Shifting Transnational Bonding in Indian Diaspora 9781138346840, 9781003053804

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Title Page
Copyright Page
CONTENTS
List of contributors
Preface
1 Introduction: shifts in transnational bonding
PART I Global and local encounters
2 Re-reading the banyan tree analogy: everyday life and identity of Indian diaspora in Britain
3 Reconfiguring identity in a transnational world: Indo-Trinidadians and the construction of Indianness
4 From nationalism to Hindutva: bollywood and the makings of the Hindu diasporic woman
5 Understanding Indian diaspora and economic development: opportunities and challenges
PART II Glocalisation
6 Indo-American women redefining religious practices in the diaspora
7 Mother Mary in the Hindu Pantheon among Portuguese Gujarati families
8 The infrastructure of glocalisation
PART III Regional transnationalism
9 Baithak gáná ke nác: a case of reverse glocalisation
10 Fijian-Indian diaspora: emergence, engagement and identity in the transnational world
11 Idea of homeland/s: Hadramis of Barkas in the Persian Gulf
Index

Citation preview

SHIFTING TRANSNATIONAL BONDING IN INDIAN DIASPORA

This volume examines Indian diasporic communities in various countries including the United Kingdom, Trinidad, Portugal, Netherlands, and Fiji, among others, and presents new perspectives on the shifting nature of Indian transnationalism. The book: •

•

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Discusses how migrant communities reinforce the diaspora and retain a group identity, while at the same time maintaining a bond with their homelands; Highlights new tendencies in the configuration of Indian transnationalism, especially cultural entanglements with the host countries and the differentiation of homelands; Studies forces affecting bonding among these communities such as global and local encounters, glocalisation, as well as economic, political, and cultural changes within the Indian state and the wider Indian diaspora.

Featuring a diverse collection of essays rooted in robust fieldwork, this volume will be of great importance for students and researchers of diaspora studies, globalization and transnational migration, cultural studies, minority studies, sociology, political studies, international relations, and South Asian studies. Ruben Gowricharn is Full Professor of Indian diaspora studies at the VU University in Amsterdam, Netherlands. He has published extensively on diasporas, democracy, and the integration of ethnic minorities. He was previously the managing director of a doctoral program for adult migrant students in the Netherlands and Suriname.

SHIFTING TRANSNATIONAL BONDING IN INDIAN DIASPORA

Edited by Ruben Gowricharn

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 selection and editorial matter, Ruben Gowricharn; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Ruben Gowricharn to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Gowricharn, Ruben S., 1952– editor. Title: Shifting transnational bonding in Indian diaspora / edited by Ruben Gowricharn. Description: Abingdon, Oxon : Routledge, 2020. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020007923 (print) | LCCN 2020007924 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: East Indian diaspora. | East Indians—Foreign countries—Ethnic identity. | Transnationalism. Classification: LCC DS432.5 .S54 2020 (print) | LCC DS432.5 (ebook) | DDC 305.8914/11—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020007923 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020007924 ISBN: 978-1-138-34684-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-05380-4 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage, LLC

CONTENTS

List of contributors Preface

vii ix

1 Introduction: shifts in transnational bonding

1

RU B E N G OW RICH ARN

PART I

Global and local encounters

15

2 Re-reading the banyan tree analogy: everyday life and identity of Indian diaspora in Britain

17

D I V YA B A L A N

3 Reconfiguring identity in a transnational world: Indo-Trinidadians and the construction of Indianness

36

K A M I N I M A R AJ GRAH A ME AN D P E TE R R. GRAHAME

4 From nationalism to Hindutva: bollywood and the makings of the Hindu diasporic woman

58

RO S H N I S E N GUP TA

5 Understanding Indian diaspora and economic development: opportunities and challenges SATYA B H A N YADAV

v

78

CONTENTS

PART II

Glocalisation

95

6 Indo-American women redefining religious practices in the diaspora

97

A N N A P U R NA DE VI PA N DE Y

7 Mother Mary in the Hindu Pantheon among Portuguese Gujarati families

123

R I TA CAC H A DO A N D IN Ê S L O URE N ÇO

8 The infrastructure of glocalisation

142

RU B E N G OW RI CH A RN

PART III

Regional transnationalism

161

9 Baithak gáná ke nác: a case of reverse glocalisation

163

J A S W I N A E LA H I

10 Fijian-Indian diaspora: emergence, engagement and identity in the transnational world

179

M A N O R A N J A N MO H AN TY

11 Idea of homeland/s: Hadramis of Barkas in the Persian Gulf

197

A N U S H YA MA MUKH E RJE E

Index

211

vi

CONTRIBUTORS

Divya Balan is Assistant Professor of international studies at FLAME University, Maharashtra, India. Her research and teaching interests are in international and internal migration, migration policy, identity politics, as well as Indian diaspora. Rita Cachado is a researcher at CIES-IUL, Portugal, and member of the Board of Portuguese Association of Anthropology (APA). She is the author of “Locating Portuguese Hindus: Transnationality in urban settings” (2014). Jaswina Elahi works as a senior researcher at The Hague University of Applied Sciences, Netherlands, with the research group Metropolitan Developments. She is also Lecturer at the faculty of Social Work and Education. Kamini Maraj Grahame is Associate Professor of sociology at Pennsylvania State University Harrisburg, US. Her research interests include institutional ethnography, immigration, transnationalism, and the IndoCaribbean diaspora. Peter R. Grahame has taught qualitative research methods, urban sociology, and the sociology of deviance at both Pennsylvania State University Harrisburg and Pennsylvania State University Schuylkill, US. His research interests include ethnographic methods, cosmopolitanism, urban life, and environmental communication. Inês Lourenço is a researcher at CRIA/ISCTE-IUL, Portugal. Her research interests include Indian diasporas and patrimonialization, and Portuguese consumption of Indian cultural commodities. Manoranjan Mohanty is Associate Professor in development studies at the University of the South Pacific, Suva, Fiji. His research interests include migration and diaspora study.

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CONTRIBUTORS

Anushyama Mukherjee is a postdoctoral student at the Centre for Urban Policy and Governance, India. Her research interests broadly revolve around questions of urban spaces, migration, ethnicity and Indian diaspora. Annapurna Devi Pandey is Cultural Anthropologist at the University of California, Santa Cruz, US. She is the recipient of a senior Fulbright Scholarship (2017–2018) and the author of numerous essays on Indian women’s activism, agency, entrepreneurship, and Indian diaspora. Roshni Sengupta is Visiting Professor at the Institute of Middle and Far East Studies, Jagiellonian University, Krakow, Poland. She works primarily on culture and politics in South Asia, media, and film studies. Satya Bhan Yadav is Associate Professor and Research Supervisor with PG Department of Economics, BSR GAC Matsya University, Alwar, India.

viii

PREFACE

The literature on the Indian diaspora is too vast to label it as burgeoning. Indeed, its volume is developing at increasing speed, making it difficult to keep pace. Given that the Indian diaspora is highly ramified, comprising migrants on all continents who left India at different points in time, it is highly segmented. However, despite such heterogeneity, the existing literature focuses predominantly on postcolonial migration from India to the Anglophone Western world. This segment mostly represents first-generation Indian migrants who visit India for family purposes rather than indulging in the homeland. They are involved in Indian domestic and foreign politics, they are bearers of Indian nationalism, and they are most familiar with Indian society. Their ties with India differ from those of, for example, descendants of indentured labourers to plantation colonies in the Caribbean or traders and labourers in Africa or the Pacific. For a long time the prevalent perspective regarding the Indian diaspora (and one may say most diasporas) was rather static, representing the homeland as a centre around which satellite overseas communities revolve. Although the literature acknowledges precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial migrations, this classification appeared to be too broad and too fixed. Indeed, different communities and their relations with their ancestral and parental homelands as well the present homeland itself have changed in recent decades. In part this is due to the predominance of the Anglo-Indian perspective, which is largely restricted to postcolonial migration. Partly this also has to do with the migration of diaspora Indians to other societies, from the Caribbean to Europe. As a result multiple homelands have emerged: ancestral, parental, and personal. These shifts have largely gone unnoticed, as literature on the Indian diaspora is dominated by the Anglo-Indian perspective. Moreover, every segment appears to have a different shift that, taken together, highlight the emergence of a new ensemble called the Indian diaspora with changing types of bonding. Acknowledgement of these changes inspired an international conference on the Indian diaspora in The Hague in October 2017. The conference was organised by the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam (specifically the Lalla Rookh ix

P R E FAC E

Chair on the Indian diaspora), in conjunction with the Institute of Social Studies at Erasmus University and the municipality of The Hague. The purpose of the conference was to discuss the conventional perspective on the Indian diaspora, hence the title “Challenging Perspectives on the Indian Diaspora.” The conference aimed to shift the homeland view and create room for perspectives from other parts of the diaspora. Most of the chapters of this book were originally presented as papers at this conference. The chapters here do not present all of the shifts occurring in the highly heterogeneous Indian diaspora, but rather address a few changes that have largely been glossed over. A perspective typical of the authors is that India is not the only point of departure or point of reference. Several shifts are highlighted from different parts of the Indian diaspora, arguing that a broader scope is needed to capture recent shifts in bonding. The chapters of this book represent a modest selection of papers that draw attention to the emerging ensemble and that will hopefully stimulate greater interest in even remote parts of the Indian diaspora. Ruben Gowricharn

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1 INTRODUCTION Shifts in transnational bonding Ruben Gowricharn

The heterogeneity of the Indian diaspora Transnational bonding refers to bonding between a minimum of two diaspora communities. Moreover, the term has been used synonymously with diaspora, glossing over a minor but significant difference. Indeed, diaspora applies to the dispersion of a people, to ethnic communities that feel related, share an origin and a history but are located in different parts of the world, whereas transnationalism denotes the relations between diaspora communities. The term “transnational communities” thus presupposes a prior diaspora. These concepts are subject to scholarly criticism, but they are useful in describing the emergence of new global morphologies (Brubaker 2005; Knott and McLoughlin 2010; Alexander 2017). Transnational relations are not new, although in the present era their development has been accelerated, amplified, and ramified due to modern means of communication, individualisation, enhanced social and geographical mobility, and increased income levels (Vertovec 2009). Diaspora communities are heterogeneous and so is their transnational bonding. The diversity of the Indian diaspora has been detailed by many recent authors, including Lal et al. (2006), Raghuram et al. (2008), Jayaram (2011), Chatterji and Washbrook (2013) and Hedge and Sahoo (2018). Most of these works account for the heterogeneity of the period of the outmigration, including precolonial, colonial and postcolonial migrations, but often use different terms. The migrants are also presented differently according to their region of departure, the capital they possess, and the opportunities offered or created in their destination society (Clarke et al. 1990). Consequently, the three pivotal elements that define a transnational community – an ethnic group, a host society, and a homeland or a community in the homeland – vary (Brubaker 2005, 2017; Alexander 2017). It is often overlooked that the type of community in question results in a particular kind of bonding. For example, descendants of indentured labourers tend to have a “distant relationship” with India, whereas postcolonial migrants may still visit India for family purposes. Such historic variations 1

R U B E N G OW R I C H A R N

(Jayaram 2011) have been amplified by recent changes both in India and in overseas communities. Therefore, the central proposition of this book is that changes in overseas communities as well as changes in India itself have entailed modifications in transnational bonding. For the purpose of this argument, I proffer a slightly different classification based on the type of ethnic community that has emerged, in order to typify the diversity of Indian transnationalism and respective bonding. Given that this book is outwardlooking by focusing on transnational bonds, I will limit the discussion to the types of communities and their varying bonds with India as homeland. Indian emigrants to Asian societies probably represent the oldest category of such communities. They predominantly consist of traders, merchants and labourers. These Indian emigrants have managed to reconstitute an ethnic group. Van der Veer (1995) notes that this occurred in the precolonial era when there was no political entity called India. Consequently, transnational Indian connections involved the community of origin and were highly localised. A relatively small geographical distance, a relatively large population size, family relations, religion, language, and economic interest all helped reconstitute the ethnic group and facilitate connections with the parochial community. Indian diaspora communities in Nepal, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Malaysia, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and Singapore are all examples of this mode of transnationalism (Clarke et al. 1990; Lal et al. 2006; Jayaram 2011). Moreover, they may still differ tremendously in terms of religion, language, and lived culture. A second category of Indian communities consists of indentured labourers who were mostly shipped to plantation colonies. Here, two subgroups emerged. One subcategory consisted of Indian communities that assimilated to a considerable degree in the host society, for example, in Martinique, Guadeloupe, and Jamaica. In some of these societies, community institutions including religion and public festivals have remained. These highly creolised communities represent “thin’” Indian ethnic communities (Cornell and Hartmann 2007). In the second category of communities, as in Suriname, Guyana, Trinidad, Mauritius, and Fiji, Indian groups represent the largest ethnic group in the society. They have institutionalised many communal practices, thus constituting “thick” ethnic communities (Lal et al. 2006; Jayaram 2011; Hedge and Sahoo 2018). The later-generation descendants of indentured labourers often migrated to Western societies, notably the United Kingdom (UK), Canada, the United States (US), the Netherlands, and France. They thus represent a “diaspora in a diaspora” and are often labelled as “twice migrants.” A third category of Indian communities can be found in South Africa and in East African societies. Here, Indian communities managed to retain important institutions such as religion, family life, and public festivals (Raghuram et al. 2008; Younger 2010; Aiyer 2015). Trade, marriages, religion, and political involvement have helped account for their connections 2

INTRODUCTION

with India, despite their long history of settlement. Communities who often receive more scholarly attention are Indians in West and North African societies and in the Gulf States. The latter mostly comprise labour migrants with minimal citizenship rights, although some of these societies (such as Kuwait) are home to skilled Indian migrants and settled communities. Their importance has largely been framed in terms of remittances, while how these people survive as a transnational community remains less clear. The fourth category to mention consists of postcolonial migrants to Western societies. In the rapidly developing literature on the Indian diaspora, Indians in Western societies (especially the US) receive the most scholarly attention (Lal 2008; Kapur 2010; Mishra 2016; Chakravorty et al. 2017; see also chapters in Raghuram et al. 2008; Chatterji and Washbrook 2013; Hedge and Sahoo 2018). Two features stand out. First, unlike the descendants of indentured labourers, Indians in Western societies have not blended into one ethnic community. Instead, they have largely retained their parochial identities, although the second and later generations are increasingly mixing with broader American culture (Lal 2008; Kapur 2010; Purkayastha et al. 2018). Second, it is possible to note the rapid assimilation of Indians in the public sphere of Western societies, accompanied by fast upward mobility across all sectors in society (cf. Chakravorty et al. 2017). This development, which is also occurring in the UK, Canada, and Australia, renders postcolonial migrants highly distinctive within the Indian diaspora. The four categories only represent a broad classification, as within each category numerous relevant distinctions can be made. Each group adopts different elements of its host society depending on background, localities, classes, original community cultures and contexts. Simultaneously, each community may ethnicise and increase its ethnic salience, for example, when establishing institutions like schools, temples, mosques, and concomitant architecture (Lal et al. 2006; Younger 2010; Mahabir 2013). The hybridity generated is discernible in several aspects, such as food, music, attire, and rituals. The point to emphasise here is that assimilation, creolisation, and ethnicisation are not mutually exclusive, although they may affect the relationship between ethnic community and parental or ancestral homeland (cf. Reddy 2016). In some cases, even highly assimilated categories within ethnic groups (for example second-generation migrants in Western societies) may ethnicise, while assimilating in specific domains such as in education and language (Gowricharn 2009). In this regard, a novel perspective has been offered by Reddy (2016). She focuses on societies that contain descendants of indentured labourers and emphasises that these Indian communities are creolised by necessity. Although their Indianness assumes different forms, their common thread is that they maintain an “Indianness outside India.” The major points that Reddy makes are that Indian groups are creolised to a significant extent and that their Indian identity is increasingly related to an imagined rather than 3

R U B E N G OW R I C H A R N

to a real Indian culture. Reddy’s observation is clever, but she overlooks the fact that along with the impulse towards hybridisation, an everlasting tendency exists to retain Indian culture irrespective of the regional origin of the ethnic group, involving such items as food, fashion, language and religion (Raghuram et al. 2008; Chatterji and Washbrook 2013; Hedge and Sahoo 2018). Thus, communities both creolise and increase their ethnic salience by ethnicising. The homeland as the heart of transnational communities has been contested by some scholars. After discussing these critiques, Cohen (2008) observes that the homeland has acquired solid, ductile and liquid versions, as diasporas are marked by mobility. He proposes the adoption of the expression “deterritorialized diaspora,” as many ethnic groups have lost their conventional territorial reference points. However, the vast majority of Indian communities still consider India their parental or ancestral homeland. This is true even of the indentured labourers who migrated over a century ago to locations far away. Furthermore, such bonding does not only refer to past relations. In a recent study, Narayan (2017) discloses by means of the texts of songs how there remains a close connection between the cultures of Indians in Suriname, the Netherlands, and Uttar Pradesh, the region of origin in India. Even though Dutch Hindustanis may consider Suriname and the Netherlands as their new homelands, India is still close to them as the ancestral homeland and is visited more and more (Gowricharn 2017). The meaning of “homeland” may also vary, as many communities adopt two or more homelands. Transnational relations may be ramified, as in the case of Indo-Caribbeans (Birbalsingh 1998, see also Levitt and Waters 2002) who moved from India to the Caribbean and from there to the Western world. Nevertheless, they consider both India and their societies of settlement as homelands, for example Trinidad and Canada. Multiple homelands coexist side by side, in the same way that Indians in the US may consider the US, India, and (for example) Gujarat as homelands. These global communities, which constitute the Indian transnational ecumene, have been widely documented (e.g. Lal et al. 2006). Moreover, to these physical communities should be added the rise of virtual communities, which also exert powerful bonding across the Indian diaspora (Sahoo and De Kruijf 2014). This bifurcated global embeddedness, the emergence of many homelands, the increased hybridity and layered identities of communities, undermine any notion of a bilateral transnational community. Consequently, the classical conception of transnational communities consisting of a bilateral relationship between the homeland and overseas communities, forged by the nostalgia of first-generation migrants and assuming static relations between homeland and migrants, is fading away. India and overseas communities of Indians are caught in fluxes that affect bonds across Indian transnational communities, which themselves maintain relations with several homelands (Raghuram et al. 2008; see also 4

INTRODUCTION

chapters in Hedge and Sahoo 2018). These changes challenge old conceptions of Indian transnationalism, as reflected in the shifting modes of transnational bonding.

New global shifts The preceding discussion raises a crucial question that has hardly been addressed explicitly: what makes all these disparate communities feel “Indian” or part of the global Indian ecumene? More specifically, why do first-generation Tamils in the UK and third-generation Biharis in Suriname feel part of the Indian transnational world? Identification represents an unsatisfactory term to account for transnational bonding, as any viable transnational community is culturally entangled. Bonding should therefore comprise generations and be materialised in the lived culture of the people involved. Lived culture has been described as “that province of reality which the wide-awake and normal adult simply takes for granted in the attitude of common sense” (Schutz 1974: 3–5). Being described as taken for granted reflects daily routine and represents a part of custodian life. It is shared, intersubjective, and “natural.” This concept of the lived world is juxtaposed with the system world, which is formal, abstract, and public (Kunneman 1998). Small ethnic communities with their own lived worlds may become entangled with the diaspora. Therefore, the question becomes: how is India part of the lived culture of transnational communities? For a long time, bonding between the homeland and overseas communities was considered a matter of nostalgia that would fade away after the first generation. However, this perspective has become obsolete. Later generations of Indians abroad remain in contact with India, while being integrated into their newly adopted homelands. Local and global forces interact and affect the bonding between India and overseas Indian communities. These Indian communities incorporate Indian culture – be it food, music, religion, language, festivals, attire and entertainment such as Bollywood – into their lived culture and thus connect the community with India. Such cultural entanglement is being affected by new waves of globalisation, driven by economics, politics, religion, tourism and many other forces that alter people’s bonds with India. These shifts highlight that the old Indian diaspora, conceived as a passive ensemble of a homeland and overseas communities, is being replaced by a new transnational ordering of Indian communities that are actively involved in the transnational world. In this context, some authors speak of a “new Indian diaspora,” referring to the postcolonial migration of Indians (Koshy 2008; Raghuram et al. 2008). However, the postcolonial period covers more than half a century. Within that time span, a number of significant changes at the global level have 5

R U B E N G OW R I C H A R N

occurred, in India as well as in overseas communities (Chakravorty et al. 2017). Most publications on the Indian diaspora concentrate on bilateral relations, either in terms of relations between India and specific societies (i.e.  Ogden 2014), or attempt to account for the contributions of Indians abroad to the benefit of India (Kapur 2010; Mishra 2016). According to this model, India remains the star around which all satellites revolve, although the shift towards the US is undeniable. The literature on the Indian diaspora has largely ignored the broader shifts examined in this book. The suggestion that an Indian neo-diaspora has emerged (Koshy 2008) ignores the changes taking place in the present era, such as the rise of India to emerging superpower status, the growth of Hindu ethnic chauvinism and the increasing marginalisation of Muslims (Bhatt and Mukta 2000; Jaffrelot and Therwath 2007; Biswas 2010). This is part of the rebranding of India that Hedge (2018) has identified, but its impact on the wider diaspora has received conspicuously less scholarly attention. Exceptions can be found in handbooks such as those by Raghuram et al. (2008), Chatterji and Washbrook (2013) and Hedge and Sahoo (2018). These books have sought to highlight new aspects concerning old configurations, without reflecting on the shifting nature of the diaspora. New perspectives have also been offered by Sahoo and De Kruijf (2014) in terms of the “online” dimension of transnationalism. One may argue that Bollywood has preceded such a perspective (Kaur and Sinha 2005), but it is nevertheless also deserving of considerable scholarly attention. As Elahi (2014) argues, the major reason behind the relative neglect of Bollywood is that contemporary diaspora life is highly interwoven with a virtual reality that is entangled with the real life of overseas communities in several domains, especially concerning religion, shopping, tourism, and Bollywood (see also Sahoo and De Kruijf 2014; Gowricharn 2017). Irrespective of the types of communities in question, four categories of forces affect bonding with India and transnational communities: global forces; global and local encounters; national adjustments; and regional or local glocalisation. A brief word on each of the categories is in order. At the global level, forces emanate from India, including changes within the Indian homeland. India’s economic, political and cultural significance on the world scene has increased in recent decades and has involved the diaspora in the country’s economic and political development. Hedge (2018) has described this mobilisation as the “rebranding of India.” The global marketing of India is not only aimed at attracting foreign capital investments and knowledge, but also to export human capital to Western markets, predominantly the US, so that it can be mobilised in the future (Kapur 2010; Chakravorty et al. 2017). Western societies are targeted because the Indian communities based there are demographically larger and possess high levels of education, political support, knowledge and capital. Despite its selective

6

INTRODUCTION

nature, the new transnationalism has generated new bonding forces, including global ethnic pride in which Bollywood, the victory of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), and the growing economic and political power of India are distinguishing features (Koshy 2008; Ogden 2014; Hedge 2018). Indian policy in this era is geared towards dealing with the outside world and benefitting from its proceeds. Certain local forces affect global forces and vice versa. Such encounters between global and local forces include religious practices, the use of commodities and services and the interpretation of ideas. Bollywood represents a good example. This industry is increasingly export-oriented and its messages and ingredients (songs, music, fashion) cannot be adjusted, but merely adopted and incorporated into lived culture. Bollywood movies are consumed in the way in which they are offered by the sending society. Forces like Bollywood (religion being another example) strengthen bonds with India, while at the same time communicating to other diaspora communities that “we” are Indians (Waldinger and Fitzgerald 2004; Bandyopadhyay 2008; Gowricharn 2017). Homelands often provide different functions for diaspora communities, including a site of family and personal memories for first- and secondgeneration emigrants (Wei-Jue Huang et al. 2013). Migrants primarily use their ancestral land as a source of cultural commodities and services to shape their cultural identity. In the process, they adjust Indian commodities and services to their new home environments. These national adjustments are often driven by prevailing moral values in the host land (such as gender equality) or are simply modified by circumstances rather than being “imposed” by the globalising commodity (like the Bollywood movie). The adoption of global culture, after being filtered and modified for local use, has been addressed before as glocalisation (Robertson 2012). An example is Indian classical dance combined with aspects of local dances (Purkayastha et al. 2018). Religious rituals can be adjusted and the material used can be substituted (Bakker 2018). Adoption is contingent on the level of welfare, a command of the language (either Hindi or English), information and communications technology (ICT), internal ethnic institutions and an orientation towards Indianness, whether local or global. Finally, a rarely discussed development in the Indian diaspora is the emergence of new local diasporas, previously described as “diasporas in a diaspora.” Examples include the migration of people from India to the Caribbean and from there to the UK, the Netherlands, or France and the US. In some cases, the geography of these new diasporas is quite complicated, as exemplified by the migration of African Gujaratis or the Girmytias from Fiji. In the latter, lesser-known case, the migrants moved from India to Fiji, Australia and New Zealand and later to the US or back to India. These successive migrations make clear that the primary homeland may become Fiji

7

R U B E N G OW R I C H A R N

or the Netherlands. The reverse also holds: that India has become home to many diaspora communities whose ancestral and parental homelands are located abroad. These communities may have accepted India as a first or second homeland. The chapter in this volume by Anushyama Mukherjee about the Hydrami community in Hyderabad exemplifies how India is becoming home for many minorities. One can expand this focus to comprise the tremendous domestic migration of ethnic communities in India. From this perspective it should be recognised that the Indian diaspora has become an extremely complicated phenomenon that challenges old conceptions. This book addresses a totally neglected issue: the varieties of bonding that exist between diaspora communities and the shifts in these ties. In most accounts, the connection between India and the overseas communities is taken for granted as a fixed, “natural” relationship. However, even though transnational communities’ connections and their variety are largely ignored, their relations are changing thanks to global and local forces, affecting the identities of Indian groups and reflecting how the Indian transnational ensemble is evolving towards new forms of bonding. This is the central message of this book. It is one that is being communicated by observers both inside and outside India and is illustrated in diverse ways, highlighting how communities retain a group identity while maintaining their bonds with the ancestral homeland and reinforcing the diaspora. The topics in this book are not exhaustive, but they highlight new tendencies in the configuration of Indian transnationalism. The inclusion of perspectives from communities outside India represents a break from the traditional focus on the homeland.

The contributions This book takes all these specificities into account, but focuses on shifts in the new diaspora. The book is divided into three parts: global and local encounters; glocalisation; and regional transnationalism. Part I Global and local encounters Divya Balan opens the first part of the book with a chapter on everyday life and identity in the Indian diaspora in the UK. She discusses the extent and the intensity of transnational bonding, which varies with factors such as generational differences and consequent shifts in diaspora consciousness and identity. To validate this argument, an in-depth analysis of the process of configuring a unique diaspora consciousness and identity among Indians in the UK that helps them to navigate their transnational and local encounters is offered. While exploring the major observable features of the Indian diaspora’s transnational bonding with the homeland in general, the chapter particularly examines shifts in the experiences and identities of the diaspora across generations. The processes by which transnational identities among 8

INTRODUCTION

Indian diaspora communities in the multicultural social settings of the UK are formed, negotiated and manipulated are problematised. The principal proposition is that the maintenance of close links with the homeland facilitates a broader understanding of the Indian diaspora in the UK and elsewhere. Kamini and Peter Grahame tell the story of how Indo-Trinidadians reconfigure their identities in the Canadian and American transnational world. Through their study of migration and family life, they are interested in the construction of “Indo-Trinidadian” as an identity. This term emerged as a designation for people in the Indian diaspora who migrated to Trinidad in the 19th and 20th centuries in connection with indentureship. The term has both formal and informal uses, referring to ethnicity and nationality in official contexts, but to food, music, fashion, and the like in everyday life. As an identity, “Indo-Trinidadian” has a variety of cultural and political supports that operate both locally and transnationally. These supports become salient in new and complex ways for Indo-Trinidadians who make a second migration to North America. Indeed, the authors argue that in Toronto and New York – two major destinations for Indo-Trinidadian migrants – Indian identity becomes unsettled and problematic. In response, these migrants are called upon to do specific kinds of identity work to manage their identities as Indian, Trinidadian, and American or Canadian. Drawing upon fieldwork, they describe several distinctive patterns that emerge as Indo-Trinidadians seek to work out places for themselves in their new cultural, political and economic contexts. Roshni Sengupta subsequently examines the redefinition of the transnational Indian as the Hindu designer diaspora, keen on providing moral and financial support to the rising tide of Hindu nationalism in India. The author does so through an aesthetic exploration of the fetishisation of the role of the consummate Hindu woman in the schemata of creating a larger Hindu nation. Ubiquitous in Bollywood productions remains the festival of Karwa Chauth, the ritual observance of which has emerged as one of the primary markers of the idealisation of the on-screen Hindu woman, leading the diasporic Indian woman to be regarded as quintessential. Such representation also results in the exclusion of the non-archetypal woman, placing her on the margins of the transnational Hindu universe. Furthermore, the chapter argues that the “Hindutvisation” of the diaspora – which is particularly visible on social media platforms – remains a key epistemic response to and result of Bollywood cinematic content to which diaspora communities have been continuously exposed. Based on visual analysis of selected Bollywood films such as Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995), Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (1998) and Namastey London (2007), the chapter deliberates on the making of the ideal Hindu diasporic woman. Satya Ban Yadav next argues that diasporas have emerged as powerful entities because they are recognised as a form of soft power in the realm of 9

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foreign policy strategy and as an agent or catalyst of economic development of countries of origin besides their active role in the host countries. His chapter examines the engagement of the state of India with the Indian diaspora by situating it within larger debates about diaspora and development. The main objective of this chapter is to highlight certain missing links in this discourse of diaspora. It is the contention of the chapter that these linkages between diaspora and development require greater scholarly attention. Part II Glocalisation To open the second part of the book, Annapurna Panday examines the central role of gender in the creation of ethnic communities and cultures among Hindu Indian immigrants. Gender relations and constructs are reworked during immigration and settlement and are crucial to women’s agency, which is manifested in diverse ways, including reskilling, autonomy, spatial mobility, and playing an active role in the patriarchal temple culture. The author argues that migration and settlement result in an interrelated but distinct change in the positioning of women, not only within the family and the local community, but also at public places of worship. The findings undermine patriarchy within marriage and the larger community, re-evaluating the normative power of the husband, the undervaluation of women’s work relative to men’s and the implicit norm of the male breadwinner/woman homemaker. Rita Cachado and Inês Lourenco also deal with a specific form of transnational adjustment, one of Gujaratis in Portugal. The most prominent population are the Hindu Gujaratis who have lived in Portugal since the late 1970s. This migration was boosted by the decolonisation of a former Portuguese colony, Mozambique, to where Indians had migrated from India. Anchored in long-term fieldwork, the authors concentrate on Hindu practices that incorporate elements of Portuguese Catholicism, specifically a representation of the Virgin Mary, known in Portuguese as Our Lady of Fátima. These practices point to hybridisation processes among transnational communities and hence challenge dominant representations of the Hindu diaspora. As illustrated, they detail the population and its cultural practices in order to better understand such interest in Our Lady of Fátima, specifically through the distinctive rituals that take place. Ruben Gowricharn subsequently argues that glocalisation refers to the adjusted adoption of globalised culture. This happens all the time in diaspora communities that absorb culture from a homeland, examples being religious rituals and food practices. Glocalisation accounts for the persistence of transnational bonding that cannot be explained solely by referring to shared identity. This begs the question of how Indian overseas

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communities obtain and maintain Indian culture. The answer is that these communities have preserved similar tastes that bond them to their internal ethnic institutions. Consequently, granted variations in bonding, diaspora culture and culturally shaped tastes, an ethnic institutional infrastructure is required to adopt and adjust globalised Indian culture. The author argues that an ethnic institutional infrastructure has been taken for granted in the scholarly literature on transnational communities, especially when accounting for the bonding of diasporas. Part III Regional transnationalism To commence the third part of the book, Jaswina Elahi argues that the scholarly literature has dealt extensively with glocalisation, a process that starts as the globalisation of culture, most often originating in a developed society before eventually being adopted by others. This perspective also applies to the Indian diaspora, where for example Bollywood operates as the globalising force and diaspora communities adopt Indian culture. However, less known is the globalisation of culture from the periphery of the diaspora that “goes global.” This development contradicts the widely held belief that globalisation destroys local folklore traditions and ignores the emergence of new cultural forms. The author reports the case of baithak gáná music and dance, which originated in India, migrated to the Caribbean where it blossomed, and later travelled from there to the Netherlands. The rise of a transnational baithak gáná entertainment culture, comprising Suriname and the Netherlands and occasionally involving other diaspora communities, appears to constitute a new phenomenon. The chapter argues first that current perspectives on globalisation barely include folk culture (especially where they are rooted in societies that are not central within the diaspora) and second that the transnationalisation of folk culture is a rare phenomenon that is worth studying. Manoranjan Mohanty then argues that Indian immigrants have become transmigrants or represent a “new diaspora.” Indian immigrants under the British indenture labour system in the 19th and 20th centuries – called Girmitiyas in many countries including Fiji – have emerged as transmigrants and have gradually been transformed into a distinct Indian diaspora in transnational space. They are deeply engaged in social, cultural, and economic development in their countries of settlement and have maintained a distinct cultural group identity and bonding in a transnational world. However, their identity and bonding are constantly shifting, and they are acquiring “multiple identities” in transnational space. As a result, a “hybrid cultural identity” has emerged among Fijian Indian diaspora communities, especially in Pacific Rim countries. This chapter examines the emergence of Girmitiyas in Fiji, their transformation into a Fijian-Indian diaspora and their engagement in

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their host countries. It also discusses their shifting identities and their bonding with the ancestral homeland of India in a transnational world, taking Australasia as a case in point. Finally, Anushyama Mukherjee opens a window on Hadramis in India. Drawing on an ethnographic study, the chapter shows that Hadramis from Barkas, an old Arabian neighbourhood in Hyderabad, have moved to the Gulf states and have maintained various types of bonds with their homeland(s). The chapter departs from previous studies of diasporas by highlighting how despite being involved in circular migration, this group of migrants holds a strong connection with Yemen as well as India. The chapter thus seeks to understand the construction of homeland(s) and identities in Barkas and explores the relationship of migration to the Gulf with the concept of homeland. It then focuses on how and why different residents of Barkas construct homeland. It considers the multiple perceptions of people who construct homeland in different ways and attempts to explore bonding between constructions of homeland and host land. It concludes that the meaning of home keeps changing, being contextual in nature and render fuzzy identities that emerge through constant movement from one country to the other.

References Aiyer, Sana. 2015. Indians in Kenya: The Politics of Diaspora. Cambridge/London: Harvard University Press. Alexander, Claire. 2017. ‘Beyond the “The ‘Diaspora’ Diaspora”: A Response to Rogers Brubaker’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 40(9): 1544–1555. Bakker, Freek. 2018. Hinduism in the Netherlands. Berlin/London: Lit Verlag. Bandyopadhyay, Ranjan. 2008. ‘Nostalgia, Identity and Tourism: Bollywood in the Indian Diaspora’, Journal of Tourism and Cultural Change, 6(2): 79–100. Bhatt, Chetan and Parita Mukta. 2000. ‘Hindutva in the West: Mapping the Antinomies of Diaspora Nationalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3): 407–441. Birbalsingh, Frank. 1998. From Pillar to Post: The Indo-Caribbean Diaspora. Toronto: TSAR Publications. Biswas, Bidisa. 2010. ‘Negotiating the Nation: Diaspora Contestations in the USA about Hindu Nationalism in India’, Nations and Nationalism, 16(4): 696–714. Brubaker, Rogers. 2005. ‘The “Diaspora” Diaspora’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 28(1): 1–19. Brubaker, Rogers. 2017. ‘Revisiting “The ‘Diaspora’ Diaspora”: A Response to Clair Alexander’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 40(9): 1556–1561. Chakravorty, Sanjoy, Devesh Kapur and Nirvikar Singh. 2017. The Other One Percent: Indians in America. New York: Oxford University Press. Chatterji, Joya and David Washbrook. 2013. Routledge Handbook of the South Asian Diaspora. London: Routledge. Clarke, Colin, Ceri Peach and Steven Vertovec. 1990. ‘Introduction: Themes in the Study of South Asian Diaspora’, in Colin Clarke, Ceri Peach and Steven Vertovec (eds.), South Asians Overseas: Migration and Ethnicity, pp.  1–32. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Cohen, Robin. 2008. Four Phases of Diaspora: An Introduction. London: Routledge. Cornell, Stephen and Douglas Hartmann. 2007. Ethnicity and Race: Making Identities in a Changing World. London: Sage. Elahi, Jaswina. 2014. Etnische websites, behoeften en netwerken: Over het gebruik van internet door jongeren. PhD Dissertation. Tilburg University. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2009.‘Changing Forms of Transnationalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 32(9): 1619–1638. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2017. ‘Shopping in Mumbai: Transnational Sociability from the Netherlands’, Global Networks, 17(3): 349–365. Hedge, Radha. 2018. ‘Renewing diaspora bonds and the global branding of India’, in Radha Hedge and Ajaya Sahoo (eds.), Routledge Handbook of the Indian Diaspora, pp. 269–281. London/New York: Routledge. Hedge, Radha and Ajaya Sahoo (eds.). 2018. Routledge Handbook of the Indian Diaspora. London/New York: Routledge. Jaffrelot, Christopher and Ingrid Therwath. 2007. ‘The Sangh Parivar and the Hindu Diaspora in the West: What Kind of “Long-Distance Nationalism”?’, International Political Sociology, 1: 278–295. Jayaram, Nayaram. 2011. Diversities in the Indian Diaspora: Nature, Implications, Responses. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Kapur, Devesh. 2010. Diaspora, Democracy and Development: The Domestic Impact of International Migration from India. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Kaur, Raminder and Ajay Sinha. 2005. Bollyworld: Popular Indian Cinema through a Transnational Lens. New Delhi: Thousand Oaks. Knott, Kim and Seán McLoughlin (eds.). 2010. Diasporas: Concepts, Intersections, Identities. London: Zed Books. Koshy, Susan. 2008. ‘Introduction’, in Susan Koshy and Rajgopal Radhakrishnan (eds.), Transnational South Asians: The Making of a Neo-Diaspora, pp. 1–41. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Kunneman, Harry. 1998. Postmoderne Moraliteit. Amsterdam: Boom. Lal, Brij, Peter Reeves and Rajesh Rai. 2006. The Encyclopedia of the Indian Diaspora. Singapore: Editions Didier Millet. Lal, Vinay. 2008. The Other Indians: A Political and Cultural History of South Asians in America. New Delhi: Harper Collins. Levitt, Peggy and Mary Waters. 2002. ‘Introduction’, in Peggy Levitt and Mary Waters (eds.), The Changing Face of Home: The Transnational Lives of the Second Generation, pp. 1–30. New York: Russell Sage. Mahabir, Kumar (ed.). 2013. Caribbean Issues in the Indian Diaspora. New Delhi: Serial Publications. Mishra, Sangay. 2016. Desis Divided: The Political Lives of South Asian Americans. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Narayan, Badri. 2017. Culture and Emotional Economy of Migration. London/New York: Routledge. Ogden, Christopher. 2014. Indian Foreign Policy. Cambridge: Polity Press. Purkayastha, Bandana, Shweta Majumdar and Koyel Khan. 2018. ‘Performing Indian American Ethnicity in Mainstream America’, in Radha Hedge and Ajaya Sahoo (eds.), Routledge Handbook of the Indian Diaspora, pp. 282–293. London/New York: Routledge.

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Raghuram, Parvati, Ajaya Sahoo, Brij Maharaj and Dave Sangha (eds.). 2008. Tracing an Indian Diaspora: Contexts, Memories, Representations. London/New Delhi: Sage. Reddy, Movindri. 2016. Social Movements and the Indian Diaspora. London/New York: Routledge. Robertson, Ronald. 2012. ‘Globalisation or Glocalisation?’, The Journal of International Communication, 18(2): 191–208. Sahoo, Ajaya and Johannes De Kruijf. 2014. Indian Transnationalism Online. London/New York: Routledge. Schutz, Alfred and Thomas Luckmann. 1974. The Structures of the Life-World. London: Heineman. Van der Veer, Peter. 1995. ‘The Diaspora Imagination’, in Peter Van der Veer (ed.), Nation and Migration: The Politics of Pace in the South Asian Diaspora, pp. 1–16. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Vertovec, Steven. 2009. Transnationalism. London/New York: Routledge. Waldinger, Roger and David Fitzgerald. 2004. ‘Transnationalism in Question’, American Journal of Sociology, 109(5): 1177–1195. Wei-Jue Huang, Sabrina, William Haller and Gregory Ramshaw. 2013. ‘Diaspora Tourism and Homeland Attachments: An Exploratory Analysis’, Tourism Analysis, 18(3): 285–296. Younger, Paul. 2010. New Homelands: Hindu Communities in Mauritius, Guyana, Trinidad, South Africa, Fiji, and East Africa. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Part I GLOBAL AND LOCAL ENCOUNTERS

2 RE-READING THE BANYAN TREE ANALOGY Everyday life and identity of Indian diaspora in Britain Divya Balan

Introduction To study a banyan tree, you not only must know its main stem in its own soil, but also must trace the growth of its greatness in the further soil, for then you can know the true nature of its vitality. The civilization of India, like the banyan tree, has shed its beneficent shade away from its own birthplace . . . India can live and grow by spreading abroad – not the political India, but the ideal India, (Tinker 1977: iii) said Rabindranath Tagore, the great Indian poet. This “ideal India” that Tagore referred to is the domain of Indian diaspora that has spread far and wide over the world. Concurrently, political India’s outstanding influence in global affairs is contributed to a great extent by its diaspora. Thus to understand India wholly, one should explore the kind of transnational bonding Indian diaspora have with their “imagined ideal” homeland. Reminiscing about their left-behind homeland is a central feature of diasporic life, and they maintain close links with homeland emotionally, culturally, as well as materially for disparate reasons. However, the core argument of this chapter is that the extent and intensity of this transnational bonding varies depending on their history and channel of migration, time of arrival, the country of the last departure, generational differences and the consequent shift in the diaspora consciousness and identity, experiences at home and host countries, and engagement of Indian government with its diaspora. The Indian diaspora is known for not only the professional and economic achievements but also for their visibility in both the home and host countries. They are often projected as model diaspora in the destination states, and depending on the migration laws, they either take up citizenship or stay 17

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there for a prolonged duration to save enough money before return. Indians are relatively better integrated than several other South Asian communities in most cases and actively contributed to the cultural economy of the destination countries. Yet, they consciously “try to avoid total assimilation by keeping intact the ethnic identity and integrity of their community” (Desai 1963). Having said that, retaining Indianness in a foreign country simultaneously while maintaining cultural bonding with India involves skilful and often difficult negotiation of the contested social spaces of identity in host lands. To analyse and comprehend this very nature of the global Indian diaspora, this study draws majorly on the definition of diaspora communities provided by William Safran (1991). Diaspora communities, as described by Safran, have dispersed from their original homeland to a foreign land yet “retain a collective memory, vision, or myth about former’s physical location, history, and achievements” to the point that “they regard their ancestral homeland as their true, ideal home and as the place to which they or their descendants would (or should) eventually return.” This definition fits perfectly with the transnational India diaspora as “they believe that they are not and perhaps cannot be fully accepted by their host society and therefore feel partly alienated and insulated from it.” Hence they continue to relate, personally or vicariously, to that homeland in one way or another, and their ethno-communal consciousness and solidarity, as well as the commitment to contribute to the prosperity the homeland, are importantly defined by the existence of such a relationship. (Safran 1991: 83–84) The diaspora consciousness thus defines the individual and collective existence of migrants in the destination societies besides their interactions with other diaspora communities and the natives. There is an especially heightened diaspora consciousness among the Indians who have directly emigrated from India. However, for the twice migrants like the Indo-Ugandans in Britain or Indo-Surinamese in the Netherlands, this consciousness is fractured. They bear multiple identities and loyalties; so is their transnational bonding with India as well as with their “countries of immigration.” Similar is the case of foreign-born third culture individuals (TCIs) who have enhanced intercultural communication competence and adaptation skills due to their global exposure. They are individuals who lived a significant proportion of their developmental years in a culture other than their parents’ home culture; develop a sense of relationship to all of these cultures, while not having full ownership of any. 18

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They incorporate into their life experience elements of each culture they have been part of, and their sense of belonging is in relation to others with similar experiences. (Pollock and Van Reken 1999, as quoted in Fechter and Korpela 2016: 424) These diverse experiences of migration and multiple identifications condition their diaspora identities that, in turn, determine the bonding with both the home and host societies. The purpose of this chapter is to provide an in-depth analysis of the everyday diasporic life of Indians in Britain to understand the process of configuring a unique consciousness and identity among the diaspora that helps them to navigate the transnational and local encounters. Of all the Indians in Europe, two-thirds of them are found in the United Kingdom (the UK), this being the rationale of selecting Britain as the case study. Based on the secondary data reviewed, this chapter employs discourse analysis for a (de)constructive reading and interpretation of the available literature, primarily since 2000s, to provide a comprehensive account of the diasporic life, their socio-cultural, ethnic and religious peculiarities, family and kinship networks, reconstruction of community life through associations around religious and regional affiliations and cyber networks, economic behaviours, myth of return, interaction with the host society, and their overall position in British society. All of these aspects encapsulate the fundamental argument that the maintenance of close links with the homeland is a significant parameter for the broader understanding of the Indian diaspora in Britain and elsewhere. While exploring the major observable features of transnational bonding of Indian diaspora with the homeland in general, this chapter also examines the shift in the experiences and attitudes of the diaspora over generations. The chapter argues that this shift was prompted by both the social process of migration in itself and the generational changes among the diaspora given the fact that the Indian diaspora has resided in Britain for several decades now. Much of the literature available on the Indian diaspora refers to the general study of migration, socio-economic and cultural characteristics, their experiences of adaptation and assimilation in the host societies, and so forth. A comprehensive scholarly study on the continuity and change in the Indian diaspora over generations, especially concerning their transnational bonding with the homeland, is harder to find as most studies focus on any one of the aforementioned aspects of migration. There is a serious need to analytically study the shift in the patterns of transnational bonding over generations and the consequent identity formation among the Indian diaspora for several valid reasons. After all, expert research and knowledge are a prerequisite for effective policymaking on migration as well. This study is a relevant attempt to fill the earlier mentioned crucial gaps and to identify 19

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and update the scholarly understandings of Indian diaspora in general by explicitly looking at the case of Britain. However, this is an arduous effort as Indian community in Britain is a uniquely heterogeneous “community of communities” (Parekh 2000) replicating the diversity of India in terms of region, language, religion, castes, and sub-castes. One of the major problems encountered while conducting this study was the problematic consideration of British Indians as a single homogeneous community in many studies to make sweeping generalisations. To address this limitation, this chapter is premised on the proposition that despite the diversities, British Indian diaspora shares a fairly cohesive identity, with distinctive socio-economic and cultural characteristics (Ram 1989) that enable them to connect with India. Also, the length and breadth of world population movements are ever increasing in this era of globalisation and “super-diversity” (Vertovec 2007), inducing significant changes in the economic, political and socio-cultural landscape of both the home and host countries. The states perceive migration as an uneasy development that poses a threat to the very nature and core values of the countries involved. The dynamism of the process of migration at work in the sending, transit, and destination countries, as well as the policy implications, impels the states as well as diaspora communities to respond in unprecedented ways. This, in turn, results in social consequences, including either the creation of afresh diaspora identities or the transformation of the existing ones. To capture these complexities in a short study is rather ambitious, but pertinent to understand Tagore’s great banyan tree, i.e. India and its diaspora. Social constructivism is the underlying theoretical premise employed in this chapter to explain the complexities associated with the (re)-configuration of multiple and often complicated diasporic identities, in this case, BritishIndian. The constructivist assumption that “identities are potentially part of the constitutive practices of actors” hence accounts for “their actions at home and abroad” (Hopf 1998: 193) illustrates the extent to which ethnic identities are transformed through migration over generations. The seemingly contradictory strategies adopted especially by the foreign-born generations, depending on their social positioning within the larger British society, of simultaneously upholding and asserting their pride in Indian heritage and downplaying their “otherness” as non-White, non-European immigrants by diluting obvious cultural markers of their Indian identity such as clothing, mannerisms, and accents, thus offers credence to the fact that formation and shifting of identities are indeed dynamic processes employed by the diaspora to negotiate with the mainstream. Acculturation, hybridisation, and assimilation/integration are all gradual natural outcomes of the ongoing process of shift in identities that can be noticed among the global Indian diaspora; however, what is constant is their transnational connect with India. The chapter is structured into a brief section on the general profile of the Indian diaspora in Britain so as to provide a temporal and cultural context 20

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to the arguments made. Following this is a detailed account of how the Indians strategises their identity in Britain via their everyday life practices. This section is illustrative of the fact that the Indian diasporic communities in Britain are culturally well established and have a close bonding with India and its rich culture and traditions that they are keen to maintain at any cost. Indians could never give up India, especially when British society perceives migration as a socially disintegrative process.

Indian diaspora in Britain: a brief profile It would be difficult, if not impossible, to find a country with no Indians at work or settled. The tradition of Indians travelling to far off lands for sustenance goes beyond the recorded history; however, the roots and routes of the present-day Indian diaspora in Britain can be traced back to the 17th century and was mainly the result of the long-established colonial connections between both countries. The economic migration of Indians flourished with the Industrial Revolution and the subsequent growth of the British economy and trade. It was in the late 1940s that the largest wave of Indian migration to Britain occurred because of the partition of India in 1947. This coincided with the pull factor of labour demand in the British economy for post-war reconstruction (Malik 1994: 36). Likewise, Indians from the European colonies in Asia-Pacific, Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean also moved into Britain; a process commonly referred to as “twice migration” (Bhachu 1985). This phase also witnessed the migration of Indian ex-servicemen, Anglo-Indians, a few political refugees from Punjab, as well as families from India to join the earlier migrants. The family reunion provided a permanent nature to Indian migration; consequently, the establishment of the community in a much systematic pattern with the setting up of socio-cultural institutions including religious centres like mandirs, gurdwaras, masjids, ethnic textile and grocery shops, Indian associations, travel agencies, and so forth. The appearances of large houses built and acres of land bought with remittance in Indian villages inspired others to follow the path of earlier emigrants to Vilayat. Their travel was facilitated by the kinship networks as well as by the business interests of travel agencies that had flourished by then in many of the Indian villages and cities (Holmes 1988: 222–223). However, the real increase in the number of people of Indian origin in Britain started with the arrival of East African Indian families fled from the aggressive nationalistic regimes of Jomo Kenyatta in Kenya, Idi Amin in Uganda, and Julius Nyerere in Tanzania during the late 1960s and 1970s, having been seriously affected by the post-independent Africanisation policies in these countries (Bal 2006; Bhachu 1985; Hamlett et al. 2008; Ramnarine 1996; Spencer 1997; Tinker 1977; Visram 1986). Since 1990, highly skilled Indian professionals marked the migration trail as visa schemes changed to point based system, making it increasingly 21

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difficult for low-skilled migrants to gain entry. Their motivations to migrate were money and wage differentials, career prospects, personal growth, experience, travel, enhanced quality of life, and prestige, attached to working abroad rather than in the Indian cities of Bengaluru or Hyderabad. Working holidaymakers who have migrated to the UK for an extended holiday up to two years and have taken up work, plus a considerable number of students add on to the current number of Indians in Britain. According to the 2018 released statistics from the Ministry of External Affairs of the Government of India, Britain has 1.825 million Indian immigrants, the largest number in the whole of Europe and second-largest in the western world, next to the United States. They are the single largest non-European ethnic minority population in Britain comprising 2.5% of the country’s population, as per the last conducted UK Census in 2011 (The Indian Express 2012). Indian communities are now among the most established ethnic groups in Britain; relatively well qualified and widely dispersed throughout the country in a wide array of professions, especially in information technology (IT) and national health service (NHS). The push and pull factors of their emigration, their time of arrival in Britain, socio-economic background back in India, intergenerational differences, experiences and interactions with the host society, migration policies, and such other factors defined their diaspora identity as well as the everyday socio-cultural, economic, and political practices in Britain. Britain has experienced four generations of Indians, and the prominent feature of the Indian communities is the ever-presence of a first-generation, as new immigrants, mostly young and skilled, entering every day looking for a better life. Indians emigrate for reasons fairly applicable to the rest of the diaspora communities in Britain. However, what makes their story unique is the way they established themselves in the host land to even satisfy the ethno-cultural needs of the community. Indian immigrants seemed to have better adjusted to life in Britain than Pakistanis or Bangladeshis and always showed a greater commitment to remain in Britain (Halsey 1988: 590–591). The general trend among Indian immigrants is to acquire British citizenship, which is generally considered as a positive response to the integration efforts and civic life of the country. Of the top 10 nations whose citizens acquired British citizenship in 2016, Indians amounted to 16% (Blinder 2017: 2). Children of Indian background are performing particularly well in schools; Indian students attending university generally go to top institutions, which would undoubtedly help to consolidate the already better performance of their middle-class Indian-born parents and grandparents in the British labour market. The significant contributions they have made to British economy provided them with a visible influence and access in British socio-political spheres along with their presence in India as successful Pravasis. State policies are being designed in the post-globalisation era in such a manner that a sizeable economic contribution is expected from the upper-middle-class 22

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Indian immigrants of Britain in particular and Europe in general. The size and significance of Indian diaspora in Britain thus justify an in-depth ethnographic study as it would be an indicator to understand the complexities of the social process of migration and transnationalism in general.

Strategising Indianness: everyday life of Indian diaspora in Britain The everyday life of diaspora Indians is a testimony to the fact that, notwithstanding the changes occurred to them over time and generations, they are keen to retain their physical and emotional bonding with India. For better understanding this postulation, the following section explores how Indians in Britain have strategised their national and sub-national identities in such a way that they appropriated a vital social space in multicultural Britain, at the same time retained their Indian way of life with skilful tact. Their connection with India is solid, although the TCIs are mixing more steadily with the native British culture. Indian diaspora is mostly family oriented; and family acts as the primary site for cultural learning for British-born generations through their socialisation with close and extended family members both in the UK and in India (Parveen 2003: 3754; Srivastava and Sasikumar 2003: 15). Many diaspora families were multigenerational with grandparents, parents, and children living together; however, gradual erosion of joint family structure in favour of nuclear families can be noticed currently. To strengthen the bond with India among the TCIs, most parents make conscious efforts to culturalise children by together watching Indian channels widely available in Britain or regional and Hindi films in YouTube and other cyber platforms. Family members together sit and watch videos of family weddings and other functions and festivals in India, thus providing an effective means of linking with the past, thus reinforcing their “distinctive sense of identity” among all generations of the diaspora (Nesbitt 1994: 135). They have an educating effect, especially for the children as their doubts and curiosities about many facets of Indian life are cleared by the elders through their memories and stories about the left-behind homeland. It is primarily considered the responsibility of mothers, who are expected to stay within the boundaries set by caste, religion, and communitarian and patriarchal ideologies, to induct children into Indian ways of life. Relationship patterns in multigenerational families reflect the complex and often shifting attitudes between home and host country values. Parents insist their children learn the ethnic language and marry an Indian generally arranged through family and kinship networks. Parents tend to tolerate the liberal values in British culture and lifestyles internalised by the children to an extent, as they are well aware of the reality that it is impractical to control them beyond a point. As Western values are deviations from the diaspora 23

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community expectations, parents resolutely inculcate Indian culture and values in the British-born children (Paiva 2008: 193, 202). Parents urged to return to India for sheltering their children from the so-called unscrupulous cultural influences and in some cases, they send their children back to India to the guardianship of grandparents or other close relatives.

