The Lost Narrative

As a student of modern Indian history, reared on a diet of NCERT textbooks in the nineties, I learned an important lesson i.e. the 'Narrative' of the Indian independence struggle. By 'narrative' I mean story. Invariably histories are told in the form of stories. In the nineties, the Narrative of Indian Independence struggle I learned had a form of a story. It had a hero (Congress led by Gandhi and Nehru), a villain (British colonial state), traitors (Muslim League and other communalists) and supporting cast. The story ended with Indians winning independence from the British. A fitting climax to a story of a people led by a saintly hero to their ultimate victory over an evil villain. However, the story of partition is glossed over as an unfortunate fact and as an inevitable result of the evil plots of the villain and traitors.

However, this narrative isn't viable anymore as an explanatory paradigm, at least in the space of high-academia. Scholars from different traditions such as Marxist, postcolonial, subaltern studies etc. have severely criticised the validity of the Narrative. Moreover, in recent times, Caste has emerged as the number one topic of social science research in India. It's curious development because of its previous absence. It is attributable to the effects of the Narrative. During my school years, I got the impression that caste was a matter of the past and didn't exist in contemporary India. Indian boys and girls fed on the Narrative must have felt the same because we were taught that caste privileges and untouchability-like disabilities were outlawed by our constitution. I didn't know back then but I was blindsided by my class position. My liberal education taught me to think above caste and religion and strongly identify with the Indian nation and treat Indians as my brothers and sisters regardless of caste, class or creed. As a child and later as an adolescent I was a typical liberal-nationalist who believed in the redemptive quality of Indian nationalism. I placed citizens' duty towards the nation above all other demands including that of religion and family. I found the interference of religion in politics (Indians call it communalism) a curse upon the nation and always viewed it with an eye of hostile suspicion.

The political effect of liberal-nationalism in India is that you pledge your allegiance to the Indian National Congress. It was the party who stood for the interests and well-being of all Indians. Communists stood for the interests of the working-class alone, BJP-like parties represented the extremist views of certain sections of the majority, Muslim League-like parties were exemplars of minority extremism and regional parties were votaries of linguistic chauvinism. Even when we were aware of Congress' moral failures, liberal-nationalists defended it because it was the best bet for all Indians and though the party may have lost its way in the middle it was fundamentally good. One of the reasons for believing in the 'fundamental goodness' of the Congress party was its heroic role in the independence struggle in which it led the nation to liberation from colonialism. We believed that the selfless sacrifice of Congress' patriarchs such as Gandhi and Nehru continued to inform the party and it formed the ideological core of the party. I'm not denouncing Congress or denying its rich and heroic past. I'm just stating the general political effect the Narrative had in my mind as a young man.

The hold of the Narrative on me was broken over some time. Firstly, I learned to sympathise with the marginalized but rebellious voices of labourers, women, minorities, etc. but it was my research into the history of colonial constitutional reforms from the eyes of Ambedkar that taught me the sheer complexity of the period that usually passes for the Indian Independence struggle. The problem of untouchables and Ambedkar's crusade against it was as much political as it was social. In the popular account, Ambedkar was a social reformer who drafted the Indian constitution and joined Nehru's cabinet as India's first Law Minister. Not many know that Ambedkar resented his appointment as the Law minister because he thought it was an unimportant post. He wanted the Finance portfolio because he was a qualified economist himself. From the beginning of his public career in 1919 until he was elected the Chairman of the Drafting Committee Ambedkar was an inveterate opponent of Congress because he viewed them as a body of caste-Hindus and detrimental to the interests of untouchables. Congress was equally venomous in its opposition. It defeated Ambedkar in 1946 elections and he was elected to the Constituent Assembly from Bengal with the help of the Muslim League, thanks to J.N Mandal. When I read Ambedkar's writings and speeches it became clear to me that untouchables were in pathetic state  in British-India and Congress didn't do its fullest to secure their confidence. Ambedkar's distrust of Congress was justified. The Congress party tried to subordinate the minority question to to dictates of nationalism. For Congress, the biggest task before the nation was to win Independence and once it was achieved everything else could be satisfactorily addressed. But the minorities feared majoritarian domination in Independent India unless their grievances were redressed. Those who differed with Congress including Ambedkar on the question of minorities were denounced as 'communalists'. It's not wrong to say that Congress' intractable stance made the minority question difficult to answer, if not unanswerable within the framework of Indian nationhood.

The Narrative isn't a credible account anymore, neither as a story nor as an explanation of Indian independence. Does it mean that we should build a new Narrative based on anti-caste crusaders? The question is what it would achieve? The relation between the colonial state, Congress-nationalists, and minorities was far more intricate than a simple story could tell. One can argue in favour of specific narratives but is it possible to build a new meta-narrative that explains the independence and the founding of the Indian republic? I don't have an answer but there are questions that I would like to ask. Two of the questions that pop up in my mind are:

1. How central was the question of Indian Independence to the overall history of the first half of the twentieth century? 
2. What were the more pressing issues that colonial state and Indian leadership faced during the period?

