Novel Excerpt: Drunk And Complaining About "The System". In 1906.

"There's no such thing as half an Englishman. There's only Englishmen and those who are trying to be Englishmen."

Early in my novel, some characters come together to form a secret society whose aim would be to free India from British clutches. The characters are all young, book-smart, and trying to make sense of the world around them.

I imagined them to be like the young men I went to college with. Somehow it was simultaneously a sin to take themselves too seriously, and also a sin to not dissect everything deeply. Disagreement and calling each other out ruled. It made for some extremely serious conversations about the silliest things, or jokes about very serious matters.

Usually, when people talk about the Independence movement, or make movies about it, they imagine serious conversations about serious topics by prim and proper men with oiled hair and very Indian clothes. I disagree.

People can’t all be angry and shocked and proper all the time. Especially not young men. They are going to try too hard, pretend not to care, joke to defuse tense moments, and their conversations are going to be lubricated by alcohol. They are going to take the edge off by complaining about “The System”. They have no clue how this System works, or who The Man is, but they want to change this System and the Man. And at the end of it, they’ve learned something, and sometimes, even created something big. That’s the mood I’m trying to capture here, though it actually turned out more serious than I wanted it to be.

As we sat around on the floor of my suite, shots of Probir’s whiskey in our hands, we were telling stories of back home. 

“My mother fainted when she was told I would be going to London.” Harnam was saying. 

“The whole village pitches in, and the Maharaja of Nabha chooses to send you here, and your mother is the last to know?” Tatya laughed. 

“My mother is a very emotional woman. I’m the youngest, you see. And my father died when I was little. So she was very attached. I’m sure your mother is too.” 

“She probably is. I wouldn’t know. The plague took her away when I was thirteen. It was all my father after that. And then my brother” Tatya said. 

“That’s a different kind of love alright.” I said. “No wonder you’re always unruffled. Can’t throw tantrums with papa.” I let out a dry laugh, thinking of my own father whose idea of showing us love was showing us how the power looms worked. 

“Father’s strict with you?” Probir asked with a knowing smile. 

“Extremely.” I said, “He sent me off to London at age 7 with just a governess. My mother cried so much. He wouldn’t budge.” 

“To prepare for the Indian Civil Service exams? I know some parents do that, especially from Bengal.” Probir said, “The rules are crazy.” 

You needed to have studied for two years in an English university, and you could only take the exam in England. That was probably what Probir, too, was traveling for. But I knew the kind of person Probir was talking about. Some parents would ship their children off to study in England from an early age, so they would be proper Englishmen by the time they were old enough to write the exams. These parents were complete Anglophiles, and worked very hard so their children wouldn’t even speak Bengali. Was it the famine and misrule in Bengal that led them to embrace English culture with big enthusiasm, because the British were the first in several years to bring order in that province? I didn’t know.

“No, no,” I said, “he wanted at least one of his sons to be able to manage his business abroad. As the youngest, I am that son.” 

“Big shoes to fill.” Tatya said. “I’m sure you’ll do admirably.”

“Yeah, you’re already half an Englishman.” Harnam added. 

I let out a dry laugh. “There’s no such thing. There’s only Englishmen and people who want to be Englishmen.” 

“But you dress so nice, you speak English so well, and eat like an Englishman and dance like an Englishman!” 

“Like an Englishman.” I said, emphasizing “Like”. 

Harnam looked confused. Tatya however caught on and nodded in agreement.

“You’re never going to be one of them.” Tatya said, point blank. Harnam looked on disbelievingly. Probir chuckled dismissively. 

“Tatya-da,” Probir said, “Aren’t you just projecting your dislike of all things British onto them?” 

“No,” Tatya said, his voice matter-of-fact, “I’ve seen it happen. So have you, probably.”

“What do you mean?” Probir said. 

“You hear it from Herjoat himself here. He doesn’t feel accepted as a peer, even though his entire education and socialization has been the same, or even better than an Englishman. Even the lowest Englishman thinks himself better than every Indian.” 

Probir and Harnam turned to me, exhorting me to disagree, with their discombobulated expressions. 

“It’s true.” I said, “You see so many Indian families sending their young men to stay with English families as paying guests. The English families are probably much less well off and much less educated than the Indian families, but the children just grovel for their host families approval, which never comes. If anything, the continuing disrespect for their Indianness fills them with a deep disdain for their own culture.” My throat went dry when I said this, remembering what I had said earlier to Harnam about not wearing his turban so he wouldn’t be mocked. A deep shame washed over me, and my ears turned hot. 

Tatya seemed to pick up on that. “It’s not their fault. It is the situation they are thrust in. Any young mind will grow up feeling deeply inferior if they are told over and over again that they are a defeated, inferior race of humans, and that their ways of life are founts of ignorance and illiteracy.” 

“Wealth is a big factor too. If you grew up wanting for a lot, and you are suddenly in this land of plenty, it is natural to feel they must have done something right, and we have done everything wrong.” 

“Not a problem you faced, I suppose” Probir said nonchalantly. 

“By the grace of Waheguru, my parents raised me with a deep respect for the ways of my ancestors” I said, as humbly as possible. I had no patience for this disdain for wealth that I most often saw from young, highly educated Bengalis, and the quicker I shut that down, the easier life got. It was about sending a message that you wouldn’t stand for this nonsense. 

“Think about it, Probir-da, you probably know some Indians who became Christians.” Tatya said, “They adopt every manner of the Englishman, going to the same churches, eating the same food, and raising their children speaking English. They might have a small advantage in getting jobs in the presidencies, but does the Englishman look upon them as equals? Is he happy to give his children in marriage to them, or even paying them as much as his English reports? Not in my experience!” 

Probir was uneasy. “What about Dadabhai Naoroji? He is a British MP!” 

“Do you know how rich he had to be get there?” Tatya said. “He is… “ he paused, as if unable to comprehend the great wealth of Mr. Naoroji, “unbelievably rich. And even so, they like to write about him as a doddering old man in their newspapers.” 

“It isn’t about how you look or how much money you have.” I said. This argument wouldn’t end. “If the British decide you are inferior, you cannot convince them you are. Look at the Irish for example. Their land is as far from England as Madras is from Mysore. They look the same, and their cultures are similar. The Irish themselves had great kingdoms in the past. But the British decided they want the land. So the Irish became uncultured, uncouth swine. Their food became an object of ridicule. Their language became animal noises and worthy of suppression. And when they died in huge numbers in the famines, they weren’t considered human enough to be given relief. Even now, you have famous Irishmen all over London, but are they considered equal to Englishmen? Certainly not! The English may consider the French as their equals, and even the Germans, but they wouldn’t extend that courtesy to an Irishman. They collectively decide on a national myth, and all agree that certain people are less than human.” 

“It’s all a ploy to drain everyone else of their wealth so that a small island can prosper. And even within that island, not everyone has access to the wealth. But even the poorest Englishman takes pride in the fact that his King is using power and might to bring other nations to their knees. They’ll keep telling us what idiots we are, and we’ll keep begging for their approval. In the meantime, they will keep suppressing our rights, and taking our gold and our land. And our freedom.” 

Harnam’s mouth was slightly open as if he meant to say something, but his mind couldn’t summon to words to express such anger and shock.