Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Martians in Delhi

By Patricia Mukhim

WHAT do Martians and North-easterners have in common? Striking good looks and a persona that does not conform to the definition of “Indian”, one presumes. But that is where the problem lies. In an era where racial profiling as propounded by our current global superpower pal is very trendy and given our propensity to imitate everything American, this is not surprising, especially when it is executed to precision by a hyper-sensitive supercop of the Delhi Police.

High cheek bones and a complexion that is more Tibeto-Burman than dusky are not something to be ashamed of. Just when the North-easterner is becoming a ubiquitous phenomenon in Delhi and its academic space and is actually trying exceedingly hard to “look Indian” (in salwar-kameezes, kurtis, et al) and be Indian (speak a smattering of Hindi), here comes a big bombshell in the form of a communique (normally issued by diplomatic missions to their people) telling them how not to behave and what not to cook.

India’s North-east has its pungent cuisine of fermented bamboo shoots, dried fish and an assortment of “chutneys” — from pork with bas tenga and akhoni (fermented soya beans), a delicacy of Nagaland, to the hot and scrumptious iromba of Manipur. This rare menu of hot, sour and fermented stuff is not easily forgotten. When your taste buds refuse to ooze the requisite saliva because of the “flu” and when everything tastes bitter, you can depend on the North-eastern cuisine to tickle your appetite. Each of the seven states has its tastes and smells which are delectable to a connoisseur of eclectic cuisine. True, what is smelly or unpalatable to many is delicacy to others. So should the North-easterner away from home stop eating his own food and cultivate a new “Indian” taste for spicy, oily food which disagrees vehemently with his system?

It is bad enough that one has to give up these dear, delicious tidbits which admittedly can be smelt a mile away, when in a foreign country. As second class citizens, we have no option but to conform. I recall a friend in America who had a unique way of frying fish lest the “smell” offend her neighbours. After applying haldi and salt, she would put the fish in the oven, allowing it to cook on slow heat. Even then, the fishy smell was hard to get rid of and she would switch on all the exhaust fans for hours.

Coming to the other codes of conduct, the Delhi Police seems to have donned the mantle of moral policemen reminiscent of Sangh Parivar activists who go ballistic over Valentine’s Day celebrations. How a person conducts himself or herself is a very personal matter. You cannot attribute a certain conduct to a group of people. That is being obtusely racial, if not grossly insensitive. The basic cultural difference between people of North-east India and their fellow citizens in the metros is the culture of openness which does not restrict male and female social interface. Arranged marriages are unheard of and young people choose their own life partners. It has suited us fine.

As for wild parties and dress codes, the communiqué seems to suggest that only students from North-east India have the penchant for sensual dressing and partying. Inherently flawed, the diktat is constructed in the strict order of patriarchy. Hence it alludes, in so many words, that skimpily clad women are asking to be raped. That this simplistic, somewhat dimwitted analogy could inform our police force in this day and age is indicative of the obstinate colonial mindsets that continue to drive their thinking and action. Surprise of surprises, the author of this new testament for North-east students is none other than an IPS officer from the North-east.

Does this say something about patriarchy being an all-pervasive phenomenon and truly transcending all frontiers?

(The author is a Shillong-based columnist and activist, and can be contacted at patricia17@rediffmail.comThis e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it .)

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