What is wrong with being British in India?

This week I have been in Delhi, Kolkata and Kochi in India. All have been fascinating. Delhi is loud and bustling with tens of millions of people going about their business. Kolkata is full of tiny side streets and old buildings from when it was India’s capital, most of which are now quite run down. Kochi is quiet, very beautiful, and full of tourists. One thing they all have in common is a feeling that sometimes they are tolerating me, rather than welcoming me.

Kolkata

When I first came to India, some twenty years ago, I was treated as a king. Some of that was because I was usually being entertained by companies who wanted me to give them work. Some of it was because of a cultural hangover from the days of the British Empire. Some of it was because of the wealth gap between me and most Indians. It felt awkward and embarrassing to me, and I made every effort to change the relationships I had with my colleagues from “parent – small child” to “adult – adult”.

Since then, India has developed massively. It is no longer a third world country. Many more (but still a minority) of the population have money. They are likely at some point to overtake China in terms of overall wealth. It is a world power in a way that Britain no longer is. I massively admire the country and the Indian people.

But as it has grown more powerful, some of the politics has become more nationalistic, and divisive. This has included a revisiting of the history of the British Raj, and how India became an independent republic. Peaceful leaders such as Ghandi are no longer revered as much as violent revolutionaries such as Netaji Bose. I am not saying that is wrong, nor in any way to justify one country ruling another. But I do feel sometimes that as a tourist the way I am treated has moved from “parent – small child” to “parent – angry teenager”. What I want is to be treated as an equal, by people who have a different culture, religion, and history to me – people that I want to get to know.

Perhaps I am being naive. I live in Scotland where sometimes the anger I have heard against the English is worse than anything I have heard in India. And most of my interactions with normal Indians this week have been mutually respectful and rewarding.

Perhaps I am just secretly missing being treated as a king.

Oxford is such a lovely city

I will do my best to avoid another blog this week where I say that something broke on the boat and we got it fixed. I will just mention that our electrics are now working really well, but our heating boiler isn’t. Narrowboat life hey!

This week we have been travelling around in North Oxfordshire. The Oxford canal has been closed all winter as it goes down into Oxford, but we discovered that it was about to be reopened, and were one of the first boats to go through. We have spent a couple of days moored here and what a truly lovely city it is.

St Peter’s College, Oxford

The buildings are simply awesome. I wandered around, peeking through gates into the famous colleges. I visited the Ashmolean museum, completely free to see antiquities from ancient empires. I took advantage of being in a town to get some drugs for Mandy’s ongoing cold. I discovered that the famous Martyrs’ monument isn’t actually where the Catholic priests Latimer, Cranwell and Ridley were burnt to death – that was on a nearby street near Balliol college.

And best of all, I got to look around St. Peter’s College. My grandfather was one of the founders of this college in the early 20th Century. Although we visited my grandparents in Oxford regularly, I can’t remember seeing the college. It is a fine set of quads, surrounded by a mixture of old and new buildings. One of these used to be the head office for the Oxford Canal Company, which is a nice link for me.

I would not have discovered any of this if we had not been on the boat. What a lovely city.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