Decolonising the Indian Mind by Namvar Singh: Text and Notes

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 Decolonising the Indian Mind
Namvar Singh

THE greatest event of world history in the twentieth century has been decolonisation. The
century may not have yet ended but the hegemony in literature of Europe and America has
certainly come to an end. At the centre of literary creation we have now not Europe and
America but the nations of Latin America, Africa and Asia. It is from these countries that works
which are creatively exciting and stimulating are coming out, and the initiative lies with the
writers of these countries. Whereas the writers of Latin America and Africa are mounting a
challenge to the literature of Europe and America in the very languages of Europe, it is mainly
in our own non-European languages that the writers of an Asian country like India are hastening
the process of decolonization.

While this process had started with the beginning of the century in Latin America,
Africa and Asia, it was accelerated after the Second World War. In order to annex this new
literary groundswell, the literary theorists of Europe and America have from time to time come
up with various theoretical formulations, calling it now "Commonwealth Literature", now
"New Literatures in English", and now "Post-colonial Literature." The newest such formulation
is "Third World Literature." In one sense, the concept of "Third World Literature" may be seen
as a new variation on Goethe's old concept of "World Literature", but it is not quite so innocent.
It is in fact but a devious device to maintain the hegemony of "First World Literature," and if
we look at it carefully, the formulation "Third World Literature" is nothing but neo-
"orientalism" of the post-colonial age. Apparently, in order to define themselves, Europe and
America still need some entity "other" than themselves. It is implicit in this Western conception
that the Third World too must need some "other" in order to define itself, and who could this
"other" be, of course, but the West! To my mind, this is the true perspective in which to evaluate
Indian Literature of the twentieth century.

Whether the issue is that of tradition and modernity, or of regional and national identity,
or the aesthetic one of experimentalism and the assimilation of indigenous forms, it is hardly
possible to look for a resolution except in the perspective of decolonization. Therefore, the very
first question to ask is; how aware and active are the Indian writers today so far as the process
of decolonization is concerned? Nor is this question one of mere academic interest, as is often
the case in our seminars and conferences. The question relates directly to the release of our
creative energy. And at this point, I humbly beg to submit that among Indian writers after
Independence, the attitude of militant decolonization which was to be seen in the writers of an
earlier generation has grown feeble and slack. This may be why we do not have among us a
Gabriel Garcia Márquez, a Chinua Achebe or a Ngungi Wa Thiong'o. I often feel that within
the so-called "Third World Literature" of today, Indian literature lags behind the literatures of
Africa and Latin America, especially in the genres of the novel, the short story and drama.
Needless to say, I make this statement not as any kind of self-rebuke or accusation but with a
sense of profound anguish.

Could it possibly be that we have now lost the fervour of the days of our nationalist
struggle? Today we have neither that nationalist sentiment nor that nationalism. Nationalism is
not a panacea for all ills. It has its dangers too, and it is not as if I am rot alive to them. But
history has not yet consigned nationalism to its dustbin as a spent force; indeed, if anything,
there have been signs of its resurgence in the latter half of our country. Perhaps, so long as
imperialism lives in one form or another, there will remain a need for nationalism. But isn't it
the case that we have somewhere in the recesses of sensibility come to a silent compromise
with imperialism? It is but rarely that one comes across the word 'imperialism' in intellectual
circles now, as if the thing itself had ceased to be.

And does this not have something to do with our Independence of 1947? How many of
us are aware that we did not gain Independence, but that we were granted it? Now who does
not know the difference between being 'granted' something and 'gaining' it? Were it a matter of
gaining independence, would we have gained the independence of a partitioned country? How
is it that a country which had rejected the partition of Bengal in 1905 accepted the partition of
the country in 1947, especially when the basis of the partition was the same; communalism?
Over those four decades, such a great change came about that the very language for describing
these two events changed. The very word Banga-bhanga evokes by assonance anga-bhanga,
i.e., dismemberment, but what is the resonance by comparison of vibhajana, bantwara or
taqseem? It is not true that the swadeshi movement which arose in opposition to the partition
of Bengal saved the Indian identity from fragmentation, while our acquiescence in the partition
of the country in 1947 served to shatter it to bits?