Kinship networks Chain migration is one central aspect of Indian emigration to the UK. The essential component of organisation of Indians in Britain is mostly on the lines of “village-kin networks” which serve as the facilitating mechanism for bring over aspiring migrants to Britain as well as the support mechanism for new entrants in providing assistance for initial accommodation, food, information about vacancies, affordable leisure, and shopping options. Kinship networks shield the new entrants from the hostile sections of the host society and spare them from any immediate necessity of radical departures from their Indian way of life (Desai 1963). Moreover, the expenses of emigration are usually met by not merely individual effort, but by the help of parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, and friends and fellow villagers. In return, immigrants maintained close ties with their villages in India, particularly by helping the aspiring relatives and friends to migrate, and this circle of chain migration continues. Kinship networks, mostly religious and caste specific, along with regional and community associations, play a significant role in imparting the desired regional language proficiency to the British-born Indians through language classes and such other cultural activities. A fair command over Indian languages is an important marker of ethnic identity, which is also acquired through Bollywood movies, occasional family visits, weekly/monthly gettogethers and celebrations, parents’ conversations at home, and their occasional visits to India for vacations. It is not just a matter of pride for parents if their children speak and write their regional language well, but also a requisite to bond with family and relatives in India. There is a declining trend among recent generations to use ethnic language despite parental insistence. Most British-born generation Indians are bilingual or multilingual with greater proficiency in English which is their communicative language with peers and younger folks (Robinson 2005: 188–189). In general, Indian immigrants in Britain identify themselves with the province of origin more closely than with India as a whole. Many a time, residential choices and friendships are determined by the regional-linguistic considerations and most of the cultural centres were formed on the subnational basis as well, Confederation of Gujarati Organisations, Andhra Association, Kerala House, Bengali Association, and Tamil Sangam, to name a few. Active participation in these associations is considered as a status symbol in both Britain and back home and it offers them a sense of existence as 24

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well as soothes the nostalgia of a once active social life in India. Besides, the intra-ethnic cleavages occur along the lines of religion, caste, language, and the region, as well as the inter-ethnic conflict emerges from external diversities in race and ethnicity (Bhat 2003), are also illustrative of the affinity Indian have with their home country identity.

Religious practices Upkeeping of Indianness is much profound in the religious practices of Indian diaspora in Britain. Religion acts as a significant means through which identity question is mediated (Anwar 1998), in terms of reconfiguring an identity that helps maintain an ethnic memory of India. However, there were differences between religious communities among Indians, including Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims, Christians, and Parsi, and also between different generations regarding the importance of religion in their day-to-day life. Gradual modifications of religious practices and customs have occurred, and in some cases, new sets of practices and customs have evolved with the general process of migration. It can be noticed that many immigrants are more religious than they were in India, and are dedicated vegetarians (Saunders 2007). This reliance on religious faith can be read together with the struggles of especially the first-generations to adapt to an unfamiliar cultural environment. For them, being religious is considered as a way to remain Indian despite living in Britain and as a coping mechanism against the uncertainty and insecurity they feel when there is only a little or no extended family support available. It is also interesting to note that despite the expectation that religious inclination would be weak among Britishborn younger generations, who are socialised in the British cultural settings, they also practise caste system, believe in supernatural forces like the law of karma, or God’s will in explaining life events, health and illness causation, and engage in traditional Indian healing techniques of using turmeric, sandal paste, and ginger for ailments (Jobanputra and Furnham 2005: 352–353; Sidhu et al. 2016). TCIs, who usually have no direct links with their ancestral land, are exposed to religious stories and rituals through their ensured participation in religious activities, and such other various means including Indian television serials like Kailasnath and Balganesh, and mythological storybooks like the Amar Chitra Katha collections. Yet another major feature of Indian community life is their active participation in social and cultural activities organised by the community organisations, devotional groups, and charitable trusts (Hussain 2005: 191). Diwali, Navratri, and Holi have emerged as popular festivals not only of Indian communities but also of larger South Asian diaspora. They donate funds to religious associations in India for construction of religious centres, philanthropic causes, and also as ritualistic offerings for their personal prosperity and family well being. Likewise, the 25

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Hindutva movement has made strong inroads into Indian diaspora in Britain as an extension of the larger political developments in India.

Ethnic cultural activities The dressing pattern of Indians in Britain is illustrative of the still maintained but modified Indian way of life as they blend Indian dresses with western style. Older generation women are seen in mostly salwar kameez or long kurti with jeans bought from the ethnic textile shops, whereas, Britishborn generations and men are more neutral in their dressing style. Likewise, the older generation prefers to watch ethnic media like Sunrise Radio, Zee TV, or Namaste TV and read ethnic publications like India Weekly, Gurajat Samachar, or Amar Deep. They regularly watch Hindi and regional films on TV, Netflix, or YouTube as well as movie releases in British cinemas. The popularity and box-office success of so many Bollywood films in the UK is illustrative of the fact that its unique filmic language, styles, and centrality of family stories provide India diaspora with a sense of homecoming and memories of their distant roots. An affinity to Indian cultural narratives is evident in the success and popularity of films of British-Indian filmmakers like Gurinder Chadha; theatre companies like Tara Arts, or Hungama Productions; Indian musical and dance programmes like the Annual Raas Garba Competition and the Annual Asian Mela Festival in Leicester. Regular Bhangra, Qawwali, and Mehandi competitions, Bollywood, and classical song/dance performances are often perceived as a tool for identity affirming for British-born Indian youth (Huq 2003: 34–41; Rajgopal 2003: 49–63). Dance, music, and yoga classes are organised at many regional and cultural associations, London Tamil Sangam for instance. These act not only as a tool of cultural transmission among Indian communities but also as “a cultural medium of entertainment in languages and forms of their everyday life” (Whitaker 2004: 471). Another feature of British Indian cultural life is the existence of the “day-timer” discos, which plays Bollywood dance numbers, that are held in daytime hours to accommodate South Asian parental strictness regarding their children going out late night. Considering consumption and shopping as an ethnically bound social practise among the diaspora, they mostly prefer to purchase from grocery and provisional shops owned and run by fellow Indians. Indian-owned shops, beyond the basic supply of ethnic goods, often perform a social function of being the meeting place and the dissemination points of information related to the community activities. Gender, age, education, employment status, language proficiency, religious preference, and socio-economic background influence the diasporic shopping experiences (Hamlett et al. 2008: 91–111). Food also symbolises their manifold identities and sectarian affiliations such as national, subnational, religious, and caste as well as socio-economic status, family structure, and generational differences (Salih 26

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2001: 667; Saunders 2007: 203–214). The older generation Indians prefer ethnic food practices whereas, the British-born generation prefers bacon, steak, sandwich, fish and chips, puddings, and junk food items reflective of their greater integration to British culture and taste. Likewise, convenience items, tinned, frozen, and ready-to-cook products are more appealing to families where all the members go for work. Indian diaspora women visit Indian cookery sites and watch cookery shows in regional channels as well as families occasionally eating out at Indian restaurants in Britain: Saravana Bhavan, Thattukada and Ananthapuri in Eastham, for instance. They do their best to use “authentic” Indian ingredients for cooking; whenever they go to India for vacation, they bring food items, cooking books and specialised utensils on return. There are not only cultural (vrat/ritual fasts) and economic (as dining out is expensive) reasons associated with practising an Indian diet, but this also satisfies their culinary taste and sense of nostalgia of a distant left-behind home.

Transnational cybernetic spaces Indian diaspora in Britain is known for their transnationalism online, and they creatively use information and communication technology to connect with India. Cyber platforms offer a safe and alternative but virtual living space within an increasingly anti-immigrant host society, at the same time also satisfies the nostalgia for the left-behind ancestral homeland. Many websites act as independent news providers by offering links to mainstream Indian media broadcastings, online versions of national and regional newspapers and magazines otherwise difficult to obtain in Britain. Several websites (like www.eprarthana.com, www.hindunet.org or www.hindu.org) offer the visitor the choices like virtual temples visits, virtual pujas, and chatting option with those visiting the “virtual” mandir at the same time. Indians, both older and newer generations, use blogs, discussion forums and such other social networking sites like Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat or WhatsApp and regularly visit a great number of sites related to Indian music, movies, travels, cookery, and matrimonial as well as they contribute to charities online (Adams and Ghose 2003: 414–437; Mitra 2005: 377, 2006: 251). Cyberspaces are creatively used as a tool to cope with the tension produced by emigration, to combat their insecurity and sense of loss of familiarity of the place of birth and memories, for the cultural preservation and transmission to British-born Indians, maintenance of ethnic and personal identity, as a platform for creative, cultural as well as political expressions, and to aid their cosmopolitan, intercontinental lifestyles and consumption habits. It is argued that integration to host society became unachievable or a slower process as the internet acts as an easily accessible site for transnational bonding with India and Indian culture. Indians regularly follow the political developments in India online. They use the internet for political 27

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activities in Britain; the rise of Hindutva in the UK could be read together. Indians are active in British political front as well.

Economic activities Majority of the Indians, who belong to the middle-class families in India, have seen their material status improved since migration. They are better integrated into the British economy with greater labour force participation, impressive employment rate and remuneration. Since most Indians migrated primarily for economic betterment, they venture into self-business when unable to find satisfying jobs, blocked mobility, and experience of discrimination in paid-employment along with the resultant lower earnings (Maxwell 2012; Thompson et al. 2010: 150). The stronger culture of entrepreneurship and business expertise pre-migration among Indians as well as official British policies, especially the policy of multiculturalism, are also factors contributing to their enhanced ethnic entrepreneurial activities that brought the unemployment rate among Indians significantly. This is also indicative from the remittances they send to India as savings as well as the Foreign Direct Investments (FDI) by British-Indian investors (Mishra 2016). They are a pioneer in philanthropic activities, mostly religious and caste-based, in both Britain and India. Major contributions are provided to construct religious centres, schools, hospitals, and such other infrastructures like stadiums, roads, water supply and electricity in their villages. They sponsor poor students, patients, arts and sports events, and religious festivals. Diasporic philanthropy, in that sense, is more than an economic phenomenon; it is social remittances motivated by migrants’ perceptions on ethical responsibility to assist the socio-economic development of especially the home country, as described by Safran (1991). Indian born first-generation immigrants were more in the forefront of philanthropic activities directed to home than the second, third, and successive generations as they are the ones who retained the strongest local connections and emotional ties. The later generations are more likely to engage in broad-based, issue-oriented philanthropic endeavours as opposed to their parent generations’ village specific activities. Diasporic philanthropy and sending remittances is a strategy in maintaining active links with home (Ramji 2006: 650). This link provides them, especially the older generations, with confidence to plan their post-retirement life in India and save money for this fantasised return. Remittances were used for building their retirement home with all the facilities they are enjoying in their British house or saved as a fixed deposit or as real estate to set up business on return. They believe that they have a space and acceptance in their village contrary to the rejection and prejudices they face in Britain. It was this anticipated return in the future propels them to retain Indian culture and traditions and not to assimilate or integrate completely to British society 28

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and culture (Oonk 2007: 14). However, in most cases, this desire to return remains a “myth” due to the continual delay of the actual undertaking of the return journey due to the aspirations for more economic advancement and family obligations (Sinatti 2011: 154). The same can be inferred about the active engagement of diaspora in philanthropy as it involves other complex motivations including demonstration of their wealth, status competition with other migrants and rich people, the search for respect and image through conspicuous charity, assertion of their space in the social landscape of once left country, associated political influence, and economic incentive of tax exclusivity. Having said that, the East African Indians relatively lack the myth of return, that their counterparts directly from India still retain, because of their backgrounds of twice migration and their experience of having been removed long ago from the imagination of India as their homeland (Robinson 1993: 236). The urge to return to India is weak among the British-born generations; however, their “homeland attachment” is fabricated around the holidays spent in India, their participation in life-cycle rituals involving a wider kinship network and an older generation’s promotion of the idea of “ideal” India as their spiritual and cultural root. This is evident from the fact that “diaspora tourism” (Huang et al. 2013) is on the rise globally. The undesirable attitudes of the British not treating them as equal citizens further consolidates the ethnic affinities and transnational bonding with India across generations (Bolognani 2007: 63). Concurrently, the Government of India now considers them as the cultural ambassadors of India in Britain, which is a deviation from the general Indian stereotype of the Indian immigrants as “abandoner of the motherland.” Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s address to the Indian diaspora at London’s Wembley Stadium on November 13, 2015, and later at Westminster Central Hall in London on April 18, 2018, was illustrative of the influence of the present-day Indian diaspora in both Britain and India. State policies are being designed, especially since the post-globalisation era, in such a manner that a sizeable economic contribution is expected from the upper-middle-class Indian immigrants of Britain in particular and Europe in general. This proactive policy is also a pull factor that encourages the diaspora to bond with India economically as well.

Visits to India The availability of comparatively cheap tickets and the ease of online booking and travel, as a result of globalisation, aid immigrants to travel to and from often when necessary. Since the primary push factor of Indian migration to the UK is economic, expenses related to travel and a month-long stay in the hometown forces the immigrant families to limit their travel to India once in two or three years, unlike the bachelors. Families would arrange their trips around some family functions like marriages or some devotional 29

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or community activities in their hometowns and actively participate in it. They would buy luxury items such as mobile phones, iPods, laptops, and other high-tech products as gifts when visiting home as their relatives and friends expect such tokens of love. Sometimes, they would bring over parents and relatives from India to Britain as it is more economical for them. This would also raise the prestige of the family back home as well as cause them to be the envy of relatives based in India (Balan 2015: 9). When in Britain, they stay in touch with family and friends back home over phone or globalisation-induced electronic communication facilities. Phone connections like Lyca Mobile provide reduced call rates and economical offers to make calls to India. With the popularisation of social media like WhatsApp and internet calls through Skype, for instance, help people to stay in constant touch.

The great banyan: an analysis of shifting diaspora identities The discourse analysis based on the literature published since the 2000s on migration and diaspora communities comprehended some of the broad trends that can be observed about the nature and characteristics of Indian diaspora in Britain. The peculiarities of their socially constructed diaspora identities emerge as dynamic forces that ultimately determine their transnational bonding with India on the one hand and their integration to British society on the other. Identity construction is a multi-layered social process. As the theoretical premises of social constructivism propose, diaspora identities inform interests of the community and in turn, shape their actions. The outcome of the actions, interestingly, then reshapes the identities. The process of diaspora identity formation is carved out of their “imagination” as a unique ethnic community and as a response to the “othering” from the host society; they make a clear distinction of who is part of the community and who is the native other. In the case of Indians living in Britain, their identity is shaped by exogenous and endogenous factors as proposed by constructivists as well as the generational differences, thus by their own understanding and imagination of who they are but also influenced by the (mis)perceptions of British about them. Self-perceptions are much affected by India’s colonial past and socio-political present, their “imagined” affinity to the ancestral homeland (Anderson 1983) as well as the everyday lived experiences and socio-economic status they enjoy in Britain. On the contrary, British perceptions are shaped by the notions of racial and colonial superiority of the past and the current socio-political discourses around the issues of migration and immigrants’ ethnicity; thus, often prejudice and differences are hyper emphasised. This two-way process of identity construction has substantially

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influenced not only the cultural negotiations and practices of Indians in every day British society but also their bonding with India. Indian diaspora identities are also shaped by generational differences. Shifts in identities are particularly relevant to the study of Indian diaspora in Britain in view of the existence of particularly British-born third and fourth generation, with critically different experiences and attitudes from those of the first and second generations. The diasporic identity of the firstgeneration immigrants evolved in a peculiar situation where they were caught between the two worlds of their adopted country and homeland. This dilemma of divided loyalties was forced upon the second-generation who were British-born. First-generation immigrants had the aspiration of return stronger in them and struggled to establish their place in British society. They, as well as the UK-born second-generation immigrants, experience stress mostly due to the generation gap between the parent generation and children. The third and current generations, rather than experiencing the stress of being straddled between two conflicting cultures and national identifications, appear to have developed a growing sense of global identity and “multiple cultural competencies” (Jackson and Nesbitt 1993: 175) which made Ballard refer to them as “skilled cultural navigators,” enabling them to move with ease between home and school, east and west, and tradition and change (Ballard 1994: 31; Blackledge and Creese 2009: 457). They bore with much ease the hybridised-hyphenated identities of being British-Indian, British-Hindu or British-Muslim thus possessing a growing sense of being part of a “transnational diaspora.” The “deterritorialised” younger generation has had less reservations about breaking the boundaries of tradition as they do not believe in an idealised “imagined home” in the same degree as the first-generation, which was reflected in the change in practice of sending back money to family in the country of origin (David 2007: 17; Huq 2003: 38). Integration tendencies are more among the current generations for economic and material reasons; modes of behaviour are modified with relative ease to suit the particular context in Britain. While they retain a sense of affiliation and companionship with India and Indians, they find no contradiction in being dutiful citizens of the country they have settled down thus making use of “the best of both worlds” (Sen 2005: 73). Nevertheless, they had to follow at least a minimum of Indian ways out of parental and community pressures with the result being a greater tendency of transnationalism and development of a certain natural affinity to India and its culture among them.

Conclusion Indians are an established community in Britain and many a time projected as a model diaspora. They are unimaginably heterogeneous in terms of

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region, religion, and language and possess multiple hyphenated identities. Over the generations, as with the general trend in the changes in Indian transnationalism globally, they show a positive social integration trend, if not assimilation, when compared to any other South Asian communities in Britain. Nonetheless, the significant feature of Indian diaspora in Britain is their keen sense of belonging to India and the myth of return. They consider that their cultural roots belong to India where their ancestors lived and tended to define their identity in terms of the idealised notions of an imagined homeland. As it has been shown, they have strong value-orientations and a very genuine affinity to Indian culture and traditions that they are keen to retain at any cost. The discourse analysis proved that several other factors including their history and channel of migration, generational differences, social positioning, as well as experiences in Britain along with the proactivity of the Indian government shaped their diaspora identity and transnational bonding and is often in flux. From the previous analyses of the everyday diasporic life of the Indian in Britain, it can be inferred that Indian communities have employed their social identity and cultural capital as a prudent tactic to navigate the transnational and local experiences including coping with the pains of displacement that they encountered while adjusting to life in a new country. This study also deduces that the livelihood strategies employed by the Indian diaspora are also self-defensive tools to deal with the issues of native hostility and discrimination they faced in the host society. The stronger diaspora identity that has a greater affinity with their homeland has offered them a sense of comfort in a culturally different locale, an element of trust and security, soothing of nostalgia and existence itself. As observed from the analysis, the generational change triggered the shifts in identity formation as well as in the bonding patterns with India; hence, exploration of these aspects is crucial for a better understanding the global Indian diaspora. Indian diaspora identities in the British context were never constant, and British-born generations reconfigured their identity to fine-tune with the cultural globalisation and transnationalism of today’s world. Despite all the internal diversities and multiple loyalties they possess, the fluidity of Indian identity functionally enables the diaspora to connect with India, both physically and imagined. Thus, the re-reading of the “banyan tree analogy” of Tagore in shifting times indeed proves that the great Indian banyan tree is still not only strong at the main stem in its own soil, but also the lush branches spread far and wide in the distant lands. India is truly living and growing in both the “political” India as well as the “ideal” India through its diaspora.

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Safran, William. 1991. ‘Diasporas in Modern Societies: Myths of Homeland and Return’, Diaspora: A Journal of Transnational Studies, 1(1): 83–99. Salih, R. 2001. ‘Moroccan Migrant Women: Transnationalism, Nation-States and Gender’, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 27(4): 655–667. Saunders, Jennifer B. 2007. ‘I Don’t Eat Meat’: Discourse on Food among Transnational Hindus’, Contributions to Indian Sociology, 41(2): 203–223. Sen, Amartya. 2005. The Argumentative Indian: Writings on Indian Culture, History and Identity. England: Penguin Books. Sidhu, Manbinder S., et al. 2016. ‘Long-Term Conditions, Self-Management and Systems of Support: An Exploration of Health Beliefs and Practices within the Sikh Community, Birmingham, UK’, Ethnicity and Health, 21(5): 498–514. Sinatti, Giulia. 2011. ‘Mobile Transmigrants’ or “Unsettled Returnees”? Myth of Return and Permanent Resettlement among Senegalese Migrants’, Population, Space and Place, 17(2): 153–166. Spencer, Ian R.G. 1997. British Immigration Policy since 1939: The Making of MultiRacial Britain. London: Routledge. Srivastava, R. and S.K. Sasikumar. 2003. ‘A Overview of Migration in India, Its Impact and Key Issues’, Paper Presented at the Regional Conference on Migration, Development and Pro-Poor Policy Choices in Asia, held from 22–24 June, Dhaka, www.eldis.org/vfile/upload/1/document/0903/Dhaka_CP_2.pdf (accessed on 2 December 2017). Thompson, Piers, et al. 2010. ‘Education and Entrepreneurial Activity: A Comparison of White and South Asian Men’, International Small Business Journal, 28(2): 147–162. Tinker, Hugh. 1977. The Banyan Tree: Overseas Emigrants from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Vertovec, Steven. 2007. ‘Super-Diversity and Its Implications’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 29(6): 1024–1054. Visram, Rozina. 1986. Ayahs, Lascars and Princes: Indians in Britain 1700–1947. London: Pluto Press. Whitaker, Mark P. 2004. ‘Tamilnet.com: Some Reflections on Popular Anthropology, Nationalism, and the Internet’, Anthropological Quarterly, 77(3): 469–498.

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3 RECONFIGURING IDENTITY IN A TRANSNATIONAL WORLD Indo-Trinidadians and the construction of Indianness Kamini Maraj Grahame and Peter R. Grahame

When you are at home, you are all Trinidadians. So the identity that you have is you’re Indian. But when you come out here, you are different no matter what. So you’re Trinidadian. That’s what it is to me. So in Trinidad you’re Indian, and here you’re Trinidadian. (Ed, early 30s, New York City) For me, honestly, being Trinidadian is more important when you’re here. Because, to put it bluntly, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to move out of Trinidad. . . . Everybody in Trinidad always talks about the race relations between the blacks and the Indians and whatever. When you come out into the bigger world and you realize if you ain’t white, you’re black. (Keith, mid 30s, Toronto)

These quotes illustrate the kinds of work people do when they relocate and encounter new and unfamiliar racial and ethnic formations, underscoring how identity is situated and interactionally produced rather than general or essential. Identities matter, as the second quote forcefully attests. The Brexit vote, the reaction to Syrian refugees in Europe and the United States, the rise of white nationalism in the US and elsewhere, and the Black Lives Matter movement are searing reminders of a racialised world order in which people of color remain at the margins. In this chapter, we focus on how Trinidadians of Indian descent living in New York City (NYC) and the Greater Toronto Area (GTA) make sense of their old and new identities. Our interests here stem from a wider ethnographic study of transnational families with roots in Trinidad, West Indies. As our fieldwork in the two cities unfolded, we 36

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were increasingly intrigued by how migrants’ experiences of identity became unsettled in their new environments. Questions about identity have become more urgent as globalisation and transnational movements of people accelerate, resulting in the co-mingling of people from widely dispersed regions of the world. Due to European colonialism, the Caribbean has long consisted of people from disparate regions. Trinidad is a multi-ethnic mix of people of the Indian and African diasporas with smaller populations of Europeans and Middle-Easterners, among others. This often comes as a surprise to many people in the US and Canada. First recruited as labourers after the abolition of slavery in the British Empire, Indians currently make up just over 35% of the current population of Trinidad. Those of African descent comprise about 34% while most of the remainder identify as mixed (Trinidad and Tobago Central Statistical Office 2011). Indian ethnic identity is well established in Trinidad due to the large numbers and multigenerational presence of people who claim Indian descent, both seeing themselves and being seen by others as “Indian.” In addition, residential settlements, schools, family organisation, naming practices, religious institutions, consumer preferences, mass media, and dress, foodways, and other cultural practices all serve to support a locally shared understanding of “Indianness.” Thus “Indianness” – in both highly noticeable and taken-for-granted ways – is woven into the everyday life of the island, and individuals’ social identities are more or less strongly tied to this. Though not wholly unproblematic – questions about authenticity and racial purity often arise – shared understandings of Indianness are a robust part of local knowledge in the island. In recent decades, with political upheaval in the region, changing labour demands, and the opening up of the US and Canada to Caribbean immigration, many Caribbean Indians have migrated to North America. The number of these “twice migrants” (Bhachu 1985) residing in these countries is difficult to ascertain due to limitations of immigration and census records, but it is estimated that 400,000 Caribbean East Indians reside in the US (Roopnarine 2003), with about 63,000 in New York State (Warikoo 2005), while over 100,000 reside in Canada (Roopnarine 2003). The ethnic/racial consciousness of Trinidadians has been shaped by their specific histories of colonialism and political struggles within the island. Moreover, in the postmodern era, with the widespread availability of US media and the transnational movement of peoples, Indo-Trinidadians also arrive in North America with perceptions about the race/ethnic order in their new societies. Upon arrival, their direct experience and everyday interactions with individuals and institutions work to unsettle those perceptions. We examine the complex shifts and reworkings of identity that arise through these lived transnational experiences. Next, we outline our conceptual 37

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framework, provide a brief background on the Caribbean Indian presence in North America, describe our methods, and discuss our findings.

Identity: conceptual bearings We view identity as situated, fluid, and contested, rather than abstract, fixed, and settled (Hall 1995, 1997). Following Goffman (1963), we distinguish between personal identity and social identity. Personal identity is who one is as an individual and refers to a unique set of facts associated with one’s biography and life history. Social identity is the category or type of individual one is assumed to be or claims to be (who one is in society, including ethnicity, race, nationality, religion, and so on). In both cases, identity is a matter of how one is seen by others and by oneself – i.e. it is two-sided. In this study, we are primarily concerned with social identity (e.g. Indian or Trinidadian) but we acknowledge that there is a close relation between social and personal identity (as when through a change in personal circumstances one accepts or receives a new social identity label). Rejecting essentialist notions, Hall proposes that identity is “always in process” (1997: 47). Hall’s insistence that identity is lodged within a particular historical formation and the implicit relations of power therein is relevant for our analysis. Identification happens in settings and in relation to a definite set of identity resources. We refer to a historically specific context of settings and resources as the individual’s identity landscape. Moving to a different country involves inserting oneself and being inserted into a different identity landscape. In that new landscape, a new mix of settings and resources shape identity; identities tied to situations in the old country become unsettled and problematic. This is part of what we mean by identity as situated. In addition, the individual finds that old and new identities shift and recombine through participation in everyday activities and forms of discourse: identity is always in motion. This is part of what we mean by identity as fluid rather than fixed. As Hall notes, identities can shift and change as they can be “worked on by political and economic forces outside of us” (1997: 57). We also see identity as contested: in the process of finding one’s place in a new identity landscape, one may accept or contest the identifications that are made (sorting through preferences, dealing with misrecognitions, etc.). In this regard, the individual encounters aspects of identity associated with power: processes of contestation open up in which old and new identities may be resisted, embraced, or handled with ambivalence. Identity as a process of identification always involves a “positioning/placing” vis-à-vis others, within a specific socio-historical formation (Hall 1997). As Bonilla-Silva (2009) observes, in the US context, many immigrants from the Caribbean, Africa, and Latin America avoid the designation “black” because they perceive its subordinated status. We explore how specific aspects of

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the racialised social systems in Canada and the US shape Indo-Trinidadian identity in those contexts.

India in the Caribbean and beyond In Trinidad, Indo-Trinidadians were simply “Indians.” The terms “IndoCaribbean” and the more specific “Indo-Trinidadian” gained prominence with the migration of East Indians from the Caribbean to North America in the late 20th century. The terms were not yet in use in Canada when Kamini (co-author of this chapter) arrived in 1974, nor when she moved to the US in the late 1980s. Though these terms have gained an increased presence in academic discourse, advocacy, ethnic community publications, and advertising, our respondents didn’t call themselves Indo-Caribbean or Indo-Trinidadian, relying instead on other labels for doing embodied identity work in everyday situations, as we explain in the next section. Despite the onerous conditions under which migrants arrived and laboured for decades, Indian identity in Trinidad solidified over time through the establishment of religious institutions (e.g. village temples), retention of many cultural forms and practices (food, music, dance), the availability of mass media such as Bollywood films (LaGuerre 1985; Manuel 1997/98), and the establishment of Hindu schools (Grahame 2004). Inevitably, there were further transformations as these migrants adapted to their new context under the weight of British colonialism and the often tense relationship with the African descendants of slaves. Thus, Indian identity in Trinidad is marked by continuity and change (Grahame 2014; Klass 1961; Munasinghe 2001; Vertovec 1992; Wilson 2012). Indo-Caribbeans in the US and Canada come primarily from Guyana and Trinidad as a result of a variety of push/pull factors including economic and political turmoil in their home countries, the removal of racial barriers to migration in North America, and labour demands (Roopnarine 2003, 2009). In these destinations, they encounter Indians from India, other “twice migrants” from the Indian diaspora, and a multiplicity of ethnic others against whom they must position themselves (Ahmad 1994). Like other transnational migrants, they become aware of the racialised categorical systems employed in locating people ethnically/racially (Halstead 2012; Thangaraj 2012). They establish businesses, organisations, places of worship, and media to serve their growing communities (Singh 2000; Tanikella 2009). Such institutions provide supports in sustaining ethnic/cultural identity. However, other forces at work may impede the adherence to aspects of culture. For example, by the fourth generation many Indians in Trinidad (like Kamini) lost the ability to speak their ancestral language (e.g. Hindi) since institutional and political supports for it were lacking and its use in informal situations dwindled.

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In the North-American context, research on Indo-Caribbean identity as a process is sparse. An emerging literature maps the Indo-Caribbean presence in Canada, covering the development of ethnic associations, businesses, places of worship, and patterns of settlement (Plaza 2004; Premdas 2004; Roopnarine 2009; Singh 2000; Teelucksingh 2011). The notion of cultural or social identity is invoked in these essays but with insufficient attention to how people negotiate their identities in everyday life. The meagre literature on Indo-Caribbeans in the US sometimes mentions them in passing in relation to Indians from India (Bhattacharya 2008). In the literature on West Indian migrants to the US, they are usually eclipsed by the focus on Afro-Caribbeans. For example, Hintzen (2001) notes their presence but asserts that they have distanced themselves from the “Carnival” (taken to be a signature expression of “West-Indianness”), chosen to live among Indians from India, and aligned themselves with that community. Our findings (and those of others) point to more complexity than he suggests. Tanikella (2009) explores the role of Indo-Caribbean media in constructing Indo-Caribbean identity in the public sphere in New York. Such media help maintain connections to their Caribbean homelands but also “build bridges” to India while carving out their place in the US racial/ethnic landscape. Warikoo (2005) shows how Indo-Guyanese and Trinidadian second-generation youth actively produce an Indo-Caribbean identity along gendered lines. Girls produce that identity through their consumption of cultural forms of music and clothing and in so doing differentiate themselves from Afro-Caribbeans, “India-Indians” and Hispanics; boys distance themselves from their Indianness by eschewing Indian music and clothing. She found that boys view India-Indians as lower class and backward and lacking in masculine credentials. A racialised school culture that discriminates against those seen as Arab or Indian, a gender order whereby girls are subject to more social constraints, and gender-differentiated media representations of South Asians form the social context influencing these identity constructions. Warikoo’s study is exemplary in its attentiveness to the process of identity construction. Our study aims to focus on process but targets first generation immigrants with origins in Trinidad, for whom distancing from Guyanese is also relevant to identity.

The identity change process and Indo-Trinidadians When identity becomes unsettled through the migration process, individuals are challenged to manage their identities in new ways. We refer to the active management of identities – both old and new – as identity work. Identity work involves both making claims about whom one is and responding to the assumptions others express about whom one is (Dunn and Creek 2015; Snow and Anderson 1987). When an individual’s self-presentation aligns smoothly with a well-established array of identity resources, identity work 40

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may proceed in relatively routine and unproblematic ways. In this chapter, we are interested with what happens when taken-for-granted identities become disturbed and greater effort is involved in sustaining or reworking one’s identity. Sociological studies of deviant identities provide some useful clues. For example, Degher and Hughes (1991) conducted a field study of how individuals acquired and managed a “fat” identity. Two dimensions of this process are of particular relevance here: “recognising” and “placing.” “Recognising” involved coming to see that one’s old identity was no longer applicable. Through both passive and active cues, individuals discovered that their weight was no longer considered normal, e.g. by finding that their clothes no longer fit or by being told that they looked bigger. “Placing” involved the search for a new, more appropriate identity. Through informal interactions and organized activities (such as joining a weight-loss group), they learned to see themselves as stout, chubby, hefty, fat, plump, and so on. Individuals thereby acquired a new “fat” identity that had well-established cultural and organisational supports. In contrast, in their study of becoming bisexual, Weinberg et al. (1995) demonstrated that the outcomes of identity change processes are not always stable. Their study examined the uncertainty felt by individuals about their sexual identities when they found they were sexually attracted to both males and females. Recognising that their previous label (gay or straight) did not fit, they were at first relieved to find a new label – bisexual – that aligned with their felt identities. However, the label “bisexual” (relatively new at the time of the study) was contested by both heterosexual and homosexual advocacy groups. Consequently, their sense of who they really were remained problematic and they continued to feel unsettled about their new identity. Both of these studies point to generic features of the identity change process that are also applicable to the immigration experiences of Indo-Caribbean people.

Methods The subset of participants in this study is drawn from a larger study on transnational families with members in Trinidad, the United States, and Canada. Participants were recruited via convenience and snowball sampling. Fieldwork began in Trinidad in 2009–2010 and has continued in the US and Canada from 2010 up to the present. Approximately half of our 30 North American participants were from the Greater Toronto Area and the rest from New York City (including Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, and the Bronx). Respondents’ ages ranged from late 20s to mid-60s; about 75% were women; in Toronto, one third each were Muslim, Hindu, and Christian while in New York, six were Hindus, three were Christians, three were Muslims, and the rest did not say. We conducted open-ended, in-depth interviews, usually in participants’ homes. These visits enabled us to document cultural artifacts displayed in their homes and to gauge the extent 41

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to which connections with Trinidad and Indianness were evident in household furnishings, décor, and everyday objects such as mugs, culinary items, fridge magnets, and the like. Interviews focused on the conditions under which migrants left, the supports from family they received, the connections they maintained, their relationships with family, and aspects of their culture they maintained as well as how things had changed after they moved. We also visited neighborhoods, restaurants, and shops, gathering ethnic community publications, purchasing groceries, dining out, photographing enterprises and street scenes, and interacting with community members. As field researchers, our membership roles could be considered, respectively, as cultural insider and cultural outsider, since one of us (Kamini) had migrated from Trinidad and the other (Peter) was born in the US (Grahame and Grahame 2009). To be sure, our histories are more complex than these labels suggest. However, these different standpoints permitted us to cross-check how we understood our respondents and to note the assumptions they made about what each of us would know.

Reconfiguring identities Whether in Toronto or New York, a common theme was that individuals found that they constantly had to position or place themselves vis-à-vis others in a racially/ethnically diverse landscape.1 We refer to these maneuverings as identity work that includes recognising and placing. However, the work that can be done also relies on the kinds of supports and resources for identity formation and maintenance that exist in specific contexts. Via the existing literature, our interviews, and our observations, we found similarities as well as differences in the two urban contexts.

Contexts of identity support and resources Goffman’s (1963) concept of the “corporate life” of stigmatized groups refers to the ways that the collective life of a group is embodied. The concept helps us consider the contexts that make possible living as an Indo-Trinidadian outside of Trinidad. These include neighborhoods, shops and restaurants, clubs and organisations, places of worship, events, community publications/ media, and the emergence of a discourse that incorporates Indo-Caribbean and Indo-Trinidadian as organising concepts. However, these develop within a larger context that is already racialised and classed, influencing where new migrants can reside. In New York, many respondents identified Liberty Avenue in Queens as a destination for the Indo-Caribbean community. One of the couples we interviewed escorted us there and the next day we met up with them and their friends at a roti shop (a restaurant serving a Caribbean-style Indian flatbread filled with a meat or vegetarian curry filling, among other Indo-Caribbean 42

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dishes). This street and its neighborhoods (Richmond Hill and Ozone Park) are also mentioned in the research literature on Indo-Caribbeans in New York. A few of our participants lived in this neighborhood that bustled with people from the Caribbean, South Asians, and many other people of color. We noted the relative absence of whites. An array of grocery stores, clothing stores (some offering Indian attire), roti shops, and temples graced the street. This was distinctly different from Toronto. To be sure, in the Greater Toronto Area we could find roti shops, temples, Indian clothing stores, and small West Indian grocery stores, but these were much more dispersed. Our GTA participants could direct us to their favorite roti places or identify a place to procure West Indian groceries near where they lived, but there was no single dense presence as there was in New York. Our GTA participants lived either east (Scarborough to Ajax) or west (Etobicoke to Oakville) of central Toronto, reflecting more dispersed settlement patterns. In the shops and restaurants we visited, we noted copies of communitybased publications and West Indian music playing, evidence of the robust media resources for projecting and sustaining Caribbean identity (Tanikella 2009). Some of our respondents pointed us to publications such as the Naparima Girls’ High cookbook (a well-known high school in South Trinidad with a large Indian population) which we found prominently displayed in a Toronto roti shop. Food was one of the most pervasive components of our respondents’ attachment to their Trinidadian identity: they sometimes made distinctions between the Trinidadian Indian food and the India-Indian food as a significant marker of difference: No because when we started eating Indian food here, but it’s nothing like the Creolized Indian food we have back home. When you come here you see red curries and tikka-masala but they are introducing me to these kinds of food here and it’s not what we grew up as Indian food. It’s like Chinese. Everything home has been localized because of indigenous and the merging of the culture where the Indians and the Africans cook together. Mix and matches. (Pauline, NYC, mid-50s) Interviews in people’s homes were usually accompanied by offers of food/ refreshment, sometimes Indo-Trinidadian food. However, many respondents (especially GTA) stated they incorporated a wide variety of cuisines in their daily lives. I cook all kinds of foods but we still tend to cook a lot of Trinidadian food. Anything curry. Chicken, anything curry. Curry duck, curry chicken, roti. Any of those things. And my kids are used to it but I also cook other things for them because they’re Canadian and 43

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they like all the other kinds of stuff like pasta and potatoes and that stuff. But we back and forth. (Daisy, GTA, mid 50s) Large scale events like Caribana in Toronto and the West Indian Carnival in New York proclaim the Caribbean presence in these places. Toronto’s Caribana festival was invoked as an important arena of Trinidadian identity by many though not all – some Indo-Trinidadians chose to distance from it due to violence that they witnessed and values (dislike of drinking, cursing, etc.). Several GTA participants mentioned that some of their Canadian born children especially embraced Caribana in an effort to claim their Trinidadian identity, as Addi (late 50s) explained during a Caribana week interview: A D D I : You guys are going? Okay, have fun. They are going on a cruise. P E T E R : Oh. A D D I : Down the island of Toronto. That’s Carnival, all that thing. K A M I N I : Oh, they are still doing carnival things today. A D D I : All this week. The parade was on Monday. K A M I N I : So your kids like carnival? A D D I : We [laughs] . . . When they were younger we used to take them

to see the parades but now they are older, we haven’t gone in over 10 years. But they love it. They love all the things: carnival.

In contrast to our GTA participants, none of our NYC respondents participated in New York’s West Indian Carnival. Some noted that the AfroTrinidadians were more likely to gravitate to that area (Flatbush) due to the carnival. However, one respondent mentioned the Phagwa festival (a springtime Hindu festival) in New York that seems to attract mostly IndoCaribbeans. Other researchers have mentioned picnics and fetes (parties) that included music, food, dance, and the like. The emergence of temples and mosques in these sites has also enabled Indo-Trinidadians to retain connections to their culture and ties to community. As some of our GTA respondents noted (and as attested in the literature), the ethnic make-up of temples and mosques can shift (e.g. a temple that is predominantly Hindus from Trinidad/Guyana can change to one in which Hindus from Sri Lanka or India predominate). A GTA respondent stated that the mosque closest to him was mostly Pakistani (emphasizing that it was not his community), so he went to one further away that was funded by Trinidadians (although anyone could attend). Clubs and organisations are also resources for supporting Indo-Trinidadian connections and hence identity. An informant mentioned the “Fifty Plus” club (open to all races but proportions of Indo- to Afro-Caribbeans fluctuate) in the GTA and the Indo-Caribbean Golden Ages Association (though 44

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this was said to have a mostly Indo-Guyanese membership and is not closed to other races despite the name). Published research mentions the development of advocacy organisations in Toronto – e.g. the Ontario Society for Services to Indo-Caribbeans, which was designed to educate about IndoCaribbean peoples and help in their adjustment to Canadian society but also appeared to have been involved in the politics of their homelands (Premdas 2004; Singh 2000). Premdas notes that some Indians resisted the term “Indo-Caribbean” as too “communalist.” Despite such resistance, “Indo-Caribbean” has emerged as an organising concept, found in club and association names and in community media, creating institutional spaces that connect being Indian with the Caribbean region, and especially to those parts considered “West Indian” (principally English-speaking islands). We note that Sociological Abstracts includes over 2,000 entries related to Indo-Caribbean since 1980 and hundreds more for Indo-Trinidadian during the same period.

Identity work: recognising and placing In both the GTA and NYC individuals recounted situations in which their race/ethnic and cultural identities were treated as problematic. Thus, they often found themselves explaining who they were, where they were from, how they were different from others and so on. We have referred to these activities as “identity work,” i.e. the active management of identities. The two aspects of identity work noted earlier, recognising and placing, are shaped by the resources and supports that are available or not available in the individual’s identity landscape. For Indo-Trinidadians in the GTA, especially those arriving in the late 1960s and 1970s, part of that landscape was one that was much “whiter” than it is today and one in which the assumption was that everyone from the Caribbean was “black.” In NYC, although more racially/ethnically diverse, the latter assumption still prevailed, but the diversity on the ground created more potential for race/ethnic categorical misrecognition.

Recognising Recognising refers to the emergence of awareness that the old, settled identity has become problematic. This happened in several different ways. First, early immigrants to Toronto (late 1960s) found they were the only person of color, the only Indian, in a setting or neighborhood. We were the only colored people in our school except for one girl who was mixed with a Trinidadian father and a Canadian mother. So the school had five brown people – my family four ones. (Fátima; arrived late 1960s in her mid-teens) 45

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Because of the assumption in both GTA and NYC that everyone from the West Indies is “black” (i.e. of African ancestry), they found themselves having to explain that there are people of Indian ancestry (and a lot of them) there. Like he [Peter] was saying, they ask about being Trinidadian and I would have people say ‘I thought Trinidadians were black.’ People say things like that. I say ‘No, we have people of Indian descent, Chinese, we have all these different kinds of people that immigrated there.’ (Calli, GTA, mid 50s; arrived mid 1970s) We had to explain because they thought like mostly from the West Indies, mostly Negro people is from there, that is what they would think. . . . They never associated Indians. (Addi, GTA, late 50s; arrived in early 1970s) Second, most respondents reported experiencing interactional misrecognition by others: being seen as Hispanic, Indian from India, African-American, Guyanese, Ethiopian, etc. They think we are black. . . . I tell them, no I’m not black, I’m Indian. (Seema, NYC, late 40s: arrived in 1990s) They look at me and think I’m Puerto Rican, Dominican. Some think I’m Mexican. And I said to them, ‘I’m Trinidadian.’ (Siddiqua, NYC, early 60s; arrived in 1990s) Many times people used to come and say ‘Are you from Ethiopia?’ I says ‘No.’ (Meena, GTA, early 40s; arrived in the 1990s) So a lot of people would ask, would think of India when they first met me. Many people ask me ‘What part of India are you from?’ And some people would detect the West Indian accent and they would say ‘I detect the West Indian accent. What part of the West Indies are you from?’ (Jasmine, GTA, early 60s; arrived early 1970s) Thus, finding oneself “taken as” something other than one’s own felt and preferred identity provided occasions for correction as a form of identity work. In this type of interaction the identity problem appears in a somewhat indirect form: the individual notices that they have been mis-categorized. A more direct form was also evident: respondents were often asked where they were from. In this situation, the fact that others are trying to place 46

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the individual becomes more central to interaction. The individual is called upon to account for their identity. For example, one respondent reported being asked, “Are you from the islands?” These situations occurred on buses, trains, and taxis. Respondents also found that when they identified themselves as “West Indian” or “Caribbean,” it was often assumed they were from Jamaica. They expressed the view that Jamaica was more familiar to Americans and Canadians; one even noted that Jamaica and Trinidad were confused. This points to the problem of what “West Indian” and “Caribbean” mean in the wider society. I would normally say I’m from the West Indies. That’s what I normally say when somebody asks where I’m from. I’d say I’m from the West Indies and if they ask further I say Trinidad. (Jasmine, GTA, late 50s; arrived in early 1970s) I think they (Canadians), they knew Jamaica more than anywhere else. They always think you come from Jamaica. . . . Of course we tell them we are from Trinidad and we are way down south which a lot of people never [knew]; the only time foreigners will come to Trinidad is for carnival, right? (Vicky, GTA, early 60s; arrived early 1970s) And when you say West Indies the first thought that came to their mind was Jamaica. They all knew Jamaica. (Addi, GTA) Some of them do not even know where Trinidad is, they sometimes think is in Jamaica. (Ed, NYC, early 30s; arrived 2000s) Another and even more pointed problem, identity denial, often emerged in encounters with Indian immigrants from India: “They didn’t see us as Indian.” Being seen as “not Indian” included a number of different behaviours, such as being approached and having one’s accent or language noticed as “not Indian,” being questioned/challenged about hair style, dress, and behaviour seen as “not Indian,” and being shunned – finding that Indians would stop talking and refuse to interact once it was discovered that the individual was not from India. Aspects of the identity problem can be seen in the following quotes. Some of [the Indians] are very warm. They accept you. For instance, about two months ago I was going to work on a Saturday and my boss told me ‘Take a cab.’ And it was this Indian driver from India and he knew I was Indian but he did not know where I was from. So he started playing the Indian music and I was singing. He said 47

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‘Do you like that music?’ I said ‘Yes.’ But when he heard my accent, he knew where I was from. So he said, ‘Yeah Trinidad people are nice people.’ (Zobida, NYC, mid 50s; arrived mid 1990s) Well the Indians where I’m working in the hospital we have millions of Indian doctors. We have plenty of them but it is they consider me to be a Negro. They don’t consider me to be an Indian at all. Even other Indians, they don’t consider we to be Indians. Like they are higher than you. They feel that you are in a lower bracket than them. They would pass and look at you like nothing and go. (Gita, NYC, early 60s; arrived early 1990s) Finally, a very significant range of cases occurred when Trinidadian immigrants found themselves in bureaucratic situations, such as the US Census, and found that a suitable category was missing from the menu of categories. For example, they might encounter “South Asian” or “Asian Indian” as a category and wonder if it really applied to them. As they noted, other experiences told them they were not really seen as Indian. Thus, there was no apt category. Some respondents told us that they would put down or even add “Other” in such circumstances. When you have to do nationality for the race for this, I’m other. I’m other. Actually you become an Asian Indian because your ancestors are Indian but you have to zero in to find where you are. I’m not Indian, I did not come from India or Calcutta or Pakistan or wherever. (Pauline, NYC) In sum, these are all situations in which the old identity of Indian has become unsettled in the new country. Our focus in this section has been on situations in which identity work consists of recognising that the old identity no longer suffices. Such recognitions result in interactions whereby our respondents seek to assert how they see themselves.

Placing When the new circumstances surrounding migration make the familiar identity of Indian less tenable, individuals may respond in a number of ways. Placing refers to moves associated with establishing a new identity more in tune with new circumstances. Degher and Hughes (1991) point out that placing involves active search strategies. Weinberg et al. (1995) note that the search may be only partly successful and lead to ambivalence: we see this in the case of the various, shifting ways Indo-Trinidadians identify themselves 48

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when living “away.” Next, we identify four placing strategies: disavowing, proclaiming, resisting, and educating. A. Disavowing As questions mount about what “Indian” means in the new country, individuals may feel prompted to dissociate themselves from Indianness. This can take a range of forms, ranging from passive forms of disaffiliation, such as keeping quiet about one’s “old” identity, to actively and publicly renouncing Indian identity. The following quotes exemplify some ways in which the Indo-Trinidadian immigrants we interviewed dissociated themselves from Indian identity (disaffiliation). Here Indians are people from India. . . . So I don’t go around telling people I’m Indian. (Pauline, NYC) Funny . . . when you meet the real East Indians from India here they don’t consider us East Indian. We’re not East Indian. (Ed, NYC) They will look down on you. And I think it’s hilarious because I don’t consider myself East Indian. I consider myself Trinidadian. Yeah, East Indian background or whatever, but . . . you cannot anywhere near those guys and expect to be accepted. . . . (Jean, GTA) When you come out into the bigger world, whether you’re Indo background, Afro background, even sometimes Latino background, whatever, if you’re not white, that’s what you are. You are all lumped. . . . So forget Indian. (Keith, GTA) An interesting variation on this was occasioned by the association assumed between Indian and Guyanese identity: If you ask any American that knows any little bit around the Caribbean and they run into an Indian Trinidadian, they automatically assume that we are Guyanese. It’s not even a question. (Ed, NYC) They know of Trinidad but anyone who looks more Indian, they assume are Guyanese. . . . They always ask us ‘Are you Guyanese?’ And I’m like ‘Hell no’ because I don’t know for what reason but we do not like to be associated with Guyana. (Pauline, NYC) 49

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Disavowal, then, involves a form of placing in which the migrants search for a new identity that distances them from types of Indian identity that they find problematic. It is noteworthy that this may include not only Indians from India, but also Indians from Guyana, another Caribbean country. We can anticipate that further possibilities might include dissociating from other “twice migrant” Indians such as Indians from African countries (Kenya, Uganda, South Africa, etc.). B. Proclaiming A second form of placing occurs when Indian migrants from Trinidad choose to emphasise their Trinidadianness rather than their Indianness. Unlike disavowal, which negates Indianness, this form of placing involves strongly embracing an alternative: being “Trini” (as Trinidadians say). In this case, being Trini replaces being Indian as the core of whom one is. The following quotes exemplify embracing Trinidadian as one’s primary identity: I am ‘No, I’m a Trini’. You know, I’m a Trini, you know, I’m a diehard Trini. So I laugh. I like to know that . . . I still feel like I am from Trinidad. (Meena, GTA) We are not Indians . . . Trinidad of course. . . . Yes because here Indians are people from India. So I don’t go around telling people I’m Indian . . . actually you become an Asian Indian because your ancestors are Indian but there is no, you have to zero in to find where you are. [Everybody laughs.] You know, because I’m not Indian, I did not come from India or Calcutta or wherever. Pakistan or whatever. (Pauline, NYC) You try to have your own identity, which is being West Indian or Trinidadian. (Ed, NYC) Many of our respondents expressed a strong and continuing connection with Trinidad. In effect, being “Trini” both identified them geographically (from Trinidad and not from India, Pakistan, and by implication not from other places of first migration – Uganda, Guyana, etc.) and transcended issues of race and ethnicity: to be “Trini” was to affirm bonds with a place, not a race. C. Resisting In placing themselves, many of these migrants sought to resist the ways in which they felt others were viewing them. Resisting, then, refers to 50

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actively refusing or questioning assumptions about oneself that are being made by others. Unlike disavowal, resisting did not necessarily focus on being Indian per se. Nor did it necessarily involve embracing an alternative. Instead, resisting involved turning identity assumptions back onto the person or persons making the assumptions. The following examples illustrate this: They say ‘Are you from the Islands?’ I say ‘No, you’re wrong. Figure it out.’ (Siddiqua, NYC, early 60s) In my fourth grade we have girls and boys and it is interesting that only last week the 4th grade teacher who is male came across and he says, ‘What are you?’ I said ‘I’m white.’ Because I don’t like people asking questions like that. (Pauline, NYC) Indians from India would think West Indians aren’t good Indians. . . . I remember because me and my sister were on the bus, on the College Street bus and we were wearing jeans and there were about five Indian guys at the back of the bus. There was room at the back of the bus so we sat. They were behind us and they started to say ‘Look at them, they come from India and they don’t wear Saris?’ I had just got up and said, ‘We are not from India. We are Trinidadians and we wear what we want.’ (Jasmine, GTA, late 50s) A variation on this was to distance from both ethnic and nationalistic notions of identity to a more transcendent, values-oriented identity: I see myself as Trinidadian because I was born there.  .  .  . Some people try to hide their identity and I don’t try to hide my identity but there’s a lot of things about the place that obviously motivated me to leave and there’s a lot of things about the place that I don’t like. There’s a lot of those things that I see here and I can appreciate here and I can practice some of the things more freely than I want to practice and be a good human being. I think here allows me to be a better human being than there. (Feroz, GTA, late 30s) In these passages, respondents described how they pushed back against identity assumptions that they felt were misplaced or improper. This ranged from pushing back against specific assumptions about what being Indian means to pushing back against the general question “What are you?” In these ways, these individuals resisted others’ attempts to place them. 51

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D. Educating Educating refers to instructing others, explaining geography, history, and the diaspora process, pointing out the island on a map, talking about Trinidad’s diverse population, and so on. We heard many examples of this strategy from our respondents. The NYC teacher Pauline, who was routinely taken for black, spoke of teaching her students about the Caribbean, pulling out a map and showing them Trinidad on it. Others felt called upon to provide lessons about diversity in Trinidad. For example: For those who do not know I’ll have to explain we have all kinds of nationalities or ethnicities in Trinidad as well. It’s not just Indians, we have Syrians or whatever, whatever. (Calli, GTA) In the Canadian context, respondents who had lived there as many as 40 years pointed to changes due to not only the “education efforts” of the earlier migrants but to the institutions that have developed in the interim through which “awareness about Trinidad” has grown. These allowed Trinidadians to sustain aspects of their identity. As Calli noted, When I first came to Canada I was asked a lot and I had to explain a lot but nowadays we don’t have to do that. . . . Yeah it has changed so much. There is so much integration now. Even food. Everybody is acquainted with roti or what roti is. . . . Many, many years ago you had to explain all the time. Some people didn’t even know where Trinidad was. (Calli, GTA) Her observation concurs with Kamini’s, who arrived in the 1970s and encountered many similar experiences. Between the 1970s and the 2000s, the GTA landscape had shifted considerably to one that was much more diverse and in which numerous institutional supports for an Indo-Trinidadian or Caribbean identity began to develop. In important respects, educating was one of the more positive and diplomatic responses to the challenge of placing oneself in the new society. In these cases, individuals accepted a certain burden to inform others about their actual circumstances, provide context, and “connect the dots.” When these migrants from Trinidad recognized that the old identity of “Indian” had become unsettled in the new society, they responded by seeking to place themselves anew in ways that defined them more appropriately. Disavowing and resisting both involved efforts to negate unwanted identities, but whereas disavowing targeted Indianness, resisting involved

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pushing back against others’ efforts to place them. Proclaiming involved taking a more positive tack, embracing being “Trini,” but while it could be a source of pride, it left questions about race and ethnicity unresolved. Thus, it could lead to more questioning, and thus a need to either disavow or resist. Educating also involved taking a positive track, but involved a willingness to take on the sometimes considerable burden of informing others, with no guarantee that one’s identity would be settled in an acceptable way. Many of the individuals we met with described using two or more of these approaches, and all provided a picture of identity work as an ongoing process.

