The subsequent relationships of the coloniser with its former colonies are always complicated and confusing. Where power, exploitation and oppression are involved, there will always be tears during and after the ending of the relationship. The problem is that the ‘ending’ is not always that clear cut. It often continues but in ways that are different. So in the second decade of the twenty-first century, we have here in Britain a lively debate supported by major television series and publications around the benefits or otherwise of the country’s past imperial adventures. India – ‘the jewel in the crown’ – figures largely in these discussions. Although the debates have been unsurprisingly not too critical of the Empire enterprise they have reinforced a number of features in this history. To take a few examples: firstly they have demonstrated the continuing fascination for India within British history and culture. Secondly various painful but important historical episodes of Britain’s time in India remain hidden or ignored. The Bengal Famine of 1943 where some three million people died of starvation and disease is an obvious case in point. Other ‘mysterious’ examples include the disappearance of almost any recognition and memorial to arguably the world’s first multinational company – the East India Company.
The reasons for these omissions might be controversial but there is that saying that histories of the dominant tend to reflect the views and perspectives of the dominant. Britain’s time in India in general does not disprove this saying, unfortunately. For the tourist in India especially in the great cities, however, Britain is a part of the tourist experience. So prevalent was the British presence that it is difficult to ignore its legacies.
Similar to most other foreign tourists in India then I rekindled an interest in the British Empire and its time in India. This theme forms an important focus in Chapter 5 where I suggest that one cannot understand either India or Britain today without revisiting their time together.
Travel writing
This then is a travel book about travelling around India. Travel books have formed an important genre in English writing and publications. Their popularity has varied over time but today in most bookshops in the West, there is a ‘travel writing’ section next to the ‘country guides’ section. I have always enjoyed reading travel writing, although as usual it takes time to identify publications that satisfy what you are looking for – the variations within ‘travel writing’ are huge. At the time of the British Empire, many of these publications were little more than apologies for the imperial enterprise – and were very popular. For some modern scholars such as Edward Said, travelogues figured prominently in his critique of ‘Orientalism’ – the patronising process whereby Western writers or painters or designers appropriate or claim ownership (intellectually, culturally) of distinct, different (‘oriental’) processes or products from non-Western countries. The hidden or explicit agenda was usually to legitimate further the dominance of the West. Other commentators have talked of the ‘imperialist travelogue’. Perhaps the most famous examples of this category of travel writers and explorers were the national heroes David Livingstone or Richard Burton, who were seen as bringing British civilisation (and Christianity) to the wilds of Africa in the nineteenth century. Supported and funded by the Royal Geographic Society, their success greatly encouraged further publications promoting overseas expansion. Things and times have changed and today travel writing too has changed significantly. The collapse of empires, rise of mass tourism, television travel documentaries and ‘globalisation’ have all contributed towards a reshaping of the writing concerns. There is today for example a more subjective theme, a greater self-awareness and a greater emphasis on subject matter rather than outlines of unknown territories. Issues of ‘identity’ and ‘belonging’ can be identified in much of the new writing. Revisiting well-known places is not uncommon. Instead of a focus on the ‘exotic’, the emphasis now is on examining our widely-shared assumptions and perspectives of these well-known venues to critically discuss any of a number of themes, such as power, sexuality or colour. These are the new ‘counter-travellers’ as someone put it. They might not be as popular as David Livingstone or Marco Polo but they are certainly more interesting. Our very understanding of ‘travel’ is under attack, they suggest.
All writers or tourists visiting another country are constrained and inhibited by their cultural and economic circumstances. They cannot simply drop or ignore who they are, their assumptions and beliefs. And these distorted, contradictory and partial subjectivities are what we use to enjoy ourselves and attempt to make sense of our surroundings. Not very encouraging I know but it’s the best we can do. There is of course always a sense of learning, of discovery, sometimes of awe and, usually, of pleasure. We experience these reflexively – in a kind of circular process whereby the ‘new’ or different changes or, if not changes, at least challenges our assumptions and perspectives. Such a view entails introspection and, especially in a country like India, an awareness that one’s presence affects the situations and relationships encountered. Again, this is a not too optimistic or easy view of how things work in the social world but it is at least a recognition that ‘being a tourist’ or ‘travel writer’ is problematic and needs thinking about.