To see how far reaching are the consequence of such fragmentation, let us consider two
Indian novels: the first Cora (1910) by Rabindranath Tagore, which has for its background
Banga bhanga and the Swadeshi movement, and the other Samskara (1965) by U.R. Anantha
Murthy, which has nothing to do at all with the partition of India. If these two novels are still
comparable, it is because each has at its centre the theme of the search of identity and the crisis
of identity. The hero of Cora tries for all he is worth to become a Hindu but is eventually
obliged to become an Indian. The hero of Samskara, Praneshacharya, endeavours to act as a
Brahmin priest but after his fall is left a common human being. Each experiences a sense of
liberation, and each is shocked into such liberation. The shock for Gaur Mohan lies in the
revelation that he is not by birth a Hindu. The shock for Praneshacharya comes through his
physical contact with the untouchable girl Chandri. Through their respective baptisms by fire,
each emerges a human being. But while the humani sing of Gaur Mohan lies in his becoming
an Indian, the humanising of Praneshacharya comes about through his defying the many taboos
associated with his conduct as an acharya. Both the novels constitute an allegory—what one
might even call, in Frederic Jameson's phrase, a "national allegory," which has been suggested
to be a distinct characteristic of the so-called "Third World Novel".
 But what a great difference there is on the question of "identity" between Gora and
Samskara—and here the difference is of the essence! Gaur Mohan's last sentence is: "What I
had day and night longed to be but was not able to be, I have become today. Today I belong to
all of India. Within me there is no conflict between Hindus, Muslims, Christians or any other
community. Today in India, every caste is my caste, and I can sit down and eat with each
untouchable."

On the other hand, what Praneshacharya of Samskara feels after he has so to say tasted
of the fruit of knowledge is described as follows:

The Acharya felt not only remorse, but a lightness in the thought he was now a free man, relieved of his
responsibility to lead the way, relieved of all authority. 'What manner of man am I? I am just like you—a soul
driven by lust and hate—is this my first lesson in humility?... I am sin, my work is sin, my soul is sin, my birth is
in sin.' No, no, even that is a lie. Must forget all words learned by heart, the heart may flow free like a child's....

When Praneshacharya goes back amidst the waiting villagers after this experience, all
he can say to them is: 'I'm lost. I know nothing. You do whatever your hearts say.'

On the one hand we have Gora's proud declaration: "Today I am free. I feel no longer
the fear that I may be polluted, that I may fall from my caste. I no longer need to watch every
step of mine, lest I might be rendered impure through touching the un touchable." And on the
other hand we have Praneshacharya's meek freedom! The Acharya of Samskara may indeed
speak Sanskrit, but in his speech may be heard the confessional under tone of some
existentialist hero of Sartre's or Camus—or I may of course be imagining it! In this confession
of Samskara, there may be some trace of the medieval Indian vaishnava saints, but the sense
of liberation here is quite something else, whatever its source might be.

In quest of identity, Anantha Murthy too like Tagore returns to India's past. For him,
however, this past is something not to be contemplated but simply to be felt. He wants to dig
up this past with its roots all complete, and to feel it. For Praneshacharya the past is like that
"small sprout of sarsaparilla" which he pulls up by its roots on one occasion in the novel in
order to smell it, for the reason that the root has acquired a special fragrance compounded of
"that sod of the earth and the space above it." And never mind that what he has "tugged (up)
with both hands" is only "half the length of the mother root"! It is because of such a tendency
that Samskara bears a clearer stamp of Indianness than Gora. Witness as proof the one hundred
and more notes on Sanskrit and Kannada words in the English translation of Samskara! May
be that is why Samskara is a more 'Indian' novel in the eyes of Western scholars and readers,
while Gora goes unregarded by them. Gora and the traditionally conditioned Praneshacharya
both have to do with the Indian village, but how different is the experience of each and the
image of the village in each case. Very probably Tagore felt no need to make Gora Indian by
contriving scenes such as that of the cock-fight among the tribals!