Conclusion Our fieldwork on Indo-Trinidadian immigrants revealed a complex array of challenges in sustaining and reworking (or even abandoning) Indian identity. While varied, these challenges all involved recognising that the familiar identity of Indian, taken for granted in Trinidad, was no longer working as it once did. As immigrants, they encountered new demands to place themselves, to account for their identities, to position themselves in a new identity landscape. This called for active identity work. “I’m Trinidadian” was clearly a popular choice. Others included “West Indian” or “Caribbean.” These identity labels have a long history, and – given what Americans and Canadians could be assumed to know – were somewhat serviceable in their new situations. They also reflected some appreciation of how nation, race, and ethnicity are configured in Canada and the US. By choosing “Trinidadian” or “West Indian,” Indo-Trinidadians in effect sidestepped or rejected the racial categorisations assumed in the Canadian and American mainstreams. But this sat somewhat awkwardly vis-à-vis what Canadians and Americans might also suppose or want to know. These labels (Trinidadian or West Indian) did not address an implied demand to account for what one is racially (to answer the question “What are you?”). As one respondent put it, Canadians would say, “I thought Trinidadians were black.” So, the matter wasn’t put to rest by just saying “Trini” or “Trinidadian.” More identity work was often called for. Readers might suppose that Indo-Trinidadians were especially inclined to eschew the “black” label, in as much as “blackness” continues to signify an inferior position within the US and Canadian racial formations (Omi and Winant 2014; cf. Bonilla-Silva 2009, discussed earlier in this chapter). However, we found that in the US context, our respondents were also strongly inclined to reject the Hispanic label. (Note that “Hispanic/Latino” is not institutionalized as a special and separate ethnolinguistic category in Canada.) Even as they rejected the “black” or “Hispanic” labels, Indians from Trinidad did not want to be seen as “India Indians” either. While they

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resented being treated by Indians from India as “inferior Indians,” they also saw themselves as more Westernized, giving them an edge for living in Western countries. In a similar vein, we noted that their dissociation from IndoGuyanese was related to the perception of the latter group as “backward,” as less Westernized. As we sorted through our data, we also took note of layers of complexity to being Indian, Trinidadian, Canadian, etc., as understood by our respondents. For example, one of our interviewees suggested that Kamini, being from a rural village, was immersed more fully in Indian culture (whereas she, Pauline, had grown up in a more urbanized area). A greater degree of Indianness was also associated with those who were “Hindu.” But in these cases, authenticity could also connote backwardness. Those who originated from more urban areas and of Christian background were more likely to invoke music like calypso and soca (musical affinities seen as more modern) in expressing their Trinidad identity (Jean and Calli). In Toronto, quite a few also claimed a “Canadian” identity rooted in longterm residence, becoming citizens, incorporating new foods into their diet, adopting customs such as calling before a visit rather than just dropping by, and so on (Meena and Fátima). (In contrast, the immigrants to the US did not talk about being “American” in this sense at all. More research is needed to account for this difference.) Finally, some of our respondents in GTA talked about how some of their children who had been born and raised in Canada actively sought out a Trinidadian ethnic identity (largely through involvement in the music, attending the annual Caribana festival and similar events, and putting on a Trinidadian accent). Again and again, we saw that the meanings of “Indianness” and its alternatives (Caribbean, West Indian, Trinidadian, Canadian, American, etc.) had to be understood in terms of local practices, interactions, and experiences. In sum, our findings suggest that one consequence of being “twice migrant” is acquiring a heightened awareness of identity as process rather than essence. The tasks of accounting for “who one is” and “what one is” become more ambiguous and multi-faced as new situations call for performing identity in novel and unexpected ways. While our respondents developed different strategies and worked out different definitions of self, they all found that they had to deal with the unsettling of an identity that had previously been secure. Experiences and practices of recognizing and placing played important parts in the identity work they undertook. Those experiences and practices underscored the character of identity as situated, fluid, and contested in particular ways for these transnational migrants. It remains to be seen to what extent the so-called second generation in Canada and the US will continue to embrace a “Trinidadian” ethnic identity. There may well be shifts comparable with what Mary Waters found for West Indians of African descent in New York: those who grew up in predominantly AfricanAmerican, lower-income neighborhoods tended to adopt black American

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identities, while others growing up in more middle-class neighborhoods tended to claim the West Indian identities (Waters 2001). Yet the parallel is not exact: in our initial interviews with second generation migrants, we noticed a tendency of those who grew up in more middle-class, mixed neighborhoods to distance themselves from an Indo-Trinidadian identity. This suggests the need for closer attention to how lived specifics of social class and residential location shape particular identities. We look forward, through both our own research and that of others, to learning more about how the second generation will manage within the evolving identity landscapes of the post-Obama, post-Brexit world.

Note 1 While many of the societies of the Caribbean, including Trinidad, are diverse in specific ways as a direct result of colonization processes and their aftermath, Toronto and New York are far more cosmopolitan, with significant populations from countries and regions around the world.

References Ahmad, Fawzia. 1994. ‘“How Do You Identity?” Experiences of an Indo-Caribbean Woman’, Canadian Woman Studies, 14(2): 29–30. Bhachu, Parminder. 1985. Twice Migrants: East African Sikh Settlers in Britain. London: Tavistock. Bhattacharya, Gauri. 2008. ‘The Indian Diaspora in Transnational Context: Social Relations and Cultural Identities of Immigrants to New York City’, Journal of Intercultural Studies, 29(1): 65–80. Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo. 2009. ‘Racialised Social System Approach to Racism’, in Charles Gallagher (ed.), Rethinking the Color Line, 4th edition, pp. 33–38. Boston: McGraw Hill Higher Education. Degher, Douglas and Gerald Hughes. 1991. ‘The Identity Change Process: A Field Study of Obesity’, Deviant Behavior, 12(4): 385–401. Dunn, Jennifer Leigh and S.J. Creek. 2015. ‘Identity Dilemmas: Toward a more Situated Understanding’, Symbolic Interaction, 38(2): 261–284. Goffman, Erving. 1963. Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall Inc. Grahame, Kamini Maraj. 2004. ‘Education and Community in the Asian Diaspora: The Struggle for Hindu Schools in Trinidad’, Education and Society, 22(1): 65–81. Grahame, Kamini Maraj. 2014. ‘Narratives of Work and Family: Globalization and the Transformation of Indo-Trinidadian Women’s Lives’, International Journal of Sociology of the Family, 40(1): 49–70. Grahame, Peter R. and Kamini Maraj Grahame. 2009. ‘Points of Departure: Insiders, Outsiders, and Social Relations in Caribbean Field Research’, Human Studies, 32: 291–312. Hall, Stuart. 1995. ‘Negotiating Caribbean Identities’, New Left Review, 1(209): 3–16.

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Hall, Stuart. 1997. ‘Old and New Identities, Old and New Ethnicities’, in Anthony D. King (ed.), Culture, Globalisation and the World-System, pp. 41–68. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. Halstead, Narmala. 2012. ‘East Indians as Familiars and Partial Others in New York’, History and Anthropology, 23(1): 149–169. Hintzen, Percy. 2001. West Indian in the West: Self Representations in an Immigrant Community. New York: New York University Press. Klass, Morton. 1961. East Indians in Trinidad: A Study of Cultural Persistence. New York: Columbia University Press. LaGuerre, John (ed.). 1985. Calcutta to Caroni: The East Indians of Trinidad, 2nd edition. St Augustine, Trinidad: Extra Mural Studies Unit, University of the West Indies. Manuel, Peter. 1997/98. ‘Music, Identity, and Images of India in the Indo-Caribbean Diaspora’, Asian Music, 29(1): 17–35. Munasinghe, Viranjani. 2001. Callaloo or Tossed Salad? East Indians and the Politics of Identity in Trinidad. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Omi, Michael and Howard Winant. 2014. Racial Formation in the United States, 3rd edition. New York: Routledge. Plaza, Dwayne. 2004. ‘Disaggregating the Indo- and African-Caribbean and Settlement Experience in Canada’, Canadian Journal of Latin-American and Caribbean Studies, 29(57/58): 241–256. Premdas, Ralph. 2004. ‘Diaspora and its Discontents: A Caribbean Fragment in Toronto in Quest of Cultural Recognition and Political Empowerment’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 27(4): 544–564. Roopnarine, Lomarsh. 2003. ‘Indo-Caribbean Migration: From Periphery to Core’, Caribbean Quarterly, 49(3): 30–60. Roopnarine, Lomarsh. 2009. ‘Indian Social Identity in Guyana, Trinidad, and the North American Diaspora’, Wadabagei: A Journal of the Caribbean and Its Diaspora, 12(3): 87–125. Singh, Simboonath. 2000. ‘Ethnic Associations and the Development of Political Consciousness in Indian Diaspora Communities: The Indo-Caribbean Experience in Canada’, Wadabagei: A Journal of the Caribbean and Its Diaspora, 3(2): 38–75. Snow, David A. and Leon Anderson. 1987. ‘Identity Work among the Homeless: The Verbal Construction and Avowal of Personal Identities’, American Journal of Sociology, 92(6): 1336–1371. Tanikella, Leela. 2009. ‘Voices from Home and Abroad: New York City’s IndoCaribbean Media’, International Journal of Cultural Studies, 12: 167–185. Teelucksingh, Jerome. 2011. ‘A Global Diaspora: The Indo-Trinidadian Diaspora in Canada, the United States, and England 1967–2007’, Diaspora Studies, 4(2): 139–154. Thangaraj, Stanley. 2012. ‘Playing through Differences: Black-White Racial Logic and Interrogating South Asian American Identity’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 35(6): 988–1006. Vertovec, Steven. 1992. Hindu Trinidad. MacMillan Caribbean/Warwick University Caribbean Series. Warikoo, Natasha. 2005. ‘Gender and Ethnic Identity among Second-Generation Indo-Caribbeans’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 28(5): 803–831.

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Waters, Mary. 2001. ‘Growing Up West Indian and African American: Gender and Class Differences in the Second Generation’, in Nancy Foner (ed.), Islands in the City: West Indian Migration to New York, pp. 193–215. Berkeley: University of California Press. Weinberg, Martin S., Colin J. Williams and Douglas W. Pryor. 1995. Dual Attraction: Understanding Bisexuality. London: Oxford University Press. Wilson, Stacey-Ann. 2012. Politics of Identity in Small Plural Societies: Guyana, the Fiji Islands, and Trinidad and Tobago. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

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4 FROM NATIONALISM TO HINDUTVA Bollywood and the makings of the Hindu diasporic woman Roshni Sengupta

Introduction As chauvinistic Hindu nationalism strengthens attempts at a redefinition of nationalism – any and all tendencies lying outside the conservative boundaries of Hindutva or political Hinduism have come to be categorized and castigated as anti-national. The position of the transnational Indian or more specifically the transnational Hindu – part of the burgeoning Indian diaspora in all major regions of the world – has also undergone a refashioning and refurbishing albeit to fit into the larger universalistic definition of Hindutva being fashioned and normalized. From a figure of abandonment to one of overseas prosperity, the transnational Indian (read Hindu) remains a figure of enchantment for many Indians while the political agency of the non-resident Indians (NRI) has been energized by the impetus towards Hindu nationalism. This reimagination of the diasporic Indian has been aided and abetted by representation in Bollywood cinema which has promoted – through its activization of image-making – an ideally Hindu, moral and conservative transnational Indian with irreversible ties to the “motherland.” It is in the interstices of these vicarious and liminal spaces that have found legitimacy that Bollywood has been actively – since the inauguration of the NRI era – promoting a form of performative nationalism that has found an audience among diasporic South Asians, particularly Indians. A particularly chauvinistic type of Hindu ideal has also permeated the cinematic landscape which celebrates the intrinsically superior, prosperous, and idealized Hindu male while placing the onus of upholding the ideals of a successful Hindu universe on the female who therefore is confronted with a different set of parameters of idealness. The role of cultural productions such as cinema fits in quite perfectly with the positivist vision of the diaspora which foregrounds the recognition of a diasporic identity and the positive dimensions 58

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of transnational existence. Pnina Werbner (2006) has described this positivism as “cosmopolitan consciousness.” Such an articulation of collective identity plays a role towards mobilizing collective identity in favour of the idea of a real or imagined homeland through bonds of religion, culture, language and a sense of common fate. This deterritorialized diaspora connects with other members of a similarly deterritorialized community through artefacts of popular culture like cinema or music; a shared imagination and through technological advancements like cyberspace. The liberalization regime of the early 1990s brought about fundamental changes in the functioning and financing systems of the Bombay film industry. It opened up more lucrative vistas for the dream merchants of Mumbai as production houses in Bollywood found an eager target audience for what has come to be designated as the NRI designer romance film where Hindu ideals are upheld in the most conventional ways by families portrayed to have spent considerable years in Western societies and locations. The Indian diaspora already steeped in nostalgia for the “homeland” almost magically found a voice through this exposition of uniquely Hindu idioms, tropes and motifs to the mainstream audience. Not only were these cultural products filmed in the West, the immense popularity of Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995) and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998) are significant because of the obvious tailor-making of NRI films for an implicitly influential target group – the diaspora. Subsequent filmic melodramas have peddled overtly conservative, chauvinistic and misogynist content informed by the majoritarian discourse to an emotional diasporic audience, hence feeding ultra-nationalist, very often fundamentalist tendencies. Arjun Appadurai (1990) suggests that the process of deterritorialization among diasporic groups sometimes creates “exaggerated and intensified senses of criticism or attachment to politics in the home-state.” He places deterritorialization, whether of Hindus, Sikhs, Palestinians, or Ukrainians, at the core of a variety of global fundamentalisms, including Islamic and Hindu fundamentalism. In the Hindu case for example, it is clear that the overseas movement of Indians has been exploited by a variety of interests both within and outside India to create a complicated network of finances and religious identifications, in which the problems of cultural reproduction for Hindus abroad have become tied to the politics of Hindu fundamentalism at home (Appadurai 1990). The rapid cultural flows earmarking multicultural as well as transcultural ideologies and the consolidation of a largely inter-connected mediascape appears to have provided an impetus to a cultural revolution of sorts – manifested through the visual idioms and motifs of the popular Hindi film. The enhancement in the scope and reach of Bollywood cinema has occurred with tremendous rapidity in the past two decades through international film festivals, film tours and international premiers, co-productions, global film-based channels, or even multiplexes. It is with increasing frequency that Bollywood superstars and films 59

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are finding an audience not only among fawning diasporic communities but also non-diasporic and more localized audiences. For instance, it would not be uncommon to find Sufi worshippers in Nigeria singing religious songs by adapting some famous Hindi film qawwalis (Larkin 2002). While the phenomenon can be loosely designated as the exertion of “soft power” by India, not only over its South Asian neighbours, but further out over the rest of the world, what is casually perceived as the “blooming Bollywood story” could perhaps be a simplistic understanding of the process of image-making – and in doing so also a particularly diabolical kind of mythmaking – that is taking place in the sphere of cinema and popular culture. The visual explosion of Bollywood images elicits specific interest for scholarly investigation not at least due to the cultural ramifications of the imagemaking in progress. Yash Chopra’s Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995) remains the first cinematic spectacle to narrativize diasporic nostalgia for the homeland – couched in the safe edifices of a love story – and posit the ideal overseas Indian – steeped in cultural mores and traditional motifs – as an aspirational idiom. A significantly melodramatic narrative with roots in the United Kingdom, parts of Europe and Punjab in India, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge remains primarily a cinematic vision which works while staying within patriarchal and structural boundaries. The film – a tale of young romance between a rich NRI boy (Shahrukh Khan) and a reticent British Punjabi girl (Kajol) – set the stage for successors like Dil Toh Pagal Hai (1997), Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999), Taal (1999), Kal Ho Na Ho (2003), among several others, not only promising financial dividends for Bollywood film producers but a continuous stream of visual material steeped in nostalgia for the homeland for the South Asian diaspora. Subsequently, cinematic productions like Don (2006) and its sequel Don 2 (2011) sought to bridge the gap between film genres in the West and Bollywood by coalescing the technical expertise from Hollywood resulting in the films garnering massive response among Western as well as diasporic viewers. Somewhere between the revenue-happy movie mandarins of Mumbai and the nostalgic diasporas in the Western world, popular Hindi cinema started carving out a niche among young Western audiences providing Bollywood with a hitherto unforeseen visibility and legitimacy. For Ashish Rajadhyaksha (2009), Bollywood becomes more “a producer of cultural commodities of which films is only one, and therefore the role that film plays is a key sub-set in its overall self-definition.” Vijay Mishra (2008) views Bollywood through its relationship with Indian modernity, including its diaspora, which in the realm of culture is increasingly represented through the audio-visual idioms of Bollywood cinema. Raminder Kaur and Ajay J. Sinha (2005) use the representative term “Bollyworld” to outline its provenance, orientation, and outreach which can be taken in at least three senses – to allude to the increasingly hybrid constituency of 60

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Bollywood, yet also perceptibly an index of variant senses of Indian identity; the global distribution of Bollywood movies and more importantly a conveyer of “Indianness” to diverse audiences; and as a means of negotiating both Indianness and its transformation, particularly when representing and being received by diasporic audiences. The aim of this chapter therefore is to examine the transition from representing Indianness to exporting a certain variant of Indianness that is conservative as well as illustrative of a subversive sub-culture which seeks to redefine ideas of nationalism and citizenship through religious and political allegiances.

(Re)defining the national and the imagined While the political science definition of a nation would emphasize on the modern nation-state with finite boundaries and the concept of national sovereignty, the nation state is essentially viewed as a product of a “social contract” between individuals and rulers. The Weberian description posits the nation as “that human community which successfully lays claim to the monopoly of legitimate physical violence within a certain territory” (Weber 1980; Leoussi 2013). Scholars believe that the development of nationalism in Europe (and subsequently the modern nation-state) was due to the threat of war. The modernist interpretation of a nation concludes that nationalism arises and flourishes in modern societies that have an industrial economy capable of selfsustainability; a central supreme authority capable of maintaining authority and unity and a centralized language understood by a community of people (Giddens 1990; Taylor 1999) . Viewed as a possibility only in modern societies because traditional societies lack the prerequisites for the growth of nationalism, modernists like Arnold Toynbee and Rabindranath Tagore (2002) have foreclosed the potential for nationalism in predominantly traditional societies such as India. Sociologists such as Ashis Nandy (1985, 1990), on the other hand, have argued that the advent of modernity – particularly the practice of secularism – in India created fertile ground for the growth and consolidation of chauvinistic tendencies such as Hindu nationalism – seen by many as a primordialist or an evolutionary interpretation. The primordialists perceive nationalism to be the result of the evolution of human beings into identifying with groups, such as ethnic groups, or other groups that form the foundation of a nation – a primordial explanation of the origin of ethnic and national groups – recognizing that group attachments could be thought to be unique, emotional, intense, and durable (Joireman 2003). Such ties are based upon kinship and promoted along lines of common ancestry. Critics argue that the primordialist interpretation is based not on historical evidence but assumptions of observed changes over thousands of years. In Hindutva: who is a Hindu? V.D. Savarkar (1928) identifies Hinduism as an ethnic, cultural and political identity. Hindus, according to Savarkar – in a primordialist redefinition – are those who consider India 61

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to be the land of their ancestors as well as the birthplace of their religion, both identifying markers have been found to be pernicious with India being home to large groups belonging to the Savarkarian definition of ethnicity but practicing religions that originated elsewhere in the world. Subsequent ideologues of Hindu nationalism have – taking the primordialist definition further – characterized Indian Muslims and Christians as painful spokes populating and consequently destroying an ethnically Hindu national fabric (Golwalkar 1980). The Marxian notion of nation and nationalism is predicated on “the working man as having no country” (Marx and Engels 1998; Posdolsky 1977). Nationalism therefore is nothing but “false consciousness.” Despite the ambivalence on the question of nationalism, Lenin (1964) supported the right to self-determination of oppressed and subjugated peoples. In describing nations as imagined communities Benedict Anderson (1983) unwraps the Marxist foundations of the notion and argues that nations are socially constructed entities, the primary movers of nationalism being the decline of dominance of privileged classes over languages such as Latin because of mass vernacular literacy; abolition of the idea of “rule by divine right” and the emergence of printing press capitalism, a phenomena occurring with the advent of the industrial revolution.1 Nations are “limited” and have “finite, if elastic boundaries, beyond which lie other nations“; nations are also “sovereign” since no dynastic monarchy can claim authority over them and even though we may never see anyone in our imagined community, we still know they are there through communication. Anderson owed the formation of the imagined community to the advent of the newspaper and the “homogenous empty time.” Benedict Anderson arrived at his theory because he felt that neither Marxist nor liberal theory adequately explained nationalism. It appears sensible to qualify Anderson’s redefinition of the nation as part of the “historicist” or “modernist” school of nationalism along with Ernest Gellner (1983) and Eric Hobsbawm (2012) in that he posits that nations and nationalism are products of modernity and have been created as means to political and economic ends. This school stands in opposition to the primordialists, who believe that nations, if not nationalism, have existed since early human history. Imagined communities can be seen as a form of social constructionism on par with Edward Said’s (1994) concept of imagined geographies. The modern Indian nation – as it emerged in the aftermath of colonial rule and the partition – remains an exceptional conglomeration of diverse groups and people with civilizational affinities as well as teleological differences – all at the same time – bound together by the pull of print capitalism. Modern journalism in India, for instance, developed as a protest movement facilitated by the means of publication and circulation. Applying the concept of “imagined communities” to diasporas and transnational communities could begin to disturb the established notions of a nation, be it political or cultural. The global imaginary, however, allows 62

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individuals to extend their allegiances beyond and further than the nation, yet exist within national boundaries – both imagined and real. Individuals imagine themselves in larger, more complex systems of organization that have global implications within national contexts. Arjun Appadurai (2014) had termed the phenomenon as the “diasporic public sphere” which has given space to the emergence of what can be called the “the global imagined.” Imagined is a technique used to shape and define group boundaries. With access to global flows of information, individuals and groups can imagine new forms of social organization and belonging incorporating distant places in their imaginings. In the case of the diasporas then, this space comes to be occupied by an imagination of the “homeland.” Such as imagination is exemplified by the Hindu nationalist training camps being organized among diasporas in the West (Anderson 2017). Camps are organized in India as well to promote homeland tourism among transnational Hindus. The camps provide a complete “back to the roots” package with the performative and ritualistic aspects of Hinduism liberally built in to create a sense of pilgrimage. While the larger purpose of the camps remains the incorporation of the diasporic Hindus into the “larger fold of Hinduism,” there exists an underlying zeal for identifying notions of unity and connectivity to the “homeland” as the camp itineraries – steeped in symbolism and affect – might signify. Not only do the camps bring transnational Hindus together on a platform, they are often addressed by Hindu nationalist leaders on the need for the overseas Hindu to be in spiritual tandem with the ascendance of Hindutva in the homeland. These affective and experiential encounters not only redefine the boundaries of belonging, it results from transformative global cultural and technological flows. Participants engage with each other over tangible symbols that shape their imagined community.

From Hindu nationalism to Hindutva The early, 19th-century strands of a puritanical Hindu resurgence could be traced back to the writings, teachings and public articulations of two well-known individuals – Swami Dayanand Saraswati and Sri Aurobindo Ghosh. While Saraswati rejected caste, image and idol worship, polytheism, he advocated a return to the Vedas and founded the Arya Samaj or the Aryan Society movement in 1875, Ghosh stressed on the primordial nature of India and its Hindu origins and rejected Western philosophical thought on the origins of the Aryans to claim that the race was autochthonous to India (Bhatt and Mukta 2000). Other influential voices in the Hindu nationalist pantheon during this period include Bharatendu Harishchandra, Hindi playwright and an active votary of the anti-Urdu campaign in North India; Bengali novelist Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay who employed trenchantly Hindu motifs and imagery in his writings in which the villains were almost always Muslim; public intellectuals and activists Lala Lajpat Rai – also a 63

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member of the Arya Samaj in Punjab – and Bal Gangadhar Tilak, a prominent member of the Indian independence movement. A putative and epistemological break from the Hindu revivalism of the 19th century could be traced to the 1920s when Vinayak Damodar Savarkar produced Hindutva – Who is a Hindu? which lay down the roots of contemporary Hindu nationalist thought, defined Hindutva and became fundamental to the political ideology of Hindu nationalism in India and among the diaspora (Savarkar [1923] 1989). Savarkar defined Hindutva as Hinduness or the “essence of being a Hindu” which in itself appears innocuous and rather like an empty signifier in politics. However, his invocation of the primordialist myth to legitimize Hindu nationalist ideology makes it one of the most divisive and exclusive political processes of the 20th century. The ascription of the Hindu identity as superior due to the comingling of Aryan blood with the people they encountered posits the complex triadic conceptualization of the “common nation, common civilization and common ‘race’” at the center of the definition of Hindutva. The taxonomical origins of the Hindus – espoused in the category of “common blood” – intermingles with the ontology of the Aryan race and produces a genetic and social schema which categorically places the Muslims and Christians of India outside its boundaries. Furthermore, Savarkar’s virulent method of partitioning Indian society was primarily based on the Vedic-Sanskritic – therefore Brahmanic – origins of the Hindus, hence privileging one group of Hindus over the others. Savarkar therefore declared, “A Hindu means a person who regards this land of Bharat Varsha, from the Indus to the Seas, as his Fatherland as well as his Holyland that is the cradle of his religion” (van der Veer 1994). Profoundly influenced by the writings of Savarkar, Keshav Baliram Hedgewar founded the Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (National Volunteer Corps) or the RSS in 1924. It remains – to this day – a semi-paramilitary organization with a highly centralized structure based on the training of Hindu men and youth for the “defence” of the Hindu rashtra or Hindu nation. Training is provided through shakhas or branches where the emphasis remains on “character building” and the development of physical strength for the safeguarding of the Hindu society and nation, therefore excluding everyone not belonging to the Hindu superstructure. While the RSS – since its inception – has claimed to remain outside the political fold as it considered politics “polluting,” it has over the years sent more members and cadre into the political mainstream than any other “social and cultural organization.” Former Prime Minister of India A.B. Vajpayee as well as the present incumbent Narendra Modi have been active members of the RSS.

Long-distance “Hindu” nationalism With Hindu migrants having formed enclaves or communities in various parts of the world, the possibility of the overseas expansion of Hindu 64

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nationalism appears inevitable. The Arya Samaj – funded in 1875 – was the first of the many outfits to extend their reach to overseas Hindus particularly following the waves of migration in the 19th century to South Africa and the Caribbean. Advocacy responsibilities were later taken on by the Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (RSS). According to M.S. Golwalkar, founding ideologue of RSS: The first point to be borne in mind by our brothers and sisters living abroad is to keep alive in their day-to-day behavior a spirit of intense national self-respect. And for this, a keen awareness of the glorious heritage that our forbears have left for us should ever be present in our minds. (Jaffrelot and Therwath 2007) Overseas Hindus were brought into the Hindu nationalist fold with Balasaheb Deoras at the helm in 1973. The official history of the RSS, however, states that the first overseas shakha (branch) was formed on a ship bound for Mombasa in Kenya (Jaffrelot and Therwath 2007).2 This was a period when the RSS operated under a different name – the Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh (The Hindu Volunteers Corps) or the HSS – in the UK, US, Canada, the Netherlands, Trinidad, and Hong Kong. The HSS placed absolute emphasis on multiplying the number of shakhas, as the RSS had done in the years from 1925 to 1948. In the UK shakhas were thus rapidly created in cities such as Birmingham and Bradford where they attracted Hindu immigrants eager to convey Hindu culture to their children (Jaffrelot and Therwath 2007). It was during the time that the RSS was banned briefly during the Emergency in 1975–1977 – as it had been previously after its involvement in the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi was discovered – that its overseas affiliates became more vocal advocates of Hindu nationalism. Christophe Jaffrelot has written about a secret register of swayamsevaks (volunteers) who had applied to emigrate, putting them in contact with those already settled in the destination country and encouraging them to join a shakha or to start one. While there has been evidence on financial collusion between affiliates of the RSS in the diaspora in contravention of legal procedure, more recent studies have highlighted the large amounts of funds flowing into the parent organization in India. Therefore, Hindu nationalist movement affiliates either in India or abroad swear allegiance to the same decision-making center, which certainly makes this movement qualify as a network. It is to India, however, that the overseas components of the Sangh Parivar – or the RSS family – look for their material and ideological leadership. A major proportion of the ideological and financial ties between the RSS and it affiliates overseas became apparent during and after the Ramjanmabhoomi – birthplace of Lord Ram – movement 65

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gathered momentum towards the late 1980s.3 According to the Organizer, the RSS weekly mouthpiece: The American Hindu is perpetually concerned that his children are brought up in the Hindu tradition, that he gets acquainted with the Hindu gods and goddesses. Some of the parents are highly exercised over their children being tainted by the Western culture. Some they are now repenting at leisure that in their blind pursuit of wealth they had abandoned their children to absorb the Western culture. Others have awakened to the danger. (Jaffrelot and Therwath 2007) A cursory glance at the textbooks used in schools run by the RSS/HSS in various locations in the US, UK, and Europe is enough to locate the primary pedagogical mores on which these books are anchored – ranging from Hinduism pronouncing negative opinions on cloning and contraception to precocious sexual intercourse, divorce, adultery, and homosexuality. Even as the focus of these initiations is on the more affluent Hindus – who epitomize the “intrinsic superiority” of the community – one does isolate attempts to inculcate a Hindu pride that denies the diversity or even the ambiguities of Hinduism. The activities of the Sangh and its affiliates are also premised on dissociating Hindus from the mass of “Asians,” conducted in various publications that target a young audience (Mathew and Prashad 2000). Notions of long distance nationalism have – in present times – come to be extended to what can be ideally termed as e-mail nationalism expanded to include internet nationalism (Eriksen 2007). The concept of “vicarious nationalism” had previously been used to cover the activities of politicized diasporas independently from new technologies. The internet permits a situation of radical unaccountability in which, according to Anderson, [t]he participant rarely pays taxes in the country in which he does his politics; he is not answerable to its judicial system; he probably does not cast even an absentee ballot in its elections because he is a citizen in a different place; he need not fear prison, torture or death, nor need his immediate family. But, well and safely positioned in the First World, he can send money and guns, circulate propaganda, and build intercontinental computer information circuits, all of which can have incalculable consequences in the zones of their ultimate destinations. (Anderson 1983) The turning towards a chauvinistic form of intolerant nationalism of expatriate and diasporic Indians living dislocated lives in parts of provincial America – disdainful of a creeping form of Americanization experienced 66

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through everyday interactions or through the reorientation of their offspring – comes to fruition through the anonymous legitimacy provided by social media spaces. There remains packaged propaganda material on India (and South Asia) freely available which can be downloaded and easily used. In defining “Yankee Hindutva”, Vijay Prashad has alluded to “the relationship between virtual interconnectedness and really-existing loneliness through self-introspective politics” taking place in virtual spaces.4

Bollywood roots of global Hindutva The global Indian diaspora has over a period of time developed a number of methodologies to maintain relations with the homeland – one of which pertains to technology and the use of visual and aural technical advancements that have contributed to the creation of a worldwide mediascape (Appadurai 1990). Within the larger framework of nostalgia and representation, Bollywood cinema has managed to appropriate the diaspora’s need for regular visual and sensorial gratification in the form of narratives that fetishize the upholding of traditions, customs and rituals as a certification of the Indianness of the diaspora. In a bid to contextualize the inevitability of traditions and values being of prime importance, cinema remains one of the leading revitalizers of production and reproduction of transnational social and cultural phenomena. Through a narrative of tradition winning over modernity in a largely foreign setting, the films produced and directed by production behemoths such as those belonging to Karan Johar (Dharma Productions) and Aditya Chopra (Yash Raj Films) inaugurated an era of “diasporic nostalgia” in Bollywood. A newly liberalized India afforded Johar and Chopra the financial capital and wherewithal to not only shoot entirely on location in Europe and America but also juxtapose the moral high-ground occupied by traditional Hindu families based in foreign lands with the seemingly decadent and immoral ways of the West. In Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (DDLJ), the Punjabi male located in London feels the abject need to preserve the purity of his bloodline by promising his elder daughter’s hand in marriage – born and raised in the UK – to the rustic son of a close friend and neighbor in a village in Punjab, reminiscent of the proclivity of a number of diasporic families to find partners for their children from ancestral villages in India. DDLJ, as the film is fondly remembered and watched by millions of diasporic Indians, became the harbinger of a new genre – the NRI films – films made for and targeted at the already burgeoning and growing Indian diaspora. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica Online there are 761,689,000 Hindus spread across 144 countries. Vertovec suggests that outside of India there are around 48,646,000 Hindus among a larger Indian diaspora that includes Sikhs, Muslims, and Christians as well as Jains who are counted as Hindus in some estimates (Vertovec 2000).5 67

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The expatriate Indian characters in this film as well as others such as Kal Ho Na Ho and Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (2001) which were once exposed as inappropriate and a counter-model to the “ideal Hindu Indian,” have become in the past 20 years or so Indian achievers – a kind of uber Indian able to assert his ethnic and national identity in a globalized world: successful, capitalist, male, family-oriented, technology-savvy, and devoutly Hindu (Hariharan 2002). A few films like DDLJ, Pardes, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (K3G), Kitne Door . . . Kitne Paas (2002) and Namastey London (2007) have given him pride of place and have generated new practices (fashion trends, tourism in the locations shown on screen) or rejuvenated old ones (like the rekindled observance of the karva chauth festival in Northern India). The elites of the popular Hindi film industry, like producer-director Yash Chopra, are very conscious of their role. He for instance declared, during his address at the first Pravasi Bharatiya Divas (PBD), a government-sponsored conclave for the Indian diaspora, that “our moral responsibility is to depict India at its best. We’re the historians of India . . . . The Indian Diaspora must maintain its identity, its roots” (2003).6 The opening up of the Indian economy to foreign direct investment and economic liberalization coincided with the rise of latent Hindu chauvinism in the form of the Bharatiya Janata Party riding a wave of support for the Ramjanmabhoomi movement. Liberalization benefitted not only the growing middle classes in India and boosted the political fortunes of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), but also exerted a major impact on the way films were made, produced, and distributed overseas. The Non-Resident Indian, or the NRI, is seen by the Hindu chauvinists as Westernized but rich – contributing with vigour to the coffers of the Sangh Parivar or the Hindu nationalist conglomeration. The “long-distance nationalists” proclivity to contribute financially to the Sangh Parivar has been documented by Christophe Jaffrelot and Therwath (2007). Not surprisingly then, films with themes relating to the ideal diasporic Hindu families peaked during the BJP regime (1998–2004) (Therwath 2010). In the context of the diasporic Hindu, Indian culture is presented as Hindu, family-oriented, the preserve of women within the home yet portable and therefore also transnational (Uberoi 1998). Cinema therefore becomes a vehicle for the circulation of the Hindu nationalist discourse, combining virtues of consumerism, devotion and cosmopolitanism. Christophe Jaffrelot (2019) have argued in favour of a mutually beneficial relationship between the long-distance nationalists and their ultra-nationalist counterparts in the home country. In a vicarious way then, popular Hindi cinema or Bollywood has emerged as one of the cultural nodes through which this mutuality is maintained. The past few years have been witness to the consummate appropriation of an ambitious film project and the conflation of the symbolic value of the cultural product with a unique, overarching and global Hindu identity. Baahubali: The Beginning (2015) and Baahubali: The Conclusion (2017) 68

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are the films in question – a two-part narrative of mythology and warring families told in a well-mounted epic style – that have seem to have been surreptitiously appropriated by Hindutva ideologues as the definitive cinematic statement on Hinduism’s lost glory. While several social media platforms and “news” portals waxed eloquent on the “reclaiming of Hindu identity through cinema,” several critics saw the blockbuster productions as definitely pandering to a global audience, drawing them into the processes of myth-making and image-making. The “Hinduization” of Baahubali is perhaps the latest in a series of dramatic media takeovers by the burgeoning Hindutva universe – starting with Twitter and Facebook as media, particularly social media has cemented its place as the ideological battleground for the Hindu nationalists. It is also not the first instance of mythology being used as a political masterstroke – the Ramayana (1988) being one of the better known examples, even as the more immediate gains for Hindutva remained confined to electoral victories in India and their subsequent bid for power at the centre. The diaspora as an active participant in the hegemonization of culture on a global scale is better identified with a brief overview of the creative methodologies employed to make and sustain images that are then acknowledged as not only ideal but canonical.

Women as “keepers” of Hindutva Bollywood has – over the years and in all estimations – appeared to be quite a fitting comrade for the Indian state with its objective of nation-building and the construction of the identity of a united India. In being the perfect partner for the Indian state, Hindi films have assigned and upheld roles reserved for Indian men – primary breadwinners of the ideal Hindu family, patriarchs with whom all decisions rested – and Indian women – the keepers of honour of the Hindu family, the epitome of sacrifice. No celluloid venture exemplified the status of the Hindu woman as the bearer of family shame and guilt and the upholder of moral virtues and values than Mehboob Khan’s Mother India (1957). The female protagonist in the narrative however was the bulwark of the film – epitomizing strength borne out of suffering (Sengupta 2016). From Mother India to the subservient position of the Hindu woman in Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (KKKG) and several similar narratives, Bollywood appears to have regressed in its portrayal and representation. Some of the most regressive instances of the image of the “ideal Hindu woman” could be found in filmic expositions such as Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, which also upheld and unashamedly overvalued the persistence of debilitating class structures in the Hindu society. The opulent landscape of KKKG is replete with grandiose song-and-dance routines celebrating births, engagements and most importantly karwa chauth – a ritual observed by Hindu wives who hold a day-long fast for the long life and safety of 69

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their husbands. Celebrated primarily in the north and northwestern parts of India, karwa (meaning a small pot of water) and chauth (meaning the fourth day after full-moon in the Hindu lunisolar calendar month of Kartik [October-November]) could have had several points of origin. One of them pertains to the fasts observed by wives of soldiers away on long military campaigns. Another places the festival as marking the wheat-sowing season in northwestern part of the subcontinent. Karwas is also a word that describes large earthen pots used to store wheat and, hence, the festival may have had its origins as a prayer for a good wheat harvest in a primarily wheat-consuming region. Yet another origin story about the festival predicates it on the bonds of feminine friendship and female relationships that would grow out of young, newlywed women pining for their natal homes, content to develop new friendships with other women in the same social position called kangan sahelis (bangle friends). There are several legends associated with the festival of karwa chauth. Many of them are interlinked and act as frame stories for the others.7 Given the multiplicity of stories of origination of the ritual, it appears in popular imagination and culture as a homogenized practice, with the idea of romance between the male and female protagonists occupying centerstage. The Bollywood genre – and primarily the NRI film – could have singlehandedly transported the ritual observance to being one of the key parameters of ritualizing and prejudging the “idealness” of high caste and upper class Hindu women. The film KKKG further exemplifies the contribution of popular Hindi cinema to the construction of not only a ritual-observing but also a subservient Hindu woman characterized by Jaya Bachchan’s character Nandini who plays wife to her real-life husband, Amitabh Bachchan (Yashwardhan Raichand). A grossly unequal power structure can be observed in the Raichand family – Yashwardhan is the quintessential Hindu patriarch running family matters with an iron fist with his wife assuming the position of a maternal mute spectator. Nandini does not contest the power equation but is seen as participating in its perpetuation whole-heartedly, she being the flagbearer of the ostentatious karwa chauth celebrations in the family, bowing down to touch her husband’s feet at the conclusion of the ritual. The film narrative endorses the handing over of the unequal relationship between Yashwardhan and Nandini to their son – Rahul and his wife Anjali. The ritual of karwa chauth is showcased as one of the hallmarks of Hindu (read Indian) tradition which leaves room for geographical contestation since the ritual has its base in North and North West India, with large Hindu populations in the southern, eastern or western states like Gujarat and Maharashtra traditionally oblivious of the existence of any such festival. The export of the myth of the pan-Indian nature of karwa chauth – patriarchal and problematic – coincides with the global acceptance of popular Hindi cinema as the primary exemplar of diasporic Hindutva. Other Bollywood exports

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like Hum Saath Saath Hain (HSSH), Hum Aapke Hain Kaun (HAHK) (both directed by Suraj Barjatya and produced by Rajshri Productions) foreground the ritual of karwa chauth as exemplifying the role and the place of the ideal Hindu bahu (daughter-in-law). Such cinematic material is consumed with supreme interest (often devotion) by diasporic Hindus already suffering repeated pangs of nostalgia along with the growing and sustained bonds with their home country – now made more accessible by cheaper transport options as well as mobile and smartphone technology. The “idealness” of the Hindu family in KKKG, HSSH, and even HAHK is established through the foregrounding of karwa chauth, thereby founding the role that Hindu women must assume in the family. Such representation blends in seamlessly with the image of the Hindu woman being constructed by the Hindutva ideologues, often heard commenting about the un-Hindu practice of women crossing the family threshold in pursuit of careers, working late, drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes, or even wearing Western attire. In the body and the soul of the diasporic ideal Indian woman, the Hindu nation becomes one with the transnational identity of the deterritorialized Hindu, thereby producing a convivial nurturing of forms – almost a celebration of a universal typology of religion. The “superior Indian culture” argument was invoked in Namastey London – a narrative that made a notoriously lopsided display of cultural misogyny. Not only does the film claim Hindu cultural overlordship of the expatriate and diasporic Sikh community, it puts to rest any questions critics might have regarding the female protagonist’s freedom to choose her partner. Most unsurprisingly, the film was a grand success among the Hindu diaspora – the monologue delivered by the eloquent male protagonist (played by Akshay Kumar) eliciting many a tear among overseas audiences. The diasporic Hindu immediately feels a sense of attachment with the spiel as it recounts the amazing advances India has made since Independence in response to an Englishman’s caustic remark about “snake charmers” and the “Indian rope trick” with the Saare Jahan se Achcha tune playing in the background. It lends credibility to the Hindu’s non-resident existence and is a stunning riposte to the many ways in which integration in the host country has been negligible, at best partial. The speech further exemplifies the attempt of the film to connect with the diasporic audience, playing to the gallery and on their emotions. Another curious aspect is discernible during this sequence in the film – the coming around of the heroine to accept her Indian roots and participate in the dramatic take down of the overzealous Englishman. Herein lies the central plot twist in Namastey London – one which obliterates the question of choice as the female protagonist is made to fall in love with her Indian “fiancé” carefully selected by her father. It is important to also keep in mind the parameters for the selection which range from the man’s identity as a Punjabi, with traditional leanings and moral values.

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The Hindu designer diaspora The export of cinematic content tailor-made for overseas audiences makes possible the articulation of a strikingly reworked and refurbished definition of nationalism, more importantly long-distance nationalism. When newfangled expositions of morality and Indianness are witnessed on screen by the diasporic Hindu, an immediate link is formed between the messaging through cinema and the hyper-nationalism that is now available for consumption through social media. The efficient use of social media platforms by the Sangh Parivar is well known and documented. As a result, a renewed sense of identification with image-making enables the Hindu to rearticulate his position in the world – driven mostly by a fierce sense of Hinduness which is interchangeable with Indianness, thus leading to the creation of a “designer” diaspora. In the adopted country, the Hindu becomes associated with an umbrella term – the model minority. Affectively then, the model Hindu gets immediately characterized as opposed to the Muslim “trouble-makers.” Popular Hindi cinema’s contribution to this image-making begins from the representation of the ideal Hindu family as god-fearing, with strong familial bonds and an exaggerated sense of morality. Films such as KKKG and HAHK are instances of not only the moral compass of the ideal Hindu being ostensibly impregnable, they further lend credence to the teleological argument about the Hindu being a deeply religious individual. The association works in tandem with the Hindu nationalist agenda on the one hand, articulating an image of the peaceful and moral Hindu steeped in tradition and culture and on the other, positing the ideal and moral Hindu in contrast to the violent and fundamentalist Muslim, therefore effectively bridging the gap between the prachar (evangelism) of the Sangh and cultural capital derived from image-making. The World Hindu Congress, of which US Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard has been a patron, has pledged itself to the success of the Ram Temple movement in India and the worldwide propagation of the Hinduism which has – within a milieu brought to the foreground by conservative Hindu nationalism – been increasingly conflated with its radical variant – Hindutva. The term designer diaspora speaks to a significant percentage of diasporic Hindus; a community that has often stood on opposite sides with the Indian liberals in the West. A more exclusive and homogenic Hinduism appears to be in practice among the Hindu diaspora (Nandy 1990; Papastergiadis 1990). Out of feelings of inferiority, says Nandy, many Hindus have tried to re-define Hinduism according to the dominant Western concept of religion. The result has been a more globalized, more Brahmanic – even a more semiticized – version of Hinduism which endorses some of the most atavistic elements in Indian politics.

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When watching episodes of the Ramayana or Mahabharata made for television in India, Hindus in Britain would light incense, perform “devout salutations” when a deity appears on screen, conduct puja before or after viewing, and establish that, once commenced, the video must be watched in its entirety “out of respect” for the deity on screen. The imagination of the designer diasporic Hindu remains a processual intervention accentuated and supported by the participation of the diaspora themselves in no small measure through what has been called “microelectronic transnationalism” (Gillespie 1995). With Bollywood cinema entering this sphere in a big way with tailor-made content, the transnational Hindu becomes a willing participant in the molding of his identity into that of a particularistic, atavistic Hindu nationalist with a global vision. This designer Hindu remains an essential spoke in the wheel of the Hindu nationalist ideology in India – the homeland – leading to the creation and maintenance of transnational networks promoting and propagating semiticized Hinduism or Hindutva.

Conclusion Recent research in the Netherlands has revealed a newly established propensity of non-Indian Hindu women such as those from Suriname – inspired by Bollywood cinema – to observe karwa chauth even if in conjunction with expatriate Punjabis (the ritual being predominant in Punjab, Haryana, some parts of Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Madhya Pradesh) (Swamy 2016). The image of the ideal Hindu bahu (daughter-in-law) therefore encompasses more than just the non-resident Indian community (read Hindu) but also Hindus from across the world. Much of the camaraderie between expatriate Hindus and those from Suriname and other parts of the Caribbean was in evidence during the visit of Prime Minister Modi to The Hague.8 Implicitly then, the overarching Hindutva project of global Hindu unity appears to have taken shape with significant contribution from the mandarins of cinema in Mumbai. The contribution of Bollywood narratives in making a primarily North Indian festival into a pan-Hindu one with implications for the status of the Hindu woman remains notable. Further, the redefinition of the ideal transnational Hindu is predicated on the badge of honour carried by the woman – in keeping with the prescriptions provided in the Hindutva rulebook. The ideal Hindu family – when extrapolated on the larger canvas of the nation – therefore places the woman, her body and therefore honour – in the forefront of the quest for the protection of the nation from foreign influences. Such influences and infections are manifested in the form of a foreign milieu in the midst of which the Hindu woman is expected to adhere to

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ideals of honour, sacrifice and suffering. The relationships she is forced into are deeply unequal and even so more honourable than the exercise of her individual choice of either a career or a partner. These imaginations of the ideal Hindu woman tie together the Hindu nationalist prescriptive norms leading to the making of the transnational designer Hindu family – a microcosm of the Hindu Rashtra or nation. In embodying the Hindu woman as the upholder of the virtue of the Hindu society in general and therefore the epitome of the purity and chastity of the Hindus as a community – assessed increasingly in comparison with the Muslim social milieu particularly in the diasporic context – Bollywood has replaced the image of the strong-yet-suffering woman with that of the traditionally ritualistic and socially conservative imagination of the Hindu woman – one who appears content to play second fiddle to the man. As a result, the subversive nature of Hindutva conservatism that permeates politics and society in present-day India is summarily exported – through the beautifully mounted Bollywood family dramas – into diasporic lives leading to the creation of a Hindu diasporic culture that celebrates North Indian, Brahmanical and sanskritized exclusivity. This designer diaspora ultimately emerges as the flagbearer of the Hindu nationalist universe.

Notes 1 Anderson states, a nation: “is imagined because the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion.” 2 Kenya and Uganda were the first overseas countries to have RSS branches or shakhas in 1947–1948. 3 The Ranjanmabhoomi or the Ram Temple movement was a chauvinistic agitation led by the RSS and its affiliates, primarily the BJP, to ostensibly “free the Hindu space from Muslim occupation.” They were referring to the Babri Masjid – a 12th century mosque – built by Mir Baqi, Mughal conqueror Babur’s general at Ayodhya in the North Indian state of Uttar Pradesh. The mosque emerged as the symbol of the appropriation and imprisonment of the Hindu soul by the Muslim invaders. The BJP led a rath yatra (chariot procession) to rescue the “Hindu soul” in what has come to be seen as a political masterstroke by observers as well as the Hindu nationalists themselves. The procession culminated in the demolition of the mosque on December 6, 1992, followed by communal violence in several parts of India and the consolidation of the electoral control of the Hindu nationalist political party – the BJP. 4 “The Internet allowed the migrants a safe space to express a jingoistic nationalism that is not recommended in the spaces of corporate America. In the isolation of the Internet, scores of technical-professional migrants washed away the stain of their corporate existence by exercising a jingoistic nationalism. . . . In the isolated Internet, many Indian Americans found their Indianness . . . many of them adopted the frameworks of the energetic pro-Hindutva activists whose electronic messages have become more prevalent since the destruction of the Babri Masjid.”(Mathew, B. and Prashad, V. 2000. The Protean Forms of Yankee Hindutva. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3): 516–534).

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5 According to Pew Research Center (2012 data), 60–70 million Hindus lived outside India in 2010. This however might also include Nepalese and Mauritian Hindus. The figures remain variable. 6 Chopra, Yash. 2003. Address. Pravasi Bharatiya Divas, 10 January. 7 One of the most popular legends narrates the story of the beautiful queen Veeravati who was the only sister among seven devoted brothers. During her first karwa chauth, the brothers could not bear to see their beloved sister in distress due to lack of food and hydration and tied a mirror to the tree to make it look as if the moon had risen. In the moment that the queen broke her fast, her husband – the king – died. The inconsolable queen was then advised by a goddess to repeat the fast with utmost devotion. Needless to say, the king was brought back to life by the fast observed by Queen Veeravati. 8 Indian Prime Minister Modi – the face of Hindu nationalism – visited The Hague on June 27, 2017.

References Anderson, Benedict. 1983. Long-Distance Nationalism: World Capitalism and the Rise of Identity Politics. Amsterdam: Centre for Asian Studies. Anderson, Edward. 2017. ‘Becoming Global Hindus: Hindu Nationalist Training Camps and the Indian Diaspora’, Lecture at Leiden University. Appadurai, Arjun. 1990. ‘Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy’, Theory, Culture and Society, 7(2–3): 295–310. Appadurai, Arjun. 2014. ‘Interview’, Globalizations, 11(4): 481–490, DOI: 10.1080/ 14747731.2014.951209. Bhatt, Chetan and Parita Mukta. 2000. ‘Hindutva in the West: Mapping the Antinomies of Diaspora Nationalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3): 407–441, DOI: 10.1080/014198700328935. Eriksen, Thomas H. 2007. ‘Nationalism and the Internet’, Nations and Nationalism, 13(1): 1–17, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1469-8129.2007.00273.x. Gellner, Ernest. 1983. Nations and Nationalism: Perspectives on the Past. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Giddens, Anthony. 1990. The Consequences of Modernity. The Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University. Cambridge: Polity Press. Gillespie, Marie. 1995. Television, Ethnicity and Cultural Change. London: Routledge. Golwalkar, M.S. 1980. Bunch of Thoughts, p. 150. Bangalore: Jagran Prakashan. Hariharan, K. 2002. ‘Bilkul Nahin Khushi, Itna Sara Gham: Why So Much Dislike of the NRI?’, Little India, February, www.littleindia.com/India/Feb02/bilkul.htm (accessed on 27 November 2018). Hobsbawm, Eric. 2012. Nations and Nationalism Since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Jaffrelot, Christophe. 2019. ‘A De Facto Ethnic Democracy? The Obliteration and Targeting of the Other: Hindu Vigilantes and the Making of an Ethno-State’, in Angana P. Chatterji, Thomas Blom Hansen, and Christophe Jaffrelot (eds.), Majoritarian State: How Hindu Nationalism Is Changing India. New Delhi: Harper Collins. Jaffrelot, Christophe and Ingrid Therwath. 2007. ‘The Sangh Parivar and the Hindu Diaspora in the West: What Kind of “Long-Distance Nationalism”?’, International Political Sociology, 1(3): 278–295.