I don't pretend to have answers to either but it's essential to ask new questions.

A View from the Crossroads

When I started my MPhil in Modern Indian History I was an enthusiastic student who couldn't wait for his course work to end and the research work to begin. I did well during the first year of course work. My assignments got good grades and my interventions in debates and discussions were intelligent. My friend saw me as an intelligent and talented young scholar and some of my professors told me that I was one of the more promising students in the department. Yet two years down the lane I can't believe how much I have messed up. I haven't lived up to the initial promise I showed and I'm not glad about the way I went forward with my research. I have just over a month to submit my thesis and I am still editing. Of course, a month out from submission one is expected to be busy with editing work but my editing is as good as chapter-making. Also, I am in the first chapter. As an anxiety-prone young man, I tend to blow things out of proportion in my mind. Many of my classmates are also finishing up their work. But it doesn't make my position any easier. Once you get anxious there are two ways in front of you: either you start working as if there's no tomorrow or you just freeze. I have always been anxious. I have always been afraid of failures and that stopped me from trying out many things in life. Even with things that I chose to do I have been inconsistent. If a topic excites me I get enthusiastic about it. But I can't keep up my enthusiasm because firstly, it's laborious to pursue something serious, even if it's your passion and secondly, my attention gets diverted into some newer topic. I have been an excitable (and irritable) person. For me, to be an interesting means to be excited. Unfortunately, excitement doesn't last long enough and unless people pursue their interests long enough they wouldn't create anything worthwhile even if they were intelligent and passionate about that thing initially. There's a lesson I knew right from childhood but only learned late: Talent and Intelligence succeed only when accompanied by hard work.

There's a debate about whether it's hard work or smart work that succeeds. I think even if one chose smart work over hard work he has to be persistent in his smart work. It's the quality of persistence, that makes even smart work succeed. It's the condition of consistency that makes even smart work hard. We have all made detailed plans about how to smartly pursue our goals and our life-plans. More often than not we fail at executing them. We fail because of two things: either we hesitated to start at all and soon gave up on the plan altogether or we gave up after we started. I have done both. The first sort of people suffers from starting trouble or inertia. They are scared about failure, or they are scared about the tremendous labour their dreams demand of them. Unable to face them they bow down and walk away. The second class of people is those who mustered enough courage to start but stopped in the middle. Why did they stop? They stopped because they couldn't keep up with the mental and physical demands of their plans. Even if one ought to work smart than work hard the smart work should be done consistently for many days, months or even years. Now, that's hard work. The hard part isn't having a smart plan but the ability to keep working the plan until it bears fruit. Even smart work has to be accomplished in a hard way. Interpreted one way or another pursuit of one's dreams is hard. Only those accomplish who can pursue despite its hardness. 

My character profile isn't one that's suited for hard work or even smart work. I am paying the price for it. I had such great dreams about my thesis; I wanted to impress my teachers with my findings. I wanted to impress them with the thoroughness of my research and my erudite reading of sources. I failed to be thorough with my research because I didn't know how to pursue research, to begin with. Being an avid reader was one of my greatest strengths during my student years. It put me ahead of my peers since I could engage with texts from a more informed pedestal. But research is more than just reading; it's more than being merely informed. Research is hard work that one should execute smartly. Research is as much about thinking about your sources as it's about reading them. Also, it's about how well you can think. The novelty of the thesis is constrained only by the limits of your imagination and reasoning. I wouldn't call myself an unimaginative or irrational man but I was scared to think for myself. Curious as it may sound, I, of all people, was scared to think. I was scared to think originally because of the labour it took to create something original and because I was scared of failing. However, no amount of laziness and anxiety helped my cause. If anything they stalled my work and I am all the worse for it. At least, if I had trusted my guts and went ahead with the first proposal things would have been different. Even after I changed my initial proposal for a new one I found a promising line of inquiry which I didn't follow through because it didn't excite me. It's right to say that though it was a historically concrete problem to investigate and a good place to start for a young researcher in history I didn't investigate it thoroughly because it wasn't exciting enough for me. At least here, my predilection for abstract speculation got the better of me at the expense of concrete historical research. I should have had a more realistic view of what a novice could achieve in the first two years of his research. My inconsistency, inexperience and the fear of failure combined to wreck my indecisive forays into research. Despite all this, I hope to finish my work by next month and submit it. I want to get over with it.

The last two years shattered my self-belief and I had to reconstruct it piece by piece. Once my thesis is submitted I have to return to my hometown. There my life awaits me. What does it have in store for me? I don't know. Honestly, I don't have the imaginative stamina to think or see any further than a day. I work a day at a time. I'm not even sure whether I'm meant for academics. I don't have the work-ethics or the psychological strength to withstand the rigors of research including disappointments and back to back deadlines. Yet, throughout my life academics have been my second home and I have thoroughly enjoyed university life. I want to continue academics but I will continue only if I can bring certain fundamental changes in the way I approach the concept of work. I should become conscientious, focused and consistent. I should overcome my fear of failure. Even if it persists with me I want to work despite it; after all, courage is said to be doing things despite fear. That's a lot of things I expect of myself. Am I again committing the fallacy of utopian thinking? I hope not. No, I am not committing the utopian fallacy. I have just identified the problems and if I have to rectify them I should become more consistent, focused and courageous. Would I be able to do this? I have two options: either I can bow out in fear of failure like I am wont to do at times or I can work despite the fear. I will think; I will reflect on where I stand in my life. Maybe then I will have an answer.

