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.

What is a treacle fair?

This week we have been moored in a marina near Aldermaston, and on Saturday, while walking the dogs, I came across a number of posters advertising a “treacle fair”. This is not something I had come across before so I asked some locals and it turns out that this is an annual country fête in the village of Tadley. It will not surprise you that we decided to go.

Ferret Racing

It was a very odd but actually quite rewarding experience. There was a rock choir of about 20 pensioners singing enthusiastically. There was a massive “crew” of about 100 teenage dancers, whose routine seemed to be waving arms and running towards each other. There were beer and tea tents. There were burger vans, a small funfair, charity stalls with raffles. There was a model railway and a hat stall. Even better were the special events in the arena. Dog agility was pretty impressive, birds of prey flying was even more so. Best of all was the ferret racing. Four ferrets put into drain pipes with obstacles, to see which would reach the end first. Don’t worry, there was no cruelty here – these were pet ferrets who were just having fun playing in pipes. Each race could last over 15 minutes, as they wandered up and down the pipes, never quite reaching the end.

Some people say the British are eccentric. For me, Tadley Treacle Fair is a great example that shows yes we are. And it is absolutely fine.

Oh by the way, it is called a “treacle” fair because from at least the nineteenth century, people believed there were treacle mines in Tadley. I love it.

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