Photo by Nilotpal Kalita on Unsplash
Northeast India is a serene amalgamation of seven sisters—distinct, vibrant, and deeply rooted in its culture. It awaits full embrace at the confluence we call India, a nation whose history is too intricate to be grasped in simple terms. Yet, the identity of this region is often flattened into a homogeneous unit, perpetrating a kind of violence on the diversity, beauty, and developmental potential it offers. "Act East and Look East" remain topical conversations, while the identity of these people slowly ebbs away, with Indians from other regions showing no signs of understanding. It is the locals of these regions who have become guardians of their own stories, buried layers below power discourses.
Said’s seminal work Orientalism (1978) paints a picture of how we perceive these people. Any attempts at understanding the Orient are aimed at showing 'Europe’s others.' This is a rather colonial view of them. This representational politics furthers the crisis of the self among many of these people. Tribal, exotic, and ethnic, Northeast Indian becomes a defining term. How do we view them? Name them? Understand them? Avoiding imposition of terms and meanings becomes pertinent. 'We are not who you see us as' is how these ethnic groups show up. Their resistance is through movement, art, and literature. In the Hindi heartland, popular Bollywood culture is prevalent. Mary Kom’s character, played by Priyanka Chopra, caused a lot of backlash wherein people demanded that the cast should have been ethnic, regional, and not one pandering to pop culture stereotypes. This begs the question: are these ethnic groups better equipped to tell their own stories?
Apart from the Indian passport and citizenship, the "Indian face" is often touted as a representative image of what it means to be Indian. Achievers across the region have made brilliant contributions in cinema, arts, and politics, making the 'rest of India' proud. But as I write this, I feel like a guilty party, calling what remains the 'rest of India,' because that only adds further to the fragmentation. If we were to think of this divide, we would never know the humble origins of successful singers like Papon, from Assam, or the likes of Bhupen Hazarika. In our context, individuals with physical traits commonly associated with South Asian populations are more prevalent in the Indian diaspora, whereas those with features associated with East Asian ancestry are less common.
The question is, can Indianness ever be proved? It certainly cannot be called something merely acquired by residence, being born in a place, or having facial features that match the population of the 'Indian hinterland.' Being an Indian cannot be proved by an identity card, nor by citizenship.
When people from this region move to cities for better prospects, they must deal with a devilish reality. Ngurang Reena, a woman from one of these ethnic groups, has written about her painstaking encounters with racism. When she went to the Jaipur Literary Festival along with her friends, she was denied entry into the hotel. The manager demanded that she show proof of her identity. They made several attempts to 'assert their Indian identity,' and showing their Hindi-speaking skills made no difference. All this in her own country.
She recollected another incident, wherein she was asked by a man while traveling in the metro, "How much do you charge for the night?" There have also been heinous crimes committed in the fervor of asserting a Hindi-speaking supremacist identity—acts that reflect not just individual prejudice but a broader desire to homogenize India's rich linguistic and cultural diversity. A boy from Arunachal Pradesh was brutally beaten up in Lajpat Nagar by two shopkeepers for his unusual hairstyle. In 2010, a woman from the northeastern ethnic group was brutally gang-raped by five men. Her rape was justified by her ethnicity.
All these incidents only add fuel to the perpetual irony: to belong to a country that allows for diversity in all respects, yet punishes you for not being of it. Instead of seeing a polyphony of narratives, a monolithic idea of India is presented, premised on exclusion, all while flattening down the Northeast Indian identity. The ideal demands that the self, which is contained in the depth and richness of regional stories, becomes one with the collective Indian consciousness.
The Siliguri corridor is like the one thread by which Northeast India hangs and is connected to the rest of India. It is so narrow and delicate a strip that it is called the 'chicken’s neck,' being 22 kilometers in breadth and 200 kilometers in length. While it is a lifeline that connects this region to the Indian heartland, it is also a chokepoint, where any disruption could uproot the lives of people. The tensions between national interests or territorial assertions run the risk of toying with regional interests. This leaks into the lives of the people living there, disturbing their livelihoods. China’s deepening friendship with Bangladesh is further endangering them, as the region deeply pontificates on its true self through its people. In reality, the Northeastern identity is a mosaic of several linguistic, cultural, and ethnic traditions, heritages, and languages.
Much of our understanding of our identities stems from the work we do, and for these people, it is focused on survival. To find their 'place' in a demanding world, they move to other cities. Research suggests that a lack of development is a push factor that contributes to people moving out of the region. Maithani (2006) commented, the North-eastern region is a 'development ostrich which has wings but does not want to fly.' This points to a sad truth: the Northeast is a developmentally rich area, yet one that hasn’t reached its full potential. Its lack of identity seeps into the lives of those who belong to it, seek to belong to it, but witness the social mobility the rest of India experiences.
"In the hills, there is no poverty technically. Everybody owns land, has farmland, and hence there is enough to eat," says Minister Kiren Rijiju, attempting to overshadow the utter neglect. Whenever there are development attempts, they are devoid of soul. In recent times, a citizen-led movement called 'Reclaim Guwahati' is pushing back against developmental attempts that lack ecological consciousness. Focusing on Dighalipukhuri, the group claimed that these developments lack transparency in their process. Cleanup efforts by The Energy and Resources Institute were suddenly discontinued. There have been superficial 'fix-it' attempts aided by technology, but covering up the deeper, underlying issues, such as poor sewage infrastructure.
Movements involve people, inspiring change; however, the burden of representation unfortunately rests with these ethnic people. There is a need for more people from the Hindi heartlands to come out in solidarity with them, to render activism for them. For they too belong to this feeling called India.
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