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Joireman, Sandra F. 2003. ‘Primordialism’, in Nationalism and Political Identity. Cornwall: MPG Books Ltd. Kaur, Raminder and Ajay J. Sinha. 2005. Bollyworld: Popular Indian Cinema Through a Transnational Lens, 343 pp. Los Angeles, London, New Delhi and Singapore: Sage. Larkin, Brian. 2002. ‘Indian Films and Nigerian Lovers: Media and the Creation of Parallel Modernities’, in J. Xavier and R. Rosaldo (eds.), The Anthropology of Globalization: A Reader. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Larkin, Brian. 2003. ‘Itineraries of Indian Cinema: African Videos, Bollywood, and Global Media’, in E. Shohat and R. Stam (eds.), Multiculturalism, Postcoloniality, and Transnational Media. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Lenin, Vladimir I. 1964. ‘The Right of Nations to Self-Determination’, in Collected Works, Volume 20. Moscow: International Publishers. Leoussi, Athena S. 2013. ‘Max Weber in the Thought of Edward Shils (1910–1995) and Ernst Gellner (1925–1995): The Paradox of Two Weberian Approaches to the Understanding of Nations and Nationalism?’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 36(12). Marx, K. and Frederick Engels. 1998. The Communist Manifesto. New York/London: Verso Books. Mathew, B. and Vijay Prashad. 2000. ‘The Protean Forms of Yankee Hindutva’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3): 516–534. Mishra, Vijay. 2008. Bollywood Cinema: Temples of Desire. London: Routledge. Nandy, Ashis. 1985. ‘An Anti-Secularist Manifesto’. Seminar 314. Nandy, Ashis. 1990. ‘The Politics of Secularism and the Recovery of Religious Tolerance’, in Veena Das (ed.), Mirrors of Violence: Communities, Riots and Survivors in South Asia. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Papastergiadis, Nikos. 1990. ‘Ashis Nandy: Dialogue and the Diaspora’, Third Text, 4(11): 99–108, DOI: 10.1080/09528829008576266. Rajadhyaksha, Ashish. 2009. Indian Cinema in the Time of Celluloid: From Bollywood to the Emergency. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Rosdolsky, Roman. 1977. ‘The Workers and the Fatherland: A Note on a Passage in the “Communist Manifesto”’. International (London), 4.2 (Winter 1977): 15–17. Said, Edward. 1994. ‘Culture and Imperialism: A Symposium’, Social Text, 40. Savarkar, V.D. (1923) 1989. Hindutva – Who is a Hindu? (6th ed.). Bombay: Veer Savarkar Prakashan. Sengupta, Roshni. 2016. ‘Melody in Hindi Film: The Hindi Film Song as a Cultural Product (Part I)’, Café Dissensus, https://cafedissensusblog.com/2016/06/09/ melody-in-film-the-hindi-film-song-as-a-cultural-product-part-i/ (accessed on 10 February 2020). Swamy, Priya. 2016. “Let is Live as Hindus”: Narrating Hindu Identity Through Temple Building Processes in Amsterdam Zuidoost (1988–2015). PhD Thesis, Leiden University. Tagore, Rabindranath. 2002. ‘Nationalism in India’, The Complete Works of Rabindranath Tagore, http://tagoreweb.in/Render/ShowContent.aspx?ct=Essays&bi= 72EE92F5-BE50-40D7-8E6E-0F7410664DA3&ti=72EE92F5-BE50-4A47-2E6E0F7410664DA3 (accessed on 10 February 2020). Taylor, Charles. 1999. ‘Nationalism and Modernity’, in R. Beiner (ed.), Theorizing Nationalism. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, pp. 58–77.

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Therwath, Ingrid. 2010. ‘Shining Indians: Diaspora and Exemplarity in Bollywood’, South Asia Multidisciplinary Academic Journal, [Online] (4). Online since 17 December 2010, connection on 30 September 2016, http://samaj.revues.org/3000, DOI: 10.4000/samaj.3000. Uberoi, Patricia. 1998. ‘The Diaspora Comes Home: Disciplining Desire in DDLJ’, Contributions to Indian Sociology, 32(2): 305–336, DOI: 10.1177/00699667980 3200208. Van Der Veer, Peter. 1994. Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India. Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Vertovec, Stephen. 2000. The Hindu Diaspora: Comparative Patterns. London: Routledge. Weber, Max. 1980. ‘The National State and Economic Policy (Freiburg Address)’, Economy and Society, 9(4). Werbner, Pnina. 2006. ‘Understanding Vernacular Cosmopolitanism’, Anthropology News, 47(5): 7–11.

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5 UNDERSTANDING INDIAN DIASPORA AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT Opportunities and challenges Satya Bhan Yadav

Introduction In recent decades, globalization has transformed the world, boosting economic growth and development strategies. It has brought developed and developing nations together in order to interact and influence each other. Economic ties, culture, government policies, and markets are being influenced by the people in and around the globe. Diasporas have emerged as powerful entities since they are recognized as “soft power” in the realm of foreign policy strategy and also as an agent or catalyst of economic development of countries of origin besides their active role in the host countries. Hence, diasporas being transnational communities have become important non-state actors as well as deciding factors in international political and economic relations. New areas of cooperation between the diaspora and the state have emerged in the changing globalizing world. The 30 million diverse Indian diasporas, have enriched their profile with the help of acquired skills and inspiration from their civilizational values. Though they are heterogeneous, drawn from different historical and cultural contexts of migration, they are identified and held together by their Indianess and a profound cultural and emotional attachment towards Mother India. This study focuses on the engagement of Indian diaspora with state-owned policies and strategies in the last decades of political and diplomatic relations with diaspora. It also finds some missing links between diaspora and development in the New International Economic Order that emerged after 21st century. This study also reveals that the Indian diaspora has started to be involved in the flagship schemes run by the Government of India at domestic level.

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This study has been categorized in the following sections: the first section deals with the present state of Indian diaspora and its paradigm shift from traditional to new emerging trends and composition of Indian diaspora in the market-oriented driven economy. The Role and significance of diaspora in the socio-economic development of Indian people and economy have been analysed in the subsequent section with substantiating literature. The last section ends with the opportunities and challenges arising out of the implications of emerging participation of diaspora in trade, business, investment, and diplomatic relations. Recent policy initiatives have been elaborated, keeping in mind that certain suggestive measures are required to be taken in the days to come. Diaspora is defined as to describe the people who migrated from Indian territory to other countries. The origin of the Indian diaspora has always been the regional social structure of the emigrants and migrants. Based on regional cultures and languages in Europe, Indians create their Bengali, Punjabi, and Telugu diasporas. However, when there is a question of the Indian diaspora, they always feel a part of it. It is the shared cultural heritage of Indians which lays the foundation for the Indian diaspora. Globalization of the Indian diaspora had already started during the emigration period to the plantation colonies. The terms of Jahaji bhai (ship brotherhood) and dipua bhai (depot brotherhood) were the cementing factors and beyond caste, religion and language created a globalised feeling of being the Indian diaspora.1 In Europe it was the “circle of friends,” who brought Indians together and formed associations. These associations jointly created feelings of belonging to the Indian cultural heritage and of keeping relations with India. With the help of telephone, transport, and cyber technology, they developed cross-border relations, which in turn helped them to meet other Indian communities. The diaspora is currently estimated to number over 30 million, composed of “NRIs” (Indian citizens not residing in India) and “PIOs”(persons of Indian origin who have acquired the citizenship of some other country). The diaspora covers practically every part of the world. India’s population living abroad is the largest in the world with 1.6 crore (16 million) people living outside the country in 2015, according to a latest UN survey on international migrant trends. Broadly speaking, for the Indian government, the diaspora encompasses a group of people who can either trace their origins to India or who are Indian citizens living abroad, either temporarily or permanently. To understand diaspora paradigm, it is categorised into three elements: 1

there are those who left under colonial rule. They live in remote places like the Caribbean, Africa, and Fiji where they face significant social difficulties from the indigenous population, which is why India should not try to reach out for them;

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2

3

there are mostly highly-skilled migrants residing in industrialised Western countries. Most of them obtained free education in India and deserted India for their personal benefit without a care for the progress of the country; and there are labourers traveling temporarily to the Gulf countries, mostly from South India.

Although new diaspora is a product of Indian emigration post-1960, with the migration of Indian professionals, doctors, engineers, scientists, academics, and now IT professionals to developed economies in Western Europe, North America, New Zealand, Singapore, and Australia. This new diaspora includes the semi-skilled working class who went to the Gulf countries during the post-oil boom of the 1970s. The connection to home is much more real for this diaspora because of frequent travels, social – cultural linkages, and inventions in communication technology. Each year January 9 is celebrated as Pravasi Bhartiya Diwas (PBD) in India as a commemorative event in the memory of the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi. On this day Mahatma Gandhi returned to India from South Africa. Recently, the 15th Pravasi Bharatiya Diwas (PBD) was celebrated from January 21–23, 2019, in Varanasi, India, to commemorate the efforts of the Indian diasporas across the world. This shows the growing significance of Indian diaspora in economic growth and development of the country.

A paradigm shift in role of Indian diaspora Indian diaspora has been playing a very significant role in socio-economic development of the country. Indian diaspora is the second largest in the world, after the Chinese. Without undermining the narratives of loss and alienation of the Indian diaspora, it can be argued that they have contributed considerably to the progress of their host countries as well as the home country. A critical paradigm shift in policy promulgation has occurred, from one that was essentially emotional and cultural to one that is more pragmatic and based on economic matters. In order to understand paradigms in migration research, one has to discern policy paradigms on the one hand, and research paradigms on the other. Often, research paradigms are manifestations of general policy paradigms, and the mutual linkage between both deserves attention. After achieving independence in 1947, there was a paradigm shift in the position of diaspora policy as a result of India’s foreign policy being guided by Nehruvian ideals of anti-imperialism and racial apartheid, respect for sovereignty and non-alignment. On the economic front, India chose to follow self-reliance as its goal for economic development. The then Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru, categorically announced that ethnic Indians who chose

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to remain abroad would consider themselves as citizens or nationals of their respective host lands. In fact, they were encouraged to integrate with the host culture and fight for the liberation of their adopted lands. After a lull, Nehru’s successor, Lal Bahadur Shastri, entered into an agreement with Srimavo Bandaranaike to resolve the question of Tamils in Sri Lanka. Otherwise, the Nehruvian trend would continue and extend to 1980 by successive governments. Since the 1980s, India’s diaspora relations have witnessed a major policy paradigm shift which we have dubbed as from the invisible diaspora to the diaspora empire and from the traitor tune to a pride paradigm. This shift can be explained by two main factors. First, at a policy-related level, seminal changes in four policy sectors occurred, namely in the economic, foreign, cultural and home policies. Second, the modes of and reasons for interaction between India and her diaspora changed with India’s economic growth and the success of the overseas Indian community. Mutual mistrust changed into mutual pride, and an increase in the personal intertwinement of the Indian thought-leaders with the diaspora as well as institutionalised ways of interaction contributed to a tectonic shift in the relationship. The policy paradigm shift had implications for the Indian migration research agenda, affecting the institutional research set-up as well as the questions framed and the positions taken. Certain paradigms can be identified in all major research traditions in India, including research on the brain drain, migration and development, diaspora policies, ethnographic studies and temporary labour migration. After an era of new economic policy started in 1991, the primary intention of these governments was to safeguard the economic interests of these newly emerging nations from the vulnerability of being too exposed to the outside world and from being too dependent on external resources to develop their burgeoning economies. Development models that were adopted were essentially based on consolidation within and gradual progression towards self-reliance on various sectors of the economy. For example, Indian Americans are mostly socially and politically conservative, they donate to a limited set of causes. Donors are quick to give to natural disaster relief (Gujarat earthquake, tsunami in Tamil Nadu, floods in Punjab), but sustained development efforts are often underfunded. Many groups focus on children, which are considered an attractive area of philanthropy for Indian expatriates. For first-generation immigrants, their education was mostly completed in their country of origin, and they remain loyal to the teachers and adults who supported them. A closer look at the mechanics of the remarkable shift in the perception of, and approach towards the Indian diaspora reveals some interesting insights into homeland-diaspora relations. Significant changes at different levels led to the described paradigm shift.

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Role of diaspora in economic development Here we have identified the following areas in which diaspora have been playing greater role. These are: 1 2 3 4

Remittances Foreign policy Foreign direct investment, and Tourism.

1

Diaspora and remittances: Remittances play a crucial role in the life and ethos of people in developing economies like India, with significant welfare implications. Remittances are the transfer of money by workers to his family from abroad where he/she is working. India was the highest recipient of remittances in 2008–2009, at a record high of US$ 79billion, up from US$ 50billion, followed by China, Mexico, Philippines, and Egypt, according to World Bank data.1 As a percentage of the gross domestic product (GDP), these flows carry varying weightage for each of the economies, which signal how crucial these are for external balances and as a driver for consumption. India’s inflow accounts for 3% of the GDP, smaller than the 10% and 11% for Philippines and Egypt respectively. China attracted the second highest inflows last year, but these make less than 1% of the GDP, suggesting that trade surpluses are a bigger support for its current account balance.

Later, remittances received from different countries went on increasing as World Bank Report (2015) says that India received an estimated remittances of US$ 10.51 billion from Saudi Arabia, US$12.57 billion from the UAE, and between US$ 3 billion and US$ 4.5 billion from Kuwait, Oman, and Qatar. This is a fact that India and China are the biggest receivers of remittances from abroad as both received US$ 70 billion and US$ 64 billion respectively in 2014. According to the World Bank estimates (2016) global remittances will total US$ 585.1 billion, of which US$ 442 billion went to developing countries that involved 250 million migrant workers. Table 5.1 shows the five top countries that have received the highest remittances in the world. It is encouraging that India was top among the five highest remittance receiving country in the world that received $79 billion. This shows the increasing rate of remittances received by India. It increased from US$ 68.82 billion to US$ 79 billion in 2018.2 It is a fact that more than half of the remittances into India originate in the Middle-Eastern countries. UAE topped the table with a 20% share last year, while neighbouring countries of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar, and Oman

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Table 5.1 Top 5 recipient countries of remittances (in billions of US$) Countries

Remittances Remittances Remittances Remittances 2012 2013 2014 2015

India 68.82 China 57.99 Philippines 24.61 Mexico 23.37 France 22.05

69.97 59.49 26.70 23.02 23.34

70.97 61.49 27.90 24.50 23.94

72.20 63.90 29.80 25.70 24.60

Remittances 2018 79 67.0 34 36 18.9

Source: World Bank-KNOMAD staff estimates. See appendix A in World Bank (2018) for data and forecast methods.

accounted for the rest. The US is the second key originating economy with the UK, Malaysia, Canada, Hong Kong, and Australia amongst the top ten sources. On the other, a recent survey of remittances reveals that nearly 60% of the funds are used by the beneficiary/recipient for family maintenance and sustenance purposes, another 20% held as deposits with banks, 8% into physical asset investment e.g. property/equities and rest miscellaneous purposes which might include healthcare, recreation, etc. Given the high proportion of funds being diverted for family consumption purposes, suggests these flows are bound to continue barring unforeseen circumstances for the remitter e.g. retrenchment, closure of companies, etc. Of the total, 58% of remittances were of less than Indian Rs 50,000, while 15% of them were of less than Indian Rs 5,000. Of great surprise and cause for celebration by the Indian government was that of the total figure of US$60 billion, 9% of these remittances were less than Indian Rs1,000. As of December 2018, there were about 30 million overseas Indians, of which 13 million were non-resident Indians (NRIs) and 17 million were people of Indian origin. The highest concentration of NRIs is in the Gulf countries, which includes 24% in Saudi Arabia, 20% in UAE and 4–8% each in Kuwait, Oman, and Qatar. A bigger share in the number of migrants to the Gulf but comparably smaller share in remittances can be explained by the composition of the workforce that heads to this bloc, which is mainly semi-skilled and unskilled workers according to the International Labour Organisation. Comparably, the Indian diaspora in the US has a relatively lower proportion of NRIs but is the second biggest contributor to overall remittances, which is likely a reflection of the migrants’ skills and higher earning capacity. 2

Diaspora and India’s foreign policy: During the pre-independence period, though the focus of foreign policy lay with British interests, the

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then Indian government took an earnest interest in terms of protecting the various concerns of the Indian Expatriates as they were ‘British subjects’ only living elsewhere in the British Empire. In fact, the plight of Indians abroad was a major issue for the independence movement led by Indian National Congress. There was a remittance from the Indian labour migrants to their families back home. It can be argued that a symbiotic relationship existed between home and diaspora which continued till 1947. Later, in spite of a change of focus in the India’s foreign policy from Nehruvian idealism to realism under the regime of Indira Gandhi, there was no change of position in the diaspora policy or the Indian economic foreign policy. In fact, she made herself particularly unpopular during the East African Indian crisis of 1968–1972. However, owing to oil shocks and the balance of payment crisis, the government pushed for a remittance centric approach, especially for the Gulf Indians. Later, when there was a switch of foreign policy priorities from realism to inter-third world cooperation under the regime of Rajiv Gandhi, there was a slight shift in diaspora policy as well. He offered his amicable support and tried to handle the India-Fiji crisis of 1986, which had strained our relationship with Fiji. Besides, having realized Indian diaspora as a strategic asset, he invited Indian diasporic talents like Sam Pitroda to realize his vision of 21st century India and took administrative measures like the establishment of the Indian Overseas Affairs department in 1984. At the same time, there were no constructive steps or consistent and clear-cut policies to deal or tap the overseas Indians until the coming of National Democratic Alliance government led by BJP. After the end of the Cold War, the emergence of a multi-polar centric foreign policy, a structural shift in the global economy, and the relentless foreign reserve crisis of Indian economy in the 1990s facilitated the Indian government led by Narasimha Rao to announce drastic economic reforms such as liberalization, privatization, and globalization (LPG). On the advent of a new economic model, the Indian diaspora was able to participate in the plethora of economic opportunities of the unregulated and open Indian economy. It resolved the foreign currency crisis due to substantial investment and remittance from the Indian diaspora. Subsequently, the Indian government changed its outlook towards diaspora and reviewed its diaspora policy. In light of this, long- and short-term comprehensive policy measures were unveiled to engage its diverse diaspora during its regime such as the appointment of a high-level committee on Indian diaspora, launching of a People of Indian Origin card scheme, organizing annual Pravsi Bharatiya Divas on January 9, giving out Pravasi Bharatiya Samman Awards, and offering

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Dual citizenship (Overseas Citizen of India). The subsequent United Progressive Alliance government established a separate Ministry of Overseas Indian Affairs which has taken several initiatives for engaging the diaspora. From the earlier discussion, one can understand the mutual influence of diaspora policy and Indian foreign policy. Diaspora and foreign policy implications: The linkages between Indian foreign policy and Diaspora policy, has also had many positive and negative implications for India. In retrospect, during the independence struggle, the movement was deeply influenced by them. Heeding to the clarion call of Indian leaders, they took a plunge in the alien soil for the liberation of India. Indian expatriates like Adi Patel, Chhedi Jagan, and Koya led the Indian freedom struggle and the political awakening in their respective settled countries. The starting of the Gadar movement, forming of Azad Hind Fauj (Indian National Army), and Komagata Maru incident had political impacts on India. Mahatma Gandhi, who had come from diaspora was a beacon of light for achieving political freedom for India. After independence, with a focus on Nehruvian high ideals in the realm of Indian foreign policy, the Indian diaspora was not expected to play any political or economic development role for India. This position had political and economic implications. One of them was that India could not get involved when part of its diaspora was going through political, economic or social discrimination or even a severe crisis. i.e. Burma, Sri Lanka, and South Africa. The other drawback was that despite continuing informal ties of diaspora with their families back home, they were encouraged not to partake in the economic development of independent India. Later, in the wake of globalization and radical structural changes in the Indian economy, India diaspora was considered a viable and potential source to bail out the threatening foreign currency crisis of the 1990s. The resumption of engagement with Indian diaspora resulted in major implications on internal as well as external political and economic processes for India. The Indian-US community’s stupendous lobbying efforts were laudable in relation with the cracking of the Indo-US Civil Nuclear Co-operation Agreement, defeating the Burton Amendment and justifying India’s nuclear tests in 1998 and the Kargil war in1999. On various occasions, Indian Caucus on Capitol Hill and various other advocacy and lobby groups were instrumental in pushing India’s national and security interests forward. The significant presence of diverse Indian communities in the various parts of the globe has also had implications on India’s diplomatic relationship with many countries. The exploitation and ill-treatment of Indian workers in the Gulf countries have always been a cause of concern in India’s relationship with those countries. The Sarita Chawla case was a classic example in

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this regard. During the First Gulf War, a large number of Indian migrants were forced to flee, which resulted in reduction of remittance. It augmented the adverse balance of payment crisis for India in the 1990s. The Iraq and Kuwait wars and the recent Libyan crisis of North Africa accelerated implications on our foreign relations with the regions. Further, the recent controversy over the evacuation of Indian workers in Saudi Arabia posed major concerns over India’s diplomatic relationship. The racial attack on Indian students in Australia also posed serious challenges and implications to India-Australia relations. Uneasy relationships between the Indian community and their respective governments have also led to a deterioration of the relationships. The Fiji Coup meant the Indian diplomatic mission had to be closed down. The HINDRAF movement of Indians in Malaysia provoked reactions from both sides. The remarks of radio jockeys in South Africa had also drawn some reactions from India. Subsequently, the Indian Embassy was directed to be in constant vigil between African and Indian communities. The ban on wearing turbans by the Sikh community in France in 2004 gathered momentum after global Sikh mobilization in support of French Sikhs in India and diaspora. Under the pressure from the global Sikh community as well as pressure from the Indian government notably under the new leadership of a Sikh Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, France decided to find a solution. On the domestic front, during the declaration of emergency, the Indian diaspora in the US and UK had shown solidarity for anti-emergency groups. They had been funding the state elections of Punjab, Gujarat, Kerala, and Andhra. Owing to their enviable position in countries like the US, UK, and Canada, their parliamentarians were put under pressure to consider their interests and concerns with the domestic affairs of India. The visit of British foreign secretary Jack Straw to Gujarat after riots in 2002 shows their active role when their community faces the threat of violence. Apart from political and foreign policy implications, the engagement with Indian diaspora poses internal security implications as well. 3

Diaspora and foreign direct investment: Diasporas not only enhance trade and investment for the home country but also augment human and financial capital; provide new ideas and connections through emigrant’s education and working experience.3 These ethnic networks continue through kinship, social, and professional ties, and get their strengths from strands of information, common contacts, trust, and finance.4 Such social and business networks promote trade and investment and thus are valuable for both hosts as well as for the home country.

India’s attempts to attract Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) from the diaspora have raised concerns particularly because of enormous FDI from Mauritius, 86

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a small island with the majority population being people of Indian origin. Since 1995, Mauritius (total GDP in 2011 was US$ 19.29 billion) has been India’s largest source of FDI, contributing about 40% of the total FDI of US$ 55 billion in 2011–2012.5 The financial engagement of the Indian diaspora through FDI has been modest compared with the money they have remitted. According to the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) indicates that total FDI in India for 2011–2012 was US$ 46.84 billion compared with US$ 66.13 billion remitted by the diaspora in 2012–2013. The share of Indian diaspora in the total FDI has never been very significant compared to China. In the 1990s, the FDI in China’s economy was 20 times higher than the FDI in the Indian economy. However, there was a marked increase, with an intermittent decline, in the FDI following liberalisation of the economy. In the initial years after liberalisation, the unfavourable regulatory regime and the hostility by the indigenous capitalist class were possible reasons for low FDI, particularly by the Indian diaspora. In the 1980s, when an NRI industrialist from Britain, Swaraj Paul, tried to invest in India’s automobile sector, he faced severe hostility and obstruction from Indian industrialists. In recent years, some of the leading business moguls of Indian origin such as Laxmi Nivas Mittal (of British-based steel-producing giant Arcelor Mittal) and Anil Agarwal (of British-based Vedanta) have started or have proposed to initiate massive FDI, primarily in sectors related to mining and metal. These initiatives have raised serious concerns about the human and ecological costs of these initiatives and have been opposed by a cross section of the Indian population. Diaspora and economic implications: Diaspora finance in the form of remittance and investment helped India to come out from its foreign reserve crisis and fuelled its economic growth. India has overtaken China in terms of receiving foreign remittance recently. Indian diaspora has acted as a mediator, and a facilitator of international trade and investment given the high profile of Indian entrepreneurs, technocrats, and management consultants. The number of companies in IT and Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) owned by Indian diaspora was more than two hundred in 2000. The Indus Entrepreneur and Silicon Valley Bank had brought two delegations of venture capital companies to explore potential investment opportunities. Some venture capitalists of Indian origin in the US have funded Indian research and development companies that are likely to produce intellectual property and innovative products in the areas of wireless and semiconductor design technology. West Bridge Capital, Kleiner Perkins Caulfied & Byers, and Norwest Venture Group are the best examples in this regard. Thus, they have been playing a very active role for India in becoming a knowledge-based economy. In healthcare, they have established hospitals like Escorts, Medicity, and Apollo for providing healthcare at par with global standards. Major diaspora organizations are actively involved in the philanthropy activities in 87

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the different parts of India. In the field of education, they are setting up new institutions like India Business School in Hyderabad and several others that are being set up. No doubt, they have become an agent of economic development after structural changes in the Indian economy. 4

Diaspora and tourism: For many developing countries, tourism serves as a primary source of foreign earnings, fuels job creation, and stimulates other sectors, such as tele-communications, finance and construction infrastructure as well as natural resource conservation, that are important for development. Tourism is an essential industry in many developing countries as it creates jobs, promotes infrastructure development, and provides vital foreign exchange. In fact, the share of international tourist arrivals in emerging and developing countries has risen over the past two decades, from 31% in 1990 to 47% in 2010. The average annual growth in international tourist arrivals between 2000 and 2010 was 5.6% among the emerging economies, much higher growth rate than the annual 1.8% among industrialized economies. In 1990 emerging economies had 139 million tourist arrivals compared to 296 million among industrialized economies, but by 2010 the gap had decreased dramatically with emerging economies and advanced economies reaching 442 million and 498 million tourist arrivals respectively. Diaspora populations can play a unique and important role in opening emerging markets for new tourism destinations as well as markets for consumer goods produced in and associated with the cultures of their countries of origin. Tourists from the diaspora are more likely than other international travelers to have or make connections with the indigenous people and local economy. They may, for example, opt to stay in small, locally-owned accommodations (or with relatives), eat in local restaurants, and shop in locally owned shops for souvenirs rather than go to enclave tourist destinations that are isolated from the local economy and culture. Indian diaspora tourism attracts NRI and PIO tourists for three purposes: 1 2 3

Promotion of heritage tourism, Promotion of business tourism, and Medical tourism.

Heritage tourism centers on history, culture, and identity and promotes general, cultural, religious, and birthright tourism in the country. India has more than 30 million of diaspora around the world. India, therefore, has great potential in diasporic tourism which not only brings remittances but provides employment to the people in the country. However, on the other, Government of India’s Ministry of Tourism organises outdoor cultural and social events in different cities in many countries like Japan, UK, US, and France in order to attract diaspora commu88

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nity in India. India Tourism Tokyo has conducted “Know India Seminars” jointly with Indian mission in Japan and Korea. India Tourism London and Singapore released an international campaign to promote the country’s tourism products among Indian diaspora by promoting genealogy tourism as an exciting way to learn about one’s family history and reconnect with the past. Governments and leaders of the tourism industry should be extremely sensitive to any trends of hostility or unwelcoming attitudes toward tourists, including those from the diaspora. For all their connections and even family members, diaspora members are perceived differently from locals, some members of the community may even resent diaspora members with whom they feel socio-economic, ethnic, religious, or political differences.

Opportunities and challenges Perhaps one of the greatest benefits of engaging with the 30-million-strong Indian diaspora has been in terms of remittances. India was the world’s largest recipient of remittances in 2016, receiving US$ 62.7 billion.6 Remittances aid in socio-economic development as it is used for the recipient family’s personal use (accounting for 50% of household expenditure in rural areas), in temple building, and for donations to schools. These remittances have played a role in poverty reduction while changing consumer behaviour in rural areas. According to the National Sample Survey Organisation data, the remittance-receiving households were not only better-off than non-remittance-receiving households, but also that the remittance was mostly used to purchase food items, other consumer goods, and healthcare. Spending on healthcare has an important labour market implication as it increases labour productivity. Interestingly, the same survey reported that the least money was spent on education, which also has implications on the labour market. Another tangible long-term advantage in nurturing ties with an active diaspora is an accelerated technological sector and increased socioeconomic development. Some examples to illustrate this phenomenon are Bengaluru, Gurugram, and Hyderabad as thriving information technology hubs that not only house multinational companies (MNCs) like Amazon, Google, Facebook, and Uber, but also multiple Indian start-ups like Flipkart, Ola, Swiggy, and Zoho. The government can further tap this transnational entrepreneurship, including support for entrepreneurs and small businesses in India in the form of technical knowledge transfers and finances from the diaspora. The measure is also expected to result in increased investment and a rise in inflow of foreign exchange remittance, both of which will aid in the growth of the economy. If the government continues to focus on this aspect of the diaspora-homeland relationship, they are bound to benefit from its synergistic 89

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advantages. They act as important intermediaries linking traditional development actors and local communities. Diaspora’s motives to invest in India are in contrast to non-diaspora FDI. India’s permanent membership to the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) can become a reality with support from the diaspora. According to Article 108 of the Charter, for an UN reform, an affirmative vote from two-thirds of its members and support from the five permanent members is required. India has demonstrated its diplomatic influence with the reappointment of Justice Dalveer Bhandari to the International Court of Justice in November 2017, when it secured two-thirds of the votes at the UN. India is also a rising power and a key stakeholder in the security dynamics of South Asia and Southeast Asia. Its role in East Asia is taking shape and although not yet an economic power, its military capabilities, common interests, and willingness to go beyond rhetoric have raised expectations of its capabilities and the role it can play in the region.

Recent policies initiatives The government’s initiatives towards the diaspora are two-pronged. For one, they cater to the needs of NRIs and OCIs by providing them with consular services, protection, and conduct outreach activities to engage with them. At the same time, they create policies to encourage the diaspora to contribute to India’s growth through philanthropy, knowledge transfers, investments in innovation, and assistance in other development projects. The present government has taken several following new steps to enhance participatory role of diaspora in national interest: 1

2

3

4

The present government has launched a string of initiatives and repackaged old schemes such as the “Know India Program”(KIP). The last three years saw the launch of head post offices as passport centres enabling thousands more to apply for a passport. For those looking to go abroad, training centres and orientation programmes are provided to train future employees on relevant skills and minimise culture shock. To further emphasise the importance of the contribution of diaspora, the central government has dedicated a building in New Delhi to them – called the Pravasi Bhartiya Kendra. These soft tactics create an impact for a diaspora that has often felt neglected. The present prime minister stands to the right of development. He is lionised by the middle class, from which many of the Indian diaspora emerge. He got an unexpectedly warm welcome from the Indian diaspora in New York (2014), Sydney (2014), London (2015), Kuala Lumpur (2015) and South Africa (2016). In each of his speeches, he called on them to become ambassadors of India. The then External Affairs Minister Sushma Swaraj started a help-line for the Indian diaspora in the ministry. This great move was warmly 90

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5

welcomed by the diaspora due to its big role in evacuating Indians from Syria, Iraq, or Libya, or in any other country where they were in difficulty. Similarly, the announcement that the Indian mission in Bali, Indonesia, has set up a helpdesk at the Bali airport to aid the diaspora during the volcanic eruption will be expensive both in terms of money, time, and personnel.

Finally, there are other problems such as the wealthier diaspora from the US, Canada, and the UK wanting dual citizenship and voting rights. Meanwhile, those who contribute more in terms of remittances to India from Gulf countries are wanting more support and security.

Concluding remarks Over the years, the diasporic populations have become an increasingly important factor in Indian politics and society. Diaspora of many countries like the Jewish, Chinese, and British have recorded various successes in their second home. Therefore, the Indian diaspora should come forward to support India’s international interests. Indian diaspora, which is gradually becoming an influential force, needs to strengthen multilateral economic and diplomatic ties between the countries where they are living. Many of them are willing to exert their influence in electoral politics and are engaged in multinational businesses, and are thus highly visible. This makes for a ripe environment for India to aggressively tap on their potential. Historically, Indian diaspora has played a very significant role in the national interest of the country. We can quote one instance when diaspora started lobbying for the US-India Civilian Nuclear Agreement Bill in 2008 and their remittance inflow. Today, while there is more potential for the diaspora to contribute to India’s growth story, their success will also be a reflection of the Indian government’s schemes, policies, and outreach activities toward them. As much of India’s foreign policy aims to translate partnerships to benefits for key projects like Swachh Bharat, Clean Ganga, Make in India, Digital India, and Skill India, the diaspora has plenty to contribute. Under the CSR (corporate social responsibility) scheme, diaspora has plenty of scope as infrastructural facilities like road construction, school buildings, Community Health Centre/Primary Health Centre buildings, Mid Day Meal (MDM) in schools in urban and rural areas are extremely weak and need to be improved. On the other, projecting the changes underway in India has been a focal point of the Ministry of External Affairs’ policy. The diaspora can step up and act as Indian ambassadors, as it is insufficient and ineffective for a country or its missions abroad to rely only on press releases to change public opinion. The diaspora can provide the requisite strategic impulse, which 91

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makes it all the more important to unlock their potential. The time is right enough when we should all appreciate our diaspora in different parts of the world for all the laurels they bring to our country by performing exceptionally well in any sector they are into. It’s the time when we all should move ahead to capture the potential of our diaspora in a constructive way that brings name, fame, and development for India at the global level.

Notes 1 The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/The World Bank (2010).Washington D.C. 2 The World Bank (2019). Migration and Development Briefs 18. 3 Kapur, D. (2004). Remittances: The New Development Mantra G-24 Discussion Paper Series, 29, 1–34. 4 Brautigam, D. (2010). China, Africa and the International Aid Architecture, Working paper Series No. 107, African Development Bank. 5 The World Bank, 2013. Migration and Development Briefs. 6 The World Bank Report, World Bank-KNOMAD. See Appendix A in World Bank (2019) for data and forecast methods.

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Brautigam, D. 2010.  China, Africa and the international aid architecture, Working papers series no. 107. Tunis: African Development Bank. Brosius, Christiane. 2005. ‘The scattered homelands of the migrant: Bollyworld through the diasporic lens’, in Raminder Kaur and Ajay J. Sinha (eds.), Popular Indian cinema through a transnational lens, pp. 207–238. New Delhi: Sage. Brown, Judith M. 2006. Global South Asians: Introducing the modern diaspora. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clarke, Colin et al. 1990. South Asians overseas: Migration and ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clifford, James. 1994. ‘Diasporas’, Cultural Anthropology, 9(3), 302–338. Cohen, Robin. 1987. The new helots: Migrants in the international division of labour. Aldershot: Gower. Cohen, Robin and Paul Kennedy. 2007. Global sociology. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Coward, Harold, John R. Hinnells and Raymond Brady Williams. 2000. The South Asian religious diaspora in Britain, Canada, and the United States. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Datt, Krishna. 1994. ‘Indo-Fijian concerns’, Report on consultation on Fiji’s constitutional review, Suva, Fiji. International Alert and the School of Social and Economic Development, University of South Pacific. Dicken, Peter. 1992. Global shift in the internationalization of economic activity, second edition. London: Paul Chapman Publishing. Dusenbery, Verne A. 1995. ‘A Sikh diaspora’, in Peter van der Veer (ed.), Nation and migration: The politics of space in the South Asian diaspora. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Gopinath, Gayati. 2005. Impossible desire: Queer diasporas and South Asian public cultures. Durham: Duke University Press. Government of India, 2015. Review of FDI Policy on NRIs, PIOs and OCIs, 21 May. http:// pib.nic. in/newsite/printrelease.aspx?relid=121914. Harney, Stefano. 1996. Nationalism and identity: Culture and the imagination in a Caribbean diaspora. London: Zed Books. Kelly, John D. 1995. ‘Bhaki and postcolonial politics: Hindu missions to Fiji’, in Peter van der Veer (ed.), Nation and migration: The politics of space in the South Asian diaspora. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Lal, Brij V., Peter Reeves and Rajesh Rai. 2006. The encyclopedia of the Indian diaspora. Singapore: Editions Didier Millet in association with National University of Singapore. Leonard, K. Isaksen.  2007.  Locating home.  India’s Hyderabadis abroad.  Palo Alto: Stanford University Press. Melvin Ember, Carol R. Ember and Ian Skoggard. 2004. ‘South Asian diaspora’. Encyclopaedia of diasporas: Immigrant and refugee cultures around the world. Singapore: Springer Publications. Ministry of External Affairs, 2017. ‘Population of Overseas Indians’, http://mea.gov. in/images/attach/NRIS-and-PIOs_1.pdf. Mishra, Vijay. 2007. The literature of the Indian diaspora: Theorizing the diasporic imaginary. London: Routledge. Mohapatra, Sanket, Dilip Ratha and Zhimei Xu. 2007. Migration and Development, Brief 2 Development Prospects Group, Migration and Remittances Team 1, Remittance Trends. Washington: World Bank.

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Parekh, Bhikhu. 1994. ‘Some reflections on the Hindu diaspora’, New Community, 20(4) 603–620. Raj, Dhooleka S. 2003. Where are you rrom? Middle class migrants in the modern world. Berkeley: University of California Press. Rajan, S. Irudaya. 2015. India Migration Report 2014. Diaspora and Development. New Delhi: Routledge. Rukmani, T.S. 2001. Hindu diaspora: Global perspectives. New Delhi: Munshiram Manaharlal. Segal, Ronald. 1995. The Black Diaspora. London: Faber and Faber. Sheffer, Gabriel. 2003. Diaspora politics: At home and abroad. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Singh, Gurharpal and Darshan Singh Tatla. 2006. Sikhs in Britain: The making of a community. London: Zed Books. Sreeram, Chaulia. 2016. Modi doctrine: The foreign policy of India’s prime minister. New Delhi: Bloomsbury Publishing. Tinker, Hugh. 1990. ‘Indians in Southeast Asia: Imperial auxiliaries’, in Colin Clarke et al. (ed.) South Asians overseas, pp. 39–56. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Werbner, P. 2002. Imagined diasporas among Manchester Muslims: The public performance of Pakistani transnational identity politics. Oxford and Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. Wong Siu-lun. 2004. Chinese and Indian diasporas: Comparative perspectives. Hong Kong: Centre of Asian Studies, University of Hong Kong. World Bank, 2013. Migration and Development. World Bank 2019. Migration and Development Brief 31, Oct.

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Part II GLOCALISATION

6 INDO-AMERICAN WOMEN REDEFINING RELIGIOUS PRACTICES IN THE DIASPORA Annapurna Devi Pandey

Introduction According to the 2015 census report, there are four-million Indian Americans constituting approximately 1.2% of the United States population. Primarily identified as East Indians or Asian Indians, the Census Bureau revealed that some scholars now refer to this population as the “other one percent” (Chakravorty et al. 2017), in recognition of their economic success. Although every immigrant’s tale is unique, those of Indians coming to the United States over the past 50 years are remarkable on several fronts. People coming from different Indian regions exhibit not only linguistic and cultural diversity, but they also bring with them a variety of gods and goddesses. Amitav Ghosh (1989) indicates that Indian diaspora falls outside a strict definition because of the considerable variation in the homeland and Indians’ pluralistic ways of adapting to the United States. Ghosh observes that Indians have adapted to American culture and have brought their regional cultures with them in creating a new home. Supporting Ghosh’s view, James Clifford (1997) argues that the roles of colonialism, industrialization, racial prejudice, slavery, and indentured labor, among other things, are critical in assessing the diasporic experiences of various communities. Clifford further emphasizes that migration is a gendered experience, as gender dynamics are reconstructed within the diaspora. Based on my longitudinal ethnographic research conducted since 1992 on the Odia diaspora in the Silicon Valley, I plan to critique the volitional approach to diaspora studies, dominated by a taxonomic way of defining diaspora, and give primacy to the Odia women enlivened and entangled experience. I will focus on the complexities of Odia women’s adaptation to the new land through Jagannath and in spreading the Jagannath culture, their meaningful contribution to the communities they call their new home. For immigrants, religiosity plays a central role in ethnic construction because it serves as a vehicle for the transmission of culture and provides 97

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the institutional framework for community formation and (re)production (Burghart 1987; Kelly 1991; Mearns 1995; Vertovec 2000; Williams 1988; Kurien 1999: 649). According to Warner (1993), this is particularly apparent in the United States because Americans view formal, established religion as the most acceptable, nonthreatening basis for community formation and expression (Kurien 1999: 649). Most Indian immigrants are Hindus, as it is the dominant religion in India. Kurien observes that developing a Hindu-American community and identity facilitates this population’s transition from being sojourners to becoming permanent residents and citizens of the United States. She further asserts that gender-specific participation and involvement are integral parts of this transition and the creation of an “American Hinduism” (Kurien 1999). Here I argue that while Odia women make a huge adjustment to adapt to the new culture, learning to raise their children in a foreign country without any kin-support, and build their own career, they are also transcending their gender-fixed role by reproducing selected religious practices and creating a space for themselves in the public places of worship. They promote strong family values and establish gender-autonomy for themselves and the next generation. These women help build a strong ethnic community in an increasingly multicultural and largely individualistic society by maintaining a harmonious balance between their Americanized professional life and their Hindu religiosity.

Religion in Indian diaspora The literature on the Indian diaspora coming from diverse religious communities is enriched as a result of their settlement in North America since the 1960s (Williams 1992; Van der Veer 1995; Vertovec 2000; Parekh et al. 2003; Varma 2003; Jacobsen and Kumar 2004; Brown 2006; Safran et al. 2008). Based on a dozen case studies, Parmatma Saran (1985) narrated that despite their lively participation in the mainstream of American society, they maintained their Indian identity and continued their connection with their kin in India. They may not return to their “homeland” but continue to send money (some estimates over US$70 billion) in order to help their kin live a comfortable life in India. Narayanan Jayaram (2012) elaborately documents multiple forms that diaspora has taken in various parts of the world. There are a few studies on the religious experiences and identity making of the Indian diaspora, their adaptation to the new land, and their contributions to the anterior homeland (Warner and Wittner 1998; Coward et al. 2000). Still, there is a paucity of anthropological research on the changing lives of women in this diasporic community. Even when I wrote about the religious contribution of Odias in the diaspora, I omitted the role of women (Pandey 2005), which I rectified in my subsequent publications (Pandey 2015, 2017, 2018). Here, I will discuss the role of Odia diaspora in bringing

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Jagannath, their state deity, as a symbol of their cultural assertiveness to the Hindu temples across the United States and specifically the role of intergenerational women actively engaged in temple activities and how they are making a difference in their community. Various studies show that migration impinges on the institution of marriage and transforms familial relations in several ways (Brettell 2016). For South Asian migrants, marriage is both a channel for communicating and relating with the “home,” as an expression of the obligations to those left behind and a strategy used to reproduce community identity in diasporic settings. Given the opportunity to explore career possibilities and answering the demands of a new techno-economy, my respondents take advantage of their mobility and the Internet’s instantaneous accessibility, to connect with the broader ethnic community and to participate in religious celebrations. I have observed that these women are generally reluctant to return to India even with the possibility of lucrative jobs for themselves and their husbands. They explain that even if they return to India, they may not be able to reside in their native places, living in faraway cities, which is no better than living abroad. They also reveal their lack of desire to share household responsibilities at their in-laws’ home. Hindu married women in India lose their rights in their natal homes under the kinship rule of Patrivirilocal marriage. Even though ties with their natal home are not completely severed, they become guests in their own family and are expected to join the extended family of their in-laws. Hindu married women are not only expected to adjust to their new home as a daughterin-law, wife, and sister-in-law, but must also face the socio-structural constraints of being considered an outsider until motherhood. As a wife and mother, Hindu women are responsible for the spirituality and wellbeing of her family. In the context of migration and diaspora culture, however, women readjust their roles to the absence of the extended family. Educated, professional married women who have migrated to America for opportunity have claimed leadership roles in their communities, acting as presidents of local Hindu temples and board members in religious centers. Consequentially, normative gender roles and Brahmanic hegemony over religious practices – equivalent to patriarchy and elitism – in religious leadership is shifting. A tangible presence of other cultural and religious expressions is creating space for non-Brahmin leadership and women’s empowerment because they play a critical role in the economic, social, and religio-cultural life of the household and local community (Kurien 1999). Most Odia women in the United States enter the workforce rather than remaining exclusively as homemakers. The women’s socialization function and their role as cultural custodians are also greatly increased because of immigration (Leonardo 1984; Andezian 1986; Leonard 1993; Kurien 1999). Non-Brahmin professionals, especially women, are increasingly assuming

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religious leadership roles in the diasporic community. These Indo-American groups are gender and class-based, and while caste has not fully disappeared, it is shifting. Migration does not dissipate “Indianness” (Fenton 1988: 127), but in the process of immigration, the meaning and content of religion and culture must be explicitly articulated. Of course, much of the menial tasks continue to be performed by women, as Rayaprol (1997) points out. However, my research suggests that diasporic women have taken over the leadership roles, exclusive to men, in the performance of religious rituals. Critical social theory has contributed to migration scholarship in the following ways: first, questioning the heteronormativity of migration policy; second, destabilizing masculinity and its privilege; and, third, uncovering the political implications of how work itself is defined. Silvey (2004) demonstrates how analyzing migration through a critical social theoretical lens has illuminated power relations in the migration process that would otherwise be invisible. Feminist conceptions of gender (rather than a simple binary variable measuring sex category) shape what variables quantitative scholars choose to analyze (i.e. measures of children and their ages in the household, which has different effects on the earnings of women and men) and how they choose to interpret their findings (i.e. recognizing the gendered structures shaping male and female migrants lives rather than attributing outcomes to individual choice or static “sex roles”). With increasing popularity of Indian-American women’s writings, including those of Bharati Mukherjee, Jhumpa Lahiri, Chitra Divakaruni Banerjee, and several anthologies of specifically South Asian-American writing (Maira and Srikanth 1996; Dasgupta 1998); discuss varied diaspora experiences. Amidst all these changes and developments, the question of identification has been and remains a major issue in the debates about cultural identity among South Asian and Indian academics, intellectuals, and especially, creative writers. Research on educated women professionals in the Indian diaspora has increased since the late 1990s. Naidu (2008) and Puwar and Raghuram (2003) explore how Indian women negotiate identities through the maze of public spaces, while Rayaprol (1997) examines the role women play in sustaining culture and community through their involvement in Indian temples (Mehta 2018: 20). Juggling between home and work, women have been negotiating their space and identity in the diaspora. Yasmin Hussain (2005) suggests that women seek to recreate their roles of adapting, creating memories, and establishing a home culture through material and non-material forms of belonging, by creating transnational identities and by ensuring continuity with the homeland. In this sense, women’s migration lacks agency, framed within the larger contexts of family expectations and usually established by patriarchal assumptions (Mehta 2018: 20). Some studies observe that, “the control of women’s bodies and sexualities is key in the context of constructions of ethnic and national communities, especially 100

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when in flux” (Al-Ali 2010: 120). While problematizing gender within diaspora studies, such a framework fails to reflect on the multiple strategies adopted by women to make creative spaces within which their autonomy and agency is articulated (Mehta 2018: 20). In contemporary times, with the technology revolution, more women are joining their “techie” husbands in America and are part of an educated, highly skilled diaspora. Unlike the older generation who came in the 1960s, these women are more familiar with American life because of cable TV, Facebook, WhatsApp, and other social media platforms. This generation of women is more self-confident and well-assured of their place in the United States with no aspirations to return to India. They take advantage of the opportunities available, acclimatize to American culture, raise children, and grow themselves within the diaspora. They are determined to make a home away from home. This is the same kind of assertiveness that is present in Brah’s use of the term “homing desire,” simultaneously expressing a desire to construct a home in the new diasporic location and leaving the whole concept of “home” open to criticism. This process of a “homing diaspora” does not imply a nostalgic desire for “roots,” nor is it the same as the desire for a “homeland”; it is realized instead as a construction of “multi-locationality within and across territorial, cultural and psychic boundaries.” (Brah 2010: 193, Kuortti 2007: 6) They strive to get an American degree or reskill themselves to become economically independent, additionally determined to learn American slang. They teach their children how to work with other Americans and behave American. In this way, they express their agency, and thus, experience empowerment in the process of migration, contributing directly to the economic development of their families, children, and relatives, and in turn, also, to their countries of origin and destination. This is possible because of global economic opportunity and freedom of movement. Some studies suggest that these women remain largely bound by the Indian family norms as wives and mothers, at times even reproducing traditional power relations in the family. Very often, they are said to be “carrying the burden of representing the respectable background of Indian families and become the, so-called, ‘symbolic capital of cultural superiority’” (Radhakrishnan 2008; Talukdar 2012; Pande 2018: 9). Pande emphasizes that in a diasporic setting, these women do taste a new liberalism and exercise their agency for upward professional mobility. “They are able to find often – not one – but several wider scopes for social interaction, and opportunities to create new ties, new bonds – in the hostland – while still retaining their cultural roots of India” (Pande 2018: 9). Kuoritti observes that this new generation of diasporic Indian women is not merely assimilating to their host cultures, but they are also actively reshaping them through their own, new voices bringing new definitions of identity (Kuortti 2007: 6). Kuroitti’s analysis is based on the literatures produced by South Asian American women in North American soil. In my ethnographic study, I observe that 101

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the Indian women who came in the 1980s are in constant dialogue with the culture(s) of both their “origin” and subsequent “adoption.” As a result, there exists a dialogue between tradition and modernity, and in the process, these women are reshaping the tradition in their adaptive culture. Brah observes that there has been a notable feminization of diaspora (Brah 2010: 179; Kuortti 2007: 6). My study suggests that these women have adapted to the professional lifestyle at work, but at home they have remained traditional in their approach to maintaining a home, raising a family, and worshipping their gods and goddesses. Their economic success in the diaspora has allowed them the agency to become an equal partner to their male counterparts, both personally and socially. Coupled with their economic success, participation in the performance of rituals and maintaining family traditions has enhanced their status within the family and community. It is evident that despite many difficulties and constraints, the process of migration and resultant diasporic conditions still offers women new opportunities, financial independence, and improved status within their homes and communities. Interactions with other cultures also empowers women by enabling them to gain awareness of their own repressive conditions and exposing them to liberating notions of womanhood in different nations. As a result, women become active in tackling larger issues, such as women’s liberation and gender equality. They become catalysts of social change. Participating actively in “transnational spaces,” Indian women have also breached male-dominated transnational diaspora institutions like the temples. We see many contradictions as women encounter and negotiate with conflicting situations from the public and private spheres of both their homeland and “hostlands,” and in the process, shift their perspectives from traditional to contemporary (Thadani and Todaro 1984; Pessar and Mahler 2001). It is a conflict, as nostalgia and the need of identity push for them to adhere to traditional Indian culture, on the one hand, but on the other, diasporic spaces also provide them the agency to flirt with new cultures and opportunities. The 20th-century scholarship on diaspora studies was slow and biased to take note of these perspectives and to explore women’s agency and the way they create their space in the diasporic conditions. The dominant thread in the discourses on Indian women diaspora was about women’s role as agents and custodians of Indian culture, thus restricting them to subservient positions in society. The intention behind highlighting women’s agency in this study is not to undermine women’s victimization in diasporic conditions, but also not to eulogize or discuss the politics of victimhood.

Historical background (migration and settlement) Odias represent Jagannath, an age-old Hindu tradition, which emphasizes Jagannath as the Ishtadevata (presiding deity) of the region. He is the 102

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preserver of the Universe, the avatar (incarnation) of Vishnu, but unique in terms of myth, image, and associated rituals. He represents the diverse communities of Odisha, and his uniqueness lies with his distinct identification with Odia people. In Sanskrit, the word Jagannath is based on two words, Jagat (the universe) and Nath (the chief); thus, the Lord of the universe. As his iconography has evolved over centuries, he has come to truly represent the multi-ethnic population (both tribal as well as the Hindu elements) of Odisha. Unlike other Hindu gods who are always paired with their consorts, Jagannath is unique in that he is worshipped along with his older brother, Balabhadra, and younger sister, Subhadra. The icon of Jagannath is housed in a temple in Puri, the sacred city of Odisha. Jagannath is the principal deity at the temple, surrounded by other gods and goddesses representing 330 million divinities in many forms and incarnations. The very intricately stone-carved, majestic Jagannath Temple was started by a Hindu king, Sri Chodaganga Deva, and was completed in 1198 AD (Kar et al. 1999b). Since then, it has come to occupy a special place in the hearts of Hindus across India. It is known as one of the four main dhams (pilgrimage centers) rumored to be instituted by the great Hindu, Saint Sankaracharya, who mapped the religious borders in four corners of the country. Over the years, Jagannath culture has spread beyond the original, 12thcentury Jagannath Temple in Puri. There are 1,638 temples where the trinity Jagannath icons are the central focus of worship, built in several regions where Odias are settled, and the total number of Jagannath temples in India is 2,760. Outside India, there are now 263 temples, establishing the fact that Jagannath has become a global phenomenon. Odias constitute a distinct immigrant community of about fifty thousand in the United States. About ten thousand middle-class professionals are spread throughout the Silicon Valley. Even though Odias are divided by castes, regions (of Odisha), class, and family background, they are united by their common worship of Jagannath, the presiding deity of their shared state. Jagannath is the very representation of the open-endedness and diversity integral to Hindu philosophy – a synthesis of Buddhist, Jain, Shakti, and Tantra philosophies. Jagannath is worshipped as Vishnu, Balabhadra as Siva, and Devi Subhadra is worshipped as Adyashakti Durga. Scholars agree that these three images represent the triad of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. The Tantra philosophy of Hinduism became an integral part of Buddhist philosophy the iconography of Jagannath has, in fact, synthesized faiths like Saivism, Shaktism, Vaishnaism, Jainism, and Buddhism. Mahaprasad bears the testimony of a classless society. Some scholars believe that the three colors of the deities (Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra) represent the three foundational races (black, white, and yellow). Brahmins aren’t the only priests to perform rituals (Daitas). “Non-Brahmins,” descendants of the tribal Sabar dynasty, perform rituals during Anavasara and the Ratha Jatra 103

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(car festival) brings the global village to the Badadanda (the Great Road) in Puri, irrespective of caste, creed, color, or religion. Jagannath is truly a global phenomenon, bringing unity in diversity, and inevitably continues to grow. The first ever Ratha Jatra celebration to take place in the western world was organized in San Francisco in 1967. Thereafter, its popularity spread and now major cities around the world celebrate Ratha Jatra. In 1975, the mayor of San Francisco issued a formal proclamation granting residents the right to celebrate Ratha Jatra in San Francisco. Even though the International Society of Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) is primarily responsible for the spread of Krishna (the most popular incarnation of Vishnu in the Hindu trinity) worship, and by extension Jagannath culture, the Indian diaspora outside of India, and specifically Odias, are largely responsible for the mushrooming of Jagannath centers in Hindu temples across the US, especially two in Silicon Valley alone, where Ratha Jatra is annually the biggest crowd-puller. Jagannath was first housed in the US in 1992 at the Sri Ganesh Hindu Temple in Nashville. Since then, 28 Hindu temples in America have installed Jagannath. Hindu temples boast about having a Jagannath idol along with other gods and goddesses from different Indian regions. I have observed the worship of Jagannath in many Hindu temples of different cities where Odias have a visible presence, including Nashville and Huntsville, Tennessee; Omaha, Nebraska; Washington DC; Dallas, Texas; St. Louis, Missouri; and Minneapolis, Minnesota. The consecration of Jagannath in the Fremont Hindu Temple, displayed with the preexisting gods and goddesses of other regions, is representative of the increasing presence of Odias, as a distinct regional community, among the Indians in the Silicon Valley. There are at least one to two new Jagannath installations in Hindu temples in the US each year and in several cases, the non-Odia community have taken the initiative to celebrate Ratha Jatra in local Hindu temples, a ritual exclusive to Jagannath.