It is not that Tagore did not wish to be an Indian, but he wished to be so in his own eyes
and not in the eyes of the West. Recall for a moment Gora's proud challenges:

We shall not let our country stand like an accused in an alien court to be tried under alien law. We shall
not compare ourselves point by point with some Western ideal, in order to feel either shame or pride. We shall
not feel embarrassed in the least before others or ourselves for the customs, faith, scriptures or society of the
country we have been born in. We shall take to our bosom with a feeling of strength and pride all that belongs to
our country, and we shall keep ourselves and our country from humiliation ... We do not wish to have to prove to
anyone whether we are good or bad, civilized or savage ... That we are ourselves is all we wish to feel, and feel it
for all we are worth.

Where shall we find today this swadeshi tone, when so many Indian writers consider it
a matter of honour to be tried before some foreign court, and to offer proofs of their Indianness
before Western critics!

It is our good fortune really that this tremendous responsibility has been claimed as
peculiarly their own by Indian writers in English. This is but natural. If truth be told, it is these
Indian writers in English alone who are the representative writers of "Indian literature", the
literature of any other Indian language such as Hindi, Bengali or Tamil must remain "regional
literature."

Anyhow, one of the more important issues which came up for debate after
Independence was that of defining the Indian novel. Is there any distinct literary form such as
the Indian novel? Or, as this question is being rephrased today; What is the Third World novel,
and what are its defining characteristics? Seminar after seminar is being held in this country
and abroad to discuss this question, and Indian writers in English as well as Indian professors
of English are kept terribly busy. The whole endeavour is to prove that the Indian writers of
today have left far behind the tradition of the realistic European novel of the nineteenth century,
and that they are constructing a new and indigenous Indian narrative style based on the ancient
tales and narratives of India. There is an attempt to incorporate within the process such myths,
customs and beliefs of Indian life as are exotic for the West and therefore the objects of its
special curiosity. So that the argument may not fall for lack of practical demonstration, our
novelists and especially our English-language novelists are putting their heart and soul into the
production of such novels. If we were to go by the results, the Indian novels in English today
would seem to be rather more "Indian" than the so called "regional language" novels.

Some indication of this trend is to be found in an article by Anita Desai, "Indian Fiction
Today", published in the Fall 1989 issue of the well known American journal Daedalus and by
the illustrative pieces of fiction which appear with it. (In fact, the very title of this special issue
of Daedalus is "Another India.") This well known Indo-Anglian novelist begins by referring to
the Indian provenance of the "magic realism" in Salman Rushdie's novel Shame. Then, in an
ironic glance at some younger writers, she observes that they are returning to an old fashioned
style of narrative which is both "contemporary" and the "latest". As she puts it, "They found
themselves travelling so far Westward that, the world being in the shape it is, they had arrived
in the East again." Now, if this is "Indian literature", there would seem to be a need to examine
afresh the very concept of "Indian Literature" as of "Third World Literature."

On the face of it, such "Indian" writers too are against colonization in literature. But the
belief is entrenched in their minds that it is only by having gone through a journey of the West
that one can return to the East. The helplessness of the Indian writers of our colonial phase is
understandable, as perhaps also of those post-colonial Indian writers who have been travellers
in the West. But how can one accept this as the destiny of the whole of Indian literature?

But some Indian writers do talk like this, and especially during their visits to Europe
and America; it is as if they wished to assure their Western audiences that a "journey" to the
West is essential for attaining an Indian identity. Only recently, Nirmal Varma has made similar
statements in a lecture on "India and Europe: A Search for Areas of Commitment", delivered
at the University of Heidelberg. He begins by quoting with approval a statement by J.L. Mehta,
an Indian scholar resident in Europe: "In the East there is no way for us except to go through
Europeanization and then beyond it." He goes on to ask: "If the colonial experience of the last
two hundred years is not a journey through Europe, what else is it?" And then follows the
conclusion: "What India needed was to go through the process of a decolonization of the self
in order to regain one's "atmatatva" (quiddity), which only one's own tradition can activate and
no foreign agency."

The intention here is unexceptionable, but words like "atmatatva" and "tradition" raise
at the same time some inconvenient questions. If by "atmatatva" is meant not the given "atman"
of vedanta, then it is not something to be regained but a conscious ness which needs to be
constructed and developed in the very process of spiritual decolonization. The development of
such a consciousness is possible only through struggle and struggle with oneself. As for
"tradition", it is not something given either. Colonialism too have represented a particular kind
of Indian tradition, and in response to it, not one but several alternative traditions have been
put forward by India. Needless to say, the business of construction of tradition goes on unabated
by neocolonialism.

