"First Generation" is what they call me
Being a part of the Indian diaspora wasn’t ever an
issue, it hadn’t ever made me feel like I was estranged… until recently.
Ever since I can remember, revealing that I’m Indian evoked a look of confusion in the face of the person I had revealed that too. Perhaps it's because I don’t fit the ‘bill’ for what an Indian is supposed to look like. Regardless, however, I always took great pleasure in talking about my heritage and the struggles of my parents to get to where they are today. Thinking I know everything, I would engage in great discussions about Indian politics, culture and history. After all, I’m Indian and have a right to.
The false discovery
I was born in the UK and technically am ‘first generation’ (a term used by those around me to suss out who is born in the UK and who’s ‘more British’ than others). However, I must disclose that I was born in Birmingham, a city that is the epicentre of Indian culture within Britain. With areas like Handsworth and Small Heath neighbouring us, I never felt like I was far from my culture or my people. I would go and pray in the temple, speak Hindi and Punjabi at home, hear stories about everyone back home and have those awkward conversations with family members back in India who’s names I didn’t know. I even went to India. We used to make yearly trips to see the family, partake in weddings and festivals and eat the food. For me, being Indian was just that then. The food, the romanticised tales of home, the rich music, the culture and the patriotism we hold for the land my parents called ‘home’.
The Estrangement
However, it struck me on my first visit to Punjab that I wasn’t as Indian as I once thought. It was ironically at my homeland where I felt the most estranged from it.
You see, India is a subcontinent with a population of over one billion people. There are several religions embedded into the land, various types of terrain, various types of people and a plethora of cultural influences that shaped it into the country it is today. My exposure to it then was limited for all of my life. I was told tales from my parents who hadn’t lived there for twenty plus years and a great deal changed every time we went back let alone from when they were children themselves. The Bollywood movies that I thought shaped Indian culture were oftentimes filmed in the UK or other European countries and showed only the side of India that was desirable to see. The limited communication I shared with my family back home only exposed me to a small side of the politics, relations and complexities within the family. Furthermore, it was my romanticised vision of the well-cultured land of my heritage that made me overlook so many of the country’s flaws. I adopted a heritage and patriotism for a country I wasn’t a part of.
My visit to Punjab showed me most of this. It was different to the cities I would normally come to visit as we went to my dad’s pind (village) and saw the reality of rural India. The people suffering on the streets coming to ask for any aid or support as they withered away in the scorching sun showed me how young and undeveloped the country was, being only seventy-two years of writing this blog. The comradery I had associated with India was shattered when a cousin mentioned 1984 to me and my dad urged him to shut up. I later researched the events and realised that it, like most of the stories I was told about India, was watered down and misinformed. 1984 marked the Sikh genocide where ‘Operation Blue Star’ on the Golden Temple Complex caused, through a series of related events, anti-Sikh riots to run rampant through the country. I realised the anger that I had adopted for the country of Pakistan for ‘taking half of our country’ was mere rhetoric that was passed through nationalist news channels my parents watched and straight into me. In short, my image of my homeland was shattered, my Punjabi wasn’t even fluent around my cousins and I would often stumble over my words and just sit in silence in fear of exposing my lack of knowledge. I would no longer engage in conversations about culture, politics and the country as a whole because I wasn’t in a position to. I didn’t want to impart my biases onto others or misinform people with the information I had been misinformed with.
The Rediscovery
I did, however, want to learn more. I realised that the diaspora I was in wasn’t one that was thirty million strong but rather much smaller. Only 2-5% of India’s population were Sikh and the diaspora I was a part of was much smaller than I thought. I didn’t want my culture to die with me and thought that my future kids could use real and true information about their homeland. I didn’t want to romanticise India because its flaws were important to know so that I could view my country without biases and reject the falseness that it radiated and search for the truth beneath the surface.
I was obsessed. Reading, watching videos and having more open and frank conversations were a part of my routine and research. I went to seminars on separation and realised that the divide was about religion and how I ought to behave more respectfully if I ever wanted harmony between my people and those from the country next to us. I realised the struggles of the Punjab and the thousands of years it spent defending itself against new and stronger invaders. I read the stories of the shaheeds (martyrs ) and their sacrifice into making the country what it is today. I even looked further into Gandhi and saw discrepancies between the story I was told about him and the more objective truth that showed a darker side to him. I realised that the 'little India' that I was brought up in was also filled with a great variety of people and that my heritage wasn't necessarily the same as theirs.
It was this process that made me feel less estranged as a part of the diaspora as I finally realised there wasn't such a thing as 'being Indian'. There never was. It was the impetus I had placed on the stories I was told and the culture that I was taught about that made me feel like there was a standard I had to reach. When in reality there never is. Being a part of a culture comes in many forms but it is to find out more about where I come from that allows me to feel connected to my culture. The purpose of this blog isn’t to educate people as I still don’t hold enough information to impart any real or unbiased knowledge over to people. I certainly do intend on looking more into my country and heritage.
I no longer speak about being ‘first generation’ and look at being British as an insult as I consider the merger of my heritage and my culture away from it as a blessing and something to be proud of. I now urge anyone reading to look into their heritage instead of looking at the world with rose-tinted spectacles. Some things we learn may not make us happy and a lot makes us embarrassed but it is through this that you erode your biases and understand your culture. Just like a parent who’s habits annoy you or make you feel like you need to cringe in a corner, it is the very knowing of these idiosyncrasies that allow us to truly accept them and strive to be better ourselves.
Ever since I can remember, revealing that I’m Indian evoked a look of confusion in the face of the person I had revealed that too. Perhaps it's because I don’t fit the ‘bill’ for what an Indian is supposed to look like. Regardless, however, I always took great pleasure in talking about my heritage and the struggles of my parents to get to where they are today. Thinking I know everything, I would engage in great discussions about Indian politics, culture and history. After all, I’m Indian and have a right to.