Origin of data This study is part of the ongoing long-term research I have done since I moved to the Bay Area area in 1989. I continued my research throughout the 1990s and during the first decade of the 21st century. My research has given me insights about the cohesive role of religion in the lives of my “informants,” and how they have constructed their cultural identity in relation to other Indians in the Bay Area. I have been engaged in various activities that I describe in this study. The methods I used for collecting the material of this study were: (1) extensive participant-observation in various sacred and secular activities organized by the Odias in Silicon Valley, and (2) focused interviews with many Odias in their homes and public spaces in the Bay

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Area. I also reached out to Odias in different regions where Jagannath centers have been established. When participant-observation was not feasible, I relied on information received from 30 questionnaires sent to the active religious leaders of the Odia community in different parts of the country. Out of the 30 questionnaires, I mailed to active organizers of Jagannath centers all over America and received responses from about six women and four men, followed-up by conducting an interview.

Women as leaders: Jagannath rituals in public spaces The rituals associated with Jagannath have come to North America in a big way. Clearly, there is correspondence between cultural-ethnic identity, regionalism, and Jagannath’s popularity. The whole process of the consecration of Jagannath is performed as a life-giving ceremony. I have witnessed this ceremony on two occasions in Fremont and Sunnyvale, Silicon Valley, and have written about it elsewhere (Pandey 2005). When the creation of Jagannath centers are proposed by the community, both women and men have played active roles in planning and organizing events. The women have successfully incorporated various markers of their culture tied to Jagannath worship in Odisha (through language, myths, rituals, art, dance, and music), ensuring the preservation of Odia identity for their children. The children may grow up in America but retain Indian values. With the proliferation of Hindu temples and installations of the Jagannath idol in temples all over North America, professional women are playing leadership roles in conducting religious rituals and ceremonies. The 2012 consecration of Jagannath in Los Angeles was the pride of the community and it involved other Hindu groups from all over the city. How did the women mobilize a community so dispersed? One respondent, Mita, replies: In one meeting in March 2012, I [said] that this Jagannath installation does not belong to any one person. We made the community members sit in a circle and we connected with everybody saying that it is not a personal but a community affair and right away, $20,000 was collected. Samata apa called everybody and assigned specific jobs and everybody felt part of it. We never had a leader – we always sent an email in the name of Southern California Odia team. We would write in the name of ‘Jai Jagannath.’ Our budget was $35,000 and we achieved it. (July 26, 2015) In this project, women have been critical in maintaining an ethnic identity and use religious practices and beliefs that can legitimately support an

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exclusive Indian cultural identification. On the day the Jagannath idol was installed in Los Angeles, several respondents admitted that it was an exhilarating experience. One interviewee notes: Now we feel a strong sense of community. Before, we met twice a year. After four days of Jagannath pratistha (installation), we feel Odisha is here. We left the root and we came here; can a tree live without her roots? Now our roots are here. We have a strong root here and we all connect to our culture. We meet at least twice every month. Once a month bhajan, hundred people come on the first Saturday of the month. On the first Saturday, no one keeps any other commitment. (July 25, 2015) In Los Angeles, Odias are widespread, living at least thirty to forty and even fifty miles from one another. Mita recalls: After pratistha (life-giving ceremony), we the women started making the chandua (decoration pieces) for the idols. We all would conglomerate. Three will bring lunch, three will bring breakfast and three, dinner. We stopped all other social activities. Twenty men and twenty women signed up for chariot making. The temple became our weekend retreat [and] we looked forward to it. From Memorial Day till Ratha Jatra, a span of four weeks, we all stopped everything else and that brought us closer. (July 26, 2015) As a community member in Southern California, Mita posts after celebrating Bahuda Jatra in Orange County: Life becomes beautiful when we bring our culture to a faraway land where all of us stand together as one big family. We dance, we sing, we make garlands, we eat, and we hang with one goal in mind: Celebrate Ratha Yatra. . . . Thanks to the sponsors, for their hard work with all volunteers who brought our Odisha to Orange County California. We will gather again with the same spirit in 2018. . . . Till then Jai Jagannath to all of you . . . . (Facebook: July 3, 2017) At a local Hindu temple in Michigan, women’s religiosity knows no bounds. Even though the initiative to install Jagannath was driven by a local man, it is the women who drive the local operation of Jagannath rituals. As a coordinator of religious activities related to Jagannath, Sutapa arranges Bhajan and Odissi dance programs for young dancers in the community to serve 106

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Jagannath as performers. Women like her remain responsible for the day-today rituals and offerings to Jagannath. In Fremont, on the day of Jagannath’s consecration in 2009, women of the community organized a dance drama, which enacted episodes from the life of Jagannath and his change of abode from Sabara (tribal) origin to the present temple in Puri, when brought by the Hindu king. For the young children, participating in the dance drama was a chance to experience their ethnic identity with closer meaning, demonstrate their ability to sing in the Odia language, and to show-off their skill and talent in performing Odissi dance. This ritual is comparable to Durkheim’s description of the Chirunga ceremony as a means of “collective effervescence” (Durkheim 1912: 469), reaffirming a sense of community and belongingness among participants across generations. With the spread of Jagannath cultures, gradually, some younger women have advanced in playing key roles in the daily worship of the idol, and in so doing, started to contest and subvert the male dominance. They are adept in networking and have created a virtual community of women participants who are responsible for daily ritual. The few men previously in charge have grudgingly accommodated the emerging aspirations of these women to express their religiosity. Jagannath worship has introduced leaders, especially women, and a sense of community among Odias. Corrine G. Dempsey has reported a similar situation in her study of the installation of the Goddess Rajarajeswari in Upstate New York (Dempsey 2006: 92, 122–123). It is evident from this that, in the Indian diaspora, women have transcended their gender-based discrimination when it comes to community-based religious ceremony, creating a more inclusive and less discriminatory diaspora. Odia women’s contribution to the worship and rituals surrounding Jagannath help them to connect with one another, come together as a community, and create a ‘home’ in the diaspora, despite dispersal in faceless cities. In the past, women had an auxiliary role as food processors, preparers of prasad (consecrated food) and decorators for the puja in the temple. With the installation of Jagannath in the diaspora movement, women have emerged as key leaders in their communities, no longer in the mere background. In many instances, they are serving as ritual specialists and creating new space for expressions of their religiosity. Even in formal worship at the temple, where male priests play active roles, women are coming forward to organize daily rituals and becoming increasingly visible as religious leaders. They are quietly resisting male dominance, regulating their role in public life. Maumita Mishra from Austin, Texas shares: It feels good to see the community working together on projects preparing for big events. There is a sharing of enthusiasm. It is interesting that here we get to do intimate tasks related to Jagannath that would not be available to us if we lived in India. I feel much 107

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gratitude. The Austin Jagannath temple and the many articles I had to write for the Temple newsletter compelled me to read more and learn in the process. (personal interaction with the author, July 27, 2017)

Women’s dedication to Jagannath in the family and community I have discovered that irrespective of one’s caste, class, and regional differences, Jagannath is found in photographs, paintings, and various icons in every Odia home. Mishra describes bringing Jagannath to Austin as a transformative experience: Jagannath is not a matter of belief but of experience. Jagannath’s weird form is haunting, thought provoking. The huge eyes have a magnetic effect. They arrest the eyes in a way only a sunrise or sunset does. There is a strong association from childhood to associate the Supreme with that form and find refuge and comfort in that form when things are beyond control, unknown, scary, vulnerable, etc. It is also a wonderful setting to cultivate one’s love and kindness, and to understand and relate to one another as humans. I also enjoy the stories about Sri Jagannath and singing bhajans. (June 17, 2017) Nani Das from Maryland shares, “I believe in Jagannath and when I pray for a good purpose, my prayers are heard” (June 27, 2017). When I asked Heena from the Bay Area, “What is the significance of Jagannatha in your life?” she responded: It is hard to explain. It is a feeling within oneself that just comes on its own. Jagannath’s blessings reach out to the entire world. He symbolizes universal love and peace. Serving the here directly in the [United States] has got me closer to a belief in him. Odias and Jagannath culture go hand in hand. One of the most important events in my life happened in HIS presence – My wedding – It took place at the Jagannath Temple in Hauz Khas, Delhi, literally with HIS blessings. (July 17, 2017) Heena played a very active role in the consecration of trinity Jagannath idols at the Fremont Temple in March 2009. She explains that even though ISKCON introduced Jagannath worship and celebration of Ratha Jatra in different parts of North America, Odias in the Bay Area pushed to have their own family idols present in these temples. Heena shares that “the Odia 108

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pride is Jagannath and they identify with that God more than the other reincarnations.” Minati, a participant of a Ratha Jatra ritual at Sunnyvale Temple shares: Today I had the opportunity to touch, hold and carry Jagannath. My brother did the chera panhara (the traditional brooming of the chariot, which is exclusively performed by the King at the Puri Jagannath temple) and we both shared the personal connection with the divine. It would have never happened in Puri. (July 1, 2017) Jagannath is established as the Parswa Debata (the side deity) in North American temples even though he is the state idol in Odisha. For example, Bikash from Madison voices the concern that despite the Odias’ efforts, Jagannath is still considered an Odia deity” (personal conversation with the author, June 7, 2018). This narrative explains the ethnic identity and composition of the Indian immigrants, and the minority status of Odias in different parts of the country. Thus, Jagannath does not have the same recognition as in India. At Fremont Hindu Temple, the Odias are very happy to have negotiated a space for Jagannath. Heena feels that “it is a good thing to share premises and introduce Jagannath to the greater Indian community at large” (July 17, 2017). In many cases, finance is the major obstacle for building a temple for Jagannath. Mishra shares: The Odia community in Austin being small and united with Sri Jagannath’s openness to all, usually have been spared and insulated from the conflicts between other Indian communities with power. Odias have garnered the support of the larger framework that has made it possible for us to have the Sri Jagannath sanctum. (July 27, 2017) Mishra continues: Jagannath has been worshipped at the Austin Hindu Temple since its inception in 2007. Once the construction of the main temple was complete in 2013, new larger murties were installed in their sanctums. She informs that one Odia took the initiative, mobilized thirty Odia families. The most challenging task was he had to join the board of the local temple and convince them that Jagannath has tremendous support to immigrate to Austin. Local Odias were very proactive in joining the broader Indian community represented at the temple. In Fremont, the members of the community 109

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who are regularly involved in service to Jagannath are called sevaks (literally “servants”) – a self-proclaimed title started by the group, which prides itself on its utmost devotion to Jagannath. The women organize bhoga (consecrated food), monthly bhajans (prayers), and special pujas (offerings) such as Pana Sankranti, Akshaya Tritiya, and many others. Heena shares: My focus is mainly on serving the through Pujas, and all the requirement for puja with couple of other Sevaks and Sevikas more so for the Abhishek and besha change. and working with the temple for smooth process of all our pujas as a person of contact (POC) for the community. When it was decided to begin Snana Purnima as a major event, I helped the community elders with all the puja activities and help wherever there is need. (July 17, 2017) Sutapa from Michigan explains that “even though Jagannath is not the main deity in the temple, it has brought visibility to the local temple” (July 28, 2017). Whether the Jagannatha Center plays a vital role in uniting the Odia diaspora and preserving Odia cultural values and traditions in the United States, Heena observes that: To an extent, yes – yet to reach higher level. It does bring the community together on one common platform even though they work in different groups otherwise. We do not have an organized set up of the Jagannath society and is not part of any larger organization. Maybe that’s helpful. (July 17, 2017)

Women in public places of worship Growing up in Odisha, all my informants are aware of the beauty and splendor of the Jagannath Temple in Puri, known as bada (enormous) in every way. Present is the mystical power of God, with the idols overpowering, possibly double the size of human beings. There is a notion that the Gods must be different from human beings to experience the idea of the Divine, and this is established through size. Whereas the Jagannath in temples across North America are much smaller in size. For example, in Fremont Hindu Temple, the size of the gods are quite small and carried like children with adoration, indulgence, love, and devotion. Ratha Jatra in Puri openly reflects male dominance, as male priests take full charge and participation of women in the ritual is unheard of. Even with a goddess centered in the temple, the ritual is dominated by men. The coordinator of Jagannath activities at 110

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the Michigan Hindu temple reports that “there is no way we can compare the temple with [the] Puri Jagannath Temple. It is different from every point of view, e.g. size of deities, celebration traditions, rituals and involvement of common people in arranging events” (Sutapa July 27, 2017). A. Women fill in the role of the priest Women play a major role in observing various rituals for Jagannath. The priests in the local temples are mostly non-Odias and are not familiar with various customs of Jagannath. The list of selected rituals for Jagannath are prepared by the local community. Women have taken the initiative to familiarize the non-Odias priests to the Jagannath rituals performed at the temples in the United States. Hindu priesthood runs in the family in India. As a family tradition and heritage, young boys learn the ritual from their elders. In the diaspora, the priests are hired by the temple administration. In the temple in Orange County, there are two priests, one from Banaras and the other from South India. Nita, in Los Angeles, says: Priests at Puri are more ritual driven, they are very elaborate in their steps, more knowledgeable about Jagannath culture. Priests in the United States are driven by bhakti (devotion), they do Pooja from their heart and do not have that much knowledge and background in Jagannath culture. (July 3, 2017) The women want to see Jagannath embraced as a global culture. Global citizenship is reflected in the costume of Jagannath and what he wears – very modern, flashy, and the material is shinier than the traditional silk other idols wear in Odisha. From the Jagannath dress one can easily spot the influences of a non-Odias priest who lacks knowledge about Jagannath culture. Nita says, “Yes, there is little influence, he insisted on hanging beads with OM (an auspicious generic Hindu chanting) hanging in the Ratha, very Gujarati style.” Women literally take over the role of the priest and dominate the scene in all these rituals, especially during Ratha Jatra. They prepare the idols for the ritual, arrange the bhogas, and even carry the goddess Subhadra to the chariot. The idols of Jagannath and Balabhadra are still carried by men. Once all the idols are placed in the chariot, women climb up to the chariot and spend time with the deities, arranging flowers, fixing their costumes, and even taking selfies. Nita says, except cooking, making tents, preparing Ratha rest is all done by women here. . . . Yes, women only . . . help the priests here. No men 111

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get involved in Southern California. This year’s highlight was making those beautiful garlands and Bhajan Sandhya in Bahuda. Here, women are clearly defying tradition of being absent in the public ritual. B. Women in charge of sustenance of Jagannath Fifty-six varieties of bhogas made in the Puri temple are prepared by women in the diaspora. Interestingly, all indigenous vegetables, fruits and lentils are offered to Jagannath at the main temple in Puri. Here, in the diaspora, Jagannath is sustained by foreign food. It is not the vegetables but the variety of flavor that is the essence. Nita says, “Food was pure Odia: ghantaa, boota dali, kheeri, puri khante, anna, and khata.” The traditional sweet dish (chenna poda pitha) is made up of ricotta, not real cheese like in Puri (bhogas as Prasad [consecrated food] prepared by women whereas the food for the public is cooked mostly by men). Even the cooking for the public is shared by both men and women. Women are also responsible for changing the traditional rules and guidelines followed at the temples in the United States. C. Women as community builders The women share a sense of meaning, community, of belonging, devotion, and identification with the divine which makes it a gratifying experience. Making a home away from home, women emphasize team effort in preparing bhoga (consecrated food), garland, decoration, rituals, etc. Participation in a Jagannath ritual celebration provides a sense of belonging by the community. Mutual compliment among women is shared: these women get the group compliment for their time, effort and service and devout commitment to Jagannath. With the leadership of women in their 50s, more and more women demand the opportunity to do the direct puja of the idols which had been traditionally confined in the hands of the older men. This can be understood as resistance to power and control from within the power system. For example, Suchi, a mother of two teenagers who offered to do weekly puja, expresses “Feeling blessed. After doing seva on the auspicious Snana Purnima, Jagannath looks resplendent in Gaja Besa (elephant costume). It was an experience to remember. Many women commented, ‘I agree. . . . I feel also same thing’” (June 10, 2017). Centering around Jagannath, the community members meet every month for the bhajan program and celebrate various festivals in specific months like Snana Jatra, and Jhualan Jatra. They replicate the festivals celebrated in Odisha. During the years the local Odias are promoting art, architecture, music, and dance and are popularizing the culinary art originating from 112

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Odisha. The women arrange meetings during the weekend, cook together for the planning and celebration of various festivals. The younger women in thirties and forties are praised by the leaders for their involvement and are looked upon as role models to the community for their devotion, service, and commitment to Jagannatha. Even men folks praise the women about how organized the puja was. Das observes and asserts that: . . . misunderstanding between husband/wife is dissipated through these gatherings. Sometimes our discussions indirectly focus on resolving the misunderstanding issues. It takes time; however, it does help. . . . In my experience, I believe that a lot of misunderstanding in families are indirectly solved by gatherings focused on religious activities, prayers etc. Isolated families that do not attend such gatherings find it hard to cope with situations that are emotional in nature. . . . Jagannath [is] part of making a home in the diaspora has provided a social string to bind the people together. This gives a social foundation that offers emotional support at times of need. (July 27, 2018) D. Women united through social media I am part of a WhatsApp group, “Jagannath Fremont temple,” in California, created by a few enthusiastic Odia women of the community. They are professionals who have been deeply involved in Jagannath worship at the Fremont Temple. They created this group on November 28, 2016. Now it has more than 300 members. Every conversation starts with “Jai Jagannath.” This forum is used exclusively for discussion on Jagannath at the Fremont Temple. The announcements are related to monthly prayers and yearly celebration of various festivals. Heena, the web manager of this group explains: This group has been created to reach out to increase participation in temple preetibhoj and other Jagannath activities in Fremont Temple. A sincere request to use this group for that purpose. People have been added who we think would be interested in Jagannath activities. This forum also creates a women’s support group for participation in the regular daily activities and worship of Jagannath, dismantling the authority of entitled, older members who have been claiming ownership over Jagannath. This female-created community for woman is an expression of defiance against traditional gender roles, with pujas monopolized by men (Announcement: May 22, 2017). It spreads hope, belonging, and enthusiasm among the members sharing their love of Jagannath. 113

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This WhatsApp group brings in a feeling of connectedness, even if members are spread-out far and wide in the community. Even the news of Jagannath rituals in Odisha are shared. Women get together to make the consecrated food on special occasions. In the process, the elders are praised for continuing the tradition and women show their devotion through decoration, food, painting, and elaborate artwork (June 8, 2017). It is looked upon as sadhana (devotion), which is believed to be returned many-fold. Praise not only comes from women, but from the men as well. This forum provides mutual appreciation, where volunteers are commended. E. Women’s influence on the second generation of Odia Americans Many parents bring their children to participate in Jagannath celebration, which teaches them to learn about Jagannath’s significance in Odia culture. This personal and social space facilitates (re)affirmation for members, providing the sense of belonging to a community, fulfilling a fundamental human need that is blessed by Jagannath – a marker of their self-identity. Regarding the children’s involvement, Das shares: Our children are aware of the Jagannatha culture and are very interested in observing such rituals and festivals. Sometimes people go through situations and take a break. Then they come back again and participate normally in the rituals. (June 7, 2017) Being a senior scientist at NASA, Das is acutely aware of the time spent in all these activities. She sees a major challenge for the children – timemanagement. “Our children now participate in so many extra-curricular activities and parents become engaged too. Too less time remains for maintaining traditions.” Mishra, a woman in her sixties, shares: My children are adults and grew up without these festivals. There was no opportunity when my children were growing. Even the Indian community was small then and there were no other Odia families in Austin. As a result, my children are not interested in observing such rituals or festivals. It wasn’t part of their childhood. (June 8, 2017) Sutapa shares: The children who grew up in Michigan being exposed to the communal feasts and festivals related to Jagannath since 2002, are more 114

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conscious of their Odia identity compared to the Odia Children who grew up in Michigan and did not have the experience to grow with Jagannath culture before. I took my involvement seriously so that my children will get a forum to come little closer to Jagannath culture while growing up in USA. (June 13, 2018) Sutapa argues that parental involvement ensures a strong religious foundation in the second-generation children. She is very proud that her children always participated in rituals and festivals, given they were home: I am blessed to have children who followed our direction in this regard. Sometimes they question us when they see kids of their generation are not participating . . . either it may be because they have no interest or may not be encouraged by their parents, .  .  . what makes me to point at their parents’ parenting style (not necessarily in a negative way). So, it is not right to pass judgement on our second-generation children when parents are not themselves committed to encourage their children. Faith has been always passed from generation to generation. As parents it is our responsibility to pass our faith to next generation not just by talking about it but by being example our self. Parents need to get actively involved with the movement creating a forum for children. Children not only watch their parents they also watch other Odia uncles and aunties. So, they grow up with mixed ideas and accept ideas what suits them in this mixed culture of American Odia lifestyle. It is our generation’s responsibility to support each other to work for our faith collectively, be it personally or through organizations. Mishra agrees: Now the children in the community do participate in the activities but most don’t speak Odia language and don’t understand what is going on. Parents are often too busy to be able to organize anything constructive as Odia language, bhajan, or Jagannath story classes for children. Pujas have been more of social events than spiritual events to teach values. Activities that are of interest to young children such as quizzes may help (June 8, 2017)

Women popularize Jagannath in the broader community My informants shared with me that at the Hindu temple, all idols are worshipped with considerable fanfare. Since each regional idol is associated with 115

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special annual celebrations, the temple is always full of activities and attracts devotees, rain or shine. Odia community members provide their time and money to cover most of the expenses related to these activities – monthly and annual events related to Sri Jagannath. Odias are contributing to the temple administration. In Austin, Texas, a couple of Odia women are part of the temple’s Board of Trustees and work with the management committee. Swati Tripathy is the president of Ekta Temple in Irving, Texas. Her achievement is most remarkable given the small number of Odias in the area. It shows that she has the support of her local and broader Indian community. Regarding the impact of service to Jagannath, she shared that: Of course, it does play a vital role in local devotees’ life. When we work in temple. It feels like a big family working together for a family festival. But American life style, daily hectic routine and distance from the temple makes it difficult for them to be available always. (April 22, 2018) The belief that the gods and goddesses from different regions are serving their own followers solidifies the Indian identity in the diaspora. Sutapa is proud of her engagement with Jagannath at the local community level. Installation of Jagannath as a deity in this local temple has brought the Jagannath culture closer to the personal lives of Odias, as well as to many non-Odia devotees, in Michigan. Nani Das, a prominent religious leader, worked with her husband in 2007 to bring Jagannath from Odisha and to consecrate the idols in their local Hindu temple in Maryland. Even though the Baltimore and Potomac ISKCON Ratha Jatras were celebrated during the July 4th parade, the Odias felt the absence of their God Jagannath. Das shares: So, after the consecration of Jagannath, we only started celebrating Ratha Jatra from 2007. Our Odia community members in DC area contributed funds. We did not have outside funds, except maybe 4–5 friends contributed from outside of DC area. We already had our Odia bhajan group active from 1998 and hence communication was not a problem. We meet every month on 3rd Saturday to offer prayer service. We donate to the temple and participate in other fundraising activities of the temple. Most of our Odia community members do offer service at the temple, physical, financial and other types of service. (July 2017) Mishra explains that the rituals centered around Jagannath bring the Odia community closer:

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Odia families sign up to take the responsibility for a monthly puja once a year. We celebrate Snana purnima, Nabajoubana darshana, Ratha jatra, and Bahuda. We also celebrate Nrusingha jayanti and Gamha purnima. Cooking food and eating together is a part of each puja or festival, however cooking food sometimes keeps younger people out who don’t want to cook for so many people. Now we have a kitchen through which food can be ordered. We need to teach the non-Odia kitchen volunteers/contractors how to cook food Odia style which we haven’t done yet. We have procured Jagannath Puja bidhi documents from Puri, translated them into English and transliterated mantras in Devanagari so that non-Odia priests can understand and adapt them to our environment as much as possible. (July 27, 2017) Jagannatha religious centers play a vital role in uniting the Odia diaspora and preserving Odia cultural values and traditions in the United States. Jagannath event involves the whole family and unites the community in the diaspora. Mishra shares: Men, women, and children all participate and take some role. Women have taken the decoration roles such as creating the covering of the ratha, rangoli, etc. Men have built the ratha from scratch, men women and teens join in painting jobs, and large cooking ventures such as in Ratha Jatra are carried by both men and women. Women often take charge of cultural events. . . . On occasions like Ratha Jatra, more local Odias gather than at any other event. I meet people at the temple at pujas I wouldn’t meet otherwise. I have written articles, organized Odissi dance events and conducted workshops on developing Jagannatha consciousness among the people in the community. Ratha Jatra celebrated in different parts of the country establishes an inter-religious dialogue. Thousands of people participate in the week from Ratha Yatra to Bahuda. Throughout this week, the local Hindu temple conducts daily bhajans and Geeta chanting. In Columbus Ohio, each day, the bhajans are dedicated to a different part of India (i.e. Bengali day, Gujrati day). Other programs include quarterly satsangs and monthly pujas. The Odia community in Columbus is small, so Ratha Jatra and the installation of Jagannath in this area brought the Indian community together. In Michigan, Sutapa is thrilled to report that after the installation of Jagannath, many non-Odia temple-goers were introduced to Jagannath culture. Even though they do not actively participate in the pooja rituals, they always come forward to show their support. After the installation of Jagannath, the

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members added other important festivals including Ratha Yatra, Bahuda, and Snana Purnima, and received overwhelming participation from the community. Jagannatha devotees in Michigan were given more opportunity to pray together and offer divine service collectively. Mishra shares that local Odias and non-Odias, including American visitors and Odias from surrounding towns in the state, come together for Ratha Yatra. Regarding the interest and awareness of non-Odias in Jagannath, Das observes that, “Of course our chhapana-bhoga offering (56 varieties of food) was the new concept for most non-Odias and they started doing that for other deities” (July 18, 2017). Jagannath culture promoted by the Odia community is making its presence felt in the greater Indian community.

Conclusion In his article, “When the gods of money isn’t enough,” Peter Bowes convincingly articulates the spirituality which has surged in the Silicon Valley (2015). He argues that, “churches, temples, and other places of worship are popping up in nondescript parks, warehouses, and community centers because there appears to be a yearning for a spiritual experience that cannot be achieved in the workplace or home.” He also points out that there is a hunger for spiritual fulfilment by people who have become millionaires overnight and hold offices of immense power. This only reinforces the Hindu belief that there are two sides to a human experience – spiritual and the material/physical. Women’s participation in Jagannath culture reinforces their commitment to tradition and enables them to aspire for success in the corporate culture they serve. A variety of religious experiences attest to the diversity of Hindu religiosity and to their adaptation to American life. The visibility of women plays a significant role in their demonstration of desire to maintain their religious and ethnic cultures, while also claiming a presence in the public landscape. The Jagannath culture provides a sense of belonging, a sense of community, and a sense of purpose and hope to the Odia women in the diaspora. Jagannath culture gives women the freedom to be creative without obligation to a plan or prescribed experience of spirituality (Lipka and Gecewicz 2017). With several personal narratives of professional Odia women from different parts of North America are full of gratitude for being able to do intimate tasks related to the worship of Jagannath, which would not be available to them in Odisha. The immigrant experiences of women are distinct from those of men. The narratives of these immigrant women tell us how they are negotiating their space at home and in public domain. Hindu women play a crucial role in religious practices at the Hindu temples, something which is significantly liberating for them. Even when they are burdened with the duties of their role, as a wife and mother in the family, they assume religious responsibilities as a form of leadership. In doing so, they forcefully challenge 118

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the patriarchal model of public/private dichotomy. Their increasing involvement in the ritual practices and organization of feasts and festivals related to Jagannath proves their leadership in the family and community. They promote strong family values and establish gender autonomy for themselves and the next generation. Furthermore, they help create a sense of belonging to the society they have chosen to call their home and raise their children. These “transnationalized” women are successful entrepreneurs and visionaries, regarded as ideals back in their home state. In the diaspora, these women are not only reshaping their Indian traditions but are also engaged in the pluralistic promotion of Hindu tradition and initiating interreligious dialogue within the individualistic culture of the United States.

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7 MOTHER MARY IN THE HINDU PANTHEON AMONG PORTUGUESE GUJARATI FAMILIES Rita Cachado and Inês Lourenço

Introduction Gujarati populations throughout the world can be found in diverse East African countries, including South Africa; and in the UK, the US, and in many other countries with less representation. The Portuguese branch of the Gujarati diaspora comprises around thirty thousand people from Gujarati origin living in Portugal, as well as an unknown number of other South Asian residents. South Asian migrations to Portugal are plural,1 but the Gujarati population is the most stable; thousands of families arrived from Mozambique in the late 1970s and 1980s. The amount of literature produced about this vivid population is high considering the small number of researchers committed to diaspora and transnational studies in Portugal. Nevertheless, despite exceptions, most of the publications are in Portuguese, which is the most probable reason why this population is often forgotten in the international literature about Hindu-Gujarati diaspora. This chapter presents this transnational population and the literature already produced. Portuguese Hindus reveal cultural specificities as other diasporas according to their migration histories and trajectories. These cultural specificities challenge dominant views on the Hindu diaspora, and confirm the perspective of internal hybridity among the Hindu diaspora, influenced by phenomena such as globalization, glocalization, and variable acculturation and performance processes. Beyond theoretical frameworks that attribute to the Indian diaspora’s almost immobile patterns, the more detailed ethnographic observation may reveal interesting nuances that allow us to question this rigidity of Indian diaspora models in general, and Hindu diaspora in particular. For this, it is essential to pay attention to the individual diaspora histories (Mishra 2005: 7).

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This chapter presents the devotion to a Portuguese representation of the Virgin Mary as a characteristic of Portuguese Hindu diaspora, clearly visible in their cultural and religious, as well as consumptions, practices (see Gowricharn 2017). This means that the consumption practices of the Portuguese Hindus fuse with original Indian elements with cultural and religious regalia, such as the case of the Lady of Fátima. These are evident not only in Portugal but also in other transnational contact points in this Gujarati community, such as India, Mozambique, and the United Kingdom.

The Portuguese-Gujarati in context The first studies on this population are about Indian merchants both in Mozambique and in Portugal. Susana Bastos opened the field, providing the first studies about Hindu families living in Portugal (Bastos 1990; Bastos and Bastos 2001), and published the first paper in English about the symbolic capital of the UK for Portuguese Hindu-Gujaratis (Bastos 2005). Business networks between Mozambique and Portugal were also the focus of first studies (Ávila and Alves 1993); a topic that remained important, until nowadays, as in an extended study about the socio-economic historical context of Hindu-Gujaratis in the diaspora (Dias 2016), where the author defends the significance of economic aspects over the cultural practices. Also, geographer Jorge Malheiros provided an early overview of South Asian settling modes in the Lisbon metropolitan area, and integration processes including trading traditions (1996). After these first impressions on the Hindu-Gujarati families in Portugal, the attention became focused on specific topics such as religious music (Roxo 2010); gender and diaspora (Lourenço 2011), housing (Cachado 2011), health (Monteiro 2007), education (Seabra 2010), and family (Lourenço and Cachado 2012). These authors made fieldwork in India, Portugal, and/or the UK and Mozambique (Cachado 2012). This rather rich literature noted the significant transnational activities of Hindu-Gujaratis in Portugal. They noticed the cultural practices such as religious music groups (Roxo 2010) and ritual practices that must be performed in Mozambique and in India (Bastos and Bastos 2001; Lourenço 2011); and the adaptation processes to social policies such as housing and new waves of migration (Cachado 2014). In sum, the history, economy, and socio-cultural contexts of Hindu-Gujaratis in Portugal and in the other poles of diaspora (India, Mozambique, and United Kingdom), have already been documented, mostly in Portuguese. The former studies about this population contributed, then, to literature in post-colonial studies, south Asian diaspora, and transnationality studies. Although transnationality remains a difficult concept (see Introduction to this volume), the basic characteristic first advanced by Basch, Schiller, and Blanc back in 1994 of “living with their feet in two societies” (1994: 7) remains, and was enriched in the case we bring forth in this chapter. The 124

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Hindu families we focus on live with their feet in two or more societies so to say – India, Mozambique, Portugal, and United Kingdom. Beyond actual “living in” (ideally splitting their time through the year in different countries), they engage in a particular cultural practice that can be noticed in every home, which is the devotion to Our Lady of Fátima. The final aim of this chapter is to challenge the dominant views about Hindu diaspora, mostly focusing on Hindu elements (Knott 1986, 1987; Williams 1992; Venkatachari 1996; Kurien 1998; Coward 2000; Eck 2000). There are other situations of hybridization amongst Hindu diasporas: cultural expressions such as dance performances (Chacko and Menon 2011; Drissel 2011; Roy 2013) and ethnolinguistic references (Eisenlohr 2006). But in what constitutes religion, some diasporas created hyphenated identities (see Persaud 2013), particularly Hindu-Caribbean, where Hinduism and Christianity intersect in rituals and in funeral practices (Manian and Bullock 2016). This continuity between Christianity and Hinduism is also found in India, where both religious traditions coexist and contaminate each other. This is the case of Goan Christianity, resulting from the long Portuguese colonial presence in Goa. According to Perez (2011), within the clear distinction between Hinduism and Christianity in Goa, and the opposite theory of syncretism connecting them, it is possible to affirm the existence of a “system, produced by relations that are neither stable nor permanent in time, with exclusions and inclusions, with attractions and rejections, which sometimes even constitute discreet communalism, but which, above all, is composed of great continuities and contiguities” (Perez 2011: 151–152). This is the perspective adopted by the author to understand the phenomena of incorporating elements of Hinduism by Catholicism and, to a lesser extent, the absorption of traces of Catholicism by Hinduism, demonstrated by an “ethnography of the Goa religion” (Perez 2011: 152). Thus, there is a particular form of hybridization between Hinduism and Christianity in the Portuguese context, considering its colonial past to the contemporary Portuguese society. Coming back to the Portuguese Hindu-Gujarati population, they live in Portugal, the UK, Mozambique, and India. The population in Portugal has been living in Lisbon for the last 35 years. Some people chose to live a part of the year in one country and the other part in another. What links this population together is their Portuguese passport and/or the Portuguese language, learnt either in India before 1961,2 in Mozambique, or in Portugal for those who were born there. For the Portuguese context, as told before, most families living in Portugal came during the civil war in Mozambique, between the late 1970s and the early 1980s. Before that, the Portuguese Hindu-Gujarati families were mixed with other Hindu-Gujaratis in both Gujarat and Eastern African countries, mostly Tanzania and Uganda, formerly under British colonial rule. During the East African migration, marriages with men living in Mozambique generated children who attended Portuguese language schools. 125

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While living in “two or more countries,” this transnational population is also a population that lives mainly in urban areas. Although the national paradigm to study transnationality remains central, the urban paradigm is also important (Schiller and Çaglar 2011), because this population choose big cities to live in; urban policies define the places where they live; and it is where their sociabilities are thriving (Cachado 2014). In Lisbon the urban sociopolitical environment is central, because work opportunities and cultural networks are provided mainly in the metropolitan area. In the UK, the urban factor is even more significant for Portuguese Hindu-Gujarati families. They move mostly between cities (Southall and Wembley in London, Leicester and Reading), where work, religion, and other cultural networks are strong and where education opportunities have a symbolic capital among the community (Bastos 2005). In Portugal, most Portuguese Hindu-Gujaratis who came in the late 1970s and early 1980s live in the Lisbon metropolitan area. Considering religion, it’s difficult to establish the number of Hindu public temples in Great Lisbon. Recently (March 2017), one of our interlocutors pointed out five temples, where the Hare Krishna (ISKON, International Society for Krishna Consciousness) and the Swaminarayan Temple were included. The other three are well known by the families living in Portugal since the early 1980s. In 1983, in addition to their small domestic shrines, the Hindu population from a so called shanty town, started the construction of the Jay Ambé Temple at the same time as they were building their own houses. The family who manages the temple brought a statue (murti, believed to contain the divine essence) of the goddess Ambé from a previous temple in Mozambique. This was the first Hindu temple built in Lisbon, and remained as the only public temple until 1998. The temple was relocated in 2004 to a nearby social neighbourhood, where Hindu families had been rehoused in 2002. The temple was attended in every religious calendar event for people living in the neighbourhood, and other families living across the Lisbon metropolitan area. In 1985, the “Hindu Community of Portugal” was formally set up and immediately embarked on building the Radha-Krishna Temple in Lumiar, completed in 1998. This is the most “high-profile” Hindu place of worship in Portugal, located close to central Lisbon. This temple is not located in a Hindu residential area; Hindu families come from various points in the Lisbon metropolitan area to attend ceremonies. The temple complex houses a big hall which is often rented to perform marriages and other ceremonies. Completing this overview of Hindu religious diversity, the Shiva Temple was launched in Santo António dos Cavaleiros in 2001, but the families that settled there had made creative alternatives to a formal temple. There was a group of private homes where specific rituals were commonly performed; there was an old school building and a city hall that were often rented or lent to bigger events. The process to build the temple began in 1991 when the Shiva Temple Social Solidarity Association was officially recognised as 126

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representing the Hindu residents of Santo António dos Cavaleiros. About 10 years later, it had fulfilled its mission of building its own place of worship. The Shiva Temple nowadays is aiming to build a formal temple format. So the Hindu religious landscape (Peach and Gale 2002) in Great Lisbon is relatively small when compared to the Mozambican or British cities where Hindu-Gujarati populations live. A note on methods before presenting the devotion to Our Lady of Fátima. Our findings come from long-term ethnographic fieldwork. Trained as anthropologists, we engaged in participant observation for pursuing our research, which we systematically registered in field notes (Sanjek 1990) and then indexed into analytic categories (John and Johnson 1990). We also conducted structured and semi-structured interviews (Burgess 1984: 112) the past 18 years, as well as semi-structured interviews conducted recently (2017–2018) specifically to this topic. But our findings about the devotion to Our Lady of Fátima began very early in our research3 – through the years, field notes include descriptions of this practice at home and through excursions, which we will describe later. Considering ethnographic fieldwork, data was mostly collected through informal conversations with privileged interlocutors (see Foote-Whyte 1943). We have conducted fieldwork in Portugal (Great Lisbon), the UK (Great London and Leicester), India (Diu), and Mozambique (Maputo). Our fieldwork included accompanying families in diverse journeys. Multi-sited ethnography, as Marcus coined it (Marcus 1995), was extremely useful to observe, in practice, the transnational links of our interlocutors in Lisbon, as well as their bonding relations to their place of origin.

The devotion to Our Lady of Fátima Highlighting the idea of diversity of Indian transnational communities, this analysis intends to illustrate how Portuguese Hindus negotiate between the adoption of elements from the host society and bonding with India. This is a clear example of how hybridity and ethnicization are not exclusive; thus, contributing to their adaptations as a form of consolidation of their territorial bonds with their homeland. These phenomena evidence the shift from the old ideas of Indian Diaspora to a vision that privileges transnational connections across the world. The religious depth found in this community’s cultural reference – Hinduism – is not limited to Hindu deities’ worship and to the Hindu-Gujarati calendar. Portuguese Hindu-Gujarati families have also approached the Catholic calendar and are particularly devoted to Our Lady of Fátima. This representation of Mother Mary is adopted as an image to Hindu domestic shrines and is worshiped daily, along with Hindu deities. Moreover, Hindu families go at least once a year to the Sanctuary in Fátima (about 120 km north of Lisbon), both in large group excursions or in family journeys. 127

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The cult of Our Lady of Fátima arises from the belief in the apparitions of the Virgin Mary in Fátima (a region of central Portugal) during the year of 1917. Devotees believe that three children – three shepherds – had six visions of the Virgin, who gave them a message of peace at the time of World War I, asking them to pray the rosary for world peace and for the conversion of the sinners. The last apparition resulted in what was called the “miracle of the sun,” to which about fifty thousand people attended, and that had been promised to the children by the Virgin in the previous apparitions. In these apparitions she asked the three children to build a chapel in her honour. This place later became the current Sanctuary of Fátima, which includes besides this original chapel – the chapel of the apparitions – two basilicas. It soon became a centre of pilgrimage, receiving visitors from all over the world – not exclusively Catholics – and nowadays is a major centre of international religious tourism. One of the great connections between popular religion and the Catholic Church is the cult of the saints and the cult of the Virgin Mary. In Portugal, a multiplicity of chapels in honour of Our Lady have proliferated, with the most varied names, often erected on the top of hills. Being the Portuguese popular religion founded on the image of the mother (Espírito Santo 1990: 16), the proximity to the cult of Mary is privileged, which is shown in the relevance of the devotion to Our Lady of Fátima in the practice of popular Christianity in Portugal. As Fortuna and Ferreira refer: “curses and graces, blessings and vows, together with other verbal expressions such as ‘asking,’ ‘praying,’ or ‘giving thanks’” (Fortuna and Ferreira 1993: 76) are the main elements that accompany the pilgrimage to Fátima. Fátima is known for the promises performed by the devotees, who make requests to the Virgin Mary. In thanking for the graces granted, the pilgrims make offers (money, candles) and sacrifices, the most emblematic being the pilgrimage on foot to the Sanctuary or the kneeling circumambulation of the enclosure. The same logic of request and return is invoked by the pujari of Siva Temple in Portugal, when asked about Fátima devotion: We live in Portugal. If we can convey the way for love are the sacred books and the Sanatana Dharma. The message of Fátima is also of love, of affection. That is why we are going on a pilgrimage to Fátima. That is why nowadays, we go in yatra to Fátima, praying and singing religious chants. There, near Fátima, we pray. Our prayers are always rewarded. That is why I appeal to all those who live in Portugal – whether of any religion – who pray with great faith to Fátima to be rewarded. (Chandresh Sastriji, July 2017) The universalist character of the pilgrimage (Turner and Turner 1978: xxix) allows us to find some continuities between the practices of popular 128

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Catholicism and Hinduism. Thus, this sharing of elements can be two fold, in the Portuguese Hindus’ perspective on Fátima: Fátima as Mother Goddess and Fátima as sacred ground, tirtha.4 Let us consider the following observations: For us, to come here, to this country, in Europe. . . . We Hindus have a quality in us that is to respect religion. When you go to India, you go to the temples, right? And you have your belief in something, your family and friends will tell you: ‘This is a great Mandir and is quite famous,’ Fátima is a worldwide phenomenon, because everyone from all over the world goes to Fátima. We have to do yatra, you know . . . a pilgrimage. There are very sacred sites. For us, going to Fátima is like a pilgrimage. We can not go to India regularly; so, we can go to Fátima. It is a very sacred place [the most important place] is near the chapel [of the apparitions]. (female, 44 years old, March 2018) We see from earlier how the ritual mechanisms typical of the Fátima Sanctuary show the sharing of certain elements, common to the practice of the popular Catholic and Hindu religions. Let us now detain on the centrality of these two elements: Fátima is both the name of a popular saint and the name of a pilgrimage town, so Fátima is considered as a mother (goddess) and a sacred place (tirtha). Further, we will continue to observe the process of acquisition of faith in Fátima and how the mechanism of promise, typical of Portuguese popular Catholicism, is easily adopted by the Hindu believer: The Hindus who come here to Portugal: it is always said to them that they must believe in it [Fátima], with her, things go well, for it is quite sacred and that is how you know it – begins with the in-laws, now our children – is something that is put into our minds. And we began to believe her as our goddess. We all have a Fátima at home, and we believe in it. I believe her so much! (female, 44 years old, March 2018) There is one last observation that allows us to confirm a strong connection between the two belief systems, Hinduism and Catholicism: the popular belief in Fátima as a saint. Despite the canons of the Catholic Church, according to which believers should not “ask” directly to Our Lady, but rather require her to intercede with her son, Jesus, Fátima acquires an autonomous status, close to the associated maternal archetypes of the ancient cult of the great goddess that Mary seems to replace (Espírito Santo 1990: 101). The believers, Catholics and Hindus, ask directly to Fátima, as a saint and as a divine mother, to fulfil their requests. This fact leads us to understand with relative ease the proximity to the worship of the Hindu mother goddess, 129

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remarking, therefore, the synthesis between Fátima and the Hindu mother goddess.

Public consumption of Fátima by Hindus According to Turner and Turner “at the heart of the pilgrimage is the folk, the ordinary people who choose a ‘materialist’ expression of their religion” (Turner and Turner 1978: xiii). Thus, material culture is inseparable from Hindu devotion to Fátima. Statues of Our Lady of Fátima are converted into murtis and they can be seen in domestic Hindu temples. Our ethnographic data shows that statues of Fátima are not only found in domestic Hindu temples in Portugal, but also in other contexts with which this population establish ties. Hence, the same phenomenon was observed in Diu, India, as well as in the United Kingdom and in Mozambique. Advantage is often taken on trips between the various poles of the diaspora to purchase representations of Our Lady of Fátima in varying sizes, preferably bought in Fátima, but also from shops selling Portuguese products in either Portugal or the United Kingdom. Fátima items constitute highly valued offers to distant relatives. During our ethnographic fieldwork, we noticed over the years that families and sometimes large groups of 30 to 50 people go to the Fátima Sanctuary to worship Our Lady of Fátima at its original place. Along with other devotees, they purchase candles in various sizes to offer a permanent flame (see Figure 7.1) and they drink the water from the fountain in the Sanctuary. Worshippers take the opportunity to walk around and buy souvenirs (see Figure 7.2); the most important souvenirs are the Lady of Fátima representations and also the water from the Sanctuary. Material culture is a central axis through which communities construct, reconstruct, and reproduce their identity references, often associated with symbolic objects of extreme relevance (Miller 1998, 2005, 2009). The relationship between migratory processes and material culture is clear, and the movement of populations according to the most diverse circumstances is inevitably associated with issues of materiality. Basu and Coleman (2008), analysing how migrant worlds constitute fragile and fragmented sets of immaterial and material resources, demonstrated how transnational mobility affects the symbolic value of travel objects, and how they can also assume different values in migration processes: renegotiation, agency, and ambiguity (Basu and Coleman 2008: 326). Along with the process of identity maintenance through certain symbolic objects despite the length of time diasporic groups live away from “home,” in the Indian diaspora market (Gowricharn 2017), there are inevitable appropriations of cultural and religious elements. The processes of adaptation to the host societies sometimes lead to changes. As Williams demonstrated (1992), the strategies of adaptation 130

Figure 7.1 Devotee places a candle as a permanent flame. Fátima, Portugal (September 2004) Source: Author’s own collection

Figure 7.2 Souvenir shops. Fátima, Portugal (September 2017) Source: Krishna Carsane

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to the host societies developed by the Hindus in the US were characterised by an adjustment of religious beliefs and practices. These phenomena, however, are often visible in the transformations of Hinduism itself, such as the adoption of pan-Hindu perspectives, for instance the adoption of the Bhagavad-gita as a central text, or discourses around the universalist notion of Sanatana Dharma. These are examples of what Williams called the “ecumenical strategy” (1992). The case presented here, however, refers to an adoption of a Catholic cult – with specifics of popular Portuguese Catholicism – into Hindu practices, such as the daily cult and the pilgrimage (yatra). It is in this sense that Our Lady of Fátima is included in the temples and in the pantheon of the Portuguese Hindus. The links between the diaspora and this consumption and transaction of Our Lady of Fátima representations are easy to find. On the one hand these items are, as other items – such as Hindu deities’ representations and national specific food items – part of the material culture that the Hindu diaspora displays (Rosales 2010). The United Kingdom and India provide cloth and Hindu deities representations to the other poles, Mozambique and Portugal. Mozambique is known for specific food items such as cooked peanuts, raw cashews, and material culture (Capulana cloths, ivory crafts, among other). Portugal is known for Our Lady of Fátima items. Before the year 2000, there were more specific items from each of these countries, but after that, when the open market gained a new impetus, the national specific items transacted between families in different diaspora countries became less in quantity. Our Lady of Fátima representations and other Fátima souvenirs are typical gifts to offer from Portugal to other countries where Portuguese Hindu relatives live. Fátima enters the circuit of religious Hindu consumption, necessarily ethnic, in the sense presented by Gowricharn (2017), despite the traditional taste, local influences of the host society lead to specific religious consumption. Pilgrimages to Fátima Sanctuary deserve further attention. As is known by many scholars, and as we also witnessed in the field, excursions are very common among Hindu families. It is part of the religious life, to make religious journeys – yatras. It is virtually impossible to avoid the parallel between yatra and the Fátima pilgrimage. Moreover, the value attributed to the pope is significant, especially if the pope visits the Fátima Sanctuary (the HinduGujarati population in Portugal has known three popes since the 1980s). While visiting the other poles of the diaspora, Portuguese Hindus go to the existing sacred places. In our fieldwork stays in India, Mozambique, and the UK, we observed the regular journeys made to sacred places. Not only Hindu temples and specific shrines, but also specific temples with a Hindu (or panHindu) influence, such as the Swaminarayan Temple in Wembley, and the Skanda Valley in Wales, a religious complex run by English (non-Asian) priests. This is the possible yatra in the UK for Portuguese Hindu-Gujaratis. In India, families take the opportunity of making a few days’ journey to 132

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visit main Hindu temples in Gujarat, where a passage in the Virpur Hindu Temple complex is obligatory, as well as in the neighbor state of Maharashtra, to Sirdhi Sai Baba Temple. In Portugal, Hindu families commonly go to one single temple in their daily lives, but go to the three existing temples for larger ceremonies. And what is also common is to visit the Fátima Sanctuary. They go there to pray for their relatives, and they bring their transnational relatives to the Sanctuary when they visit Portugal – even if the visit lasts a couple of days, a visit to Fátima Sanctuary is felt as obligatory. This phenomenon which we are including in the yatra concept can be seen as part of the Portuguese “integration” process but should not be thought of as a conversion to the Portuguese cultural patterns. Other authors alert for this pitfall: “Fátima can thus be incorporated into the daily lives of Portuguese-speaking Hindus, without requiring a reorganisation or transformation of the referential symbolic organisers of her non-Catholic devotees” (Bastos 2005: 192). Nevertheless, the adoption of Our Lady of Fátima as a manifestation of the Hindu mother goddess is certainly the most emblematic example of Hinduism’s adaptation process to the Portuguese society, and this adaptation found in ritual practices suggest the flexibility of Hinduism that is clearer in a diaspora situation. What follows is a fieldnote description of one of these pilgrimages: Today is amas, the last day of the month Sravan, the most auspicious month of the Hindu calendar, and it is also the day chosen for a pilgrimage – yatra – to Fátima. The departure begins with lives to the gods and Our Lady of Fátima: ‘Jay Ambe ma! Jay Mataji! Jay Fátima mataji!’ When we arrive at Fátima one of the pilgrims announces to the bus microphone that it is time to do ‘Fátima darshan.’5 The first step is to go and buy candles. M. looks for a place that sells wax body parts to fulfil a promise she made. After throwing the candles into the fire, the flames rise. Then they buy holy water, along with many images of Fátima, and after that everyone wants to drink water from a drinking fountain. (Fieldnotes, September 7th, 2002) From this passage, it’s clear that Hindu devotees adopt elements of Portuguese popular religiosity associated with Fátima (candles, promises, holy water), while developing a process of Hinduization of these Catholic practices. The flames that emanate from the place where the candle is placed are a manifestation of Agni (sacred fire, the Vedic fire god of Hinduism). By the same token, water, one of the central elements of Hindu ritual practice, must be consumed. The referred fountain, which for devout Catholics only serves to quench their thirst, is for the Hindus a source of what is considered sacred water, because it comes from an equally sacred place. Another 133

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passage from a family visit to the Sanctuary, also illustrates the type of steps given during a visit: We arrived at Fátima by 10.30h. . . . I went with C. to buy a full body wax doll (1f. tall), which N., her mother, wanted to give as a promise. We went to buy candles. Presently you can only buy one candle per person. The full body or parts of body are left in another area. After the candle burning, we went to the water fountain to drink water and C. also filled a bottle. Following the example of other devotees, N. knelt and gave seven steps in this body position. After that, we went to the shopping area. (Fieldnotes, June 4th, 2007) In a recent organised excursion (September 2017) by bus, the same steps were taken by the devotees: almost everybody bought candles and artificial body parts made of wax (feet, heads, intestines, for example) to be healed by the Virgin; went to the merchandising area to buy souvenirs; gathered in the fountain to drink water and fill bottles; visited the rest of the Sanctuary; gathered in the end for a final picnic. In sum, there is a religious aspect to be interpreted, but these journeys are also leisure ones, where one takes time to have a different day and to be with relatives and friends. The devotion of Fátima can be understood by the scope of the adaptation process to the Portuguese context, and goes further than those described in other contexts of the Hindu diaspora, studied by authors like Williams (1992) or Hinnels (1997, 2000).6 We found in the field frequent translations of Hindu terms from Gujarati into Portuguese, such as padre (priest) for pujari or sashtriji, or igreja (church) for temple; ideas are culturally translated and manifested in expressions such as We also have many of Our Ladies: Our Lady Of heaven, Our Lady of the sea . . . this [I am talking about] was Our Lady of destiny, the goddess of destiny, Vidhati, who writes our destiny with a hand behind her back. (Fieldnotes, May 28, 2002) or “I asked for the help of the santinha” (diminutive of saint, in the feminine), referring to both the goddess and Our Lady of Fátima. These adaptations and translations result in hybridizations, due to the contact with the Portuguese society, whose popular religiosity where Portuguese Hindus found affinities were adopted and transformed through a process of the Hinduization of a Catholic cult, in common practices of popular Hinduism. We could also mention the inclusion of the image of Jesus Christ, crucifixes, or various Catholic saints in Hindu domestic temples. However, the example of Fátima is more emblematic since it presents elements that go 134

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beyond the inclusion of new gods in the pantheon and relates to devotional and ritual practice itself. Ethnography gives us more details. The pilgrimage described earlier was complemented by a stop, back to Lisbon, on a beach where devotees bathed in the sea, considered purifying, and performed different rituals on the beach, which included the use of coconuts, incense, and flowers and ending with religious chants (see Figure 7.3). Moreover, the majority of the organised excursions to Fátima that we attended were complemented with this kind of stop at a beach site. Diasporic Hinduism comprises different adaptations, according to each country’s cultural characteristics. In Portugal, popular Catholicism is a strong reference to Hindus, who adopt some elements appropriating them to their Hindu practices. The cult of the Virgin evidences show some parallels with the cult of Durga and the great goddess; as with Mother Mary, Durga is both a virgin and mother. This central concept is pivotal in the devotion to whom they consider to be their divine mother as well. In this context, other matches can be drawn: water and fire – central elements of the Hindu cult – from Fátima are venerated: water from the various taps distributed in the Sanctuary enclosure are considered part of sacred Ganga River, and fire from the pyre is worshiped as Agni, the vedic God of fire; the pilgrimage is taken as a yatra, with Fátima considered a tirtha, a sacred location. In this process, spiritual concepts connected to India’s territory are transferred to Portugal. This territorial transposition of holy sites goes along with transnationalization of Hinduism. In fact, in the pilgrimage to Fátima, the incorporation of a passage by the sea coast to perform a ritual of worship to Ganga, which includes a sea bath, reinforces this idea of transnational and trans-continental migration of Hindu practices. At the same time, parallels are constructed among Christian and Hindu practices; new ritual elements are incorporated in cults like the promises that consist of burning wax body parts in exchange for the healing of the corresponding body part that is practiced in Fátima. In sum, these are also the specificities of the Hindu diaspora in Portugal, a common phenomenon that evokes the religious nuances and variations (Oonk 2007), which are often omitted by the unifying versions of the diaspora concept.