How well I manage these constraints and problems in the subsequent chapters will have to be judged by the readers. This book though is about travelling around India by myself, ourselves and by those I interviewed. It’s a big country and, even with help, there are areas which haven’t been visited by any of us (yet). It is also a book about aspects of India itself. Against a backdrop of travel, a number of issues and concerns are examined, however briefly, which to me anyway seemed important and distinctively ‘Indian’. Cricket and Bollywood are looked at together with the horrors of Partition, the claims of secularism and the nature and extent of poverty. In the main, the topics examined are oversimplified but they do seem to me to be part of the understandings of modern India. I use the plural of ‘understanding’ deliberatively as there are many different understandings of this vast, complex country. This will always be the case I would argue, irrespective of which country visited. However, as I discuss in Chapter 3, there is in India today an edge, viciousness and even violence to these ‘understandings’. The rise of a muscular, narrowly doctrinaire form of Hinduism – Hindutva – encouraged by the present government of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, is raising concerns in India and elsewhere. In these instances, ‘understandings’ don’t come cheap. But then again, tourism or travelling should not be easy despite the best efforts of the industry’s marketing campaigns.
Powering ahead?
Today is a good time to be interested in India. As most of the world realises, India has emerged as a major global player over the last two or three decades. Its most well-known claim to fame at the moment is as the world’s fastest growing economy. Even in 2017–18 with major economic wobbles apparent in the global economy, India is steaming ahead. Media headlines abound speculating on when India will overtake China in the growth tables. Engineering technology is seen as a major component of the ‘Indian phenomenon’. The software and information technology expertise is well known, millions of top class engineers and scientists are turned out on a regular basis, annual investment is OK and there is an abundance of cheap labour – the so-called ‘demographic dividend’. With a mind-boggling 1.3 billion people including a very large number of young people, India has this huge domestic market. Prized above all is the rapid growth of ‘the middle class’ which has quadrupled over the last decade or so to a total of around 260 million. As the International Monetary Fund said recently, India’s economy is “a bright spot in a cloudy global horizon.” The future it seems belongs to India. Or does it?
The economic success story of India is well known. So too is the poverty story. Perhaps even more powerful than images of success are the images of the country’s grinding poor. The booming economy of course has substantially reduced the number of poor (some 200 million is a common total) but estimates suggest th
at 12 million new jobs a year are needed; that’s 100 million jobs over the next decade to accommodate the poor and growing population. The scale of challenges facing the country are immense and difficult to comprehend.
Also well known is India’s democratic record, the largest democratic country in the world. Reaching decisions in a country with its 29 disparate states reduces the possibility of fast change and reform. Almost alone from Britain’s empire, India emerged with liberal and democratic institutions, and almost alone in the world, it is a country where the poorest of the electorate are the most enthusiastic voters. India’s success was immediate and came at astonishing speed. Overnight the country became the first poor country in the world to become a full-scale democracy – “the tryst with destiny” as Nehru put it. There is a problem, however, for those outside the country, those visiting the country as well as some of the residents. How does the economic success of the country together with the achievements of its democratic system equate or square with notions of social justice – of its fair or unfair reputation of widespread poverty? It is not an issue particular to India, of course. The recent Brexit and Trump votes in the West in 2016 demonstrate a large angry electorate that has missed out on the supposed ‘good times’ and that has lost faith in the increasing oligarchic political class. It is India, however, that images of deprivation are commonly associated with, rightly or wrongly. It is a huge, complicated and contested issue, but one that is explored in various chapters.
