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Insider Outsider: Belonging and Unbelonging in North-East India by Preeti Gill, Samrat Choudhary
raji_c's review
4.0
Insider Outsider proved to be something of a history text book for me. For me, this was an initiation into the history and the politics of the north eastern states of India. I had no clue, for instance, that 220 languages are spoken in the north-eastern states alone.
The aim of this anthology is laudable: ‘to look at the “outsider” and the circumstances under which they also become an “insider” and vice versa’. It is a familiar conundrum in India, where each state is different from the other in its food, rituals, language, customs, but in theory (and largely in practise), movement across states is not restricted. My parents came to one of India’s large metros in search of jobs. They stayed on, married, and had kids. They retain a fond nostalgia for the land of their birth but call this big city their home. As their child, I am not sure where I belong: this city where people identify me as a ‘South Indian’ or my parents’ birthplace where I am a big city oddity who doesn’t speak the language like a local. This is where the similarities end, though.
For the people whose memoirs and stories are captured in this anthology, that question of belonging and otherness has resulted in violence: arson, assault, rape, murder. What makes it worse is the impunity with which the armed forces operate in these states, exacerbating the struggles of the local people.
I found this a necessary and thought-provoking anthology with some memorable pieces. Two of the pieces I found absolutely lovely were the ones by Jahnavi Barua and Mahua Sen, both of which are lyrical and atmospheric and engendered a strange longing for ‘home’ (something amorphous and tangible all at once).
However, it was a little disturbing to read sentences like the ‘fair colouring inherited from Brahmin ancestors’ and the same gentleman’s ‘aristocratic bearing’ in another essay. Caste is firmly entrenched in our subconscious apparently. The anthology is also not representative of all the states in the north east of India. There are a lot of essays that focus on Shillong, so much so that it gets a little repetitive, since the larger socio-political context for different individual stories remains the same. There is also only one narrative that looks at being a Muslim in this region. In that sense, this is a good starting point, but definitely not a comprehensive text.
The anthology also was a little despair-inducing, because as we witness greater resource scarcity, it seems likely that these divisions of insider and outsider will only become sharper and more violent. I tend to agree with Paramjit Bakshi who notes in the essay I, Dkhar, ‘Apart from large metros, the proverbial India of “unity in diversity” is a piece of fiction.’ Unfortunately, even in large metros, religion and caste and belonging are becoming criteria for strife. In that sense, a solution seems far away.
The aim of this anthology is laudable: ‘to look at the “outsider” and the circumstances under which they also become an “insider” and vice versa’. It is a familiar conundrum in India, where each state is different from the other in its food, rituals, language, customs, but in theory (and largely in practise), movement across states is not restricted. My parents came to one of India’s large metros in search of jobs. They stayed on, married, and had kids. They retain a fond nostalgia for the land of their birth but call this big city their home. As their child, I am not sure where I belong: this city where people identify me as a ‘South Indian’ or my parents’ birthplace where I am a big city oddity who doesn’t speak the language like a local. This is where the similarities end, though.
For the people whose memoirs and stories are captured in this anthology, that question of belonging and otherness has resulted in violence: arson, assault, rape, murder. What makes it worse is the impunity with which the armed forces operate in these states, exacerbating the struggles of the local people.
I found this a necessary and thought-provoking anthology with some memorable pieces. Two of the pieces I found absolutely lovely were the ones by Jahnavi Barua and Mahua Sen, both of which are lyrical and atmospheric and engendered a strange longing for ‘home’ (something amorphous and tangible all at once).
However, it was a little disturbing to read sentences like the ‘fair colouring inherited from Brahmin ancestors’ and the same gentleman’s ‘aristocratic bearing’ in another essay. Caste is firmly entrenched in our subconscious apparently. The anthology is also not representative of all the states in the north east of India. There are a lot of essays that focus on Shillong, so much so that it gets a little repetitive, since the larger socio-political context for different individual stories remains the same. There is also only one narrative that looks at being a Muslim in this region. In that sense, this is a good starting point, but definitely not a comprehensive text.
The anthology also was a little despair-inducing, because as we witness greater resource scarcity, it seems likely that these divisions of insider and outsider will only become sharper and more violent. I tend to agree with Paramjit Bakshi who notes in the essay I, Dkhar, ‘Apart from large metros, the proverbial India of “unity in diversity” is a piece of fiction.’ Unfortunately, even in large metros, religion and caste and belonging are becoming criteria for strife. In that sense, a solution seems far away.
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