On Why I Cannot Be the Indian You Know

Natalidita Ningthoukhongjam *

Protest against crimes committed to NE people in Delhi : At Imphal on Feb 11 2014 :: Pix - Deepak Oinam

The ghastly attacks carried out against north-eastern Indians in the past few weeks have resurrected the debate over whether or not we—I mean the people from the north-eastern corner of the country—are Indians. If we are still Indians, then what are the factors that make us so? What makes me an Indian?

I have an account with SBI. In forms, I write 'Indian' next to 'Nationality'. All my identification cards are connected to the country. The currency notes in my wallet are vouched for by RBI. I grew up with Bollywood music. I avoid combining white and green with orange while dressing up because I don't want to appear incongruously patriotic.

Pride was the emotion I felt when Mary Kom won an Olympic medal for India. A few months ago, I was thumbing through a book on Indian polity for an examination. I find it hilarious that the movie Roja used to be an Independence Day staple on Doordarshan, but I also understand the logic behind the choice.

This is a list that could run through several pages because the number of threads binding me to 'Indianness' is great. And yet, strangely enough, when somebody says the word 'Indian', I don't see me. Several images spring up in my mind: a mustard field, the backwaters of Kerala, women in silk saris, snow-clad peaks, a group of men doing a lively Bhangra routine, Gandhi moving among the masses in muted black and white, Lata Mangeshkar, boys and girls from advertisements speaking a crisp combination of Hindi and English, Sachin Tendulkar, vermillion, the outline of a mosque against the setting sun, and a host of fleeting but vivid shots that have little to do with the person I see when I look in the mirror.

I may be an Indian, but I have been missing in the definition of the word 'Indian'. I was excluded in the books that were taught to me, even though they were about Indian history and Indian culture. I am not present in the ads shown on Indian TV; even though I buy the products they sell as an Indian.

I am not present in the movies with their Indian songs and dances, even though I watch them as an Indian (and no, I will never see myself in Meiyang Chang.) I am completely absent on Indian shopping websites that sell ethnic clothes to Indians, even though I wear those clothes, and even though I can see foreign models posing in them.

I may be an Indian, but I am the north-easterner who is by default promiscuous, cannibalistic and uneducated. I am the north-easterner who can communicate in Hindi, but must either stun people with this apparently supernatural ability, or offend them if I do not possess it. I am the north-easterner, and that is the biggest problem I have when it comes to Indianness. I can never be just an Indian.

The most urgent demand that the Delhi government must meet for now is to bring the culprits to justice. Even if we take the issue of race aside, what have undeniably occurred are crimes against humanity. There is nothing right about rape, about beating a defenceless boy to death, about stabbing and robbing.

Issuing hotline numbers, building separate hotels, and giving north-eastern girls defence classes cannot be adequate for the family of the victims, nor will they suffice for the community that is rising together, again.

The most urgent demand that the country at large must meet is to recognise north-easterners as Indians, to fully and openly embrace us, to take an active interest in learning about who we are, to go the several extra miles. It is not enough to rent rooms to us, to angrily question us about our halting Hindi, to be politely puzzled when any of us says 'Mizoram is not the capital of Manipur', to welcome our sportspersons with open arms while freely calling them 'Chinky', to ask north-eastern girls to carry pepper-spray because pepper-spray cannot defend us against ignorance, prejudice and hatred. This recognition must come not only in the form of inclusion of our history in textbooks, but in the portrayal of the 'Indian' in the media.

A vast gulf has been created by both sides as far as the absence of north-eastern Indians in 'Indianness' is concerned. Papers and maps and workplaces may try to hide it, but it exists. Hewn by powerful collective emotions that are absurdly narrow, it is widening, too.

The voices of 'mainland Indians' who love and respect north-easterners are lost in its depths. As for north-easterners, the already tenuous attachment to 'Indianness' that were established by inescapable ideologies is thinning, and one of the by-products of this detachment is racism.

We are not exempt from the practice of racism. We are racist in our own way towards those whom we call 'mainland Indians'. We are racist towards north-easterners who are not from our community. In fact, our prejudice extends even to those members in our own community who live in a different part of the state. At the end of the day, we are not entitled to passing judgments because we are painted with the same brush, and simply crying "They started it first!" is not going to improve matters.

There are no winners in this fight. By fanning racial prejudice (against 'mainland Indians' or against ourselves), we negate the value of our mission and reduce the term 'north-eastern' to a convenient catchword. Any attempt to give a single name for the unison of various groups of people is futile as long as we keep creating 'the other'.

This has been true for the definition of the 'Indian' for decades now, and our perpetuation of racism will make it true for any other name we choose.