Final remarks In this chapter we presented a branch of the Hindu-Gujarati diaspora, which has a strong attachment to Portugal. They are known as the Portuguese Hindu-Gujaratis because of their national identity and their history related with the former Portuguese colonies in Mozambique and in India. With no certainty about its origin, most Hindu Portuguese families are also devotees to Our Lady of Fátima. This Mother Mary’s representation may be found in virtually every Hindu home. The devotion is extended to a public domain through organised excursions to Our Lady of Fátima 135

Figure 7.3 Ritual on the beach. São Martinho do Porto, Portugal (September 2004). Source: Author’s own collection

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Sanctuary. Although contributing to the reproduction of a common taste of the Hindu diaspora spread throughout the world, the ethnographic case presented here reveals specificities influenced by local cultural, religious, and consumption practices, contributing to the degree of internal diversity of each diaspora. The long contact with the Portuguese society makes the hybridization process plural in cultural practices. On the public level, the devotion to Our Lady of Fátima by Portuguese Hindu-Gujarati population may also be related with the smallness of the Hindu religious landscape in Great Lisbon, compared with the Great London or Leicester. This fact does not necessarily increase the detachment from India, it only broadens the range of religious practices as well as reveals the flexibility of Hinduism and Hindu practices and beliefs. On the private level, Our Lady of Fátima devotion can be found in virtually every domestic shrine, either in Lisbon, London, Leicester, Maputo, or Diu, provided that Portuguese family ties exist. The hybridization process of this vivid population we presented through ethnographic impressions shows that the inclusion of other religions practices does not mean that the “home” religion is disregarded. Instead, Fátima is integrated in the Hindu Pantheon and her powers are believed to be similar to those of the Hindu maternal goddesses. This ethnographic analysis sought to illustrate the coexistence between hybridization – represented by the adoption of Fátima as a Hindu deity – and bonding strategies with the homeland. In fact, the “journey” of the Virgin of Fátima’s statues to the places of origin of these Hindus, in Gujarat, is a reflection not only of the incorporation of Portuguese cultural and religious elements in their lived religious culture, but also of the impact of this adaptation in their places of origin. The “complexities and contradictions of the South Asian diasporic experience” (Van der Veer 1995) are present in the discussed subject of Hindu cult of Our Lady of Fátima in Portugal. As the quoted author demonstrated, it was the different and divergent historical backgrounds that contributed to the fragmented nature of this population and to complicate the use of South Asian diaspora as a transparent category as well (idem). Thus, the dynamics around Our Lady of Fátima devotion continue to challenge dominant views about the Hindu diaspora through perspectives that allow us to observe Indian diasporas, as Oonk (2007: 24) suggested, “with an eye for nuance and variation.”

Notes 1 A summary of the history of South Asians in Portugal: Goans came during the dictatorship (1933–1974), mostly to study in the Portuguese universities; Gujarati from diverse religious creeds came from Mozambique, a Portuguese colonial country (until 1975) in the late 1970s and early 1980s; other Indians came in the late 1990s; South Asians came sparsely from the early 2000s onward, profiting from the Schengen space.

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2 The year of 1961 marks the end of the Portuguese rule in Diu, Daman, and Goa. After centuries of colonization, and 14 years after India’s independence from the British colonial rule, these territories were annexed by the Indian Union in 1961. 3 The authors dedicated their researches to diverse aspects of transnationality among Portuguese Hindu-Gujaratis (Lourenço 2010, 2011, 2013; Cachado 2011, 2012, 2014; Lourenço and Cachado 2012, 2018). 4 Spiritual concept of a sacred location associated to a pilgrimage site, which means a holy junction that can be physical such as a junction of rivers, or symbolic, evocating the junction of earthly and divine worlds. 5 Darshan means looking and receiving the divinity’s gaze. This exchange of looks implies a deep relationship between the deity and the devotee resulting in blessings received by the devotee, such as well-being and prosperity. 6 Diaspora Hinduism has been characterised as a changing religion as a consequence of adaptations to the new social contexts, included in a process of transformation called “new Hinduism” (Eck 2000), “American Hinduism” (Eck 2000; Kurien 1998), “British Hinduism” (Knott 1986: 58) or “Ecumenical Hinduism” (Williams 1996: 238). The change in worship and ritual is expressed more clearly in some contexts, as is the Canadian case, in the preponderance of the guru’s role, which has replaced the ritual and devotional variety of Hinduism, simplifying it and concentrating on the figure of the guru and his spiritual doctrines (Coward et al. 2000; Williams 1992). In the United Kingdom, the new meanings of Hindu ritual are characterised by changes in performance times and the roles of specialists (Knott 1986, 1987). The search for new answers to external pressures led to the transformation of the ritual, in order to preserve the religious tradition and to adapt it to the aspects of the new surrounding cultural context, considered essential for the vitality of any religion (Venkatachari 1996: 198). Likewise, the inclusion of new holidays in the religious calendar, the adaptations made to the lunar calendar (so that the celebrations conform to the times and the western calendar) and the transformation of the festivities according to the conveniences of the communities, characterize the religious life of the Hindu communities scattered throughout the world.

References Ávila, Patrícia and Mariana Alves. 1993. ‘Da Índia a Portugal – trajectórias sociais e estratégias colectivas dos comerciantes indianos’, Sociologia – Problemas e Práticas, 13: 115–133. Basch, L., N.G. Schiller and C.S. Blanc. 1994. Nations Unbound: Transnational Projects: Post-Colonial Predicaments and Deterritorialised Nation-States. Basel: Gordon and Breach Publishers. Bastos, Susana Trovão Pereira. 1990. A comunidade hindu da Quinta da Holandesa. Um estudo antropológico sobre organização socio-espacial da casa. Lisboa: LNEC. Bastos, Susana Trovão Pereira. 2005. ‘Our Colonizers Were Better Than Yours: Identity Debates in Greater London’, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 31: 79–98. Bastos, Susana Trovão Pereira and José Bastos. 2001. De Moçambique a Portugal: Reinterpretações Identitárias do Hinduísmo em Viagem. Lisboa: Fundação Oriente. Basu, Paul and Simon Coleman. 2008. ‘Introduction: Migrant Worlds, Material Cultures’, Mobilities, 3(3): 313–330.

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Burgess, R. 1984. In the Field: An Introduction to Field Research. London/New York: Routledge. Cachado, Rita. 2011. ‘Samosas and Saris: Informal Economies in the Informal City among Portuguese Hindu Families’, Urban Anthropology Studies, 40(3, 4): 417–444. Cachado, Rita. 2012. ‘Transnacionalidade e História de Vida. Uma mulher Hindu de regresso a Maputo’, Cadernos de Estudos Africanos, 24: 141–163. Cachado, Rita. 2014. ‘Locating Portuguese Hindus: Transnationality in Urban Settings’, Sociologia Problemas e Práticas, 76: 109–124. Chacko, E. and R. Menon. 2011. ‘Longings and Belongings: Indian American Youth Identity, Folk Dance Competitions, and the Construction of “Tradition”’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 36(1): 97–116. Coward, H., J. Hinnels and Raymond Williams (eds.). 2000. The South Asian Religious Diaspora in Britain, Canada, and the United States. New York: State University of New York Press. Dias, N. 2016. Remigração e Etnicidade: Trânsito Colonial entre a África de Leste e a Europa. Lisbon: Mundos Sociais. Drissel, David. 2011. ‘Hybridizing Hip-Hop in Diaspora: Young British South Asian Men Negotiating Black-Inflected Identities’, The International Journal of Diversity in Organizations, Communities, and Nations: Annual Review, 10(5): 199–222. Eck, Diana. 2000. ‘Negotiating Hindu Identities in America’, in Harold Coward, John Hinnels and Raymond Williams (eds.), The South Asian Diaspora in Britain, Canada and the United States, pp. 219–237. New York: Sate University of New York Press. Eisenlohr, P. 2006. Little India: Diaspora, Time, and Ethnolinguistic Belonging. Berkeley: University of California Press. Espírito Santo, M. 1990. A Religião Popular Portuguesa. Lisboa: Assírio and Alvim. Foote-Whyte, W. 1981 [1943]. Street Corner Society: The Social Structure of an Italian Slum, 3rd edition, Revised and Expanded, pp. 300–367. Chicago/London: The University of Chicago Press. Fortuna, Carlos and Claudino Ferreira. 1993. ‘Estradas e Santuários: Percurso sócioreligioso e motivações dos peregrinos-caminhantes a Fátima’, Revista Crítica de Ciências Sociais, 36: 55–79. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2017. ‘Practices in Taste Maintenance: The Case of Indian Diaspora Markets’, Journal of Consumer Culture, DOI: 10.1177/1469540517717784. Hinnells, John R. 1997. ‘Comparative Reflexions on South Asian Religion in International Migration’, in John Hinnells (ed.), A New Handbook of Living Religions, pp. 819–147. Oxford, Cambridge, Mas.: Blackwell. John, Allen and Orna R. Johnson. 1990. ‘Quality into Quantity: On the Measurement Potential of Ethnographic Fieldnotes’, in Roger Sanjek (ed.), Fieldnotes: The Makings of Anthropology, pp. 161–186. Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press. Knott, Kim. 1986. Hinduism in Leeds: A Study of Religious Practice in the Indian Hindu Community and Hindu-Related Groups. Leeds: Monograph Series, Community Religious Project/University of Leeds. Knott, Kim. 1987. ‘Hindu Temple Rituals in Britain: Reinterpretation of Tradition’, in Richard Burghart (ed.), Hinduism in Great Britain: The Perpetuation of Religion in an Alien Cultural Milieu, pp. 157–179. London/New York: Tavistock Publications.

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Kurien, Prema. 1998. ‘Becoming American by Becoming Hindu: Indian Americans Take Their Place at the Multicultural Table’, in Stephen Warner and Judith Wittner (eds.), Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration, pp. 37–70. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Lourenço, Inês. 2010. ‘Anthropological Perspectives on Female Identity: The Hindu Diaspora in Portugal’, International Social Sciences Journal Collection, 5: 43–52. Lourenço, Inês. 2011. ‘Religion and Gender: The Hindu Diaspora in Portugal’, South Asian Diaspora, 3(1): 37–51. Lourenço, Inês. 2013. ‘From Goans to Gujaratis: A Study of the Indian Community in Portugal’, CARIM-India Research Report, Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies. European University Institute. Lourenço, Inês and Rita Cachado. 2012. ‘Hindu Transnational Families: Transformation and Continuity in Diaspora Families’, Journal of Comparative Family Studies, 43(1): 53–70. Lourenço, Inês and Rita Cachado. 2018. ‘The Role of Diu in the Hindu-Gujarati Diaspora in Portugal’, South Asian Studies, 34(1): 47–56. Malheiros, J.M. 1996. Imigrantes na região de Lisboa: os anos da mudança. Imigração e processo de integração das comunidades de origem indiana. Lisbon: Colibri. Manian, Sabita and Brad Bullock. 2016. ‘Sensing Hinduism: Lucian-Indian Funeral “Feast” as Glocalized Ritual’, Religions, 7(1): 8, DOI: 10.3390/rel7010008. Marcus, George E. 1995. ‘Ethnography in/of the World System: The Emergence of Multi-Sited Ethnography’, Annual Review of Anthropology, 24: 95–117. Miller, Daniel. 1998. ‘Why Some Things Matter’, in Daniel Miller (ed.), Material Cultures. London: UCL Press/University of Chicago Press. Miller, Daniel (ed.). 2005. Materiality. Durham: Duke University Press. Miller, Daniel (ed.). 2009. Anthropology and the Individual: A Material Culture Perspective. Oxford: Berg. Mishra, V. 2005. The Diasporic Imaginary and the Indian Diaspora. Wellington: Asian Studies Institute, Victoria University of Wellington. Monteiro, L. 2007. Ser mãe Hindu. Práticas e Rituais Relativos à Maternidade e aos Cuidados à Criança na Cultura Hindu em Contexto de Imigração. Lisbon: ACIDI. Oonk, Gijbert. 2007. ‘Introduction’, in Gijsbert Oonk (ed.), Global Indian Diasporas: Exploring Trajectories of Migration and Theory, pp. 9–30. Amsterdam: IIAS/ Amsterdam University Press. Peach, Ceri and Richard Gale. 2002. ‘Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs in the New Religious Landscape of England’, Geographical Review, 93(4): 469–490. Perez, R.M. 2011. The Tulsi and the Cross: Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter in Goa, 2nd edition. ISBN: 9788192304601. New Delhi: Orient Blackswan. Persaud, P.K. 2013. Hyphenated Hindus: A Study of the Relationship between the Formation of a Indo-Caribbean Hindu Identity and the Development of the West Indian Temple in Trinidad and in the United States. MA Thesis, Syracuse University. Rosales, Marta. 2010. ‘O Verdadeiro Caril Moçambicano. Transnacionalismo, quotidianos e materialidades goesas na África colonial’, in Susana Trovão and Marta Rosales (eds.), Das Índias: gentes, movimentos e pertenças transnacionais, pp. 59–80. Lisboa: Edições Colibri. Roxo, Pedro. 2010. ‘Negotiating Identity through Expressive Culture: HinduGujarati Portuguese in Mozambique, Portugal and England’, in Susana Trovão

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and Marta Vilar Rosales (eds.), Das Índias. Gentes, movimentos e pertenças transnacionais, pp. 169–206. Lisboa: Edições Colibri. Roy, Anjali Gera. 2013. ‘Black Beats with a Punjabi Twist’, Popular Music, 32: 241–257. Sanjek, R. 1990. Fieldnotes: The Makings of Anthropology. Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press. Schiller, Nina Glick and Aise Çaglar. 2011. ‘Locality and Globality: Building a Comparative Analytical Framework in Migration and Urban Studies’, in Nina Glick Schiller and Aise Çaglar (eds.), Locating Migration: Rescaling Cities and Migrants, pp. 60–81. Ithaca/London: Cornell University Press. Seabra, T. 2010. Adaptação e Adversidade. O desempenho escolar dos alunos de origem indiana e cabo-verdiana no ensino básico. Lisboa: Imprensa de Ciências Sociais. Turner, V. and E. Turner. 1978. Image of Pilgrimage in Christian Culture. New York: Columbia University Press. Van der Veer, Peter. 1995. ‘Introduction: The Diasporic Imagination’, in Peter Van der Veer (ed.), Nation and Migration: The Politics of Space in the South Asian Diaspora, pp. 1–16. USA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Venkatachari, K.K.A. 1996. ‘Transmission and Transformation of Ritual’, in Raymond Williams (ed.), A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission of Hindu Traditions in India and Abroad. New York: Columbia University Press. Williams, Raymond. 1996 [1992]. ‘Sacred Threads of Several Textures: Strategies of Adaptation in the United States’, in Raymond Williams (ed.), A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission of Hindu Traditions in India and Abroad. New York: Columbia University Press.

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8 THE INFRASTRUCTURE OF GLOCALISATION Ruben Gowricharn

Introduction The Indian diaspora consists of several types of overseas communities, including first and later generation Indians in Western societies, specifically the US, Canada, and UK societies, and Australia; older communities in Asian societies such as Singapore, Bangladesh, and Pakistan; and communities in Africa, the Pacific Ocean, and the Caribbean. These communities differ, depending on the Indian region or community of origin they departed from, the historical period in which they migrated, the social and cultural capital they possessed, the society in which they settled down, the opportunities they were provided with in the host land, as well as the contact they maintained with homeland India. Consequently, the communities acculturated and hybridised in different degrees, some of which were assimilated in the culture of the host society as in the case of Jamaica and some Caribbean French colonies (Shepherd 1993; Clarke et al. 1990). In most societies, however, the Indian immigrants manage to form distinct ethnic groups and maintained contact with the (ancestral) homeland (Clarke et al. 1990; Lal et al. 2006; Jayaram 2011). How is this bonding in the diaspora accounted for? The question is hardly raised. Many authors take for granted that after migration, a bond between the migrated community and the homeland persists. In this perspective, Indian migrants have formed ethnic groups, will have some connections with India, “renew” their culture, adjust their institutions, and share their identity with the (former) motherland. Granted the formation of an ethnic community and a desire to maintain cultural identity by keeping in touch with homeland India, the bonding requires an infrastructure that enables the adoption and adjustment of a globalised Indian culture known as glocalisation (Robertson 1992, 2012). Glocalisation refers to the receiving side of globalisation. It accounts for similarities in Indian culture across diaspora communities, notably ethnic institutions such as religion, “traditional” families, taste (including food, dress, music, and songs), public festivals, and so forth, despite local adjustment (Gowricharn 2019a). 142

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Glocalisation requires an infrastructure to adjust and incorporate globalised commodities and services into daily life. This infrastructure is composed of several institutions, ethnic and physical as well as digital. The ethnic institutions require a complementary physical infrastructure that enables the institutions to function. Think of an Indian food corner somewhere in a major Western city that most often serves as a transnational hub (Mankekar 2002). Most ethnic institutions these days also depend on Information and Communication technology, especially those with transnational ramifications (Gowricharn and Elahi 2018). That is to say, without a building and IC-technology, it will be difficult for present day ethnic institutions of diaspora communities to function appropriately. The importance of an ethnic institutional infrastructure, supported by physical and digital infrastructures, has largely been neglected in the literature on glocalisation, and specifically in the reflections of the bonding of diasporas. While it may be obvious that many institutions are part of an encompassing infrastructural system, this chapter does not deal with the physical and digital infrastructure. Rather, it will presuppose these components when discussing the ethnic infrastructure facilitating glocalisation. Referring again to the example of the food corner, it is not the building that matters for the demand for food, but the demand exerted by the community. The shop entrenched in the building and supported by a network of suppliers only provides the ethnic community with Indian food stuff and selected needs (Mankekar 2002). Considering the diversity of ethnic communities across the Indian diaspora, variations in bonding are inevitable. Consequently, for the adoption and adjustment of a globalised culture, the ethnic institutional infrastructure is expected to differ. This chapter argues that the persistence of the diaspora bonding cannot be explained solely by referring to shared identity; it needs to be accounted for how this identity persists and has remained largely similar across diaspora communities. Nor is it enough to argue that homeland India caters in the identity needs of the diaspora community. That argument begs the question of how the Indian overseas communities “apprehend” Indian culture. Rather, this chapter argues that for the adoption and adjustment of homeland culture, Indian communities overseas require an ethnic institutional infrastructure. This ethnic infrastructure presupposes a prevailing common taste that is exerted in a demand for Indian cultural stuff. The chapter is exploratory since the issue has not been raised before. The argument is based on a case study consisting of the practices of the Surinamese and Dutch Hindustani communities. The next section discusses the concept of institutional infrastructure and how it relates to glocalisation and ethnic institutions. Next, I briefly outline the research population, the Surinamese and Dutch Hindustanis, followed by some remarks about methodology and data. I proceed with highlighting how ethnic institutions in Suriname and the Netherlands are entangled with 143

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the Indian diaspora and conclude by pointing at some directions of further research.

The ethnic institutional infrastructure The concept of infrastructure suggests something abstracted from concrete objects, while representing a structure. The concept is most often used in economics to denote physical objects such as roads, bridges, buildings, ports, and airports. The ensemble of these objects makes up the infrastructure. The concept is differentiated along the lines of hard and soft infrastructure, the latter including skilled manpower, appropriate legal systems, healthcare systems, and the like. In economics, the soft infrastructure is often referred to as institutions. Similar usages of soft infrastructure are increasingly encountered in studies on the Indian diaspora (Hedge and Sahoo 2018; Kapur 2010). Regarding ethnic groups, their institutions represent a structure that makes up the ethnic infrastructure of the community, similar to hard infrastructure that consists of a series of physical objects. In addition, ethnic institutions, be it radio, television, or a bazaar, require modern infrastructures such as digital networks. Without these means it would be difficult, if not impossible, to order and sell culturally specific commodities such as dresses, music, and movies (Gowricharn 2017, 2019a). Despite its popularity in the social sciences, the concept of institutions remains fuzzy since it comprises a wide variety of organisations. It includes tax administrations, schools, temples, markets, television stations, legal systems, and the like. There is no consensus about its precise meaning (cf. Berger and Luckmann 1966; Douglas 1987; Abrutyn 2014). Institutions feature as a complex web of durable and integrated social roles that generate social bonding, are regulated by habits, conventions and rules, and have a compelling behavioural impact on individuals. To make sense of the concept, it has been argued that this fuzziness can be overcome by specifying the institution under consideration (Haack 1996). In this context, Barley and Tolbert (1997, p. 98) view institutions as scripts which they define as “observable, recurrent activities and patterns of interaction characteristic of a particular setting.” This is a useful steppingstone. Scripts are a context-specific, eventbased, well-known behaviour in social situations such as dancing, shopping, or praying. Scripts consist of a sequence of expected behaviour in a particular context, including specific verbal and non-verbal behaviour that an individual has internalised. Every institution is specific and has its own “scripted” behaviour, hence scripts specify institutional behaviour. The concept of scripts is most helpful to specify institutions since it refers to institutional behaviour as “recurrent activities and patterns of interaction.” This proposition also applies to institutions that are internal to the ethnic group, notably language, religion, preparation of food, dress, dancing styles, family patterns, and social conduct. However, these institutions may 144

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differ across Indian diaspora communities due to local circumstances. In this context, Cornell and Hartmann (2007) suggested a qualitative distinction between thick and thin ethnicity, which may be paraphrased to thick and thin institution. The first may refer to preserved institutions or institutions of which the salience has increased. The second refers to institutions of which the recurrent behaviour had been eroded to some degree and consequently the bonding it used to generate. That thinness may be brought about by acculturation or demographic and economic growth, resettlement after migration or social emancipation. An institutional focus on ethnic groups is underrepresented in the scholarly literature, as most studies deal with the relation between the group and the host society (i.e. Alba and Nee 2003). As a result, and disregarding studies on specific topics such as religion and language, the focus on internal institutional changes of ethnic groups has escaped scholarly attention. For example, the first-generation Indian immigrants may have been pious, while second and later generations may practice their religion causally or symbolically. This symbolic ethnicity (Gans 1979) reflects the changing emotional and social strength of the institution in question. From this perspective, it has hardly been reflected on that “traditional” institutions have been supplemented by modern institutions such as ethnic radio and television, newspapers, community websites, and the internet. These also generate or support ethnically scripted behaviour and therefore represent new segments of the ethnic institutional infrastructure. The concept of ethnicity refers to a group that believe in common ancestral origins, while its members share similar features such as race, customs, and immigration (Cornell and Hartmann 2007). This description is rather general as the believes also materializes in actual identification and bonding. The specificity of ethnic bonding is most eloquent voiced by Fenton in a discussion of the primordial focus on ethnicity: To ‘think out of existence’ primordiality is to somehow turn one’s back on affect, the powerful influence of familiarity and customariness in social life, and the diffuse sense of attachment that flows from circumstances of birth and socialization, use of language and ingrained habits of thought and social practice. (Fenton 2003: 89) Most Indian diaspora communities are ethnic minorities that have been subjected to acculturation in the host society. Even societies where they represent the largest ethnic group, such as Trinidad, Guyana, Suriname, Mauritius, and Fiji, they have creolised significantly (Reddy 2016). Nevertheless, they remained a physically and culturally distinct ethnic group. This is not to say that all Indian diaspora groups are similar. In societies where they have settled relatively recently or where immigration is still going 145

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on, such as the US and Canada, the original Indian home culture has largely been retained. Major indicators of this preserved bond are the language and family ties. However, in some host societies such as those in the southern Caribbean, Indian communities have lost some original traits, for example, language (Mahabir 2013). This observation points at significant nuances when discussing ethnicity: it may vary across similar ethnic groups. It suggests that institutional scripts and the ethnic infrastructure may differ across Indian diaspora groups. Religious rituals, dancing styles, and ethnic food consumption are cases in point. It is unclear whether the diversity and varying degrees of ethnicity are reflected in the entanglement with the Indian diaspora. For the Hindustanis, India, being the ancestral homeland, performs as a “source culture” that is tapped from (Gowricharn 2009). A major precondition for this entanglement consists of the ethnic infrastructure. For example, the adoption of new Indian music genres requires hard infrastructure such as radio and TV stations, internet, and cinemas. Similarly, practicing religion requires religious clergymen who conduct rituals and gathering places being the house, temples, or mosques, and acceptable interpretations of religious conceptions (Younger 2010). Indian communities are also entangled with the Indian diaspora in domains such as fashion, music, language, food, and more broadly in modes of social intercourse, consumption patterns, and lifestyles. The adoption and adjustment of these elements in daily life requires an ethnic infrastructure and is likely to persist as long as India performs as a source culture. This adoption of Indian culture can be accounted for in the concept of glocalisation, a composite of globalisation and localisation (Robertson 1992, 2012). The most popular illustration of the concept is the global dissemination of McDonalds, the food multinational, of which the products are adjusted to local taste. Just compare McDonalds in Delhi with McDonalds in Rotterdam, and it will become crystal clear how much the food repertoire has been adjusted to local taste. Some authors consider glocalisation as a form of global acculturation and convergence (i.e. Cleveland and Laroche 2006), while others emphasise the hybridity rendered by globalisation (Kraidy 2002; Burke 2009). However, without denying these effects, in the context of diaspora, the glocalisation concept primarily refers to the incorporation of homeland culture. It is a transfer of culture that shapes the identity of communities while tying them to the “global community” called diaspora (Hannerz 1996). The entanglement feeds a new kind of hybridity since the current Indian culture is different from the ancestral culture, both in India as well as in diaspora communities. One caveat is in order. Glocalisation presupposes a global hegemonic culture as is the case with the Western culture. Conceptions of democracy, nationalism, individualism, taste, or Hollywood movie culture, for example, are adopted from the US as the source culture (Ritzer 2014). This hegemony is primarily based on military and economic supremacy of a specific 146

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society or ensemble of societies (such as the Western world) and the subsequent dissemination of its culture. The Indian culture may be considered sub-hegemonic since it is limited to a cultural hegemony, restricted to communities that make up the diaspora, and limited to specific domains of life (Gowricharn 2019a). Consequently, the glocalisation of Indian culture as a phenomenon is specific and limited. It is significant for the ethnic communities in the Indian diaspora only in so far as India represents the homeland that caters in the need for ethnic culture. The glocalisation concept is limited in two respects, however. First, it ignores the context of adoption and adjustment. For example, IndoCaribbean communities are rather creolised that compels to an adjustment when adopting Indian culture. The Hindi text in songs is often replaced by a local text, while the melody is adjusted to appeal to a younger generation that is often much more creolised. In some cases, the rhythm is also adjusted for dancing purposes. In many cases the adjustment is inspired to appeal to both Indian and Creole Caribbean communities. Increasingly, the adjustment is driven by nationalist feelings rather than community taste (Ramsaran and Lewis 2018). Similarly, food is blended and prepared differently from practices in India to enable its consumption outside the ethnic group. Put differently, the adjustment of glocalised culture is not restricted to the lived culture of the Indian group but encompasses those of other ethnic groups as well. That goes particularly for music, dancing styles, food, and fashion. The second limitation of the glocalised concept is its neglect for the creation of new culture, even though it may be inspired by Indian culture. A good example is the emergence of a local vernacular in Suriname called Sarnami Hindustani. This community language allegedly originates from a blend of local Indian languages the British Indian indentured labourers took with them. In the concept Sarnami Hindustani, the word Sarnami refers to Suriname, expressing a nationalist identification with the new homeland. It is considered a different language from Indian languages, one of local making. During the genesis, the Hindustani language absorbed Dutch words as well as words from Sranan, the vernacular of the Creoles in Suriname (Gobardhan 2001). In terms of status it is subordinate to Hindi and in terms of usage it is, in its spoken form, restricted to the Hindustani community. A similar creation of local culture – food, dance, fashion, and music are obvious examples – is not captured by the concept of glocalisation as it only refers to sending and adopting parties in the globalisation process. One specific form of cultural flow that falls beyond the focus from sending and receiving countries, and therefore from glocalisation, consists of diaspora tourism to India. Hindustani diaspora tourists are oriented at Bollywood, religion, heritage, culture, medical services, and the search for roots (Gowricharn 2017). These visits immersed the diaspora visitors in Indian culture, an experience that may strengthen the Indian identity. It is not only 147

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the experience that counts. Most importantly is that many diaspora tourists purchased commodities on the Indian market to dress, to organise a wedding, to decorate the house, or to give presents to friends and families. They thus dress up their cultural identity and (re)confirm ethnic relations (Mehta and Belk 1991). This diaspora tourism thus exceeds individual consumption as the purchases are used to foster the visual makeup of the Indian face and strengthen the ethnic cohesion of the community (Gowricharn 2017). The entanglements of Indian diaspora communities assume two forms: daily use of (Indian culture) such as listening to music and having food; and demonstrating Indian identity on special occasions as when the dressing up for weddings. In both cases the Indian culture is part of the lived culture in the community. The concept of lived culture is a paraphrase of “life world” that Alfred Schutz (1974: 3–5) described as “. . . that province of reality which the wideawake and normal adult simply takes for granted in the attitude of common sense.” The life world is taken for granted, obvious, shared, and intersubjective. For glocalisation to be successful and durable, the incorporation of Indian culture in the lived world is decisive. The second form may be incidental, for example, with Bollywood stars or when celebrating annual community festivals. The incorporation of both forms represent the entanglement of the Indian diaspora in the lived world of the community, and is reflected in its Indian identity. Summarising the argument so far: despite a significant ethnic diversity in the Indian diaspora, most communities remained entangled with India. This entanglement occurs via preservation of inherited Indian culture and incorporation of new cultures. Especially the latter implies a local adjustment of globalised culture called glocalisation. Successful glocalisation requires an infrastructure consisting of ethnic institutions that are supported by physical and digital infrastructures. These infrastructures are highly intertwined and enable the adoption and adjustment of the Indian culture in the local setting which comes down to the incorporation of the glocalised culture in the lived culture of the community. The incorporation partly depends on the context including the relations with other ethnic groups. New ethnic cultures may originate such as dancing styles and a language that characterises the ethnic group. That makes the line between the adjusted Indian culture and the newly created local culture quite thin, but they may be conceptually distinct. The background of the Hindustanis This chapter is based on the lived world of two communities in the Dutchspeaking Indian diaspora: one settled in Suriname and the other in the Netherlands. These communities originated from descendants of British Indian indentured labourers who were shipped from 1873–1916 to Suriname for plantation work (De Klerk 1953). Their immigration was meant to replace former black slaves who increasingly left the plantation to work in the expanding gold and balata sectors. The indentured labourers had 148

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the opportunity to renew their contract, or renounce free passage to India in return for a piece of agricultural land. After termination of the contract about two thirds of the labourers chose the option to settle down as peasants in Suriname. Prior to and especially during World War II, war-related employment increased, notably because of the expansion of the physical infrastructure. After the war, the level of welfare kept increasing due to the introduction of development planning financed with Dutch development aid (Adhin 1961). These employment opportunities induced a significant urbanisation of the British Indian peasants to the capital city Paramaribo. The descendants of the British Indians, who were granted the Dutch nationality in 1927, called themselves Hindustanis. This also became the official label to denote them. The Hindustanis reproduced family systems, a community life, religious traditions, and customs, even though many of these elements were modified. The caste system could not be maintained because of the small number of workers on the plantations, which thwarted the reproduction of customs of purity and gender. After WW II, the Hindustanis established a political party, radio and television stations, schools, temples and mosques as well as a vibrant community life. They were a distinct ethnic group vis-a-vis the Creoles, descendants of black slaves and all people mixed with them, and other ethnic groups as the Javanese, Maroons, Chinese, Dutch settlers, Lebanese, and Jews. From the 1970s on they became demographically the largest ethnic group in Suriname . The eve of constitutional independence in 1975 was marked by racial discord between the Hindustani and Creole political parties. Fear for race riots caused a mass migration to the Netherlands where about one third of the population lives at present. In the Netherlands, the Surinamese were accommodated all over the country. Gradually the Hindustanis migrated to the major cities, notably Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Utrecht, and The Hague. As with the Hindustanis in Suriname, the Dutch Hindustanis reproduced their major cultural institutions (Choenni 2014). But unlike in Suriname, the Dutch Hindustanis are a small minority in the Netherlands. Their presence is most visible in city of The Hague that harbours the largest Indian diaspora community on the European continent. Especially on community heydays such as Diwali, Holi, or the celebration of immigration day, the community becomes “visible.” Dutch Hindustanis have a higher level of education, welfare, computer density, and operating skills, a smaller family size, more equal gender relations compared with their co-ethnics in Suriname. The digital and ethnic infrastructure in the Netherlands enable them to realign better with India while maintaining family contact with Suriname. Methodology Data were obtained in the course of over three decades of participation in the Surinamese and Dutch Hindustani community. I was born and raised in 149

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Suriname and migrated to the Netherlands in the early 1970s. At that time, there was no full-fledged community in the Netherlands. I saw the Hindustani immigrants regrouping, without realising at that time what was going on. Later, when the ethnic institutions were re-established, I participated in community life in The Hague. That degree of participation increased in due course, both in The Hague and in other Dutch cities. The activities of family, friends, and colleagues drew me into community life and disclosed new aspects I was yet to become acquainted to. As a researcher and later as a university professor, I was frequently invited to deliver public lectures for disparate audiences in the community. Equally important were the publication of scholarly articles (in Dutch as well as in English) and the supervision of PhD students on issues regarding the Hindustani community. My participation in the Surinamese community followed a similar, albeit shorter path. I was familiar with Suriname and wrote about issues in Caribbean societies, I visited the country three times every year since 2008. During those periods, I participated in public life, delivered public lectures, published papers, supervised PhD students, and made comparisons between the Surinamese and Dutch Hindustanis, reflecting on the impact of India on these communities as well as the changes enforced by the host societies. I witnessed the Hindustani culture changing by a new generation that uses IC-technology intensively. At the same time, the communities became Indianised, Creolised and Dutchified. This type of research, Riemer (1977) defined as opportunistic research. He argued that sociologists are part of communities, they are familiar with many situations, and have a significant stock of first-hand knowledge that is hardly used. This chapter is based on opportunistic research. The methodology underlying opportunistic research is characterised by informality, covering a long time-span, ordering data in hindsight, having the opportunity to check and re-check findings repeatedly and discuss the observation as well the conclusions with key informants and colleagues. Opportunistic research is different from self-ethnography, in which the researcher’s intent is to draw attention to what takes place around oneself rather than putting oneself and one’s experiences at the centre. Opportunistic research also differs from auto-ethnography, in which authors relate their personal experience to the culture. Both types of research suggest that data are collected for research purposes, while opportunistic research is an ex-post research ‘strategy’ (Alvesson 2003). Because of these characteristics, opportunistic research discloses a reality that is less unveiled by a formal research design (Piore 2006). Being a rare and ex-post strategy to obtain and structure data, opportunistic research is a highly reliable method of data collection because of repeated observation. One caveat is in order, however. The longevity of opportunistic research may offer a few distinct advantages, but the changes covered in that period may affect the theoretical concepts employed. For example, one generation ago, community 150

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members were less individualised or more pious than today. Using the same concepts to denote changed reality is to ignore the generational differences in these life domains. Where deemed relevant, I will hint at these differences. Considering the aim of this chapter to highlight how ethnic institutions assisted the glocalisation and taking into account the methodology of opportunistic research, I was in a convenient position to identify the topics relevant for the community and its linkage with the Indian diaspora. The knowledge thus obtained was supplemented with interviews with key respondents in the Surinamese community when researching other topics. From this experience, I distilled: entrepreneurship, community communication, temples and mosques, cinema, community celebrations, and the impact of the Indian embassy on the ethnic cohesion of the Hindustani community. The ethnic infrastructure in Suriname The major institutions in Suriname originated in the initial period of settlement and consisted of families, religion, language and internal ethnic networks. This institutional reproduction started in the barracks before departure to the plantation societies, was strengthened during the voyage (here the jahaji bhais and bahinis were made) and continued on the plantations. At the national scale, the Hindustani community life boosted after WW II when they established a Hindustani political party, a number of Hindu and Muslim schools, and a vibrant community life. The participation of Hindustani women in education and employment increased along with the level of income and consumption. In this period, Hindustanis in Suriname developed a physical infrastructure, while the digital infrastructure emerged after the 1990s. Hindustani institutions The first entrepreneurs of Hindustani descent were to be found on and in the vicinity of the plantations. They consisted of part- and full-time peasants who were also shopkeepers selling mostly canned food and household appliances. In addition, barbers, tailors, traders, money lenders, mill owners, transporters, and other entrepreneurs emerged. These entrepreneurs were the institutions that fostered the ethnic identity of the Hindustani community and they connected the community with the Indian diaspora. The commodities they sold and the services they offered were directed at Hindustani clients. Most of these entrepreneurs operated on the internal ethnic market by supplying ethnic commodities and services. And a substantial amount of this commodity basket is imported from India. One major category of commodities that strengthened the Hindustani identity consisted of food. For the preparation of typical Hindustani dishes, shops needed to deliver flowers, oil, peas, and masala. Many of these commodities 151

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were imported, most of them from India. Hindustani food preparation, expressing ethnic taste, is a highly specific activity of the household. In the capital city of Paramaribo, the food was gradually commercialised since other ethnic groups liked it. The dishes have remained unmixed with other ethnic dishes. Nowadays, Hindustani dishes such as roti, rice with masala meat and vegetables, and bara are consumed nationwide. These dishes are mostly sold by small shopkeepers and take-away restaurants in Suriname. I consider ethnic food a major marker of group identity in Suriname. The supply of the specific ingredient for preparing food was crucial for the establishment and consolidation of the Surinamese Hindustanis identity. Gradually, the traditional Indian dishes were served on special occasions, while daily food increasingly consisted of several ethnic dishes. Wearing Indian dresses evolved along similar lines as food. Photographs reveal that the first-generation British Indians, both men and women, were wearing specific dresses from their Indian communities. Soon these were replaced by Western women dresses, trousers, and shirts. Western dresses are also preferred on special occasions such as receptions, community festivals, and public ceremonies. While the Western outfit remained, Indian dresses made a return. These are considered modern and fashionable. Many Hindustani take pride in showing up in Indian dresses on special occasions. Especially after the 1980s, special shops selling Indian dresses such as saris, kurtas, nehru suits, and sarwanis along with other clothes emerged in Suriname. The reservations surrounding dressing up in a non-Western style disappeared as famous Indian movie stars and politicians were dressing similarly. Jewellery may also be considered an identity marker, although that is for the most part a daily affair. On photographs of arriving and departing British Indian labourers, it is shown that their jewellery was typical. That taste and demand gave rise to a profession consisting of Hindustani gold- and silversmiths, locally known as sonars. Some of these sonars established jewellery shops, while a large number of them were employed by Chinese jewellers in the capital city Paramaribo. The demand for jewellery appears to be historically quite stable. In addition, on special occasions such as weddings brides carry jewels that resemble those in Bollywood movies. Till today, different ethnic groups in Suriname have their own taste regarding jewels, although the ornaments are being mixed with Western jewels. In addition to the Indian clothes stores, shops emerged selling a wide variety of Indian items. These include music, movies, photographs of movie stars, incense, tapestry, medicine, cosmetics, soap, statutes of Hindu gods, flowers, books in Hindi, items for religious rituals such as ghee, dia’s, abir, and so forth. The list is far from exhausted but reflects the wide variety of Indian commodities needed to uphold the ethnic identity. Most of the commodities mentioned are imported in Suriname. The use of these items

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ranges from home decoration, thus physically expressing ethnic identity, to body and healthcare, input in religious rituals or to demonstrate command of Hindi. The required items illustrate how ramified the Indian presence is in Suriname. Many Hindustani claim that on the isolated plantations, out of grief and nostalgia, a new genre of music emerged, called the baithak ghana. However, Elahi (2017) argued that the music instruments, the language, the reference to the home community, and the religious elements in most of the songs all contradict the suggestion that the baithak ghana is a totally new product of Hindustani making since major elements of the music and dance were already present in Utter Pradesh and Bihar. Baithak ghana music has been supplemented by music bands originally playing gazals and kwali songs. Decades later, music bands played songs from Bollywood movies, at first to listen to and later evolved to music to dance on. Until the 1960s, dancing among the Hindustanis was confined to closed circles. The dancing evolved from an occurrence in closed social circles, such as the celebration of a birthday at home to dancing at public events, including commercial parties. This dancing desire changed the music by mixing Indian tunes with Western or Creole rhythms to enable popular dancing. Viewed from the diaspora perspective, it should not come as a surprise that many Surinamese Hindustanis would like to visit India, at least once in their life time. And that happens individually and as a group. Hindustanis travel from Suriname to the Netherlands (or the US) where they meet relatives and occasionally friends. From there, they travel to India. The two major tourist motivations are searching for roots in the state of Utter Pradesh and Bihar, and visiting Bollywood locations in Mumbai, preferably returning with photographs posing with movie stars. To the diaspora tourism, pilgrims, medical tourists, and shopping may be added. The tourist often returned with suitcases full of Indian items. This expanding interest in India was foundational for the rise of a number of travel agencies specialising in India travel. The focus on India has recently been broadened to other diaspora communities such as Singapore, Malaysia, Dubai, South Africa, and the Caribbean. The post-war period witnessed the emergence of Hindustani radio and television. At first, the Hindustani gained limited access to established radio and television stations, all exploited by Creoles. Later they established their own stations. Having their own means of communication was a highly effective way to convey messages regarding death, religious services, birth, and other celebrations as well as world news, especially about India. Since the community had no tradition of reading, there were no Hindustani newspapers reporting national news. Radio is acoustic, television is visual, and both are accessible to low educated people. Through these media, the (at that time) predominantly rural communities could transcend the internal communication and access the external world. In the late 1980s and 1990s, the

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means of communication were enhanced by the rise of the internet. Computers and cell phones enabled listening to songs, watching movies, downloading a variety of Indian media, and communicating personally by email. These options were broadened by the rise of social media. Consequently, the new technological opportunities shaped daily life tremendously since they facilitated the glocalisation of Indian culture. The Hindustani community had also developed cinemas, both in the capital city of Paramaribo and in the rural areas. The movies shown were from Bollywood. Going to the Indian cinema provided the opportunity to “see the community.” People were dressed up and youngsters had the opportunity to watch and be watched. But above all, Bollywood regularly immersed the community in “Indian culture,” specifically the stories, songs and fashion. This culture was not Indian custodian culture as many tourists found out, but rather an “advertised” Indian life. Nevertheless, the effects of Bollywood cinema on Surinamese Hindustanis were tremendous. Bollywood conveyed beauty ideals, songs and melodies, stories, memories (of old movies) as well as of Indian nationalism and religious messages. In addition, models of haircut, fashion, gender roles (especially concerning education of girls) in daily Surinamese life, were for a great deal supported by Bollywood movies. The movies and songs enabled to acquire and maintain Hindi, while many items – notably wedding dresses and the decoration of houses during these happenings – were borrowed from Bollywood. From Bollywood, the community also borrowed customs such as the raksha bandhan, the ritual bonding between brother and sister. The celebrations of annual public festivals, such as Diwali and Holi, are buttressed by the movies as well. Other examples of Bollywood’s impact are the organisation of beauty contests, the teaching of Hindi or Indian music instruments as the tabla. The entanglement of Bollywood with Hindustani life has created the bedrock for many stars and singers to visit Suriname. The shows by Bollywood performers always left a memory in the community that last for decades. Bollywood culture is much more than entertainment, as this cinema shapes cultural identity and a natural part of the Hindustani-lived world (cf. Kaur and Sinha 2005). In this context, it should be noted that the Indian embassy played a founding role in the glocalisation of Indian culture. Preceded by a consulate established in 1961, the embassy provided a number of facilities that strengthen the bonds of the Hindustani community with India, notably classes in Hindi, dancing, yoga, and tabla. The embassy also provided scholarships for study in India as manifested in an increasing number of Hindustani academicians returning with degrees obtained from Indian universities. In addition, the embassy provides regular consular activities such as issuing visas and promoting investments of Indian entrepreneurs in Suriname. As a result, in the image of Hindustanis, India has been transformed from an old respectable

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civilisation into a modern economic, political, and military global power to be proud of. Dutch specificities While the Hindustani community in Suriname is demographically the largest, the community in the Netherlands is a small ethnic minority. That rendered a few important differences. First, the Hindustani identity in Suriname was unquestioned for a long time. Since the 1980s, however, Creole nationalism started to predominate, a hegemony that exerted pressure to creolise (Gowricharn 2019b). The community persisted, however, arguably because of its prior institutionalisation and demographic size. In the Netherlands, the Hindustani community is small and thus being less resistable to Dutch assimilation. Second, the homeland differs across the two communities. Surinamese Hindustanis acknowledge Suriname and India as their homelands, while the Dutch community deals with the Netherlands, Suriname and India as their homelands. The institutionalisation in the two Hindustani communities differs too. The Dutch Hindustanis already constituted a community in Suriname and were temporarily dispersed in the Netherlands. The Hindustanis established temples and mosques, ethnic school, radio stations, community celebrations, including the celebration of immigration day – the arrival of the first British Indians in Suriname. In the Netherlands, the facilities of the community are integrated in welfare institutions, some of which are subsidized by the government and others financed from own resources. The cold climate and the many legal regulations in the Netherlands affect the performance of the institutions, however. For example, the celebration of Holi occurs in March, a month that is mostly too cold to be outside for long. These celebrations in the Netherlands are subjected to fire regulations, while the nuisance caused for neighbours is legally regulated. Consequently, the celebration of Holi occurs indoors and is less exuberant. Next to the adjusted forms of institutional infrastructure, the Dutch community differs in terms prosperity and access to internet technology. The higher income levels enable many visits to Suriname and India. The quality and use of the internet is also different. For 2010, the Dutch Central Bureau of Statistics reported that 99% of youngsters aged 12 to 25 had access to the internet and 90% spent time on it daily (CBS 2011). The higher level of internet density compared to Suriname is supported by a youth who surf frequently on the internet, a practice that has been tremendously eased by the development of cell phones. Internet facilitates the glocalisation of new forms of globalisation, particularly that of Zee TV, the Mumbai-based and Bollywood dominated satellite television channel. It also enables DutchHindustani radio stations to broadcast from the Netherlands to Suriname

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and vice versa. Regarding religion, politics and Bollywood culture, the Dutch digital infrastructure fosters a better-informed diaspora public. A special case of entanglement of digital and social infrastructure consists of social networks of youngsters. Most youngsters use the internet to access information about their background, notably religion, ethnic customs and history, download songs and movies, order items from shopping centres, or to obtain information about the going out scene in the Hindustani community. This usage is centred on known Hindustani websites. While participating in these virtual communities, they establish new social relations or reconfirm old relations. The social relations expand and contribute to the usage of the digital infrastructure, for example, by using devices on cell phones, that enable the use of Bollywood and other Indian stuff (Elahi 2014). These networks become part of the infrastructures that ease the glocalisation of Indian culture and information. Dutch Hindustanis enjoy two distinct institutions compared to their Surinamese co-ethnics. The first is the opportunity to watch movies in cinemas. In Suriname, the Hindustani cinema has experienced a downturn due to the advent of the home video, eventually causing a total closing down of cinemas. For a long time, cinema life in Suriname did not recover, as television broadcasts Bollywood movies around the clock. Only recently, one cinema was opened in Paramaribo, the capital city of Suriname. In the Netherlands, as early as the 1960s, Dutch cinemas offered Hindustanis in major cities opportunities to watch Indian movies during unused hours. Similar to Suriname, these opportunities diminished during the advent of the home video. But the Indian cinema made a spectacular comeback in the Netherlands. At present, a Dutch cinema chain, known as Pathé, regularly offers Bollywood movies. This has become a major opportunity for the Hindustani community to watch and see, especially for young people. Some segments of the public watch these movies with friends and relatives. The number of elder people visiting Pathé movies is much lower, probably because they tend to watch movies on television at home in the company of family. The second institution is the annual three-day public event called Milan, which is similar to Mela in the UK (Alexander 2018), organised in Zuiderpark in The Hague. The event is inspired by a desire to facilitate contact among Hindustanis. It is a highly successful initiative as Hindustanis all over the country visit Milan, often combining a travel to The Hague with visiting family and other obligations. In Milan, people walk around, searching for acquaintances, friends, and family, while young people engage in building relationships. Several entrepreneurs advertise their commodities (especially Hindustani food and tropical fruit), while music bands demonstrate their skills, and welfare agencies and healthcare organisations offer their services. Milan has become a nation-wide attraction and is also organised in smaller places of Hindustani concentration. It is one of the most successful forms of integration in the Dutch public domain. 156

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Conclusion The bonding between Indian diaspora communities, including the bonding with the homeland, has been taken for granted in the scholarly literature. It has often been presumed that the bonding is generated by a shared identity and culture. While this may be true, it has been overlooked that both the homeland and the diaspora community change over time and diverge in cultural taste and demand. Despite a divergence of cultural embeddedness, the diaspora bonding persists. Hence the question arises as to what keeps the ensemble known as the “Indian diaspora” together. The persistence of the bonding can easily be accounted for by the globalisation of the Indian culture, either through migration and tourism or by means of the global dissemination, for example of songs, dresses, music, stories etc. So far the story is familiar. What has been ignored is that in many cases relevant actors not only adopt the globalised culture, but adjust it to specific needs and tastes. The forces driving this adjustment are not restricted to the Indian ethnic group. They may include the relations with other ethnic groups in the “host society” or the own creolised culture. The case of Caribbean societies, specifically Trinidad and Suriname, illustrate that, for example, music, dancing, and language have absorbed many influences of other ethnic groups, thus responding to the nationalism in those societies to diminish the perceived cleavages between the ethnic groups. In all cases, an institutional ethnic infrastructure is pivotal, which has been conceptualised as an integrated unity of institutionalised ethnic taste, physical and digital infrastructures that enable and facilitate the adjusted adoption of globalised Indian culture into their local lived worlds. Hence, the chapter claims that the ethnic infrastructure is a crucial precondition for diaspora bonding. A few issues for further research related to the infrastructure may be mentioned. One is the effect of the changes in homeland and diaspora communities. They may differ across the categories of diaspora communities i.e. Caribbean societies, Western societies, and East African societies. These changes affect the strength and form of the infrastructure and entanglement. This neglected topic is highly relevant for diaspora bonding and requires further research. Secondly, the infrastructure may vary because of the generational, gender, and community differences. For example, first generation Sikh women in Canadian or East-African societies may have a different bonding with their region in India compared to Sikh men. That is to say, the ethnic infrastructure is not an abstract structure, but is specific to social categories and regions in the diaspora. Whatever specifications can be made, the requirement of an infrastructure for glocalisation and diaspora bonding still stands.

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9 BAITHAK GÁNÁ KE NÁC A case of reverse glocalisation Jaswina Elahi

Introduction Globalisation is the international spread of people, goods and services, culture, information, images, and tastes. We can discern two forms of globalisation. First, the globalisation caused by economic and political power (Levitt 1983). In this first case, the globalisation occurs from a dominant Western power. A well-known example of this is the McDonaldization, driven by the US (Ritzer and Malone 2000). A second form of globalisation is the dissemination based on cultural-historical kinship and ties. In this case, the globalising culture comes from the Indian diaspora-home country. Examples of these includes the dissemination of Indian fashion and ornaments in overseas communities. Referring to the Indian diaspora, Gowricharn (2017) qualifies cultural recognition and taste as driving forces, reinforced by the Bollywood industry. Other cases of globalisation start from peripheral societies and move to Western societies. Nurse (2010) calls this “reverse globalisation.” In the sparse literature about the “reversed globalisation” reference is made to the Napolitan pizza that is allegedly developed in New York by Italian immigrants from ingredients taken from Italy and globalised over the world (Ceccarini 2011). The spread of Bhangra music is comparable to the spread of pizza (Roy 2000). In both cases the finished products have been developed in Western societies after elements have been migrated from their original home society. Slightly different is the case of the Caribbean Carnival that was already mature when migrants took it to the UK, US, and Canada (Nurse 2010). In these cases, the movement was from a less developed society to a developed society and globalised from there. A variation pertains to the migration from a less developed society to another less developed society, so called south-south migration. The cultural product has been developed in the south, after which it was carried

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to a developed society. The literature about this specific reversed globalisation is practically non-existent. This chapter deals with a case of south-south migration of baithak gáná and a subsequent migration to a developed society, the Netherlands, and represents a double reversed globalisation. It concerns the globalisation of baitak gáná ke nach, literally meaning singing while sitting. Baithak gáná was a folkloristic tradition of the Bhojpuri community, which originates from the northeast part of India, specifically Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. From this community, indentured labourers have been brought to countries in Asia, Africa, and South America. After two or more generations, the descendants of the indentured labourers migrated to Europe and North America (Lal et al. 2006). The Hindustanis, as the Surinamese and Dutch descendants of the British Indians call themselves, took folk traditions with them. For the past two decades, the music has become highly popular as dancing music, both in Suriname as well as in the Netherlands. It represents a largely ignored case of globalisation of folkloristic traditions in the Indian diaspora from a peripheral homeland to a periphery of the Indian diaspora and from there to a centre society in Europe. The topic of baithak gáná ke nach reveals a specific development and dissemination of Indian culture in the diaspora. It is an example of how the periphery of the Indian diaspora may contribute to the global dissemination of Indian culture. A quick glance at YouTube reveals that similar dances are practiced in societies where indentured labourers have been shipped to. As a global phenomenon, it is restricted to the Indian diaspora and has been included in the lived culture of the people to become part of their cultural identity. Moreover, this local culture, albeit globalised on a limited scale, provides pride and dignity to the people involved. So both theoretically as well as socially, the story of the baithak gáná is worth sharing. The following section discusses three related concepts of globalisation to capture the development I purport to describe, notably globalisation, glocalisation, and reverse glocalisation. The methodology is outlined in the section following, specifically the sources of the data. Afterwards, there is discussion dealing with the evolution of baithak gáná from music to listen to and music to dance on. This chapter also addresses the process of glocalisation of the baithak gáná in Suriname. Afterwards, I describe the process of the reverse glocalisation of the baithak gáná to the Netherlands. I also address the developments of similar music and dance styles in the diaspora to underscore the glocalisation of the baithak gáná. The conclusion underscores that these types of “reversed globalisation” of folk culture apply for more aspects of the Indian culture and require much more scholarly attention.

