Before I lived in Italy, I must confess: I did not possess a strong sense of a greater South Asian identity. Actually, if truth be told, in my pre-teen years I didn't even know "Indian" was anything but people of Gujarati, Punjabi, Bengali and South Indian background and Hindi speakers. But in some ways, I was exposed to it growing up: my parents referred to anybody from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka as "Desi." Then, in my mid teens, I became very close to a Punjabi Sikh family. I started coming into contact with Punjabis- from both sides of the border, India and Pakistan. It was here that I heard references about something that happened 50 years ago. No one put a name to something that created long lasting repercussions for generations of people and politics: Partition. Because it was never really articulated to me, I had no idea of this event; just an inkling that something happened. And that was it.
Then I moved to Bologna, Italy, where the South Asian community was composed primarily of Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, and Sri Lankans.
***
The first time I went to Italy was my junior year in 2000 as a student. I randomly met a Pakistani man in his late 50's. He invited my friend and I to dinner at his house. As he served us chicken subji amidst the sounds of a Hindi film on television, he told me that he was a political dissident. He sought political asylum in Italy after he had been kicked out by Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq's regime. Then, he asked me: "Where are you from?" I told him that I was American, but my parents were Indian, Gujarati to be exact. This response triggered a piercing look from him. His eyes held mine, and he said, "No, they are not Indian." I protested, "Yes, yes they are." He quietly answered, "No, they are Gujarati. Not Indian. And I am Punjabi, not Pakistani. These are national constructions that the powerful foisted on us. India, Pakistan and Bangladesh don't exist." I didn't say anything, because at the time, his words held little significance.
I wish so much that I knew back then what I know now. Looking back, I wish I would have been able to ask him more about why he was a political refugee. The names of the Pakistani politicians he threw at me flew right over my head. I didn't know anything about Pakistani politics, much less "national constructions." I was at a point in my life where I was just discovering a whole other world. Like many of you, I had learned the Western literary canon in US public schools- poets and writers from England and ancient Rome and Greece. The US and Euro centric history we learned meant little to me. But when I got to college, I found books written by Desi authors, who spoke of themes that I could relate to. I was barely starting to learn about Indian history, let alone anything outside of that. So when this Pakistani man spoke to me, I was incapable of grasping the full meaning of his life and views. I was unable to fully appreciate the value of this opportunity, to probe deeper and ask him more.
The second time I went back- in 2001- I was not only more informed about South Asia, but I continued to read about it for the four years that I was in Italy. And my experiences this time around had different meanings.
The people that I was the closest to were the Bangladeshi family that lived on the floor beneath mine. The first time I met the husband and wife, they heartily introduced themselves. One day, I noticed that the wife had put a black circle on her newborn daughter's hairline. Instantly, I recognized it, since it is something my mother did with me when I was young. So out of reflex, I said in Gujarati: "Najar laagse!" (She'll get the evil eye!) Her eyes lit up and she replied, "Yes! It's the same!" Whenever they spoke about Bangladesh- the food, the climate, the music, and customs- the couple always said both in English and Italian: "It's like India. It's the same." Obviously, climate wise, Bangladesh is not starkly different from Indian Bengal when you look at the map. But she was saying more; and I interpreted this as acknowledging that we have more things in common than differences and that our differences can also be our commonalities. After all, every year this couple remembered Diwaali and gave me sweets accordingly, as well as sharing their Ramadan feasts with me.
I used to buy my CD's from a store run by Bangladeshis. The first time I walked in, they immediately asked: "Where are you from?" in Hindi. In Italian, I told them that I understood Hindi, but did not speak it perfectly. Incredulously, they asked, "Why not?" I answered, "I'm Gujarati." One of the them- he must have been in his late teens or early 20's- burst out, "We have to stop thinking like this- I am 'Gujarati,' I am 'Bengali,' and so on. We are one!" I sensed that he may have misinterpreted my response about being Gujarati as a surge of regional pride. So I quickly explained to the five young men present: "No, no. I was born and raised in the US, and at home my family only speaks Gujarati. I was exposed to Hindi only through films." Comprehension dawned on them: "Oh, okay," they smiled. The one with the outburst smoothed things over by saying, "I was just trying to say that we should stop creating these divisions. Don't we ever learn? Look at what has happened over the past 50 years."