The false discovery
I was born in the UK and technically am ‘first generation’ (a term used by those around me to suss out who is born in the UK and who’s ‘more British’ than others). However, I must disclose that I was born in Birmingham, a city that is the epicentre of Indian culture within Britain. With areas like Handsworth and Small Heath neighbouring us, I never felt like I was far from my culture or my people. I would go and pray in the temple, speak Hindi and Punjabi at home, hear stories about everyone back home and have those awkward conversations with family members back in India who’s names I didn’t know. I even went to India. We used to make yearly trips to see the family, partake in weddings and festivals and eat the food. For me, being Indian was just that then. The food, the romanticised tales of home, the rich music, the culture and the patriotism we hold for the land my parents called ‘home’.
The Estrangement
However, it struck me on my first visit to Punjab that I wasn’t as Indian as I once thought. It was ironically at my homeland where I felt the most estranged from it.
You see, India is a subcontinent with a population of over one billion people. There are several religions embedded into the land, various types of terrain, various types of people and a plethora of cultural influences that shaped it into the country it is today. My exposure to it then was limited for all of my life. I was told tales from my parents who hadn’t lived there for twenty plus years and a great deal changed every time we went back let alone from when they were children themselves. The Bollywood movies that I thought shaped Indian culture were oftentimes filmed in the UK or other European countries and showed only the side of India that was desirable to see. The limited communication I shared with my family back home only exposed me to a small side of the politics, relations and complexities within the family. Furthermore, it was my romanticised vision of the well-cultured land of my heritage that made me overlook so many of the country’s flaws. I adopted a heritage and patriotism for a country I wasn’t a part of.
My visit to Punjab showed me most of this. It was different to the cities I would normally come to visit as we went to my dad’s pind (village) and saw the reality of rural India. The people suffering on the streets coming to ask for any aid or support as they withered away in the scorching sun showed me how young and undeveloped the country was, being only seventy-two years of writing this blog. The comradery I had associated with India was shattered when a cousin mentioned 1984 to me and my dad urged him to shut up. I later researched the events and realised that it, like most of the stories I was told about India, was watered down and misinformed. 1984 marked the Sikh genocide where ‘Operation Blue Star’ on the Golden Temple Complex caused, through a series of related events, anti-Sikh riots to run rampant through the country. I realised the anger that I had adopted for the country of Pakistan for ‘taking half of our country’ was mere rhetoric that was passed through nationalist news channels my parents watched and straight into me. In short, my image of my homeland was shattered, my Punjabi wasn’t even fluent around my cousins and I would often stumble over my words and just sit in silence in fear of exposing my lack of knowledge. I would no longer engage in conversations about culture, politics and the country as a whole because I wasn’t in a position to. I didn’t want to impart my biases onto others or misinform people with the information I had been misinformed with.
The Rediscovery
I did, however, want to learn more. I realised that the diaspora I was in wasn’t one that was thirty million strong but rather much smaller. Only 2-5% of India’s population were Sikh and the diaspora I was a part of was much smaller than I thought. I didn’t want my culture to die with me and thought that my future kids could use real and true information about their homeland. I didn’t want to romanticise India because its flaws were important to know so that I could view my country without biases and reject the falseness that it radiated and search for the truth beneath the surface.
I was obsessed. Reading, watching videos and having more open and frank conversations were a part of my routine and research. I went to seminars on separation and realised that the divide was about religion and how I ought to behave more respectfully if I ever wanted harmony between my people and those from the country next to us. I realised the struggles of the Punjab and the thousands of years it spent defending itself against new and stronger invaders. I read the stories of the shaheeds (martyrs ) and their sacrifice into making the country what it is today. I even looked further into Gandhi and saw discrepancies between the story I was told about him and the more objective truth that showed a darker side to him. I realised that the 'little India' that I was brought up in was also filled with a great variety of people and that my heritage wasn't necessarily the same as theirs.
It was this process that made me feel less estranged as a part of the diaspora as I finally realised there wasn't such a thing as 'being Indian'. There never was. It was the impetus I had placed on the stories I was told and the culture that I was taught about that made me feel like there was a standard I had to reach. When in reality there never is. Being a part of a culture comes in many forms but it is to find out more about where I come from that allows me to feel connected to my culture. The purpose of this blog isn’t to educate people as I still don’t hold enough information to impart any real or unbiased knowledge over to people. I certainly do intend on looking more into my country and heritage.
I no longer speak about being ‘first generation’ and look at being British as an insult as I consider the merger of my heritage and my culture away from it as a blessing and something to be proud of. I now urge anyone reading to look into their heritage instead of looking at the world with rose-tinted spectacles. Some things we learn may not make us happy and a lot makes us embarrassed but it is through this that you erode your biases and understand your culture. Just like a parent who’s habits annoy you or make you feel like you need to cringe in a corner, it is the very knowing of these idiosyncrasies that allow us to truly accept them and strive to be better ourselves.
It is so important to be in touch with our roots, thank you for your insight. Another great blogpost! Keep it up.
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ReplyDeleteGood to see you deep diving into your culture and connecting with history through reliable channels. This rediscovery will help build the correct perspectives and enable a wider understanding of the history and culture. Keep going Son........keep feeding your curiosity.....God Bless.....always
ReplyDeleteHe is the writer of numerous papers and articles on engineering database methods, STEP, PDES, and concurrent engineering, precision machining and he has labored on several of} high profile knowledge integration applications. His analysis interest contains engineering database methods and manufacturing knowledge modeling. He acquired a BS and PhD in laptop science from Bristol University in England.
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