I think I'm at the crossroads in my life. Instead of rushing into one or other directions I will think. I will seek the help of my family who has supported me throughout my life. Then I will decide. I don't know what God has planned for me; whatever it is I pray I will be worthy of it.

Future Pasts

Over the last decade, I created, maintained and discarded many blogs. Each time I promised myself that this would be my 'the' blog to which I would regularly contribute for the rest of my life. Invariably I lapsed on my resolution and started blogs after blogs. A while later I opened an account on Facebook and became a regular user. Facebook was an instant hit because it lets me connect with friends and share my thoughts with them instantly and more consistently than a blog would. Maintaining a separate, personal blog was useless because firstly, nobody else read it and secondly, it was a task unto itself to find topics to blog about while it was easier to type away in Facebook-like social media.

Around five years back I closed my social media accounts and decided to concentrate better on my academics, the career I had chosen for myself. My exiting the social media helped me enormously since it took away a major source of distraction and I found time to focus on my academic readings. Although I am a research student in Modern Indian History my first love is philosophy. If somebody asks why didn't I pursue philosophy at the university level I don't have an answer. It just didn't happen because I found my intellectual passion late and decided to stick with what I was already doing. I don't mean any disrespect to history and historians. I enjoy my work as a young scholar; I love it. Often a historical perspective challenges your deeply held convictions even if they are logically cohesive and philosophically defensible. Yet my love for abstract speculations and logical paradoxes are undying and often get the better of me even during my historical research. Anyway, a deeper engagement with academics, both history, and philosophy, would have been impossible, or at least very hard, if I hadn't cut off distractions such as social media to focus on my career. I am still at a precarious place in my career and more than ever suffer from persistent doubts about my choices. The next few months are crucial because the decisions I have to make will decide whether I will become a career academic or something else in life. Be that as it may, I have glad memories about the time I spent in academia. I have had intense debates with my friends and teachers about every conceivable topic and it exposed to me a world of which I hadn't heard of and more importantly, it exposed me to worldviews that I didn't even imagine was possible for people to believe.

For the last three months or so I have been thinking about blogging again. Why you may ask. Simply because I wanted to write about something. I wasn't sure about what; I just knew that I had to write about something. One of the 'writing' vices I acquired in the last two years is the reluctance to write about anything that's not research-related since I thought I could use that time towards my research. One of the drawbacks of this kind of thinking, at least for me, was that I am left with an intense urge to speak for myself, about my life in general, but felt silenced by circumstances. Sometimes I felt an intense dislike of academia because I thought it was what stopped me from doing everything else I might have done (A more accurate view would be that my lack of previous experience in research and a general disorganized attitude towards research pushed the process longer than was necessary). Also, at a certain point, I realized that my brain simply refused to write about something for which I couldn't produce any reference or quotation. An absurd style of thinking, indeed. It became a major problem in my research writing itself when I found it increasingly hard to write about my original ideas since I was unsure of their validity and coherence. My decision to re-start blogging is influenced by both my wanting to write something freely and write something about my life-its ups and downs, my convictions and insecurities, etc. Why not start Facebook again? That way your lifelog will become a conversation with your friends and family again. That's exactly what I want to avoid. I want to write about things I find urged to write about not because I want them to be read but because I simply want to write about them. One may interject and ask why not write a diary instead. A diary is a log, like a blog, but it's very private. The joy of seeing your opinions 'published' somewhere is real even if it is at the corner of an indifferent digital world. Blogs, or individual weblogs, are private in the sense that you log your life and opinions and are visited, if at all, by a random surfer or a friend. It's public in the sense that it's open, technically, to such visitations by others. However, one of the things that always drew me to blogging was quiet I find around them. In a world connected by instant messaging and informed by data-revolution blogs are relics of a past that our world swiftly outgrew. There are millions or even billions of blogs we will find online. A majority of them without even a single post and the rest updated at least a decade ago. Random browsing of these blogs is nostalgic because you find people who live on the other side of the planet whom you'll never meet in your life. You feel happy about the good things in their life and feel sad about their bad experiences. You may even notice that these blogs haven't been updated in a long time and that people that you just read about are completely different individuals now (if at all they are still alive). Blogs are a throwback into a past- that past has left records but the people who left them have moved on. It's haunting and nostalgic. It's painful and romantic. My new blog is an addition to this ruins of the early web. I know that I will, like others, will log and move on. In the future, this blog too will become a haunting and nostalgic reminder of who I was once. And, it would be a 'walk down the memory lane for me when, in the future, I revisit these pages.

Towards future pasts.