Other things sometimes figure on the international agenda when the country of India is mentioned. Sometimes we glimpse the popularity and size of ‘Bollywood’, the Indian film industry or the fanatical love for cricket throughout the country – Sachin Tendulkar is a name many people from outside the country will recognise. As will be Ravi Shankar, the Indian musician known for popularising the sitar and Indian classical music. There will also be other things that we might tend to forget. India is a nuclear power and came close to once using these weapons since Independence. The country has also been involved with – perhaps initiated – five nasty wars and today the military remains very active in different parts of the country. While we might not be too familiar with these events, we would all be likely to recognise and name the Taj Mahal. In fact most of us have ‘bumped into’ aspects of India at least sometime in the recent past. This awareness and knowledge is likely to increase in the years ahead as India assumes a greater role on the world stage, perhaps as the next ‘superpower’. Prime Minister Modi’s visit to Britain and to the 60,000 packed Wembley Stadium in 2015 was an example of this growing recognition and presence. As Britain’s Prime Minister proclaimed, “Team India, team UK – together we are a winning combination.” No irony, no apologies, no history – how times have changed.
There is then much that is happening today that reflects the growing importance and presence of India. It is all happening very quickly. This acceleration, however, contrasts with the rhythms and pace that seem to characterise much of rural life. Scenes of bullocks pulling wooden ploughs through the fields must have been similar hundreds of years ago, maybe longer. Few countries embody this blending of tradition and the ancient with the new and the modern. So yes, it is a good time to be interested in and thinking about India. It’s an even better time to be travelling around the country as the discussions in the subsequent chapters suggest.
A vignette: a Colaba walk
In March 2016, I was back in Bombay. My earlier February hotel in the Fort area near to the CST station had been crap. From that experience I learnt that, “The Internet is very slow. You have to wait,” really means, “We have no Internet but we don’t want to tell you.” I decided this time to find a hotel in the Colaba area, further south in the city. I hadn’t stayed there since we arrived in India with the children for the first time back in 2003. What a great decision. I had forgotten about the delights, histories and urban adventures that make up this southern finger of the city. I had a working familiarity with the areas south of the CST station from the banking area around Horniman Circle, the Asiatic Society and St Thomas Cathedral across to Churchgate and the greenish cricketing fields of the Oval Maidan. I knew also the roads and alleys down towards the Gateway of India area, passing the museums, university, art galleries and Regal Cinema. South of this along the Colaba Causeway I only vaguely remembered. Back in 2003, we were all in a bit of a daze having arrived from Europe the previous day on our first visit to India. Clutching tightly the hands of the children we did manage a little exploration but overall we were still somewhat shell-shocked.
A number of visits later and many years on, it was different. This time it was like greeting an old friend. What had changed, what was the same, where had this gone, why wasn’t this here anymore and those surely weren’t the same cows tied to the post at that busy junction? Overall, it was reassuringly similar and I was glad to be back. More confident and relaxed this time, I had found a good hotel with WIFI that worked. The first thing that struck me was the greenery of the area. Lovely giant trees lined the small roads off the Colaba Causeway (or Shahid Bhagat Singh Marg, as it is now called) providing shade throughout the day. Dappled sunshine on most of the quiet side streets provided a lovely contrast to the heat and bustle of the Causeway. There is even a road called Garden Road off the Marg. Go down this short road and there’s this lovely little park. It must be around one hundred by thirty metres in size, has no name or opening details and is surrounded by a tall wire fence and sturdy gates secured by a padlock. I found eventually that it opened from around 4.30 in the afternoon until about 7–8 in the evening – I’m not sure about the weekends though. It’s a lovely little bit of paradise. Great soaring mature trees dominate the formal pathways that meander around the park, wooden comfortable benches are plentiful, small bushy verges surround the well-watered patches of grass (almost ‘lawn’) and in the evenings, around a dozen local (I assume) women jog around the pathways all clutching their water bottles. I have no idea who pays for the upkeep of the park or the wages of the 3–4 workers who at this time of the year seem to spend most of their time sweeping up the leaves from the pathways.