Three forms of globalisation A widespread presumption in the writings about globalisation is that it is a new phase in the integration of the world economy, principally powered by 164

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new scales and speeds in the circulation of financial capital and the associated explosion in electronic communication technologies (Levitt 1983; Robertson 1992). Strong states in the world economy cause a one-way distribution from the west to other parts of the world. From this follows that the forces of commodication will produce increasing levels of cultural homogenisation and social standardisation. Enjoying Coca Cola, eating McDonald’s food, wearing jeans, and listening to Michael Jackson are often quoted examples. This development of the globalisation of culture may lead in the extremes toward common codes and practices (homogeneity). It is associated with the cultural imperialism of the American culture (Smith 1990), the west (Giddens 1990) or core countries (Hannerz 1990). Ritzer (2003) describes this process by which a nation states, corporations and other organisations as “grobalization.” The term is assembled with two words, “growth” and “globalisation,” similar as the term “glocalization” that beholds “global” and “local.” Glocalisation focusses on the receiving end of globalisation and fosters cultural heterogeneity rather than homogeneity. A global organization like McDonald’s for example, creates uniformity in its products. But in settings abroad, McDonald’s encounters a different set of needs and tastes and has to cope with different social patterns and life styles. Take as an example the McDonald’s in India where the hamburgers, typically containing meat, have been transformed into a variety of vegetarian food. Only under that condition can McDonald’s “hamburgers” be sold massively in India. Robertson (1995) describes a series of similar hybrids when discussing the “glocal.” He states that for a long time sociologists positioned local culture in an inferior position to the rising global culture and ignored the process of glocalization; a term borrowed from the Japanese business world and to which he describes as “a process of adopting and fitting foreign products to meet the needs and taste of the local market” (1995: 28). Robertson goes on to argue that the global and the local culture are complements rather than opposites. He emphasises that consumers make independent choices of their own when incorporating foreign cultural goods in the lived culture. The example of McDonald’s refers to a commercial product, but glocalization comprises a wide range of commodities and activities, including fashion, music, language, food, as well as manners, consumption, patterns, and lifestyles (Gowricharn 2016). In this context Gowricharn (2016) points out that glocalization is a specific form of acculturation. A good example of adopting and versing into the diaspora culture consists of elements transmitted by Bollywood, probably the most effective disseminator of Indian culture (Kaur and Sinha 2005; Mehta 2005). Bollywood also comprises songs, music, and fashion and in many Indian diaspora communities it shapes the group identity that contributes to their ethnicisation (Gowricharn 2018). For example, the Surinamese Hindustanis adopted traditions from Bollywood such as raksha bandhan, the ritual bonding of brother and sister. This 165

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was not induced by economic forces causing globalisation or glocalisation, but first and foremost by the family and emotional bonding with traditions practiced in the homeland. In the preceding outline, three forms of globalisation have been outlined: the “general” dissemination brought about by Western societies and which is technology driven; the dissemination caused by the diaspora-specific preponderance of a home country by means of (for example) Bollywood. This form is also technology driven, but is highly mixed with the culture people carry with them and reproduced in new locations; and dissemination is caused only by the migration of people such as the indentured labourers. Here memory, nostalgia, and practical knowledge mattered. A caveat is in order when it comes to the second form. That falls in the category of diaspora-specific enculturation, but often this enculturation is “invented” as a tradition (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983). All forms of globalisation presuppose power differentials, being a strong economic or cultural position, which leads to the “travel” of culture through commodities and people. These forms of globalised culture are adopted by local (diaspora) communities and incorporated in their local lived lives, in their consumption and lifestyles. Arguably, in every receiving culture, the selection is different as may be the adjustment of adopted commodities and practices. Concepts such as globalisation, grobalization, and glocalization do not capture the transnationalisation of cultures from the periphery. Some traditions from the periphery have been globalised such as the celebration of Carnival in many cities in the UK, US, and Canada. This process is referred to by Nurse (2010) as “reverse globalisation.” The literature on reverse globalisation often deals with a reversal in economic dependence, for example when discussing the specificities of the Korean car industry or the oil industry in a peripheral society. In Nurse’s view, people are the carriers of culture and represent the vehicle of globalisation. In this relocation, they may change and adjust the carried culture. Consequently, it is not only the periphery which is culturally influenced by the globalisation from the west; the reverse is not excluded and highly probable in the age of migration. The concept of reverse globalisation centres the movement of people and accounts for the culture originating from the periphery to developed society or region, which may also be the case from the periphery of a peripheral society to its centre. The case detailed in this chapter highlights the different forms of globalised as well as glocalised culture. By describing the case of baithak gáná music and dance, I will explore the phenomenon of “reverse glocalisation” to provide insights into their movement from peripheral homeland India to diaspora-periphery (Suriname) and to a diaspora-centre society such as the Netherlands, – thus revealing how the migrants used their resources to maintain, develop, and share their culture.

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Methodology For this chapter a literature study was completed with field and desk research. The field research comprised fifteen informal interviews with elderly people from the Hindustani community aged 60 to 85. All the interviews were conducted in the period September to December 2016. The topics were: the origins of the baithak gáná music, the popularity of the music, the start of dancing on this music in Suriname, the way to dance baithak gáná. I also conducted interviews with five Hindustani folk dancers and dance teachers. In these interviews the origins of the baithak gáná dance, its development and its likely future were discussed. In addition, panel discussions were held during two public performances titled Sarnami ke Raat in which Hindustanis of different generations participated. At the first meeting on September 23, 2017, about 100 people were present. At the second meeting on September 8,2018, the number of participants was about 40. The topics discussed were the origin, the development and the future of baithak gáná. I also conducted observation of baithak gáná during dance-events, celebrations, and public performances. On these festivities two types of groups were observed: the choreographed dances of groups on stage and the dancing public. I observed the way people danced and more specifically their movements. As a dance teacher, I was involved in many dance performances for over 15 years. These observations enabled me to specify the change in habits in the Hindustani community, specifically those in the field of dancing. The desk research included studying YouTube videos, specifically the “digital video archive” that contains film fragments of dance performances. Here I searched for different videos about the dance in Suriname, the Netherlands, Trinidad, Jamaica, Fiji, and Mauritius (see the internet links in the end of the bibliography).

The baithak gáná as listening music Surinamese Hindustanis are part of the Bhojpuri diaspora community. The Bhojpuri region is an area encompassing parts of Bihar, Jharkhand and Uttar Pradesh in northern India and the Bara and Parsa districts of Nepal. In these regions, the Bhojpuri language is spoken as a mother tongue. The Surinamese diaspora community is part of the indentured labourers originated from the Bhojpuri region and shipped to Mauritius, British Guyana, Trinidad, South Africa, Fiji, Jamaica, and Suriname (Kumar 2017). Suriname received about 34.000 persons in the period 1873 to 1917 (Choenni 2016). The labourers were contracted for five years. After those five years, they could opt for a free return to India or to start a living as peasants. In the period 1873 to 1917 labourers went back and some decided to stay and start a living as peasants. New incoming labourers brought items to give shape to

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their daily lives, such as cooking utensils, clothing, jewellery, musical instruments, but also immaterial possessions such as stories, melodies and singing, dance, cultural and religious traditions. Slowly the peasants developed a community life on the isolated plantations (Gowricharn 2013). During colonial times, the specific music genre baithak gáná developed in Suriname. The name giving of baithak gáná to their folk music has been labelled after arriving in Suriname (Baldewsingh 2018). The baithak gáná refers to a large category part of folkloric songs (e.g. sohars, birhas, and bhajans) from the Bhojpuri region (Mohan 2017). Allegedly this genre has developed in between 1920 and 1950 (Narayan 2017). The baithak gáná was enjoyed at weddings and other socio-cultural gatherings. The musician and the singer traditionally performed on the floor, sitting in a circle or in a U-form. From this, the most popular explanation of the name baithak gáná came about, namely “making music in a sitting (lotus) position.” The songs were usually inspired by the religion of the Hindustanis and comprised both Hindu and Muslim texts. There were two categories of songs. The first expressed the religious sentiment and stories often inspired by the stories in the Mahabharata and the Ramayana. The second came from history (Ithihasa) and mythology (puranas). The format of the composition in this music was that of a dialogue or question-answer (sawal-jawab). In the earliest phase of immigration, a third category of baithak gáná emerged, expressing joy and sorrow, farming life and the history of parvas (immigration). This means that the participating singers had to have a good command of the repertoire of religious, cultural, historical and mythological songs (Majumdar 2010). The music instruments were the dholak (an Indian percussion instrument the dholak played by hand on two sides), the harmonium (a wind instrument that has a vertical bellows and is played by hand) and the dhantal (a long iron stick that is played with a metal plate) (Mokamsing 2017). This genre of baithak gáná is nowadays categorised as the classic baithak gáná (Baldewsingh 2018; Mohan 2017). During these meetings the listeners sat around the singers and the musicians. Performing baithak gáná sitting does not mean that people did not dance but it was not customary. Typical related dance forms such as londá ke nác (the dance of the boy) and ahirwá ke nác (dance of the farmer/ shepherd – also just called Nagara within the Hindustani community because it is danced on music produced on drums called Nagara) are examples of well-known traditional folkloric dances within the Surinamese Hindustani community. These dances were performed at special cultural occasions by exclusively male dancers at special cultural occasions. For example Londá ke nác was performed during wedding ceremonies where the male dancer was dressed up as a woman during his act, dancing on traditional (baithak gáná) songs about Ram and Sita. Different was the ahirwa ke nach, which included two parties who musically bombarded each other with questions, riddles or propositions. The dancers sing a birha (or biraha), followed by 168

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rhythmic nagara music and dance. A birha, according to Manuel (2012) is described as a: .  .  . birha, which was – and to some extend still is – sung in a relatively uniform manner in Trinidad, Guyana and Suriname. Indo-Caribbean birha consists of a simple standardised melody – a veritable ‘ditty’ – to which a solo vocalist sing verses, ideally accompanied by nagara drum pair (Manuel 2012: 65) But in these examples of dance, dancing is reserved for the artists and the general public is the spectator of the dance. That was also the case with the baithak gáná at gatherings. The public there were spectators who sat around the musicians and listened to the music. Dancing on baithak gáná music was a rare and highly specific activity often during pre-wedding activities in particular an activity for women who danced in shielded spaces, when no men were around. On most of these occasions, women took care of the music themselves (Mohan 2017). The way of dancing on the music was characterised by graceful hand movements, hip-sizing and rotations, in which the long skirt is often grasped to underscore their femininity. The dancing was often performed with two or three people who danced around each other (Elahi 2017).

The baithak gáná as dancing music A big influential factor that changed the life of the Hindustani was the arrival of mass media such as radio, movies, and later on television (Narayan 2017). Radiochannel AVROS (Algemene Vereniging Radio Omroep Suriname) came on the air in 1935 with Headschoolmaster J.P. Kaulesar Sukul’s weekly broadcasts of Hindustani music and music from Indian movies (nowadays referred to as Bollywood movies). In 1936, the first movie was imported by India Records, not only to Suriname, but also to other parts in the Caribbean. These media, specifically the radio, connected the Hindustani communities to others who lived quite dispersed in Suriname. And the shown gave the community images of the home country India. This gave rise to feelings of nostalgia and (reconstructed) memories. After the 1940s peoples’ lives, welfare, and prosperity increased within the Hindustani community due to the expansion of urban employment. That caused an urbanisation of the British Indian peasants. Hindustanis left for the city in increasing numbers. The post-war activities, including the intensification of bauxite exploitation, the improved roads, and expansion of educational opportunities, increased the demand for labour in the city. The migration from districts to the capital city Paramaribo enabled a better communication and broke the isolation of the districts. Due to this demographic 169

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shift and the advent of the radio (and later, television), the Hindustani community could communicate and interact internally much better than before. Life in the city which had a dominant European Afro-Surinamese culture, led to the acculturation of urban life styles. The Hindustanis built ethnic institutions like schools, mosques, temples, radio stations, and theatres. This institutional set up increased the urban salience of the Hindustani community. According to the respondents, through the radio, people could listen to different kinds of music of different cultures as well. Also the music of the Hindustanis from Indo-Trinidadians, became popular among the Surinamese – Hindustanis as their early chutney music was very akin to the baithak gáná community (Mohan 2017). The Trinidadian music was played on the radio and leading to a try-out of new sounds within the baithak gáná. Prior to the advent of the radio, changes in baithak gáná were in the themes sang after arrival in Suriname. But in the post-World War II period, musical changes were also added to it. The baithak gáná underwent Western, Caribbean, and Bollywood influences: the music became faster and more modern than the versions played by previous generations. Often mentioned is the baithak gáná artist Ramdew Chaitoe with his album ‘The King of Suriname also known as The Star of Ramdew Chaitoe” in 1967. According to the respondents, his music was much more modern and faster because he added new instruments to the baitak gáná performance like the bongo. He sped up the tempo. Ramdew Chaitoe is seen as the pioneer in the modernisation and revival of the baithak gáná music. It is most likely from that time that Hindustani youngsters from that time felt that they finally had their “own” modern music. It was music that was no less than the Caribbean and Western dance music and revalued the baithak gáná music. In this context, the radio broadcaster played an important role. He was the one who selected the music and opened the opportunity for the artists and the community to spread their music by listening to it on the radio. Before that people could only listen to the baithak gáná music when musicians were performing. From then music was played more by radio and less often by bands. The radio connected the Hindustanis who lived dispersed in the country (districts and city), but also in other Caribbean countries, such as Trinidad and Guyana. The popularity of baithak gáná then increased massively in the eighties and nineties and continues till today, not only in Surinam but also in Guyana, Trinidad, and Jamaica (Bergman 2008; Manuel 2000). Vice versa, the Hindustani music from Trinidad started to be more popular in Suriname. They called it “a sort of baithak gáná but then different,” according to my informants. This led to invitations of an exchange of artists. Trinidadian chutney artists visited Suriname, and Suriname artists visited Trinidad. Music concerts lasted sometimes for many days.

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The influences of movies were also tremendous. Until the 1940s musicians only played the classical baithak gáná. After WW II, artists started to sing Bollywood songs and accompanying music bands also used Western instruments compared to the baithak gáná groups. These modern bands were called “orchestras” in the local language. One of the first and most popular in the 1950s and 1960s was the music band “Indian Orchestra.” The orchestra music became a different type of music genre which developed next to the baithak gáná music scene and that now has come to be known as orchestra music. These orchestras sang Western and Caribbean songs, but no baithak gáná songs. In the opposite case, baithak gáná music band sang Bollywood songs as well and put these songs in the baithak gáná rhythm. This increased the popularity of baithak gáná songs till today. The respondents mentioned that the movies at that time showed men and women dancing. It changed the world view of the Hindustanis who gradually accepted dancing practices in the community. This reflects a form of globalisation, one from the home country to the diaspora community. The impact of Bollywood legitimised dancing with the Surinamese Hindustani public. At the same time it was a form of glocalisation since the dancing in the movies was too complicated to be copied and was therefore adjusted to local moves. It was not so much the dancing style that was adopted, but the habit to dance in public regardless of the style. The legitimation of dancing in public, was especially in the city much stronger. Creoles were fond of dancing, also public dancing (van Stipriaan 1993). Due to this increased contact with Creole urban culture, Hindustanis felt increasingly less restraint to dance in public. But this public dancing was first performed in closed circles, often birthdays, weddings, moeran sanskaars, and other festive days and later moved outside the closed and socially protected circles. The era of public dancing in the community was commenced. Thus people started to dance more and more on baithak gáná in public. Did the way they danced change trough time? According to the elderly, the way people danced to the music, even on the traditional baithak gáná, changed remarkably during the nineteen seventies and decades thereafter. The dance form of the baithak gáná can best be described, according to the dance teachers, as dancing in duo or trio around each other. Just as in the “old days,” but much faster: One foot is flat on the floor, while the other foot is on the ball or toe on the floor, the knees are slightly bent, and the dancers move shifting sideways. The flat foot often determines the direction in which the dancer moves. Double hip-swiping movements are made by each step. The signals in the music are giving the sign when to swirl. Compared with the old times, the Western, Caribbean, and Bollywood music influences did not leave the baithak gáná dance untouched. Body movements elements were added into the dance which correspondents with these music, for example as with salsa movements.

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Reversed glocalisation of the baithak gáná Suriname is a former Dutch colony, a plural society consisting of large segments of blacks and their descendants, Maroons, Javanese, and Chinese became constitutional independent in 1975. In the run up to independence, large numbers of the population immigrated to the Netherlands and settled in major cities. Hindustanis preferred The Hague as the place to settle, followed by Amsterdam, Almere, Rotterdam, and Utrecht. These demographic concentrations enabled a community life, including the establishment of Hindu schools, temples and mosques, radio and television stations, ethnic websites, and especially a Hindustani dancing scene and a blossoming community life (Choenni 2016). Hindustani’s became a model minority in the Netherlands. They had the reputation to be successful in study, work and entrepreneurship. While the first generation of Hindustanis identified with Suriname, the second and third generation of Hindustanis feel increasingly Dutch and often refer to India as their “homeland” instead of Suriname. The growing impact of Bollywood, enabled by mass media and the availability of products such as dresses and cosmetics, the travel to India due to cheaper tickets accelerates this identification. However, one cultural tradition besides food makes them feel Surinamese Hindustani rather than Dutch: the baithak gáná music and dance. The music distinguishes the Surinamese Hindustani community from the varied Indian migrant community in the Netherlands that consists of first and second generation non-resident Indians, Tamils, and Pakistanis. A festivity becomes a typical Surinamese Hindustani occasion when baithak gáná music is being played. The second and third generation of Hindustanis feel comfortable to dance, also outside closed family circles. This has transformed the occasions where baithak gáná music is being played into dancing festivities. Dancing on baithak gáná music occurs on every possible occasion (except in the temple) such as (pre-)wedding ceremonies, birthdays, and Hindustani dance events and cultural events. Developments in communication and media technologies have played an important role in this evolution. The Hindustani radio still plays an important role for the baithak gáná music scene. But nowadays, communication technology enabling people to record, mix, share, and save music by internet have made the music accessible around the clock and provide a bigger platform to share the music, the music videos, and the knowledge with a bigger audience. In the sharing of music, the DJ has played an important key role as well. He is the one who selects and plays the music on different occasions and inspires Hindustani youngsters to listen and dance to this music. He has also become a great influencer on the music itself by speeding the tempo up and mixing it with other popular music genres. The DJ is the one of the major actors contributing to the popularity of the music and the bands.

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This grown popularity has not only been the case in the Netherlands, but also in Suriname. During one of the meetings of Sarnami ke Raat referred to earlier, Gowricharn suggested that the transnational popularity of the baithak gáná was based on its commercialisation. For a long time, art and commerce have been considered at odds, but the Surinamese case contradict this proposition. Baithak gáná became highly popular due to the highly commercialised going out scene in Suriname and the Netherlands. In this context, artists travel from Suriname to the Netherlands, and from the Netherlands to Suriname. Occasionally they are joined by artists from other Caribbean societies and the US and Canada. This international performance requires a cost-effective financial management. Thus the baithak gáná music has become prominent on dance events, in the Netherlands, Suriname, Trinidad, and Guyana, often being organised by persons with a transnational network. This (regional) transnationalisation of the baithak gáná goes hand in glove with its commercialisation. The popularity of the baihak gáná has led to a desire to dance “proper” on it. Some dance schools teaching Bollywood or Indian classical dances have responded to this need by offering baithak gáná dance lessons. This has triggered a new development never seen before: that baithak gáná dances are choreographed and performed at cultural podia during festivals and on shows. This development in the Netherlands shows that the baithak gáná ke nach is developing into a performing art. As a result, there are new choreographs in which dance teachers use their own dance background such as Indian classical dance, Bollywood, or street dance. According to the dance choreographer and teacher interviewed, these movements are used because of the variation. The range of movements in the informal baithak gáná ke nac is very small for performing art. A choreographed baithak gáná ke nac is therefore varied compared to the dancing on the informal occasions. The audience sits and enjoys the music and dance whereas in the “folk-version” the public participates in the dancing. Moreover, the dancers in the choreographed context are wearing “folk costumes” consisting of a long skirt, blouse, and a scarf on the head, bangles on the arms and feet. It is too early to guess whether this is a sustainable cultural development. But we can observe that the baithak gáná has become part of the Hindustani community in Suriname and the Netherlands.

Baithak gáná in the diaspora The development of the baithak gáná has been presented as specific for the music and dance of the Surinamese Hindustani community. However, considering the Bhojpuri origin, the question is warranted whether the Surinamese development applies to other diaspora communities harbouring

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descendants of indentured labourers. To search for an answer, I studied film clips on YouTube to check how the dancing takes place in Bhojpuri diaspora communities across the world. The term baithak gáná ke nác, spelled in different ways, mainly produced music and dance fragments by Surinamese and Dutch Hindustanis. This suggests that the term baithak gáná ke nác is a typical Surinamese name and confirms the assumption that the name of this specific folk culture was given after arrival in Suriname. The term Bhojpuri folk dance and Bhojpuri music in combination with the country name produced much more results. The search resulted in recent videos of Bhojpuri folk dancing in countries such as Trinidad, Mauritius, Fiji, Jamaica, and Guyana. Here I will briefly typify the similarities and differences with the Surinamese version of the baithak gáná ke nach. As said before, in Trinidad, Bhojpudi music has developed into chutney music (Bergman 2008; Manuel 2006). Video clips from YouTube show that classical or traditional “chutney” music is very similar to the Surinamese classic baithak gáná. The songs sung during wedding ceremonies contains the same sohar and lyrics as in the classical baithak gáná. Nowadays, the texts of the songs are mostly sung in English. Trinidadians love to dance on chutney music. They dance in pairs or with three persons “wining” with many turns of hips and buttocks. The focus is more on the lower body, probably an impact of Latin dance body movements. In the Mauritius context, Bhojpuri folk dancing originally occurred during traditional occasions, such as the geet gawai, a pre-wedding ceremony. A group of musicians, most of the time women, makes music and sing in Bhojpuri language. The dholak and the chautal are supportive instruments, but different from Suriname; there is a large djembe drum and tambourine. Only women dance on it. Other movie fragments show the same way of dancing during the geet-gawai. The Mauritius dance is quite similar to the Surinamese classic baithak gáná dance. In Fiji, people dance on traditional occasions during kirtan singing. It is a “sitting” meeting where many people mainly listen to a kind of music that is very similar to the classical baithak gáná. The instruments of the musicians are the same as those of Surinam, namely the harmonium, dholak, dhantal, and chautál. This dancing also resembles the baithak gáná ke nác. However, the hip movements are less pronounced. Scarves are swapped during the dance, which sometimes happens in the Surinamese baithak gáná ke nác. These clips of dancing on similar baithak gáná music reveal that there are plenty of similarities in folk music in the diaspora. They argued that the elements for the music, as instruments, texts, rhythm and lyrics have been brought by the indentured labourers. But the development of the music took place in different regions. All the indentured labourers arrived in a colony of western European colonisers and which had a predominantly mix of European and Afro-culture. We see and hear a variety of those local influences in the music and dances. As a conclusion one can state that the baithak gáná 174

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is basically a music form and dance originating from the Bhojpuri region but has developed slightly differently in several parts of the Indian diaspora.

Conclusion This study addressed the three-way movement in the migration of a Bhojpuri cultural tradition: the baithak gáná ke nach. Conceptually we distinguished a globalisation from India to Suriname, where the dance matured to its present form, from Suriname to the Netherlands and from the Netherlands back to Suriname. Despite that the dance was not taught in dance schools, it survived over an age of acculturation. Although this chapter is limited to the case of Suriname, similar forms as the baithak gáná are practiced in other parts of the world where indentured labourers have been shipped to, thus absorbing local as well as global (Bollywood) influences. The dance thus contributed to the ethnic identity of the Hindustanis in host societies. Note that the development of the baithak gáná in Suriname was not a matter of glocalisation. It was brought by the indentured labourers and developed in local context rather than “received” from globalisation. The same goes for the movement from Suriname to the Netherlands. Here again, it was carried by migrants rather than disseminated globally as, for example, the pizza was globalised and adopted in disparate cultures. So the dissemination of the baithak gáná was people-based. Consequently, concepts as globalisation and glocalisation requires specification when applied in diaspora studies since in this field the migration of people and the way they adjusted and developed their culture were pivotal. The case of the baithak gáná, specifically the “reversed globalisation” allows another conclusion. In many circles it was a firm believe that arts and commerce are at odds. According to a widely belief commerce reduces art to almost vulgar forms and should therefore be repudiated. Commerce represents low quality, while arts should be genuine and represent high quality. While this may be true, the history of the baithak gáná reveals that this dance could persist and disseminate thanks to its commercialisation. This commercialisation was enabled by music bands and radio stations. We can take this observation to a broader plane: similar forms of evolution as the baithak gáná may apply to many other cultural elements, including religious rituals, cultural traditions, and community festivals. The blossoming of culture acquires strong impetuses from commercial operations. Music bands are a clear example, but in all cases special places to obtain Indian commodities and services are required in order to maintain cultural identity. An important precondition for the development of the baithak gáná ke nach was the information and communication technology (ICT). The technology is being used to recollect memories, including feelings of nostalgia. Thanks to this reservoir of texts, feelings, music, and images could 175

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be preserved and transmitted all over the world. The technology referred to has evolved from the radio to the recording of music, the internet, including YouTube that acts as an archive of culture. Although technology is often mentioned as one of the preconditions of globalisation, its effects on ethnic communities have been a highly under researched field.

References Baldewsingh, Rabin S. 2018. ‘De ontwikkeling van de Sarnami muziek bij vrouwen, de badhaw. Sarnam Sanskirti’, in R. Baldewsingh, N. Boedhoe and B. Mahabier (eds.), Enkele facetten van de hindustaanse geschiedenis en cultuur in Suriname en Nederland, pp. 179–198. Den Haag: Uitgeverij Surinen. Bergman, Sara. 2008. ‘Matikor, Chutney, Odissi and Bollywood: Gender Negotiations in Indo-Trinidadian Dance: Caribbean Review of Gender Studies’, A Journal of Caribbean Perspectives on Gender and Feminism, (2), The University of the West Indies Centre for Gender and Development Studies: 1–28. Ceccarini, Rosella. 2011. Pizza and Pizzachefs in Japan: A Case of Culinary Globalization: Social Science of Asia. Leiden: Koninklijke Brill. Choenni, Chan. 2016. Hindostaanse contractarbeiders (1873–1920. Van India naar de plantages van Suriname. Volendam: LM Publishers. Elahi, Jaswina. 2017. ‘Hindostaanse gemeenschapsdansen’, in R. Gowricharn (red.), Onbeschreven erfgoed. Perspectieven op de Surinaams-Hindostaanse cultuur, pp. 67–86. Volendam: LM Publishers. Giddens, Anthony. 1990. The Consequences of Modernity. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2013. ‘Ethnogenesis: The Case of the British Indians in the Caribbean’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 55(2): 388–418. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2016. Glocalisering in de Indiase diaspora. Over de bindende kracht van culturele markten. Vrije Universiteit van Amsterdam. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2017. ‘Practices in Taste Maintenance: The Case of Indian Diaspora Markets’, Journal of Consumer Culture, 0(0): 1–19. Gowricharn, Ruben. 2018. ‘The Entanglement of Culture and Economics in the Indian Diaspora’, Keynote Speech Delivered on October 4th at the University of Hyderabad, India. Hannerz, Ulf. 1990. ‘Cosmopolitans and Locals in World Culture’, Theory, Culture & Society, 7: 237–251. Hobsbawm, Eric and Terrence Ranger (eds.). 1983. The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kaur, Raminder and Ajay J. Sinha (eds.). 2005. Bollyworld: Popular Indian Cinema through a Transnational Lens. New Delhi/Thousand Oaks/London: Sage Publications. Kumar, Ashutosh. 2017. ‘Naukari, Networks, and Knowledge: Views of Indenture in Nineteenth-Century North India’, South Asian Studies, 33(1): 52–67. Lall, Brij, Peter Reeves and Rajesh Rai. 2006. The Encyclopedia of the Indian Diaspora. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Levitt, Theodore. 1983. ‘The Globalisation of Markets’, Harvard Business Review, 61(3): 92–102.

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Majumder, Mousumi. 2010. Kahe Gaile Bides, Why Did You Go Overseas?: On Bhojpuri Migration Since the 1870s & Contemporary Culture in Uttar Pradesh & Bihar, Suriname & the Netherlands. Amsterdam: KIT Publishers. Manuel, Peter. 2000. ‘Ethnic Identity, National Identity, and Music in Indo-Caribbean Culture’, in P. Bohlman and R. Radano (eds.), Music and the Racial Imagination, pp. 318–345. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Manuel, Peter. 2006. ‘Indo-Caribbean Music Enters the New Millennium’, Review: Literature and Arts of the Americas, 39(1): 151–154. Manuel, Peter. 2012. ‘Indo-Caribbean Folk Music from Oral Tradition to Cyber Culture’, in K. Gentles-Peart and M.L. Hall (eds.), Re-Constructing Space and Place: Media, Culture, Discourse and the Constitution of Caribbean Diasporas, pp. 53–76. New Castle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Mehta, Monika. 2005. ‘Globalising Bombay Cinema: Reproducing the Indian State and Family’, Cultural Dynamics, 17(2): 135–154. Mohan, Raj. 2017. ‘Hindostaanse muziek’, in R. Gowricharn (red.), Onbeschreven erfgoed. Perspectieven op de Surinaams-Hindostaanse cultuur, pp. 87–102. Volendam: LM Publishers. Mokamsing, Narinder. 2017. ‘Hindostaanse Muziekinstrumenten’, in R. Gowricharn (ed.), Onbeschreven erfgoed, pp. 103–116. Volendam: LM Publishers. Narayan, Badri. 2017. Culture and Emotional Economy of Migration. London/New York: Routledge. Nurse, Keith. 2010. ‘Globalization and Trinidad Carnival: Diaspora, Hybridity and Identity in Global Culture’, Cultural Studies, 13(4): 661–690, https://doi. org/10.1080/095023899335095. Ritzer, George. 2003. ‘Rethinking Globalization: Glocalization/Grobalization and Something/Nothing’, Sociological Theory, 21(3): 193–209. Ritzer, George and Elizabeth L. Malone. 2000. ‘Globalization Theory: Lessons from the Exportation of McDonaldization and the New Means of Consumption’, American Studies, 41(2/3): 97–118. Robertson, Ronald. 1992. Globalization: Social theory and global culture. London: Sage Publications. Robertson, Roland. 1995. ‘Glocalization: Time-Space and Homogeneity-Heterogeneity’, in M. Featherstone, S. Lash and R. Robertson (eds.), Global Modernities, pp. 25–44. London: Sage Publications. Roy, Anjali Gera. 2000. Bhangra Moves: From Ludhiana to London and Beyond. London: Routledge. Smith, Anthony D. 1990. ‘Towards a Global Culture’, Theory Culture Society, 7: 171–191. van Stipriaan, Alex. 1993. ‘“Een verre verwijderd trommelen .  .  .” Ontwikkeling van Afro-Surinaamse muziek en dans in de slavernij’, in Ton Bevers, Antoon Van den Braembussche and Berend Jan Langenberg (red.), De Kunstwereld. Produktie, distributie en receptie in de wereld van kunst en cultuur, pp. 143–173. Hilversum: Verloren.

Also consulted film fragments, May 2018 www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PlXS1DQAjU&feature=youtu.be www.youtube.com/watch?v=blQBosKvncE

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www.youtube.com/watch?v=ez2gAhZtDDY www.youtube.com/watch?v=FekJWVqXuZo&feature=youtu.be www.youtube.com/watch?v=hD9kRtCVmzQ www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSceCNc4l8A www.youtube.com/watch?v=sW6tpJDASx8

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10 FIJIAN-INDIAN DIASPORA Emergence, engagement and identity in the transnational world Manoranjan Mohanty

Introduction Migration is an important transnational process now. The immigrants of the past have become the transmigrant today (Glick-Schiller et al. 1995). The concepts of transnationalism and diaspora are closely intertwined. With rapid process of globalisation, there has been rapid transmigration and emergence of ‘new’ diaspora communities in the transnational space. The Indian immigrants under the colonial indentured labour system in the 19th and 20th century that arrived in Mauritius, British Guiana, Trinidad, South Africa, Fiji, or Suriname, formed distinct Indian diasporic communities and they gradually emerged as transmigrants, and transformed into “new” Indian diasporas in transnational world. The “new” Indian diasporas engage deeply in social, cultural, economic and political arena of host country. They perform social and cultural practices, form social and cultural associations and maintain distinct social and cultural identity, transnationally. However, their identity and bonding are not static, but constantly shifting in the transnational space. Globalisation has added to a greater cultural “hybridization” and has prompted rapid shifting of bonding and identity in transnational world. In Fiji, the Indian immigrants arrived between 1879 and 1916 as contractual indentured labourer called girmitiyas, worked in sugar plantation, struggled and sustained during the colonial period, and gradually transformed as transmigrants, creating a diaspora of Fijian-Indian descent in the transnational space. The period also witnessed waves of “free migrants” from India that formed their own Indian sub-diasporic communities. Through “twice migration,” the Fijian-Indian migrants have created transnational “social space” or “social fields” (Basch et al. 1994; Faist 2000; Levitt and Glick-Schiller 2004) and maintained a distinct cultural identity especially in the Pacific-Rim metropolitan countries such as Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and US. It can be argued that Fijian-Indian diasporic 179

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community is constantly shifting transnationally and changing homelands. With shifting homelands, the degree of interaction or bonding with ancestral homeland (India) has also been shifting. The bonding with India varies widely between sub-diasporic communities. It can be further argued that the Fijian-Indian “twice migrants” are deeply engaged in the host country and they are however, less affiliated with ancestral homeland India than the “primary migrants” in the acquired homeland and the bonding diminishes with transmigration as well. The interaction or bonding of Fijian-Indian “twice migrants” in host country with “direct migrants” from India is limited and ambivalent. The nature of bonding with India varies for the “old” and “new” Fijian-Indian diaspora in the transnational world. With more transmigration, Fijian-Indian diaspora community acquire more “hyphenated” and “multiple identities” and at each step of migration, the bonding and identity has been shifting. The diaspora engagement in both countries of origin and country of settlement is relevant and it draws greater attention today. Much of diaspora literature, however, deals with diaspora engagement in the country of origin but little focus has been on diaspora’s engagement in host country. The shifting transnational bonding and identity of Fijian-Indian diaspora is rarely analysed. The questions then arise – how does Fijian-Indian diaspora engage in transnational space? How are their bonding and identity with ancestral homeland shifting? What kind of bonding does exist between Fijian-Indian diaspora and ‘direct’ migrants from India in the host country? The chapter examines the emergence of girmitiyas in Fiji, their transformation into Fijian-Indian diaspora, and their engagement in development of host country. It also analyses the shifting nature of bonding with the ancestral homeland, India, as well as with “direct migrants” from India and their shifting identities in transnational world, taking Australasia as a case in point. In terms of structure, the chapter is organised in to five sections. Section one provides an introduction. The section two deals with a brief theoretical discourse on diaspora, transnationalism and identity. Section three focuses on the origin, and emergence of girmitiyas as Fijian-Indian diaspora in the transnational space. Section four provides narratives of the transnational Fijian-Indian diaspora engagement and shifting transnational bonding and identity, taking Australasia as a case. Section five is the conclusion.

Diaspora, transnationalism and identity discourse Diaspora and transnationalism (Vertovec 2009) are closely interlinked. A diaspora simply refers to a transnational community with shared ethnic group identity. Sinatti and Horst (2014) observed, tansnationalism has redefined the diaspora’s “homes” and these are becoming more “deterritorialized spaces.” According to Sinatti and Horst (2014), the concept of 180

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“home,” “culture,” and “identity” are no longer bounded or fixed and they are constantly changing. The context in which migrants’ construct “identities,” is also shifting (ibid.). The growth of mass media and information and communication technologies have contributed much to the movement of people across border, creating “transnational networks” (Bhat and Sahoo 2003) and in turn, has created “transnational communities”, globally. Diasporas are now connected “instantaneously, continuously, dynamically and intimately to their communities of origin” (The Economist 2011). A “cultural globalisation” is at work that has led to a shift in diaspora’s “bonding” and “identity” in transnational space. There has been a process of “chain” migration through “twice” and “thrice” migration, from the original homeland to a country of “acquired” homeland, and then to a “third country homeland” (e.g. India to Fiji, Fiji to Australia, and Australia to United Kingdom). This leads to formation of a kind of chain diaspora or diaspora within diaspora that further expand “transnational network” and “transnational communities” in the transnational world. According to Vertovec (2000), diaspora is a type of “consciousness” that emphasizes the variety of experiences, and a sense of identity. They maintain what Buchignani (1980) called, “collective ethnic identity” as well as group’s “social identity.” Multi-local social networks of migratory groups do exist in transnational space, which provide platform for interaction, help maintaining group identity of diasporic community, and relate to the welfare of people in the country of origin and destination. The diasporic community actively engage in multiple spheres of life in country of residence and develop “multiple identities” or as Varma and Seshan (2003) called, a “fractured identity”. Diasporic communities’ identity in host country as Oonk (2007) said, depend upon the migrants’ experience, the extent of local integration and the connection to homeland. Gowricharn (2009) however, observed that the diaspora’s transnational ties are constantly changing and there has been shift in their transnational bonding and transnationalism is thus assuming new forms. The concepts of “old” and “new” diaspora have been employed in the diasporic discourse (Bhat 1998; Jain 2004). Bhat (1998) discussed “old” and “new” diaspora and their effects on the interaction and bonding with the ancestral motherland. Diaspora engagement is an important part of diaspora-development discourse (Lowell and Stefka 2004; The Guardian 2013; Newland and Plaza 2013). The “migration-development nexus” (Faist et al. 2011) is critical in understanding diaspora engagement. The diaspora engagement, among others, depends upon the processes of migration, migration trajectories and diaspora formation. Much of diaspora engagement in host country however, depends upon the process of migrants’ assimilation. Several scholars that interpreted the concept of “assimilation” in their works (Gordon 1964; 181

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Glick-Schiller et al. 1992; Clifford 1994; Kearney 1995 cited in Vertovec and Cohen 1999) they said that the “traditional” process of assimilation is no more valid today. The contemporary migrants no longer break ties with their homeland nor undergo a process of assimilation, but instead, “build social fields that link together origin and settlement” (Vertovec and Cohen 1999). Gowricharn (2009) further noted that there has been an increasing emphasis on the persistence of ethnic traits in the assimilation process and it “does not exclude ethnic identities”.

Emergence of girmitiya and transnational Fijian-Indian diaspora Under the colonial indentured labour system, the indentured labourers from India arrived in Fiji on May 14, 1879 and they were brought on a five-year contract or “agreement” referred to as girmit and the indentured labourer referred as girmitiyas. The indenture labour migration lasted for 37 years and over 60,000 Indian migrants arrived in Fiji during 1879–1916. The indenture labour system officially ended on January 1, 1920. The girmit period in Fiji also witnessed a wave of “free migrants” from India, and they were mostly farmers from Punjab and traders, and merchants from Gujarat. By 1920, there was a sizeable “free Indian” immigrant population in Fiji. The Gujarati immigrants, mostly Hindus, arrived in 1906 (Miller 2008) and with the arrival of Gujarati community, started the establishment of trade, commerce and business in Fiji and the community “established local business networks with ties to India” (ibid.). The Gujarati community maintain a close bonding with India and they have business, trade, marriage and other social-cultural relationships with the ancestral motherland. The girmitiyas that arrived as “primary migrants” in Fiji during indenture labour system gradually transformed into a distinct “primary” Fijian-Indian diaspora, although a wide diversity existed within the diaspora. Three distinct streams of Indian immigrants subsequently arrived in Fiji and they formed three Indian sub-diasporic communities within the broader diaspora of Indian origin. These groups however, had varied identities based on the origin, period and nature of migration, and had different bonding with the ancestral homeland. These three Indian sub-diasporas in Fiji include: (1) the Indentured labour migrants (girmitiyas) from India that are transformed into distinct diaspora of Fijian of Indian descent (2) “free migrants” from Gujarat and Punjab forming Gujarati and Sikh diaspora respectively with a Fijian nationality and (3) the contemporary “free Indian” expatriate migrants with an Indian nationality. While the contractual girmitiya Indian migrants represented an “old” Indian diaspora, the “free Indian” migrants referred to as “new” Indian diaspora. When these sub-diasporas migrate to transnational world, they merge into their respective diasporic communities living abroad 182

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and maintain their own community or region identity. It appears that region and locality as Oonk (2007: 13) said are more important in structuring the migrants’ identities than religion or nationality. The Indian-ness among these sub-diasporic communities however, varies considerably. Fijian-Indian diaspora depicted wide diversity of Indian transnationalism. The Indian sub-diasporic community groups although share common Indian origin identity but have varied engagement and bonding with the ancestral homeland (India). The relationships of girmitiya Indian diaspora with ancestral motherland (India) have been relatively distant and it is even more distant for Fijian-Indian diaspora who have migrated from Fiji and settled in Australia (Voigt-Graf 2009). They continue to maintain a vague notion of India. Their ancestral Indian identity is increasingly “imagined” rather than real. Unlike the girmitiya Fiji- Indian “old diaspora”, the free-Indian migrant or “new diaspora” have never lost their links to India and they have close ties and interaction with India and they maintain typical Indian identity. They make occasional visits to India, send remittances, invest in India and thus engage actively with the original homeland. Safran et al. (2009: xxv) observed that, “while the ‘new diaspora’ has retained a vibrant relationship with family and community in India, the majority of the ‘old diaspora’ has lost contact with the motherland”. Since the end of Indentured labour system, the girmitiyas in Fiji had undergone massive transformation and contributed to cultural and economic development of the settled homeland. However, as Srebrnik (2008: 91) noted, there was “little cultural borrowing or adaptation and virtually no inter-marriage” with indigenous Fijians occurred and no “creolised” culture developed. In Fiji, the girmitiyas gradually transformed themselves from bonded agricultural labourer to small holding farmers, artisans, government officials, business entrepreneurs, and skilled professionals. The indentured farm labourers supported their children to acquire better education and help them to move away from farming to non-farming employment. The primary Indian migrants to Fiji, through a secondary-migration, formed a distinct Fijian-Indian diaspora identity in the transnational world especially in the Pacific-Rim metropolitan countries. The Fijian-Indian diaspora have formed a kind of semi-global or regional transnational community encircling Pacific Ocean Rim metropolitan countries such as Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the US. The degree of heterogeneity among migrants decreased gradually with double or triple migration. The primary Fiji-Indian diaspora is highly heterogeneous with multiple identities based on place of origin, region, language and religion compared to the secondary Fijian-Indian diaspora which are more homogeneous” however, with multiple identities of different nature. The process of transnational migrant formation through emigration from Fiji was rapid during the 1970s and 1980s. The changing political economy in Fiji after independence on the one hand, and search for green pastures 183

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and better future on the other, led to large-scale outflow of Fijian-Indian to the Pacific Rim metropolitan countries such as Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and US (Mohanty 2001, 2006). In the past three decades or so, more than 122,000 Fijian-Indian citizen have migrated abroad from Fiji i.e. about 82% of total Fiji citizen migration (Table 10.1). The emigration trends in Fiji accelerated due to the events of political instability in 1987 and the problem of non-renewal of land leases since 1997. The shifting of Fiji-Indian population is due to political upheavals and the domestic issues such as land, rise and fall of crops like sugar cane, banana and copra (Prasad 2005). On an average, 500 Fijian-Indian professionals migrated annually during the decade between 1987 and 1999 and this rate was much higher in the following decades (Table 10.1). The girmitiyas that formed the primary Indian diaspora in Fiji, rose from poverty and exploitation as indentured labourers, and gradually, transformed to an affluent community and through their secondary migration, formed a distinct diaspora of Fijian of Indian descent abroad. The trans-nationalisation of Fijian-Indian diaspora is a rapid process in the last three decades or so. In the late 1970s, large scale Fijian-Indians migrated to Canada and settled mostly in Vancouver City. According to Buchignani (1980: 80), “67% of Fijian immigrants have come to Canada since 1972 (1973–81)”. Buchignani (1980, 1983) studied the social and identity aspects of Fijian-Indians in Vancouver and social organization of Fijian-Indian in Canada. By the 1990s, Fijian of Indian descent formed distinct transnational diaspora through large-scale emigration of third and fourth generation girmitiya population especially in Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and US. Lal (2017: 8) noted that the Fijian of Indian descent “diaspora of the ‘Twice Banished” is increasing daily as people leave Fiji for freedom and opportunity elsewhere. . . .” Today, an estimated Table 10.1 Emigration of Fijian-Indian professional workers, 1978–2012 Year

Professional migrant worker Fijian Fiji % Fijian Annual Indian citizen Indian average Fijian Annual Fiji % Fijian migrant migrant migrant Fijian Indian average Total Indian Indian Fijian to Fiji migration Indian total rate

1978–86 17,358 20,703 1987–99 57,159 64,209 2000–07 37,174 43,113 2008–12 10,536 21,774 1978–2012 122,227 149,799

83.8 89.0 86.2 48.4 81.6

1,929 4,763 4,647 2,107 – 3,595

– 6,008 6,749 3,001

– 501 844 600 –

– 6,869 7,446 6,445 –

Source: Mohanty, M. based on data from Fiji Bureau of Statistics, 1978–2012.

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– 87.5 90.6 46.6 –

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158,000 Fijian-Indian transnational diaspora live in Australia, New Zealand, US, Canada, and the UK (Table 10.2). Australia is home to the largest proportion of Fijian-Indian diaspora, accounting for little less than one-third of total Fiji-Indian diasporic population. This is followed by New Zealand, US, Canada, and the UK (Table 10.2). Outside Australasia, a large number of Fijian-Indian population i.e. over 34,500 lived in the US (Government of United States 2017). A smaller but significant Fiji-Indian diaspora communities are also found in Pacific Island countries, outside of Fiji. The “thrice” migrants of Fijian-Indian origin to a third country from the country of settlement (e.g. Aussie-Fijian-Indian to the UK or US) are an ongoing process. When these “chain diasporas” are taken into account, the total Fijian-Indian global diaspora population is estimated around 170,000. The Fijian-Indian students also constitute a significant number abroad. When the students are added, the Fijian-Indian global diaspora population is much higher than the estimated number. Australasia is home to large Fijian-Indian diaspora. The history of the Indian diaspora in Australasia goes back to 250 years (The Conversation. com 2018). In 1921, there were nearly 2,000 Indians living in Australia and 671 in New Zealand (ibid.). Migration from Fiji to Australasia increased after Fiji’s independence in 1970 (Government of Australia 2016) and accelerated after 1987 coup and political instability (Mohanty 2001). According to Australian Census 2016, there were 61,473 Fiji-born people in Australia (majority of them are Fijian of Indian descent). Similarly, the total Fiji-born population in New Zealand was 52,755 in 2013 (a majority were FijianIndian), accounting for 5.3% of the overseas population (Government of New Zealand 2013). The Indian emigrants from Fiji have created distinct cultural space in transnational world, but they mostly centered on immediate

Table 10.2 Fijian-Indian Diaspora Population in Selected Countries Country

Year

Total Fiji-born Estimated Fijian – % Share to total Fijianpopulation Indian population Indian Population

Australia New Zealand US Canada UK Total

2016 61,473 2013 52,755 2017 45,354 2016 24,925 2015* 6,754 – 191, 261

49,572 45,897 34,526 22,000 5,943 157,938

31.4 29.0 21.9 13.9 3.8 100.0

Source: Mohanty, M. based on various sources including Population Census Reports, Australia (2016), Canada (2016), New Zealand (2013), and US (2017). *UN estimated.

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homeland (Fiji) and largely excluded the ancestral homeland- India (VoigtGraf 2009: 98).