In the same special issue of Daedalus on "Another India", the editorial emphasises more
than once that the distinction of India lies in "all that is primordial in that society, that has not
simply given way before the power of modern technology." This of course is the image of India
that the West has always cherished. If we were to accept this in the name of our tradition, the
developed countries of the West would be even better pleased than we ourselves might be. But
could this trully be called decolonization? In the name of preserving this primordial Indian
tradition, some neo-Gandhian intellectuals within India have been constantly campaigning
against modernization and development projects. To all this another new dimension has been
added by the call for protection of environment. This too is an aspect of decolonization.

Two years previously in this very journal Daedalus, in its Winter 1987 issue, there had
appeared an article by Cathleen D. MacCarthy under the title: "From Cold war to Cultural
Development: the International Cultural Activities of the Ford Foundation 1950-80." The
articles charted the change in policy effected by the Ford Foundation in its cultural activities in
South Asian and South-East Asian countries, beginning in 1967. Before this date, the Ford
Foundation had been conducting an extensive campaign for promoting a climate of opinion
against communism in Asia in particular and the World in general by making financial grants
to an organization called the Congress for Cultural Free dom. But after The New York Times
revealed in 1966 the fact that the Congress for Cultural Freedom had links with the C.I.A., the
Ford Foundation continued for a while to fund the Congress under its hastily changed name
and then, after the sudden closure of this new organization as well, it began to act directly in its
own right on the policy of "cultural development." Under this new policy, greater emphasis
was laid on "preserving one's own existence and on having a name of one's own" than on being
"modern". In other words, "identity" was held to be more important than "modernity,"
regardless of whether the identity was religious or racial or regional or linguistic. That was why
greater attention was paid to preserving the ancient traditions of these backward nations. It is
not accidental that many movements in favour of all these kinds of "identities" in India also
began at about the same time. There may or may not have been some planned conspiracy of
the West behind these movements, but it is hard to discount altogether a connection between
the two of some kind or the other. How ironical that America cares more for the past of India
than India itself, and that at the misery of our tribals and aborigines it is America which is more
distressed than we are. Such is Christian compassion.

It was again at about this time that the notion of a "Third World" was conceived, which
led in time to the conception of a "Third World Literature". Clearly, this is a figment of the
fertile imagination of the "First World", the very axiom of all whose "post-modernist"
formulations is the concept of "difference." According to the West, this "difference" is the
"destiny" of the East, so, if the East were to go on preserving this "difference" in every possible
way, that would be its ultimate value for the West. How different is this view from the old kind
of Europeanization and Americanization! And isn't this too yet another devious de vice of
colonization?

If some of us today cannot see this deviousness of colonization it is because cultural

colonization has become a part and parcel of our consciousness. It is perhaps even lodged in
our subconscious and is, in Frederic Jameson's phrase, our "political unconscious". So
inescapable is the pressure of this subconscious that we often define our very identity in the
language of our erstwhile colonial masters—and not only in their language but through the
very concepts constructed by them. The spirit that we seek to exorcise has thus infiltrated the
very mantra through which we seek to exorcise it. One cannot help feeling at times that in this
regard, the writers of the preceding generation were rather more aware and vigilant than us.

That may be the reason why Indian writers of the post-Independence era have softened
a little towards colonialism. A certain ambivalence has entered their attitudes. Such
ambivalence itself is often accepted as a characteristic of modernism. It is taken to be not only
part of the polite manners of civilized folk, but also a desirable value of modern poetics and
aesthetics. Even our language has acquired a kind of ambivalence. The direct robustness of our
native prose in changing: one only has to compare it with the so called undeveloped but
thoroughly indigenous prose of the nineteenth century for ample proof of it. For this reason, a
fundamental question before a writer now is of his language; it was the greatest poetic worry
for Raghuvir Sahay among recent Hindi writers. Ultimately this is a problem, as Muktibodh
put it, of Vyaktitvantarana, or transformation of personality.

