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S. Ramachander

East and West are not irreconcilable, and never have been. Only bigotry, prejudice, racism and fear drive them apart. But they have met and mingled in the past; and they will do so again.

As noted elsewhere in this series of essays, professional life, in the broadest sense, in the emerging economies of the world carries on it the indelible post-colonial impression. In our country, we initially went through some form of a backlash in a select few areas, in particular school education, with a drastic reduction in standards of English and even science and the humanities, which were corrected a few decades later.

In the first decade of Independence (when the writer was in school), elderly and very dedicated teachers grappled with the near impossible task of a sudden "Tamilisation" of lessons in everything from Physics to Civics. Words were coined obviously in a desperate hurry, ancient terms were excavated out of the encyclopaedia and children had to contend with science text-books that still carried, presumably for the teacher's benefit, the English name within brackets for, say, a chemical element.

The linguistic division of states in 1956 encouraged the political class, who were the most vociferous in this process of giving school education a strong regional flavour. However, in their personal lives, they applied different standardsas many new generation ministers could now afford to send their children to convent or English medium schools, admissions to which were accessible to only those with money or power or both.

By a strange quirk of fate, the newfound enthusiasm evaporated just as suddenly. The worst affected by this rush to linguistic nationalism were therefore the immediate post-war generation, roughly speaking those who graduated before the end of the 1960s. By the 1980s, a common sight in Chennai in the mornings streets was a uniformed child from working class backgrounds being packed off in overcrowded rickshaws to English medium schools.

Along with the binary view of middle-class future life as "either a doctor or an engineer thou shalt be", the pressure to perform well in the national entrance tests mounted. And that meant one had to acquire the right sort of higher secondary education. Only the first two decades after 1947 thus created a `lost generation' that is visible to this day.

This state of affairs is nothing peculiar to India. All ex-colonies have gone through the backlash and a reversal, as with for example the dilution of very high standards and over-zealous adoption of Sinhala to the exclusion of English in Sri Lanka.

Today, far from viewing fluency in English language as a sign of cultural dependency or weakness, India is witnessing an unprecedented interest in both language and professional higher education from the Anglo-Saxon countries, including Australia. The recent re-discovery of India as a "back-office to the world" by the US and UK has placed a great premium on spoken English as well. Some of us are now realising the great natural advantage this confers on us over China, although it is sure to catch up with us. What was the real difference between Britain and the other colonial powers: France, Holland and Portugal? What accounts for the different impacts that they left behind as imperialists? If you went to Indonesia, you would experience sharply what the retreating colonial empires could do. At the time of independence from the Dutch colonial rule, Indonesia had only a handful of graduates and hardly any qualified doctors. A Javanese colleague told me that higher education was `dilarang', meaning forbidden! Compare that with the fellows of the Royal Society and Nobel laureates who were encouraged by various branches of the administration to go to British universities on scholarships. It is a little known fact that Dr Verghese Kurien was sent on a Government sponsored scholarship, which had been instituted by the colonial power to enable outstanding Indian scientists and engineers to study and do research in their specialisations anywhere abroad — and not just in the UK.

While holding no brief whatsoever for the departed British rulers, the contrast in simple facts is striking. My case is that it flows perhaps from a different history and background and a different set of goals and principles. Thus while there is little love lost between the ex-colonial power and the free former colonies in Africa and elsewhere, in India we remain solidly behind the artefacts of the British inheritance: From a love of English language and literature to a passion for cricket.

An interesting area for research would be colonialism as a process of learning on a vast scale. Could it be that the British influence on the sub-continent was so widespread over a relatively short time-span because of the essential similarity, deep down, between the tradition loving British and Indian educated classes over centuries? The details might vary, but the basic instincts and drives are remarkably similar. Consider the following. Both are fairly old civilisations, born of several racial strains causing a great deal of variability within the country. Indian and British cultures are based on a finely developed sense of values. Both share an intellectual liberalism that goes back a long way, to Sankara, Nagarjuna and beyond in one case and 1066 and all that in the other. They have been freethinking societies, which have encouraged the maverick thinkers and rebels, whether it be Cromwell and G. B. Shaw or King Asoka and Raja Ram Mohun Roy — to pick names at random over the vast sweep of history. We share too a love of the absurd, like people who don't take themselves too seriously and, in spite of waves of consumerist excess, retain a deeply held respect for those who live simply but with clear vision of right and wrong. To me this is what links the Brahminical (as distinct from the caste) with the educated, liberal Englishman's mind.

Despite the continuing ferment of revolt, there has always been an element of balance, almost a retarding spirit, influenced by a deep respect for things past. Unfortunately, in India it does not show in respect for institutions and architectural marvels while ritual and belief hold infinite sway over the common man. The British too are noted for their reverence for the past and an enduring preference (which shows no sign of altering!) for hierarchies and slow change. Thus by a slow process of osmosis the New Labour might gently drift towards the liberal centre and stake tacit claims to the Thatcher agenda. In India too, for the first time in history of parliamentary democracy, the ruling BJP-led coalition has virtually admitted to taking over the opposing Congress manifesto of liberalisation and reforms. And both parties agree on this fact!

On the purely social and cultural fronts, the similarities run deep. Some anecdotes exemplify this. A very able and well-read English journalist who met my then 83-year-old father some years ago said, after an evening of general chitchat, that he had seldom felt so comfortable with someone on a first meeting. They had much to discuss and joke about in common, despite 35 years of difference in age. This was not just a superficial similarity of views and a common language; it was because the underlying liberal opinions and cosmopolitan tastes, broadmindedness, including the love of good music and an occasional tipple, were the same. Yet, it was the visitor's first ever visit to India and my father had never been abroad, while like all who grew up in the Edwardian era, he had been raised on a diet that included Lamb's tales from Shakespeare to Newtonian Physics and Churchill's oratory. In essence, while the British conquered minds subtly, sowing influence through belief and thought, taste and opinion, they created a cadre of people who were far more than administrative appendages of the colonial rule.

The point is that this was possible only because the soil that received the seeds was right. And adopting a system of education is not just a matter of medium of instruction, but accepting (and adapting) a whole mindset, a view of life and a set of values that the receiving civilisation must be comfortable with.

While the colonial purpose in educating the middle class Indian of a kind may well have been to create an army of clerks, it also created a society that absorbed this apparently alien culture and in a strange way grew stronger as a result. I tend to agree with Dalrymple's closing sentences in the White Moghuls "East and West are not irreconcilable, and never have been. Only bigotry, prejudice, racism and fear drive them apart. But they have met and mingled in the past; and they will do so again." So deep indeed is the resonance between them that, like the hum of the Universe still left behind after the Big Bang, it remains inaudible under everyday conditions but can be picked up if you are tuned in right.

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