The clues to the origins and nature of this little green gem as well as the surrounding streets I guess lie in the extraordinary history of this city. Bombay today is roughly one-third the size of Greater London but has, with a population of around 13 million, nearly twice as many residents as Britain’s capital. The metropolitan area of Bombay has around 22 million residents – one of the world’s ‘megacities’. Its origins over the last five centuries has seen a cluster of seven islands slowly being incorporated into a solid land mass – mainly by the British in the nineteenth century – which is today modern Bombay and more particularly south-western Bombay. Joined by ‘causeways’ at first and then landfilling between the causeways eventually saw the emergence of modern Bombay from this archipelago. Known by the visiting Greeks as Heptanesia (‘Seven Islands’), the city today can trace the influences of Ashoka, the ruler of the Mauryan Empire in the third century, the Chalukya Dynasty of the seventh century (see Elephanta Island) and subsequent political dynasties. Due to its importance as a trading and then military centre, it was the Portuguese for a period of around a hundred years in the 17th and 18th centuries that held sway. It was the British East India Company though that recognised the strategic importance of the city. As the saying goes, ‘the rest was history’. In 1661 the islands were given to King Charles II as part of his dowry for his marriage to the Portuguese princess Catherine of Braganza and sold to the British East India Company which made Bombay its headquarters in 1671. By the mid-nineteenth century the British Government had managed to join the city islands into a single landmass and ushered in a period of frenetic urban expansion. As the useful short history of the city in the Time Out Mumbai guide remarks, “In the 1860s the British began a construction programme, erecting architecture that was designed to signal to the natives that they were here to stay – a direct response to the Indian uprising of 185
7.”
And it’s in this imperial, historically arrogant expansion of the city over the next decades by the British colonisers that the origins of my little park off Garden Road, the massive trees lining the small roads and the neighbourhoods around the Colaba Causeway have their beginnings. It’s not only their beginnings though. A wander around South Mumbai today continues to reveal their stories and experiences of this expansion 150 years ago. Many of the great Indian cities even today have areas that encapsulate the British presence with perhaps Lutyens’ Delhi being the outstanding example. South Bombay is another of those areas.
My walk around Colaba and along its Causeway in mid-March 2016 confirmed this but also much more. Down from that most iconic of tourist sights, the Gateway of India – is this India’s Eiffel Tower? – is the PJ Ramchandani Marg, or as it seems more commonly called, Strand Road. Overlooking the Gateway of India and its square on the other side of the road is the infamous Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. Opened in 1903 due to the racist policy of the British ‘whites only’ policy, this beautiful building has since those days welcomed the political and entertainment elite from across the world. It was also one of the targets in the 2008 terrorist attacks which occurred at various locations in Bombay. At least 31 people were killed at the Taj.
Further down from the Taj Hotel along the palm-lined Strand Road is the harbour which forms a boundary to one side of the road. It looked quite busy when I was there with plenty of small leisure boats moored to their buoys. I have my doubts though that sailing is big in Mumbai or even India. The serious-sounding Royal Bombay Yacht Club and the Mumbai Sailing Club have their premises around the Gateway of India area. On the other side of Strand Road and in the streets leading up to Colaba Causeway are grand houses that look like early twentieth century in design and construction. Four-story dwellings decorated with wooden balconies, neat driveways, plenty of columns and ornate towers provide an architectural coherence and historical timeframe for these neighbourhoods. Now and then, there is a modern Soviet-style concrete, quick build apartment block that has replaced one of the original houses. One or two places on Strand Road looked like they were about to physically collapse – empty and derelict. They might not be maintained but they won’t be forgotten. As the taxi driver that I was talking to on Strand Road informed me, this was some of the most expensive real estate in the city. Apparently, southern Mumbai is said to be the wealthiest area in all India. Some very rich people owned these houses overlooking the harbour.
Banyan Tree Adventures Page 3