they would have reflected on the global ramifications of their governance and our disapproval of their imagined nation. 

But we did turn up, and PM Modi delivered his performance to a relentless,

vibrant crowd of 60,000 British Indians. 

And in retrospect, the state got the message loud and clear:

We support them. 

Thus, when we delve deeper into the implicit facets of our responsibility as ‘International Indians’ we begin to realise that our actions and inactions, our engagement or disengagement, our awareness or lack of, actually have larger repercussions for the 1.3 billion ‘Indians’ than we think. Likewise, frivolousness should not define us. Although I synchronously note that as an individual, when I have an opinion on the (ominous) events unfolding in India – be it the dubious Citizenship Amendment Act, the policy brutality, the riots and protests, or the callous religious discrimination, more often than not, it is rebutted with “You’re not even Indian, you can’t really have a say in this”. My perspective on these issues seems to be rammed in a constant spiral of being an ‘outsider’, observing everything from a very privileged lens since I do not have to deal with the repercussions of my political views. I understand that. I recognise the privilege associated with belonging to a British Indian culture, nor do I subvert the views of lawful Indians themselves, even if they do diverge from my own. Though concurrently, I do not endorse the idea that only Indians living in India are permitted to have a sense of awareness at the very least, or a perspective on the erosion of our democratic fabric. It is our nation, even if we are not ‘lawfully’ Indian. Why? Because of our cultural citizenship. India is an ‘idea’ we subscribe to, not merely a territorial land of legal citizens. Consistently, in reflecting on our position, if we can adopt the sparkling aspects of our nation - the Bollywood films, the spectacular food, the Bhangra beats and so on, why should we drop the more uncomfortable features engulfing the nation today? Now more than ever, our fraternity needs us.

However, my intention here is not for us to recklessly participate in the protests being staged outside the Indian Embassy in London, and neither is it to provoke you to want change – particularly from a paternalist or supremist standpoint. I do not even aspire to encourage you to necessarily have an opinion on everything unfolding “back home”. Your ideological bearing may diverge from my own, and I cannot urge you to imagine a more tolerant, inclusive, humanitarian and peaceful idea of India. Your opinion can be entirely yours. All I can advocate for, as person of Indian origin who is privileged enough to assimilate into tremendously diverse cultures, is simply greater awareness. An understanding of what is happening in the India we have warm memories of; the India we not only identify with when wander through our Pick ‘N’ Mix of belonging, identity and culture, but the India that belongs to billions of culturally, emotionally and socially connected citizens across the world.

Identity is more than a series of mundane legalities. We may not lawfully be ‘Indian’, but we culturally ascribe to a notion of belonging, which is equally binding and meaningful. We have more power over the imagining/reimaging of the state-idea that is India, than we realise, and the next time we rush to the cinemas to catch a glimpse of Shah Rukh Khan’s latest film, we need to remind ourselves of the broader responsibilities associated with our privilege of belonging to the world’s largest democracy.

Read more. Learn more. Listen more.

Our democracy needs us.

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Ritika Arora-Kukreja was born in Bahrain and raised in London. She is currently pursuing a PhD in International Development at the London School of Economics and Political Science and holds an MPhil and BA in the same from the University of Cambridge and King’s College London. She culturally hails from Delhi, India.