The question still remains: How should we oppose the new onslaught of colonization?
With our tradition? But which tradition? Tradition itself is a reconstruction: the rediscovery of
the past by the present as desired. The colonialists of yesterday and the imperialists of today
are presenting an image of our past which is primitive and chiefly an index of our
backwardness. And closer at home, the tradition presented by Hindu fundamentalists is
something else altogether, something extremely onedimensional and narrow.

Nor can we find a way out through any "nationalist allegory". If we were to pit an image
of our nation against colonialism, whose nation would it be? The nation of those who hold the
reins of the state? But what then will be the nation of those who are oppressed by the state and
wish therefore to change it? How can those identify with this nationalism who are obliged to
live at a level not fit for human beings even forty years after Independence? For how long can
a dalit go on sacrificing his identity for the identity of the nation? The nationalist consciousness
which prevailed at the beginning of the twentieth century cannot now be revived, nor will it do
to be invoking it.

We must confront the problem on the grounds of the present. And on that plane we
cannot find an escape route by saying that it is only a limited section of Indian society that has
been colonized, and that too superficially. However limited and superficial cultural
colonization may be, it is still hegemonic. It is this small colonized class that has claimed to be
the cultural and literary avant grade of India after Independence, and it lays claim too to having
modernized and developed Indian literature. This class also lays claim to having effected
decolonization, and never mind the fact that a lot of it is in reality pseudo-decolonization.

Decolonization does not mean a rejection of the West altogether. There are many even
among the writers of the West who have raised their pens against colonization and imperialism.
It will be shortsighted on our part to dissociate ourselves from this tradition of the West in the
name of a distinctive identity of "Third World Literature."

There was a time when the socialist literature of the so-called "Second World" provided
inspiration and energy to this "Third World Literature." Today, that "Second World" too is
beginning to disintegrate. But this does not mean that its literature too has gone down the drain.
It need hardly be pointed out that the literature of that world is considerably more liberated and
exciting today. And it is far more to our purpose as well.

We may wish to look at the challenges of the twentieth century in this perspective. I
have no ready-made solutions, and perhaps no one else has either. And even if one did, there
is no guarantee that such a solution will satisfy everyone. A writer believes merely in raising
questions, and such questions can sometimes be raised through the act of putting things in a
certain perspective. Such at the moment has been my effort and intention.

Finally, one last word. It is strange that no one today should be talking about the future,
whereas there is a decade to go before the twentieth century ends, a whole decade open to new
possibilities and vulnerable to new anxieties and turbulences. Why do we forget that this is the
century which has witnessed two World Wars, with the rehearsal for a third one now going on
before our very eyes (the U.S.-Iraq war). Utterly unexpected, and a reminder to us that we
haven't yet seen the end of imperialism. What was ended is socialism, which was once thought
to be the future of the world and about which a writer of the West had written: I have gone and
seen the future, and it is working miracles. After all, which way is history headed? What
happened to that concept of 'Progress", which Europe of the nineteenth century and India of
the mid-twentieth had such firm faith in? In this context, I am reminded of that angel described
by Walter Benjamin who is nothing but History:
His face is turned towards the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe
which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken
the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from paradise; it has got caught in his
wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. This storm irresistibly propels him into the
future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call
progress.

The model of this pen-portrait is Paul Klee's painting, "Angelus Novus". After such an
ironical image of history, what more remains to say?

Translated from Hindi by Harish Trivedi

LINKS FOR FURTHER READING:

http://www.slideshare.net/mobile/milan1994/decolonization-of-indian-mind-namvar-singh

http://wwwkksir.blogspot.com/2015/05/decolonising-indian-mind-namvar-singh.html?m=1

http://www.guffo.in/namvar-singh/2

DISCUSSION:

To understand decolonisation, one has to comprehend the concept of colonisation first.