Fijian-Indian diaspora’s transnational engagement and shifting bonding and identity: the case of Australasia Fijian-Indian diaspora have been engaging actively in socio-cultural, economic and political arena in transnational world. For example, they have been engaged in all economic sectors in Australia and New Zealand including agriculture, horticulture, business, trade and commerce, transport and communication, industry. The participation rate of Fiji-born (largely FijianIndian) in labour force in Australia for example, was 72% in 2016 and nearly 59% were employed in skilled managerial, professional or trade occupation in Australia (Government of Australia 2016). The Fijian of Indian descent is well represented in the professional, technical, service and retail sectors in Australia. Similarly, in New Zealand, the professional Indian migrants from Fiji such as doctors, engineers, teachers, managers, accountants and computer specialists contributed through their professional skills, knowledge and experience to New Zealand society and increased the wealth of New Zealand (Khan 2011: 168). In Australia and New Zealand, the total wealth (financial, land, and physical assets) of Fijian-Indian diaspora community is relatively high. In 2013, Fiji-Indians had the second-highest labour force participation and highest annual median income among Pacific groups in Australia (Government of Australia 2016). For instance, the median individual weekly income of Fijiborn in Australia (including Fijian-Indian community) aged 15 years and above was A$699 compared with A$538 for all overseas-born and A$597 for all Australian-born (Government of Australia 2016). The Fijian of Indian descent has contributed significantly towards promotion of trade and development in Australia and New Zealand. Before 1987, as Leckie (2015) noted, Fijian immigrants found it difficult to get island and Indian ingredients, and they relied upon a few Indian importers or friends bringing food from Fiji. Today, largely because of the settlement of Fijian of Indian descent in New Zealand, an extensive range of foods, clothing, utensils, and Hindi videos are available (ibid.). Some are successful entrepreneurs and professionals, and they run restaurants with taste of Fiji-Indian foods in cities in Australia and New Zealand. For example, Ramas Fiji-Indian restaurant in Canberra, and Taste of Fiji and Fiji Curry House in Auckland are notable. The Fijian-Indian diaspora communities have prompted export of goods from homeland Fiji that are incorporated into lived culture of host countries and they are mainly responsible for importing “yaqona” to New Zealand (ibid.). Sport and leisure activities also reinforce Fijian social ties and Fijian-Indians are prominent within New Zealand Boxing Federation (ibid.). 186

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Khan (2011) highlighted the significant contributions of skilled and professional Fiji Indian migrants to New Zealand’s economy and productivity. According to Khan (2011), the post-1987 immigration from Fiji led to a huge increase in Hindu religious activities in New Zealand, including temple building, celebration of festivals, and pujas and mandalis (religious gatherings). The Fijian-Indian diaspora communities are also engaged in charity and philanthropy works in their country of origin and residence. Associational formation by the Fijian-Indian diaspora abroad is not very uncommon. Various Fijian-Indian organizations have been formed in Australia and New Zealand that have contributed significantly to the welfare of people, to social and economic development, and in art, music and other cultural development. The associations are powerful force for the maintenance of ethnic identity and cultural values of Fijian of Indian descent (Voigt-Graf 2009: 123). The cultural identity (Hall 1990) has been established in transnational space by various sub-diasporic communities through their ethnic associations leading to as Varma and Seshan (2003) said, fractured identities within Indian diaspora. Some Fiji-Indian associations in the transnational space include for example, Christchurch Fiji (Indian) Association; Fiji Community Association, Queensland; Fiji American National Association (FANA), California; Canadian Federation of Fiji Organisation (CFOFO). In New Zealand, FijiIndian Association was established in Auckland in 1977, with educational, cultural, sporting, and social aims (Leckie 2015). It organised sporting and cultural events and sponsored Indian dancers and musicians from Fiji and India (ibid.). Fijian-Indian diaspora have their own media services as well, for instance, Radio Tarana, a Hindi radio station in Auckland, a community newspaper such as Indian Observer, and an internet site: Indian “News link” in New Zealand (ibid.). In Australia, Fijian of Indian descents have replicated the cultural and religious associations they had created in Fiji (Voigt-Graf 2009). The Fijian of Indian descent associations in Sydney for instance, cooperate closely with the Fiji-based associations, receiving support in the form of visiting preachers and getting information on important religious events (ibid.). In return, the Sydney-based associations financially support the activities of their counterparts in Fiji and are involved in charity work (ibid.). There is little cooperation however, with those established by Indian migrant diaspora from India (Voigt-Graf 2009). The Fijian-Indian diaspora communities have formed various religious and community organisations as well. In New Zealand, the University of Auckland Fiji Club for instance, dates back to the 1960s (Leckie 2015). Other religious and community groups in New Zealand include, e.g. Arya Samaj Pratinidhi Sabha; Arya Samaj Christchurch Satsangh Mandal; Auckland Satsang Ramayan Mandali; Brahma Kumari Centre Wellington; New Zealand Muslim Association; and Sikh Society-Auckland. These organisations 187

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are engaged in religious, cultural, social and sporting activities as well as in business and trade. Fijian-Indian community associations are also engaged in common advocacy and welfare and offer sports and cultural programmes. Many are engaged in charity and philanthropy work. Fijian of Indian descent has been engaging actively in political, legal and academic professions as well in the transnational arena. In political sphere for instance, in Australia in 2016, five Indian-origin candidates including two women were among the 200 candidates that contested for general elections, of which, Lisa Singh of Labour Party was a prominent Fijian of Indian descent. Among the leading academics from old Fijian-Indian diaspora in Australia, Brij V. Lal and Satendra Nandan are notable. Similarly, in New Zealand, Sir Anand Satyanand, Rajen Prasad and Ajit Swaran Singh were important Fijian of Indian descent who was actively involved in the politicolegal professions. Shifting Fijian-Indian diaspora bonding and identity The girmitiyas that settled in Fiji gradually, embraced the local culture and assimilated themselves in the “alien lands” (Mahanta 2015). The Fiji girmitiyas as “old diaspora”, maintained the primary Fiji-Indian identity in terms of language, food, songs, art, music, dance, and other cultural group identities such as e.g. Ramayana Mandalis. The original Indian identities that were marked in terms of place, caste, and religion at the time of migration from India, gradually, shifted towards a group identity as jahajis (ship based brotherhood) during the long journey to Fiji, to girmitiya identity when landed in Fiji, and then to a plantation identity as “coolies” and subsequently, to a “Fiji-Indian” identity along with the identity of Indian ancestry. The old girmitiya diaspora of different caste, creed, language, and religion lived together in the colonial plantations and produced a distinct cultural identity, which is typically Fiji-Indian. Over time, a common lingua franca, i.e. a plantation language or Fiji Baat evolved to connect the girmitiyas (Naidu 2017). The plantation Hindi language later became Fiji Hindi, which was an amalgamation of various dialects or spoken languages and became a distinctive identity of girmitiyas. Naidu (2017: 18) noted that the colonial state designated all girmitiyas as Indian race and the diverse ethnicities of the girmitiyas and their descendants merged into the Indian racial identity. The girmitiyas, who completed five years of contract became free girmitiyas and accepted Fiji as their new homeland, possessed land and became small tenant farmers. Their identity then shifted towards peasantry-based girmitiyas and settled in the sugar growing areas (Naidu 2017: 15). The girmitiyas established a new culture and a new identity of their own from their diversified cultural traits and identities. After acquiring Fiji citizenship, they were designated as Fiji citizens and soon after the independence in 1970, they were variously called as “Fiji-born Indian,” “Indo-Fijian,” “Fiji-Indians,” 188

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and so forth (Naidu 2017: 20). Adrian Mayer (1963) first used the term “Indo-Fijian” to distinguish the Fiji-born Indians from India-born girmitiyas (ibid.). For long, Fijian of Indian descent diaspora suffered from a national identity crisis. However, with the adoption of new Fiji constitution in 2013 and restoration of democratic government in 2014 through general election, all ethnic groups in Fiji have a common “Fijian” citizenry. After a long quest for national identity, Fijian of Indian descent acquired a common national identity for the first time. The Indian ethnic identity thus shifted to a common Fijian national identity in 2014. With the adoption of the Fijian, the Fiji-Indian diaspora has been placed distinctly with a homeland identity in the transnational space today. In transnational space, especially in Canada in 1980s, Buchignani (1980: 82) observed that “Fijian-Indians see themselves as being Fijian. . . . They do not feel commonality with South Asians despite sharing many superficial cultural practices with them”. He further noted that “Fijians came to Canada with a clearly defined ethnic collective identity” (p.  80). According to Buchignani (1980) the “Vancouver Fijian community is by no means homogeneous, in either a network or an identity sense” (p. 92). In Australia and New Zealand, Fijian-Indian diaspora maintain their kinship networks, cultural traits and distinct identity. There is a greater visibility of the Fiji-Indian secondary diaspora in a relatively small and homogeneous host community in New Zealand (Friesen and Kearns 2008; Hundt 2014). A unique Fijian-Indian culture has been developed in New Zealand, which is distinct from other New Zealand Indian diaspora (Leckie 2015). The Bollywood movies are very popular among Fijian-Indian diaspora communities, and have helped binding Indian diaspora abroad especially in New Zealand The Bollywood movies provide a sense of Indian identity and connect the Fijian-Indians with their ancestral homeland, i.e. India. Khan (2011) noted that in New Zealand, the profile of the Fiji-Indian migrants in the years after the coup differed from the usual migrant characteristics. They were married with families, skilled and professional, with a high standard of English, and relative familiarity with New Zealand systems and had high expectations (ibid.). A “hybrid cultural identity” has been seen within Fijian-Indian diaspora in transnational space. The transnational Fijian of Indian descent faces a kind of dualism in terms of motherland i. e the ancestral/ original motherland (India) and the adopted motherland/ country of origin (Fiji). While the ancestral motherland is the original source of ethnic cultural traits and identity, the adopted motherland provides nationalism, citizenry, and modified cultural identity. Fijian-Indians thus have multiple identities in transnational space. Friesen and Kearns (2008: 222) found the development of a diaspora “consciousness” with its dual or “multiple identities” and a resulting cultural hybridisation in the Indian diaspora in New Zealand (cited in Hundt 2014). 189

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The identity of Fijian of Indian descent in the Pacific Rim metropolitan countries is multi-layered and mixed. These identities are marked by: (1) the Indian ancestral motherland’s cultural identity (2) Fijian homeland nationalism and citizenry identity (3) Pacific islander identity and (4) the identity of country of settlement (e.g. Australia or New Zealand). Through secondary migration, the Fiji-Indian migrants have acquired citizenship of a third country mostly of Australia, Canada, New Zealand and US. The Fijian citizenry has provided the Fiji-born Indians, a stronger sense of Fiji national identity in the transnational world. The Fijian-Indian of old generations are however different from the new generations born to parents of Fijian of Indian descent settled in New Zealand and Australia and they are respectively referred as Kiwi- Fiji -Indian and Aussie-Fiji-Indian. Therefore, a complex and multilayered sub-diaspora does exist within the broader Indian diaspora in Pacific Rim countries especially in Australasia. “There has been a homogenisation of sub-national identities in the diaspora in favour of “pan-Indian identity” (cited in Safran et al. 2009: xxvii). The contemporary generations in secondary Fijian-Indian migrants have limited direct contact with ancestral homeland and gradually they have lost interaction with the original motherland and have a greater social and cultural distance with India. As Voigt-Graf (2009: 97) noted that their experiences with sub-continental India are limited and their views of original motherland is largely based on “ignorance, indifference and stereotypes”. The transnational Fijian of Indian descents maintain their group identity more affiliated to their adopted motherland, Pacific islands and the country of settlement rather than ancestral motherland. The degree of homogeneity and the social-cultural distance from the ancestral homeland further increase among the new sub-diasporas and emerge among them, a distinct cultural identity flavoured more towards post-modernity and post-modern outlook. With the internet and “new types of hyper-connectivity” (The Economist 2011), there has been a shift in mode of interaction from physical to virtual by the Fijian-Indian diaspora in the transnational space and they maintain transnational bonding through virtual networks. With double or triple migration, there have been constant shifts in FijianIndian diaspora bonding and cultural identity in transnational space. However, the Fijian of Indian descent does maintain their shared group identity in transnational world and maintain their dual umbilical relationships directly with their adopted motherland and to some extent indirectly with their ancestral motherland. As a social form (Vertovec 2000), Fijian-Indian diaspora maintain a “triangular relationships” or bonding in transnational space between (1) Fijian-Indian communities in the acquired homeland, (2) globally dispersed Fiji-Indian communities, and (3) the imagined homeland. The Fijian-Indian diaspora has thus created a typical Fiji-Indian cultural field, transnationally with common elements in such cultural bonding being Fiji-Hindi language, Ramayan Mandalis and yoqona. They are connected 190

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with the ancestral homeland India indirectly through food, music, dance, dress, religion, and Bollywood movies. In recent years, Fijian-Indian diaspora community travel to India through mass package pilgrimage organised by package travel tour and they establish connection with the ancestral homeland, India. Hundt (2014) noted that in Wellington, New Zealand, apart from teaching heritage language, the cultural ties with India are maintained via classical Indian dance. The local drink, yaqona (kava) become a popular cultural practice that provides Fiji Indians abroad, a sense of Wantokism (one-talk) and belonging as it prevails in some Melanesian countries such as the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. In cities like Auckland, Vancouver, Modesto, and Canberra, there are gathering places such as Fiji shops and kava bars (Naidu 2017: 23) where Fijian of Indian descent meet and interact. “LA and Sydney have ‘kava bars’ like those in Suva market serving Indo-Fijians only” (cited in Naidu 2017: 12). The yaqona sessions abroad gives Fijian-Indian, a sense of shared “island” identity. Language, food, dress, shared history, and religion are among the key factors in maintaining Fiji-Indian identity in transnational space. The typical cultural traits have helped binding Fijian-Indians abroad and help maintaining their socio-cultural identity in the transnational world. As elsewhere, Fiji-Indian Hindus have preserved the Hindu traditions more than those in India. The Hindu festivals such as Ram Navami, Shivaratri, Holi, and Diwali are celebrated among the Hindus of Fijian-Indians overseas and they maintain their Hindu identity. The recital of Ramayana has a special significance during Ram Navami celebration bringing Hindus together in the Ramayana Mandalis. In Wellington for instance, the Ramayana Mandalis symbolize Fiji-Indian identity and it is a means of maintaining social networks (Hundt 2014). The ethnic Indians have also influenced local non-Indian communities living in host countries towards Indian food, music and Bollywood cinemas. Voigt-Graf (2009) noted they run spice shops and operate Bollywood movies video libraries in Australia. Gradually, the assimilation of Fijian-Indian diaspora communities with host countries has become intense and Fijian-Indian diaspora community has assimilated well into the Australasian society. Voigt-Graf (2009) noted that most Fijian of Indian descent migrants regard Australia as their new home and have little intention of leaving a country where they can build a more secure future and are treated as equals.   . . . The Indo-Fijians are culturally and socially distinct from those from the mainland. . . . The melding of IndoFijians into Pacific islanders . . . gives . . . a distinct identity. (cited in Naidu 2017: 12) Fijian-Indian diasporic community in Australasia became part of the larger local identity more than of an Indian diasporic identity. The bonding 191

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between Fijian-Indian diaspora and the direct migrants from India is very limited. The relationship of Fijian-Indians in Australasia with India are characterised by imagination and prejudice. Prasad (2005) said that the link between Fijian-Indian in Australia and Indo-Fijian in Fiji overshadowed the link to the ancestral motherland (India) to the extent that the latter became “a trace of a trace” (p. 15). Voigt-Graf (2009) observed that “Indo-Fijians have created transnational spaces that are centred on Fiji and that largely exclude their ancestral homeland India.” Most of the Fijian-Indians “identify themselves with the country of origin and little towards the original ancestral homeland, and their contribution towards development of India is negligible or absent” (ibid.). Rather they have contributed significantly to their country of settlement such as Australia and New Zealand. VoigtGraf (2009) in her study in Australia also found that the social distance between Fijian-Indian and Indians from India is considerable and there were “no marriages between Fijian of Indian descent and Indians from India in Sydney,” and they have “very limited interaction between them.” They have constructed more of a “Pacific identity” (Voigt-Graf 2009) than motherland Indian identity. Hundt (2014: 13) in his study in Wellington also observed relationships between Fijian-Indian diaspora and Indian diaspora from India is not cordial. He perceived that in a generation or two, with language shift towards English and adaptation to the linguistic context in New Zealand, a “pan-Indian identity” might develop that transcends the borders between Fiji-Indians, India-Indians and New Zealand-Indians.

Conclusion The Indian immigrants under the colonial indentured labour system, gradually formed distinct Indian diasporic communities and became trans-migrants. In Fiji, three Indian sub-diasporas emerged as: (1) the Indentured labour migrants (girmitiyas) from India that are transformed into distinct diasporic communities of Fijian of Indian descent (2) free migrants from Gujarat and Punjab forming Gujarati and Sikh diaspora respectively with a Fijian nationality and (3) the contemporary free Indian expatriate migrants with an Indian nationality. While the contractual girmitiya Indian migrants represented an old Indian diaspora, the free Indian migrants referred to as new Indian diaspora. Through “wice migration, a distinct Fijian-Indian diaspora emerged in transnational space. They engage deeply in social, cultural, economic and political arena and maintain distinct social and cultural identity in transnational world, especially in the Pacific Rim metropolitan countries such as Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and US. With further transmigration, they acquire more “hyphenated” and “multiple identities” in the transnational space. However, their identity and bonding are constantly shifting. The bonding with the ancestral homeland India varies widely for these sub-diasporic communities. The bonding of Fijian-Indian diasporic 192

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communities with ancestral homeland India has been limited and their bonding with direct migrants from India in the host country is ambivalent. Their ancestral Indian identity is increasingly imagined rather than real. Unlike the girmitiya Fijian-Indian old diaspora, the free-Indian migrant or new diaspora have close ties and interaction with India and they maintain the typical Indian identity. The Fijian-Indian diaspora however maintain their transnational ethnic and cultural identity through formation of various religious and community organisations. They have created a typical Fiji-Indian cultural field, transnationally with the common elements such as Fiji-Hindi language, Ramayan Mandalis and yoqona. Most of the Fijian-Indians identify themselves with the homeland Fiji and little with the ancestral motherland India and their contributions towards development of India is negligible. They are connected with the ancestral homeland India indirectly through food, music, dance, dress, and religion, and more importantly through Bollywood movies. The identity of Fijian-Indian diasporic community in the Pacific Rim metropolitan countries especially in Australasia, is multi-layered, mixed and a “fractured identity”. These identities are marked variously by: (1) the Indian ancestral motherland’s cultural identity (2) Fijian homeland nationalism and citizenry identity (3) Pacific islander identity and (4) the identity of country of residence (e.g. Australia, New Zealand or Canada). The Fijian-Indian diasporic community also maintain its religious identity e.g. Hindu identity. A “hybrid cultural identity” has thus been developed within Fijian-Indian diaspora in transnational space. Many perceived that their identity might shift in future towards a “pan-Indian identity” that transcends the borders between Fiji-Indians, India-Indians, and Australia, New Zealand, or Canada-Indians.

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11 IDEA OF HOMELAND/S Hadramis of Barkas in the Persian Gulf Anushyama Mukherjee

Introduction Migration scholarship has undergone a sea of change in the past two decades. Most scholars now recognize that many contemporary migrants and their predecessors maintained a variety of ties to their home countries while they became incorporated into the countries where they settled. Migration has never been a one-way process of assimilation into a melting pot or a multi-cultural salad bowl but one in which migrants, to varying degrees, are simultaneously embedded in the multiple sites and layers of the transnational social fields in which they live. More and more aspects of social life take place across borders, even as the political and cultural salience of nation-state boundaries remains clear. Transnational existence and life in exile, for example the Jewish diaspora, pave the way for possibly different and inventive conceptualisation of home. However, in the recent times, voluntary movement of people can no longer be termed as exile. This has tapped transnational movement of people between two or more countries by forming new types of identities. This type of transnational movement exists in Barkas (a Hadrami neighbourhood in Hyderabad) and it gives rise to the idea of homelands and identities due to circular migration to the Gulf countries. Migration from this ethnic community brings new types of bonding between people in the homeland, hostland with different experiences. The pace of border-crossings has risen to a new crescendo, with migrants seeking to transfigure cultural boundaries and recreate new representations of their selves, their pasts, and their new milieu. Often, for the increasing numbers of middle-class professionals arriving in the West in the 20th century, immigration is a self-imposed exile driven by economic and social aspirations. However, in the contemporary world of transnational cultural exchanges, movements of people and their shifting bonding between nations are no longer an exile in any complete sense. Identities and cultures get delocalized, but rarely detached from memories of past places and times. 197

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Barkas presents a unique case of migration: firstly from Hadramaut region of Yemen to Hyderabad around 200 years ago and currently to the Gulf countries. As Barkas has maintained its identity as a Hadrami neighbourhood over four generations now, therefore questions pertaining to the construction and location of homeland/s are interesting and crucial in this neighbourhood. Moreover, it is interesting that how even today Barkas behaves like a ghetto and maintained its ethnic identity with a global exposure. Given this background, this chapter proposes to argue that does migration to the Gulf have any relationship with the concept of homeland among the residents in Barkas. The main aim of the chapter is then to understand how and why do Barkas construct homeland/s and their bonding with the multiple places and how are the identities shifting for them. It is not singular identity which this group of migrants experience post migration rather a multiple one. One such example of shifting transnational identity is maintained through language. As far as maintenance of Hadrami identity through language is concerned, it is hybrid. Homi Bhabha (1994) has argued that hybridity results from various forms of colonisation which historically leads to cultural collision and interchanges. Language as a marker of identity is important in this neighbourhood as Hadramis of the first generation spoke in Arabic. The second, third, and fourth or the present generations born and raised in Hyderabad, have started learning Arabic due to the influence of the Gulf. In the Gulf countries, migrants first have to learn Arabic and the residents prefer speaking in Arabic today rather than Urdu which was used until about 1956 until formation of the state of Andhra Pradesh. There is a constant force for the people from Barkas to be associated with the Emirati/Saudi culture (locally used by the respondents) because it is considered to be superior to theirs. The whole of question of being an Arab from Barkas (the Hadramis) many a time did not work in the Gulf. While religious identity is constant, the form and shape it takes is impacted by the process of migration. However, the difference from being an expatriate to that of a citizen is so much that immigrants try to identify themselves through various other aspects like skin colour, language, country of origin, and where they live in Dubai and where they spend their leisure time. Post migration, identities shift from sometimes being from Barkas or from Hyderabad or from India.

Theoretical perspectives Theoretically, the chapter has analysed the concept of transnationalism focusing on homeland issues and shifting transnational identities. During the 1990s, focusing on the issue of homelands, transnational migration scholars argued that some migrants continued to be active in their homelands at the same time that they became part of the countries that received them. They described how migrants and their descendants participate in familial, social, 198

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economic, religious, political, and cultural processes that extend across borders while they become part of the places where they settle (Basch et al. 1994; Faist 2000a, 2000b; Glick Schiller et al. 1992; Grasmuck and Pessar 1991; Guarnizo 1997; Itzigsohn et al. 1999; Jacoby 2004; Kivisto 2001; Kyle 2000; Levitt 2001; Mahler 1998; Portes et al. 1999; Smith and Guarnizo 1998). Although the first iterations of this perspective broke new ground but they also suffered from weaknesses common among innovative approaches. They tended to see transnational migration everywhere, when, in fact, the range and scope of migrants’ transnational practices vary considerably. Recent scholarship understands transnational migration is taking place within fluid social spaces that are constantly reworked through migrants’ simultaneous embeddedness in more than one society (Levitt and Glick Schiller 2004; Pries 2005; Smith 2005). These arenas are multi-layered and multi-sited, including not just the home and host countries but other sites around the world that connect migrants to their co-nationals and co-religionists. Many argue that transnational migration is not a new phenomenon, retelling the US immigrant story through a transnational lens. Scholars (Chan 2006; Foner 2000; Morawska 2004; Gabaccia 2000) have highlighted the cross-border engagements of old immigrants coming to the United States in the Industrial and Progressive eras. Many immigrants intended their sojourns to be temporary and stayed tightly connected to the homeland. Many scholars of migration now accept that transnational practices and attachments have been and continue to be widespread among the first generation but far fewer think these ties persist among subsequent generations. They cite both declining language fluency and survey findings indicating that the children of immigrants have no intention of returning to live in their ancestral homes (Alba and Nee 2003; Kasinitz et al. 2002; Portes and Rumbaut 2001). A similar situation is found among the Yemenis of Barkas post migration to the Gulf countries. Alejandro Portes (1996: 160) has said that analysing the economic origins of the transnational communities and arguing that the result of an economic project is the transformation of the immigrants into transnational communities, characterised by dense network across space by an increasing number of people who lead dual lives . . . move easily between cultures, frequently maintain homes in two countries and pursue economic political and cultural interest that require simultaneous presence in both. (Portes 1996: 160) This has proved to be true from the large scale migration flows happened from the city of Hyderabad either to the West or to the Gulf. In both these places, immigrants are living in dual lives and maintaining multiple homes. 199

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Scholars have discussed how migrants could be either sojourners or settlers (Watson 1977). In this chapter one can observe that migrants from Barkas are not settled in the Gulf as they are not allowed to acquire citizenship. Although they stay for many years, they do not live there after the completion of their contract. Households transcend geographical boundaries and peoples’ perceptions as where they belong are becoming more and more complex. Some are of the perception that nowhere is home. Therefore, they have a feeling of sojourn rather than settlement. Even when women visit their families in the Gulf for few days, or men come back for yearly or quarterly visit in India and they became a part of an increasingly Creolised or mixed world (Hannerz 1992) where the lives are no longer determined and bounded by space. Similarly, the chapter has looked at the multiple perceptions of Hadramis and Hyderabadis from Barkas constructing homeland differently especially given their ethnic identity, and attempted to explore the relationship between the construction of homeland and hostland. Karen I. Leonard (2007) has pointed out that, “any segment of people living outside their homeland can be termed as diaspora and Hyderabadi diaspora is best known as a diaspora within South Asian diaspora.” Migrants from Barkas have developed a concept of homeland which is mixed and almost plural. For instance, among many Hadramis of the first generation, Yemen was their homeland which they still have in their imagination. Slavoj Zizek (1993) defines the imaginary as the state of “identification with the image in which we appear likeable to ourselves, with the image representing “what we would like to be.” The idea of homeland therefore becomes imaginary and a fantasy through which society perceives itself as a homogeneous group. Therefore, this imagination is related to the recollected moment of the ancestors’ migration to another place for reasons which are either voluntary or forced. While discussing home for the Hadramis of Barkas, one cannot discount Benedict Anderson’s (1983) concept of imagined community. It is significant as he says that communities are to be distinguished by their falsity/ genuineness but by the way they are imagined. An imagined community is different from an actual community because it is not based on everyday face to face interaction between its members. As Anderson puts it, a nation “is imagined because the members of even smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion.” The idea of imagined homeland emerges differently for different migrants of Barkas depending on age, gender and movements around the world. Stuart Hall (1996: 21) explains the multiple complexities of culture among the diaspora communities abroad. There is a shared culture which is collective, based on shared history and common ancestry. Creation of collective memory was therefore very much a family business. Now, cultural identity in Barkas also belongs to the future as well as to the past as Hall mentioned 200

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(1996) of being and becoming. In other words, what these migrants were before and what they have become now. They have undergone constant transformation with time, place and culture. Cultural belonging also means that they are segregated from other groups racially, ethnically and based on a socio-economic class. Schulz and Hammer (2003: 56) have argued that, if “transnational” is all about activities and linkages that are cross border then, “hybridity” in contemporary literature has come to refer to the ways in which processes of identification are affected by meetings and by cross-border activities. The problem of identity is not just the tension between where you are from and where you are at but it is how diaspora and homeland relations and identities are mutually constituted (Ang 1993: 13; Gilroy 1991–92). There has been a constant debate as how residents of Barkas identify themselves within and outside their locality. There is ambivalence in categorising them as forming one kind of identity. People negotiate different sides of their identities. For the Hadramis, the Hadrami identity neither yielded nor conserved fully rather it is complemented with new experiences, meetings and activities. For many Hadramis, an Arab identity is so important especially post migration that they would identify them as Arabs in Hyderabad.

Methodology The chapter is based on ethnography of 43 households in Barkas who are either migrants or have returned from the Gulf. The study was conducted in Barkas (description of the field site is given next) in Hyderabad from May 2011 to March 2012. Out of 196 individuals from 43 households, there are 76 men and 87 women and 33 (5–17 years of age) children who have migrated to the Gulf for various purposes. Forty-eight men have migrated to UAE, six have migrated to Saudi Arabia followed by Qatar (three), Oman (two), Bahrain (two). Two women were married in Yemen. Three men have migrated to Hadramaut for occupational purposes. Seventeen women have migrated spread in different countries post marriage with their husbands. Fourteen men, women and children have migrated with their families, there are two men who are searching for jobs in the Gulf at the time of the interview, 54 men, women, and children have visited their immediate family members as occasional visitors and 43 men, women, and children have never visited the Gulf. The methods used in the study are observation throughout the period of study, in depth interviews, participant observation, and situational conversations. Generally, migrants from Barkas are spread in Bahrain, UAE, Saudi Arabia, Oman and Qatar as well as US, UK, and Australia. Barkas was quite a challenging field site for various reasons. Some of the crucial challenges were, for one, that I was the only woman who walked on the streets without wearing a burqa. The neighbourhood is known for all sorts of notorious activities. Civilians from the rest of the city do not 201

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prefer to go to areas near Barkas or in Barkas for the same reason. For many months during the fieldwork, I was treated as an outsider as I was a Hindu, educated woman. Second challenge was language as many spoke in Arabic. However, I learnt the language while conducting the fieldwork which also created a bond between me and the respondents. Lastly, men have always tried to ignore me to respond to my questions. To build rapport, I stayed at various respondents’ houses and continued the fieldwork.

Field site: Barkas Barkas inhabited mainly by the Chaush community who were descendants of the Hadrami Arab military men and bodyguards hailing from the Hadramaut region of Yemen. It is also inhabited by some former employees of the Nizam of Hyderabad who are not from Hadramaut. This area used to serve as the military barracks of the Nizam of Hyderabad. The word is believed to have been derived from the English word barracks. Here, every household has at least one member from each generation either returned or working in the Gulf countries. Historically, Hadramis came to India and to Hyderabad around 200 years ago. During this period, there was a dearth of food and employment in Yemen and it was at the same time that the Nizam of Hyderabad had called a group of Yemenis to serve in his kingdom. Around 1,200 Arabs migrated to Hyderabad and most were from Yemen. They were recruited in the Nizam’s irregular army to guard his treasure and also as personal bodyguards. Hence these people came to Hyderabad as a result of the push and pull factors of migration (Mukherjee 2017a, 2017b). Old style architecture of Barkas is being replaced with huge mansions which are made out of Gulf money. Today the local market has products from Saudi Arabia and United Arab Emirates (UAE) brought by migrants and their families. Influence of the Gulf was seen in the names of the shops – Hadrami Harees Café (a morning snack of Yemen), Musqati Dairy, Dubai Shopping, Al-Ain Tailors, Dubai Footwear, Dubai Burqa shops, Oman general stores, Hadrami shoes, New Saudi Arabian Shawarma Restaurant and Yemeni video library. The names of the shops suggest that the residents of Barkas try to maintain ties with Yemen and Gulf in various ways with a separate identity of their own. Arabian dishes like Kabsa Laham, Laham Masvi, Tahte as well as Hyderabadi Biryani are still the popular dishes that are prepared at home on several occasions. There is gender segregation in the neighbourhood. Women are not allowed to step into public spaces without the company of men. One Madrassa and one Urdu school named Masha Allah-La Quwwatah Illa Billah is present in the neighbourhood. Five other private schools and two government schools are located for boys and girls separately. Reading Quran is considered to be the most important task for women. Not only is the level of education low in the area but also the interest to get educated. During the Seventh Nizam’s 202

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rule, Mir Osman Ali Khan, men were recruited in the army at an early age and hence education was not important then. For women, it was difficult to travel to other schools as Barkas is far from the main city. However, in the recent times, in many households, women are completing professional degrees from the neighbouring colleges. For the past 10 years, women have started going to schools and colleges though with a lot of surveillance from the family. However, they are not allowed to work. A few men have also started migrating to Canada, UK, and Australia for education and occupation (Mukherjee 2017a).

Construction of multiple homeland/s To create a home even when one is far away from it is primarily about finding security and safety and just coping with life. Hadramis from Barkas migrating to different countries at present giving rise to different types of transnational communities; first are the Hadramis who came from Yemen and second are the self-identified Hadramis from Barkas who are migrating to the Gulf. Therefore, for this group, based on their transnational identities, there is no single discernible homeland but perhaps the idea of shifting homelands and hostlands. Interestingly, different generations have varied perceptions about the construction of homeland based on their identities post migration. It is more interesting to note that with the changing situation in their present residential home, Hyderabad, this group of people still have a different understanding of homeland. The construction of homeland is closely dependent upon the idea of hostland. For instance, Yemen is still a homeland for many, whereas the Gulf countries like Saudi Arabia/UAE, is second home for some, and thirdly Hyderabad is home for many others. The connections between these places are quite strong for this group of neglected community in Hyderabad. Therefore, binaries like homeland and hostland are rather fluid in nature and malleable. This shows that there is a diversity of identity among the residents of Barkas who were once migrants to India and now are migrants to the Gulf countries. The perceptions do not always vary according to socio-economic status in Barkas rather they feel united in calling one single space as their home depending on their ethnic identity, shared memory and shared experiences. Hadramaut as the original home First, there are those who believe that Hadramaut is their original home. These families have a collective memory of their homeland because of their cultural identity and their descendants have a collective myth and their ancestors had a myth of return unlike the next generations. Aparna Rayaprol (1997) suggests the homeland that people construct is part real and part 203

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imagined. In this chapter, the homeland that Hadramis of Barkas has created is partly imaginative because many of them have never visited Hadramaut in their lifetime. Hadramis of the first generation came from Yemen. Even the second generation has not visited Yemen in their lifetime except for a few as it was quite expensive to travel. The second and mostly the third generations do not feel the need to visit Yemen; they have no attachment with the place as they were born and raised in Hyderabad. Their parents could not keep in touch with the families who were left behind in Yemen as communication across nations was not easy in those days. With the generations changing, the concept of Yemen as homeland is disappearing. The issue of citizenship is also an important reason as to why the first generation did not go back to Yemen. By the time Hadramis lost their occupations in Hyderabad under the Nizam in 1956, they became Indian citizens. Moreover, the economic and political reasons did not give the Hadramis of Barkas enough opportunities to go back to Yemen, rather they migrated to the Gulf countries for occupational purposes through various social networks. There are many families where children are socialised to maintain the culture of Yemen, in Barkas, even today, through storytelling. However, much of the storytelling has changed over time as the older members have only a vague memory of their past. The history of Hadramaut is created and recreated with time and young generations mostly do not hold any memory related to the homeland as there is not a nostalgia of the past (Mukherjee 2014). They do not know if the past was real or imagined. It is always a story narrated by the older generations. Families still try to maintain their cultural identity as a Yemeni through various ways. For example, Bajaber is one of the Oldest Hadrami families in Barkas. Male members of the family have migrated to different countries in the Gulf for occupational purpose. A few women from Bajaber family were married to Yemenis in Sanaá. One of the purposes of women getting married in Yemen is to maintain lifelong bond with their original homeland. Similarly, for instance, Salem Bin Abudallah Bin Mafoor, a 52-year-old respondent who migrated to different countries in the Gulf and to Hadramaut has pointed out that he was a Hadrami by heart. He has further stressed that with changing time there is a fusion of culture in Barkas. Nowadays, no one is aware of the old Hadrami culture and they do not associate Hadramaut as home (Mukherjee 2014). This is how shifting identities takes place with transnational migration. Hadramis also have an emotional memory of their homeland, Yemen, but at the same time, they are comfortable with the present situation in Hyderabad and migration to the Gulf. The Hadrami identity that is perceived by them is very important. As it is becoming more symbolic and distant, the context of being without a homeland is created. Many Hadramis have pointed out that they are neither here nor there, which means they cannot

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culturally identify themselves fully as Indians nor they are Yemenis. Legally, they are Indian citizens and enjoy all the facilities that an Indian does. Gulf as the present home or second home Second are those who believed that the Gulf is their present home and sometimes second home although they are aware that they will not be able to live in the Gulf permanently. Therefore, the Gulf is a temporary home for many. For the Hyderabadis (self-identified) of Barkas, there is a constant desire to attach themselves with the local Arabs as many believe that the Gulf is their second home after Barkas. There are reasons as to why many immigrants from Barkas felt the Gulf as their second home. For example, another respondent family, the Bakaseer family has mentioned that they prefer to interact with the local population of Dubai but there is always a boundary. Bakaseer family is another respondent like other families in Barkas who have tried their best to maintain connections with the Gulf countries. The young population, i.e. children of the migrants, mentioned that as many of them were born in the Gulf so they call themselves Arabs. This is because they were raised in the Gulf where they interact with the local culture on a daily basis. For instance, Omer Abdullah, a migrant from Barkas in Dubai, has described it as how people love to go to Dubai and live there with better facilities than in Hyderabad. For instance, there are no power cuts, no water problems, no beggars, no over-crowding, and so many more facilities including the air conditioner that is functioning day and night. Omer also said that with a good salary one can afford domestic help. Dubai is perceived as having a better lifestyle and represented a “pure Arab culture.” Dubai here is just an example. For many, Riyadh or Doha holds the same meaning. Similarly, Bin Abood is another respondent family from Barkas whose male members are currently working in the Gulf countries. Women have accompanied men as dependent migrants and have settled over there. It has been over two decades that this family is settled in Dubai. They are comfortable with the occupations and social life in Dubai. Bin Abood family collectively accepted the view that Gulf is their home and if possible they would not like to return to Hyderabad. For women, living in the Gulf is different than that in Barkas. Many women have pointed out that migrating to the Gulf means freedom of movement and physical security. This is also because there is no joint family present in the Gulf to keep an eye on them as a result of which migration is less and criticisms from the elders and in-laws are very rare. Many women have pointed out that Dubai is home and that they are comfortable and felt free away from parental and in-laws pressures. For many it is like America with very little restrictions on their physical mobility. Women now have started associating themselves more with Dubai than Barkas. For instance, Fathema,

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a 22-year-old young married woman has pointed out that she lives in Dubai because of her husband’s occupational reason. She also made a note that now her social life is associated with Dubai. According to Leonard (2007: 24), “Hyderabadi women saw the UAE as a middle ground, a place that required neither rigid preservation nor drastic alteration of family and community traditions.” Similarly, women in Barkas saw Dubai as a country for their freedom of movement and dressing. Given the orthodox culture and maintenance of tradition in Barkas, women after migrating either with their husbands or with the families have not been maintaining the same in the Gulf and have termed the Gulf as their home. For example, Tahura, the 24-year-old daughter-in-law of the Mir Ali family has pointed out that her neighbour’s daughters wear jeans and shirts without covering their heads with scarves in Dubai and that it is a common phenomenon. She has also mentioned that women from Barkas try to copy European women in Dubai. Migrants are constantly extracting the good from both cultures and reproducing its own. However, the practices change with different countries. If a woman has migrated to a Saudi Arabian country then wearing an abaya (cover) all the time is a must and she is not allowed to travel alone without the company of a man – the situation is somewhat similar to that of Barkas. The purdah (veil) has always been an integral part of Muslims all over the world. However, it should be also noted that all Islamic women in purdah cannot be referred to as oppressed (Minces 1980). Home is in two lands The third group maintained that home is in two places i.e. where your home is and where your family is. The home is where your background is and where your ancestors are from. This is also contested because of the complex identities of the residents. The Gulf is home for many while they are working, whereas Hyderabad is also home because it is where their ancestors were born and lived and have memories. Many also believe that home is where family currently resides as well as where family members had originated from. Many a time, these two places are not the same due to continuous migration to the Gulf countries. For the residents of Barkas, family plays a prominent role in migration as many want their families to migrate with them. Migrants have also pointed out that living with the family in the Gulf is more peaceful than living in Hyderabad. For the children, it is alright if they are half and half. They are content with the fact that they have two homes and they can travel from one country to another. Mainly migrants felt closer to locals because of Arabic language and superior Arab culture. For example, Noor, a bus driver in Ras al-Khaima has pointed out that after working in Ras Al-Khaima for more than two decades, he identifies himself with two homes: one in Barkas and another in Dubai.

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Gulf migration means reaching near to the home (Yemen) However, there is a fourth trend where few Hadrami families have stressed that as their ancestors have migrated from Yemen and made Hyderabad their home – now migrating to the Gulf for work and/or for marriage means reaching near Yemen, as both have Arabian culture although it varies on different lines. One commonality is visible and that is the presence of shared history and identity. Also, the migrants find ties with home in different countries in the Gulf; for some Dubai or Riyadh is their second home after Yemen whereas, for many, Yemen is still their homeland. When migrant families mention that Riyadh or Dubai as their homeland it means that there is an influence of these countries and there is a shifting transnational identity established in the lives of the migrants and their families.

Hyderabad/Barkas as home The last category believes Hyderabad to be their home. Earlier generations may still consider Yemen and Gulf to be their home or second home, whereas for the present youth generation are born in Barkas, and consider it to be their home. For the Hadrami fourth generation, Hadramaut is only a place in Yemen. They have no intention of maintaining ties with Hadramaut as their original home. Many young generation Hyderabadis have also stressed that Hyderabad is their home as there is always a fear of sudden expulsion from the Gulf. For example, Faheem, a 34-year-old air conditioner mechanic in Riyadh has pointed out that due to restrictions on obtaining citizenship, they cannot participate in the politics and are restricted from many social benefits which citizens get. For him, Hyderabad is home also because of his close association with relatives and friends. Migrants who believe that Barkas as their home and have migrated with families have close and continuing engagement with their homeland Barkas. Therefore, there is a shifting transnational identity happening through which a migrant and his family maintain his/her relationship with the homeland for a variety of reasons. An example of this is Awadh’s mother, a 64-year-old lady who said that children must come back to their homes. Similarly, Mafoor’s fourth son who is 20 years old and is working as a car driver in Hyderabad has pointed out that he knows nothing about Hadramaut. It is only through his father’s migration to Sanaá that he came to know about Yemen. Being a Hadrami for the young generation is ambiguous, which does not say anything about the authenticity of their representations. Home is constructed not as something removed or far away or confined to a particular place but as something you can carry with you. Therefore, it is about the movement and is malleable as mentioned earlier.

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Conclusion Barkas is a minority ethnic community comprising of Sunni Muslims who identify them as Hadramis even today. The earlier perspectives show the different reasons for construction of homeland/s and different types of shifting identities with either Hadramaut or with the Gulf or simply with Hyderabad. Therefore, the chapter concludes by saying that transnational shifting identities happens between different actors, spaces, locations and experiences. Migrants from Barkas believe that they belong to multiple places that are giving rise to a transnational bonding with homeland/s. Construction of multiple homeland/s varies inter-generationally. Perceptions are dependent upon the connections that they experience in the Gulf and the social circle in both the countries that a migrant interacts with. It keeps changing before and after migration. Different positions that occur in an individual’s life have different meanings and also have narratives of the past. The new generation is without memories of the homeland, Yemen, and the struggle of their ancestors. Migrants from Barkas mentioned that with a good life, good income, and good friends, they have started feeling the Gulf as their home. On the other hand, there are many who believe that Hyderabad is their only home as they were born in Hyderabad. For many, home is in two countries whereas for the few working in the Gulf countries means reaching near Yemen for the similar Arabian culture. One can witness the changing predicament of this community with their homeland. The chapter concludes by marking that the relationship between Barkas and the Gulf and simultaneously Yemen has the elements of diversity, hybridity, and a reflection of different types of identities that are undergoing constant shifts with transnational movements. Therefore, there are multiple homeland/s that are seen here which is contextual and keeps shifting with time and especially post migration to the Gulf.

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acculturation 20, 145, 165, 170, 175 adaptations 19, 98, 118, 127, 130, 133–135, 137, 183, 192 adoption 4, 7, 102, 127, 132, 133, 137, 142, 143, 146–148, 189 African diasporas 37 agency 100–102, 130; women 10, 102 American Hinduism 98 Americans 9, 47, 49, 53, 54, 98, 101 ancestors 32, 48, 50, 62, 200, 203, 206–208 ancestral homeland 3, 4, 8, 12, 18, 30, 146, 180, 182, 183, 189–193 ancestral motherland 181–183, 189, 190, 192 Anderson, Benedict 62, 200 Appadurai, Arjun 59, 63 apparitions 128, 129 Arabian culture 207, 208 Arya Samaj 63–65 Asian Diaspora 124 Asian Indians 48, 50, 97 Auckland 186, 187, 191 Australasia 12, 80, 180, 185, 186, 190, 191–193 Australia 83, 179, 181, 183–188, 190–193, 201, 203 Azad Hind Fauj 85 baithak gáná ke nác 163–176; dancing music 169–171; in diaspora 173–175; entertainment culture 11; listening music 167–169; reversed glocalisation 172–173 Ballard, Roger 31 banyan tree analogy 17–32; diaspora identities, shifting 30–31

Barkas 12, 197, 198, 200–208; field site 202–203; Hadramis of 197–208 Barley, Steven 144 Bastos, Susana 124 Basu, Paul 130 Bhabha, Homi 198 Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) 7 bhogas 110–112 Bollywood 5–7, 58–61, 67–69, 154–156, 165, 166; culture 154, 156 Bollywood cinema 58–60, 67, 73, 191 bonding 1, 4–6, 8, 11, 12, 142, 143, 145, 157, 179–181, 192–193 Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo 38 borders 181, 192, 193, 197, 199, 201 Bowes, Peter 118 Britain: Indian diaspora in 21–24 British-born generations 23, 26, 27, 29, 32 British Indians 20, 26, 147–149, 152, 164, 169 British Indians 24, 26, 27 Buchignani, Norman 181, 189 Cachado, Rita 10 Canada 2–4, 37, 39–41, 52–54, 183–185, 189, 190 Canadians 9, 43, 44, 47, 53, 54, 157 Caribbean Indians 37, 38 Caribbean societies 150, 157, 173 caste 20, 23–26, 79, 100, 103, 104, 108, 188 Catholicism 125, 129, 135 Chaitoe, Ramdew 170 Chatterji, Joya 6 children 23–24, 65–67, 100, 101, 105, 114–115, 128, 129, 201, 204–207; second-generation 115

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INDEX

Chopra, Yash 60 cinema 58–60, 67–69, 72, 73, 146, 151, 156 classical dances 7, 173 Clifford, James 97 Cohen, Robin 4 Coleman, Simon 130 collective effervescence 107 collective ethnic identity 181 collective identity 59 commerce 173, 175, 182, 186 commercialisation 173, 175 commodities 7, 144, 148, 151, 152, 156, 165, 166 communities 1–4, 8, 99, 102, 105, 106–110, 112, 142, 148, 150, 154, 155; diasporic Sikh 71; dispersed Fiji-Indian 190; imagined 62, 63, 200; influenced local non-Indian 191; religious 25, 98; sub-diasporic 180, 183, 187, 192; varied Indian migrant 172 consecrated food 107, 110, 112, 114 Cornell, Stephen 144 corporate life 42 critical social theory 100 cultural activities 24, 25 cultural belonging 201 cultural characteristics 19, 20, 135 cultural entanglement 5 cultural forms 39, 40 cultural globalisation 181 cultural identity 100, 104, 142, 148, 154, 164, 175, 179, 187, 190, 192, 193, 200, 203, 204 cultural practices 10, 37, 124, 125, 137, 179, 189 culture 10, 11, 18–19, 28, 29, 31, 42, 88, 102, 106, 142, 147, 166, 175, 204; folk 11, 164, 174; glocalised 147, 148, 166; material 130, 132; new 98, 102, 147, 148, 188; popular 59, 60; unique Fijian-Indian 189 cyberspaces 27 dance performances 125, 167 dancing 144, 153, 154, 157, 167–169, 171, 173, 174 dancing styles 144, 146–148, 171 Das, Nani 116 Degher, Douglas 41, 48 De Kruijf, Johannes 6

Dempsey, Corrine G. 107 destination countries 18, 20, 65 deterritorialized diaspora 4 devotees 116, 128, 130, 131, 134, 135 devotion 68, 71, 110–114, 124, 125, 127, 128, 134, 135, 137 diaspora 6, 9–12, 19, 78, 79, 81, 82, 84–86, 88, 90, 91–92, 180, 181; bonding 11, 143, 157; chain 181, 185; communities 1, 7–11, 18, 20, 22, 142, 143, 146, 157, 171, 173; consciousness 8, 17, 18; countries 132; culture 11, 99, 165; defined 79; designer 72, 74; deterritorialized 4, 59; and development 10, 78; and economic implications 87–88; empire 81, 82; engagement 180, 181; families 23; and foreign policy implications 85–86; and India’s foreign policy 84–85; invisible 81, 82; model 17, 31; new 7, 8, 11, 80, 183, 193; old 183, 188, 193; opportunities and challenges 89–90; paradigm shift 80–82; policy 81, 84, 85; populations 88; recent policies initiatives 90–91; religion in 98–102; and remittances 82–84; tourism 29, 147, 148, 153; and tourism 88–89 diaspora identities 19, 22, 30, 32; afresh 20; constructed 30; distinct FijianIndian 183 diasporic audiences 61, 71 diasporic communities 98, 100, 181; formed distinct Indian 179, 192 diasporic conditions 102 diasporic families 67 diasporic Hindus 63, 68, 71, 72; designer 73 diasporic philanthropy 28 diasporic public sphere 63 diasporic women 100, 101 Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995) 59, 60 dissemination 147, 163, 164, 166, 175 distant relationship 1 Don (2006) 60 Don 2 (2011) 60 Dubai 153, 198, 205–207 Dutch Hindustanis 4, 143, 149, 150, 155, 156, 174 Dutch-Indian diaspora 163

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East African Indian families 21 East African Indians 29, 84 East Indians 39, 49, 97 economic activities 28–29 economic development 10, 11, 78–92, 101, 183, 187; role of diaspora in 82–89 ecumenical strategy 132 education 3, 7, 26, 82, 88, 89, 124, 149, 151, 154, 202–203 Elahi, Jaswina 6, 153 employment opportunities 149 enculturation 166 entanglement 146, 148, 154, 156, 157 ethnic chauvinism 6 ethnic communities 1–3, 8, 10, 99, 142, 143, 147, 176, 197, 208 ethnic cultural activities 26–27 ethnic groups 1–4, 61, 144–149, 152, 157, 189 ethnic identity 18, 20, 24, 37, 54, 105, 107, 109, 151, 152, 182, 187, 189, 198, 200, 203 ethnic infrastructure 143, 144, 146, 149, 151, 157 ethnic institutional infrastructure 144–156; Suriname 151 ethnic institutions 142–144, 148, 150, 151, 170 ethnicity 9, 25, 30, 38, 50, 52, 53, 62, 145, 146, 188 ethnic salience 3 ethnography 135 everyday diasporic life 19, 32 everyday life 8, 9, 23, 26, 37, 40 families 23, 24, 27, 30, 101, 102, 118–119, 123, 126, 156, 203–207; extended 99; respondent 205 festivals 5, 23, 70, 104, 112–115, 117–119, 173, 187 fieldwork 9, 36, 41, 53, 124, 127, 132, 202 Fijian citizenry 189, 190 Fijian homeland nationalism 190, 193 Fijian immigrants 184, 186 Fijian-Indian diaspora 179–193; Australasia 186–192; bonding and identity, shifting 188–192; diaspora, transnationalism and identity discourse 180–182; transnational 182–186

films 26, 59, 60, 67–72 first-generation immigrants 31, 81 food 3–5, 43, 44, 112, 117, 118, 142, 143, 146, 147, 151–152, 186, 191 food items 27, 132 Foreign Direct Investments (FDI) 28, 68, 82, 86–87 free Indian expatriate migrants, contemporary 192 Fremont Hindu Temple 104, 109, 110 Friesen, Wardlow 189 Gandhi, Mahatma 65 Gellner, Ernest 62 gender 10, 26, 100, 124, 149, 157, 200; relations 10 generations 19, 20, 23–25, 27–29, 31, 32, 115, 198, 199, 203, 204; first 5, 172, 198–200, 204; second 31, 54, 55, 114, 204 Ghosh, Amitav 97 girmitiyas 11, 179, 180, 182–186, 188, 192 global culture 7, 111, 165 global Hindutva: Bollywood roots of 67–69 globalisation 5, 11, 29, 78, 79, 84, 85, 123, 142, 146, 155, 157, 163–166, 171, 175, 176, 179; of culture 11, 165; forms of 164–166; reverse 163, 166 global shifts 5–8 glocalisation 7, 8, 10, 11, 123, 142–143, 146–148, 151, 155, 157, 164–166, 171, 175; concept 146, 147; of Indian culture 147, 154, 156; infrastructure of 142–157; reverse 163, 164, 166 Goffman, Erving 38, 42 Golwalkar, M.S. 65 Gowricharn, Ruben 10, 132, 163, 165, 182 Greater Toronto Area (GTA) 36, 36, 43–47, 49–52, 54; participants 43, 44 Hadramaut 202–204, 207, 208 Hadramis 12, 198, 200–204, 207, 208; of Barkas 197–208 Hague 150, 156, 172 Hall, Stuart 38, 200 Hammer, Julian 201 Hartmann, Douglas 144

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healthcare 83, 87, 89, 153 Hedge, Radha 6 heterogeneity, Indian diaspora 1–5 HINDRAF movement 86 Hindu cult 135, 137 Hindu deities 127, 132, 137 Hindu designer diaspora 72–73 Hindu diaspora 10, 71, 72, 123, 125, 132, 134, 135, 137 Hindu diasporic culture 74 Hindu diasporic woman 58; ideal 9 Hindu families 69, 124–127, 132, 133; ideal 69, 72, 73; ideal diasporic 68 Hindu fundamentalism 59 Hindu-Gujarati diaspora 123, 135 Hindu-Gujaratis 124, 125 Hinduism 61, 63, 66, 69, 72, 103, 125, 127, 129, 132, 133, 135 Hinduization 69, 133, 134 Hindu nationalism 9, 58, 61–65; to Hindutva 63–64 Hindu religiosity 98, 118 Hindus 41, 58, 59, 61, 64, 67, 68, 72–74, 99, 126, 127, 129–130, 132, 137, 154 Hindustani community 147, 150, 151, 154–156, 167–170 Hindustani diaspora tourists 147 Hindustanis 146, 148, 149, 151–156, 167–172; background of 148–149; Dutch specificities 155–156; generation of 172; institutions 151–155; methodology and 149–151 Hindu temples 99, 104, 105, 115, 118, 132; domestic 130; local 99, 104, 106, 116 Hindutva 28, 58, 61, 63, 64, 69, 72, 73; conservatism 74; defined 64; diasporic 70 Hindu women 69, 71, 73, 74, 99, 118; non-Indian 73 Hintzen, Percy 40 Hobsbawm, Eric 62 home 17, 24, 30, 80–81, 84, 99, 101, 102, 112, 118, 199, 200, 203, 205, 206–208; natal 70, 99; new 97, 99, 191; original 203, 207; present 205; second 91, 203, 205, 207 home country 28, 39, 68, 71, 80, 86, 166, 171, 197 home culture 18, 100; original Indian 146

homelands 1, 4, 5, 8–10, 12, 18, 19, 60, 63, 155, 157, 197–208; acquired 180, 181, 190; Barkas 207; construction of 12, 200, 203–207; Gulf, present or second home 205–206; Gulf migration 207; Hadramaut, original home 203–205; Hyderabad 206, 207; theoretical perspectives 198–201 homing diaspora 101 Horst, Cindy 180 Hughes, Gerald 41 Hundt, Marianne 191 Hussain, Yasmin 100 hybrid cultural identity 11 hybridization 179 hyper-nationalism 72 identities: conceptual bearings 38–39; disavowing 49–50; educating 52–53; placing, work 48–53; proclaiming 50; recognising, work 45–48; reconfiguring 36–55; resisting 50–51; support and resources 42–45 immigrants 49, 53, 199 Indianness 42, 100; construction of 36–55; strategising 23–24 Indo-American women 97–119 Indo-Caribbean Golden Ages Association 44 Indo-Caribbeans 39, 40 Indo-Trinidadians 9, 36–55; ethnic/ racial consciousness of 37; identity change process and 40–41 information and communication technology (ICT) 175 International Society of Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) 104 Jaffrelot, Christophe 65 Jagannath 102, 103; rituals, public spaces 105–108 Jayaram, Narayanan 98 Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (KKKG) 69, 70 Kaur, Raminder 60 Kearns Robin, A. 189 Khan, L. Robert 189 Khan, Mehboob 69 kinship networks 24–25 Kuch Hota Hai (1998) 59

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Pravasi Bhartiya Diwas (PBD) 80 Pravasis 22 Premdas, Ralph 45 Puwar, Nirmal 100

Kuortti, Joel 101 Kurien, Prema 98 Lenin, Vladimir I. 62 Leonard, I. Karen 200, 206 long-distance “Hindu” nationalism 63–64 Lourenco, Inês 10

Raghuram, Parvati 6, 100 Rajadhyaksha, Ashish 60 Ramayana 69 Ramjanmabhoomi movement 65, 68 Rayaprol, A. 100 Rayaprol, Aparna 203 Reddy, Movindri 3, 4 regional transnationalism 8 relationship patterns 23 religious practices 25–26 reverse glocalisation 163–176 Riemer, Jeffrey 150 Ritzer, George 165 Robertson, Ronald 165

Malheiros, Jorge 124 Marcus, George E. 127 material culture 130 Mayer, Adrian 189 migrants 7 migration 179, 185; scholarship 197; social process 19 Mishra, Maumita 107, 108, 116, 117 Mishra, Vijay 60 Modi, N. 73 Mohanty, Manoranjan 11 Mother India (1957) 69 Mother Mary 123–138 Mukherjee, Anushyama 12 Naidu, Sam 100 Namastey London 71 Nandy, Ashis 61, 72 Narayan, Badri 4 nationalism 62 national sovereignty 61 Nehru, Jawaharlal 81 non-resident Indians (NRI) 58 Nurse, Keith 163, 166 Odias 103 Oonk, Gijsbert 137, 181 otherness 20 Our Lady of Fátima 125, 127; devotion to 127–130; public consumption, Hindus 130–135 Pacific identity 192 Patrivirilocal marriage 99 Perez, R.M. 125 personal identity 38 Portes, Alejandro 199 Portuguese Gujarati: context 124–127; families 123–138 postcolonial migrants 3 postcolonial migration 5 Prasad, Mohit Manoj 192 Prashad, Vijay 67

Safran, William 18, 28, 183 Sahoo, Ajaya 6 Said, Edward 62 Saran, Parmatma 98 Savarkar, V.D. 61 Schulz, Helena Lindholm 201 scripts 144 Sengupta, Roshni 9 Seshan, Radhika 181, 187 Shiva Temple Social Solidarity Association 126 Silvey, Rachel 100 Sinatti, Giulia 180 Singh, Manmohan 86 Sinha, Ajay J. 60 skilled cultural navigators 31 social constructivism 20 social contract 61 social identity 38 soft power 78 South Asian diaspora 60 Srebrnik, Henry 183 super-diversity 20 superior Indian culture 71 Suriname 151, 155, 172, 175 symbolic capital of cultural superiority 101 Tagore, Rabindranath 17, 32, 61 Tanikella, Leela 40 third culture individuals (TCIs) 18, 23 Tolbert, Pamela 144

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Toynbee, Arnold 61 transnational cybernetic spaces 27–28 “transnationalized” women 119 twice migrants 2, 180 twice migration 179 US-India Civilian Nuclear Agreement Bill 91 Van der Veer, Peter 2 Varma, J. Sushma 181, 187 Vertovec, Steven 181 village-kin networks 24 Voigt-Graf, Carmen 190–192 Warikoo, Natasha 40 Warner, S. 98 Washbrook, David 6 Waters, Mary 54 Weberian description 61

Weinberg, Martin S. 41, 48 Werbner, Pnina 59 Williams, Raymond 130, 132 women: broader community, Jagannath 115–118; charge of sustenance, Jagannath 112; as community builders 112–113; family and community, Jagannath 108–110; Jagannath rituals, public spaces 105–108; as “keepers” of Hindutva 69–71; as leaders 105–108; in public places of worship 110–115; role of priest 111–112; second generation of Odia Americans 114–115; united through social media 113–114 Yadav, Satya Ban 9 Yemen 200, 204, 207 Zizek, Slavoj 200

216