Growing Up in a Secular, Smarter India – When Mile Sur Mera Tumhara was More Than a Song
Once upon a time, the ‘cool kids’ were the ones who could look up into the night sky and point to Alpha Centauri. They could read star maps and knew where the constellation Orion was going to be next month. (Of course, this was back in the early 1980s in Delhi, when one could actually look up into the night sky and see the stars.)
Schools were not air-conditioned. School fees were affordable, and every class was a potpourri of kids from all walks of life and religious backgrounds. We co-existed fairly happily.
The cool kids around me were the ones who read a lot, could quote the works of Arthur Conan Doyle and Prem Chand, and took pride in being able to rattle off the names of the capitals of obscure countries. They would read and exchange the books they had borrowed from lending libraries in the local marketplace. (Yes, those existed once.)
The ‘uncool’ kids had a few things in common, too. As a rule, they did not read. They did not show much affinity for art or the scientific temper in general. They often flaunted family wealth and bragged about branded clothing and goods that relatives in the U.S. had brought them, or that they had themselves procured from trips abroad. But even these kids had the modesty to ask their drivers to drop them off a little distance from the school gate, so that the rest of us who traveled by non-airconditioned bus wouldn’t be able to make fun of them for being ostentatious brats.
It goes without saying that the definition of ‘cool’ and ‘uncool’ has changed.
It's not that the cool kids did not get in trouble in school. They did. But there was a level of intelligence even in their misdeeds, and the student who managed to use a bit of Wodehousian wit even when he or she was getting a dressing down from the principal was an instant hero, at least for the next couple of weeks.
These were the 1980s. The economy hadn’t been thrown open to ‘market forces’ yet. Ambassador and Fiat cars roamed the streets. Maruti Suzuki hadn’t quite made its entry yet. Also, we rolled our eyes when messages on secularism and national integration and ‘mile sur mera tumhara’ played on Doordarshan nonstop.
We thought it was all a bit unnecessary, this whole emphasis on the equality of all religions and the constant reminders to keep India united. It all went without saying, didn’t it? Who even cared what anyone’s religion was!
It didn’t matter if your name was Matthew or Jasvinder or Vivek or Iram! We celebrated each others’ festivals and cracked jokes that were irreverent to all faiths. No one took umbrage. And our friends’ economic status genuinely did not matter.
I even experimented with other religions and got into a spot of trouble when I signed my religion as “Christian” on my CBSE Class 10 Board Enrolment Forms. Just for the heck of it.
Besides the fact that I had started reading through the Gospels at the time, I thought it would be interesting to see if anyone would bother with a student’s professed religion. Why was ‘Religion’ a column on a Board exam form anyway, and why should it matter in a secular country?
Turned out it did.
The school authorities, especially the exam in-charge, had a minor conniption. I was marched into the school principal’s office who, to her credit, did not yell at me or suspend me, but simply said, “Beta, whatever your personal religious feelings might currently be, please sign ‘Hindu’ since you are technically one.”
(She was a Sikh herself, and as a long-time principal, was quite used to teenagers doing unusual things.)
I grudgingly obliged and was made to write a letter of apology to CBSE stating that I had mistakenly signed off as a Christian and that this momentary lapse of reason may kindly be pardoned, and I be given my Board permit.
(A classmate suggested I sign off with “P.S. Jesus loves you!” I didn’t.)
It’s not that the 1980s did not have their problems. They most certainly did, but for a teenager, it was a better time to grow up. I feel very sorry for kids today.
Not in my worst dreams would I have imagined that just thirty years later, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh and the Bharatiya Janata Party would be ruling the country and doing their very best to dismantle all that makes India a diverse and secular nation.
I remember, there was one shakha-attending kid in school (or at least that I knew of). I’ll call him Gulshan. He was an outlier. I can’t say I ever tried much to befriend him, although in hindsight I probably should have tried harder. (Teenagers can be painfully cliquish) But his worldview was so narrow and dark, it was difficult to have an extended conversation with him, especially when he said things like, “One day, this will be a Hindu Rashtra.”
I have no idea where Gulshan is, or what he is doing, but his prediction seems to be in danger of coming to pass.
I cannot help but feel that those of us who grew up in the 1970s and 80s, the hey-days of Indian secularism (flawed as they were) have a responsibility to tell kids and teenagers today that there is something better than the blatant communalism and consumerism that has come to define their lives.
It might look like a fool’s errand, but then most things that made the world better and saner eventually, usually do.
As always, personal example is the best teacher.
Rohit Kumar is an author, educator and independent journalist and can be reached at letsempathize@gmail.com.
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