My friend Mofiz, a Bangladeshi man in his 50's, echoed a similar feeling. At my friend's restaurant one evening, he took a break from selling roses. We were having Arab mint tea and listening to a Hindi tape he had brought while we discussed Partition and subsequently, the events of 1971. He wistfully remarked, "Why all this tamasha, bhen? It's not good, the way we all think- each unto his own. No good ever comes out of it."
Then there were those who saw differences and thought that a plural unity was more appropriate. My friend Ana, who is Spanish and is set to marry her fiance from Madhya Pradesh, introduced me to her friend Raza. Raza was politically active in the Pakistani community's affairs in Bologna. As we were having dinner, we got into a heated and passionate discussion (aided by a vast and generous supply of wine and beer) about why and how Partition happened. Raza was of the belief that Partition happened because there were irreconcilable differences between Hindus and Muslims. The idea of reunification in the future didn't sit well with him. But towards the end, he rubbed my shoulder and told me, "What happened happened. We've been divided. Now, what we have to do is move towards unity. How to do this, who knows." My friend later informed me that he wanted to convene an Indo-Pak peace conference.
***
I am sharing these stories because I have heard many criticize "South Asian" as an identity. On the one hand, some say that it is problematic. In the context of my personal interactions in Italy, however, much of this argument strikes me as very academic and of academia; I hear these discourses in academic settings, about how South Asia as a category often translates as India. It is true that "South Asia" is collapsed into India all too often. And no doubt that much of what is considered "Indian," such as in the US, is actually North Indian. I don't want to discount or dismiss these criticisms. But judging from my experiences on the ground with people in Italy, I did see some sort of South Asian identity emerging, however imperfectly. Of course we can critique the fact that there is an emphasis on, say, Hindi being used as the lingua franca for Indians, Pakistanis, and Bangladeshis. Furthermore, I don't want to paint the picture of some big, happy South Asian family whereby everyone simply loves each other to bits. I've seen my fair share of regionalism; and even within regions, divisions are made based on religion, caste, and so on. And even with these communities in Bologna, most stuck with their own. There was little intermingling of groups. But this doesn't take away the fact that for some, there are commonalities that bind them across religions, regions and nation-states.
On the other hand, there are some who say that a "South Asian" identity doesn't really exist. I hear this sentiment coming most often from Indian born and raised Indians; they say that this is an identity constructed by the diaspora. Certainly, there is a kernel of truth in this. In Bologna, perhaps it's because we were forced to confront the Other, or the Different. Maybe we had been given the opportunity to interact with people we normally wouldn't have had the chance to back home. Perhaps it is the immigrant situation, whereby when we are no longer in our own comfort zones, we start to look beyond. Or, we find solidarity through our common realities. But I see no reason why this is negative. I am reminded of an interview in Biju Mathew's Taxi: A Pakistani man said that if he had not come to America and met Bangladeshis, he would have never known what the Pakistani Army did in Bangladesh in 1971. So, even though the diaspora has a complex relationship with the homelands, this doesn't mean that the diaspora can't fashion something positive and meaningful with regards to the homelands.
This is how I came to my own sense of a South Asian identity.
Related Link: Our Famiglia in Italia: Part I
Good post and thanks you for the personal stories. I'm interested in hearing what you think about the practical question that emerges out of this for me: how do you best utilize various identities (south asian, regional, national, religious, caste, etc.) to maximize potential for "social justice" work? As you pointed out, many of these identities can have positive and negative manifestations, so how do we know which ones to employ and when?
This is a million dollar question :) But what I am wondering is why religion and caste should be part of the equation for "maximizing potential"?
I understand that regional identities are very important to some, as well as the national and supranational. But I often think that religious and caste identities in particular inhibit any kind of vision that supercedes their own and thus limits any potential within the confines of that specific group. Regionalism and nationalism can veer into this as well. It is complicated, and this is why it is hard for me to give an answer. Perhaps the answer to start at the regional level without regards to religion and caste and take that to a national level, and than supranational, ie South Asian. And put that in the context of the global.