Colonisation denote the action or process of settling on and establishing control over new land
especially one inhabited by indigenous people. Colonisation involves the exploitation of native
inhabitants by the marginalisation and destruction of local economies, reorganisation of
political structure in favour of the colonisers. But apart from economical or political aspects,
the colonising process has much deeper consequences. As a strategy to co-opt the colonised
people and rule over them with their consent before, the process of colonisation of the mind
becomes an important project of the imperial power. This strategy takes overt/covert forms,
sometimes functioning as state policy and at other times insidiously, creeping up on the
colonised subject to suggest that s/he is inferior, that his/her language, culture, history, religion,
practices, complexion are all inferior to that of the representation of the imperial power. Thus
the colonised subject gradually internalise their own inferiority as well as the master-slave
relationship. This nullifies the possible resistance to the imperial power. This is how
colonisation of mind takes place. This process is subtler and slower than the political and
economic takeover. Through the rewriting of histories, languages, education policies, cultural
texts, the hegemony is established and the possibility of resistance is eradicated as the colonised
subject internalise the superiority of the colonisers.
In his celebrated work Orientalism, Edward Said has pointed out the strategies of cultural
domination of the Occident over the Orient and provided the methodology for recognising and
resisting these strategies in our reading of texts. Colonisation of the minds was a subtle gradual
process; the decolonisation process is no less slow. Namvar Singh in this essay identifies
decolonisation as the single most significant event of the twentieth century. He expresses his
concern about the “new onslaught” of colonisation and explores the ways in which neo-
colonisation can be resisted. The apparent solution of turning to tradition or nationalism holds
no appeal to Singh. Instead he suggests setting up of a global network of resistance along with
many anti-imperial individuals and groups who have actively expressed their disagreement
with colonialism and imperialism. According to Singh, we should not dissociate ourselves from
the progressive elements of the west in search of a distinctive identity for Third World
literature. As Saeed Ur-Reman has argued, though revivification of pre-colonial national and
indigenous reality was an important step by the pioneers of Indian English literature, the
continuous rejection of metropolitan and urban Indian reality by many Indian critics has
hampered the discussion of contemporary theoretical problems in Indian English criticism. The
process of canonization that operates on the basis of an essentialist idea of ‘Indianness’ still
reflects how deeply the British education system has affected the process of cultural
productions. However, Singh’s resistance to neo-colonialism leads him to find alternative
models for a ‘Third World Literature.’ The decolonising of literary studies in the metropolitan
academies offered the possibility of the development of postcolonial theory. Harish Trivedi
who has translated the essay into English has argued in “India and Post-colonial Discourse”
that postcolonial theory is an attempt to ‘whitewash the horrors of colonialism as if they had
never been, and a scheme to see the history of a large part of the world as divided into two neat
and sanitized compartments, the pre-colonial and the post-colonial.’ For the first time in the
history of the Western academy, Trivedi has observed, the non-west is placed at the centre of
its dominant discourse. Hawley has aptly argued that if the goals and mechanisms of
postcolonial studies are still debated, it is clear that its object of study is also undergoing
constant interrogation and that this refocusing participates in the congeries of events tagged as
globalization. However, one of the consequences of the decolonising of mind in literary studies
in eastern world is the canon reform we have been witnessing in the last few years with the
birth of new literatures in English breaking the canon of Standard English literature.
 References:

“Decolonising the Mind.” Block-8 Decolonising the Mind, IGNOU, 2017. eGyanKosh,
http://hdl.hadle.net/123456789/23225. Accessed on 20 Sept 2020.

Hawley, John C. “The Colonizing Impulse of Postcolonial Theory.” Santa Clara University
Scholar Commons, Winter 2010, pp.779-787.MFS Modern Fiction Studies, 56(4), 769-787.

Singh, Namvar, and Harish Trivedi. “Decolonising the Mind.” Indian Literature, vol. 35, no.
5, Sept 1992, pp.145-156. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23337172. Accessed on 04 Jan
2016.

Trivedi, Harish. “India and Post-colonial Discourse.” Interrogating Post-colonialism: Theory,

Text and Context, edited by Meenakshi Mukherjee and Harish Trivedi, Indian Institute of
Advanced Study, 1996, pp.230-246.

Ul-Rehman, Saeed. “Decolonizing Post-colonial Theory.” Kunapipi, vol. 20, no. 2, 1998, pp.
31-39. http://ro.uow.edu.au/kunapipi/vol20/iss2/11. Accessed on 20 Sept 2020.