It's amazing that I stumbled across these two blog posts when I did, considering that I'm actually contemplating doing what you did, an American born second generation "South Asian" moving to Italy for an extended period of time. If you don't mind, could you talk about some of the more ... mundane aspects of your experience and circumstances there? Why you moved there, what sort of job you had if any, issues with immigration, what you hoped to gain from the experience, whether that expectation was met, etc.
I realize that a very ... for lack of a better characterization, Indian set of nosy questions, and feel free to omit anything you feel is too personal, but I guess what I'm getting at is what sort of advice would you give to someone if they were going to be in the same position?
religion is just a language that people can communicate in. some of the most beautiful social justice sentiments of all time have been expressed in the guise of religion. and some of the most heinous crimes. i don't see how it's intrinsically any better or worse than other frameworks of belief that appeal to an ultimate truth (e.g. some forms of marxism, some forms of capitalism).
caste i might agree with you, but couldn't you argue that dalit activisim is the mobliization of a disempowered group that's disenfranchised by the caste system?
point being that to me it's on an emotional level the affinities that matter in making things useful and on an analytical level the questions of power that matter. i don't think you can set forth a universal law about national or regional identity always being good.
which is why considering the question of "south asian" identity in the absence of other factors (diaspora, non diaspora, purpose for its use, etc.) is hard to address. yes, it's a mixed bag, but how it plays out in different situations is what's most important, right? :)
Dav:
You can e-mail me by clicking on my name found on the homepage :)
Saurav:
Of course I am not arguing that national and supranational identities are always positive, while the others (regional, religious, caste) are not. They are complex issues, precisely because there are pros and cons to each set of identities and there is no easy answer. Furthermore, I do think that all of these identites- regional, linguistic, religious, national, and supranational- are overlap each other and cannot be easily peeled from one another.
You could make the same argument about "Indian," "Pakistani," and so on :)
For the record, I don't want to override the fact that there are differences as well- regionally within these nation-states, between nation-states and whatnot. But those differences still into the borders of other nation-states, such as Pakistan and India, or Bangladesh and India.
Boundaries are blurred; everything is sticky and messy :)
Editing note:
I slightly edited the last two paragraphs because it wasn't entirely clear that I am talking about my experiences in Bologna and giving some general thoughts.
DI,
This is, yet again, another wonderfully written essay and a worthy complement to your earlier piece. I love how previously mentioned people are woven again into this structure and their nuanced dialogue, so revealing of what you must have been feeling at the time, sets the theme.
I think that we human beings inevitably search for those similar to us because of the intrinsic perception of unity we deem inherent in that relationship. In Kentucky, my family became friends with anyone with brown skin, including the Gujarati hotel owner a few towns over, and the Bangladeshi jeweler in one of the major cities. When my parents moved to Michigan, all of their friends were doctors in the local Maharashtra Mandal. The latter example doesn't dismiss the notion of a South Asia identity they were feeling and was so evident in the former example.
Oooh..it's so late, and today has been tough, so it's off to bed. More later.
Absolutely. In all my four years, I never came across an Indian or someone who was Hindu. All of my contacts were with Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, and Sri Lankans. But we gravitated towards each other in one way or another. And of course there were differences, but we bonded on the similarities, precisely because of the perception that you incisively highlight.
And I have to say that I learned tremendously from the differences. Also, others learned from me. For example, the family that lived beneath my floor-- they learned from me that Gujarati Hindus don't eat meat.
I have felt very much the same :)
On behalf of one of our regular readers, I point out that South Indian is not a language.
No, no, I meant people of Gujarati, Punjabi, Bengali, and South Indian background, and then Hindi speakers.
Thanks for pointing out this misinterpretation. I'll clarify this so that it isn't misunderstood :)
There :)
Ah, the repercussions of massive typos and unclear phrases... :)
More often than not, I dislike identities based on a notion of majoritarianism (real or imagined). But beyond my personal sensibilities, I would argue that the real problem is the promotion of identities that are dominant in the context that they're used.
Coincidentally enough, today's featured wikipedia article is on Malay Supremacy.
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