Are You An East, West, North, South Or Central Indian? And Does It Matter?

We are quick to categorise Indians we meet and label them based on the state they belong to. Is this necessary?

Being an Indian, brown skinned, dark eyed, with black, lustrous, straight hair is definitely enough to attract many eyes. My daughter Aadhya often grabs a heap of attention on the train, bus, park and nursery for having those beautiful locks of hair and lovely black, big eyes.

Waiting for my turn to come at Supercuts, with Aadhya sleeping on my lap, I was seated beside an old English lady. She looked at Aadhya lovingly and asked me if she ate well, slept well and if I got enough rest. Humbled and touched by her queries, I answered her.

I smiled and started stroking Aadhya’s hair and realized once again that it is lovely.

Looking at my toe-rings she must have guessed that I was Indian. With a twinkle in her eyes she said, “I have been to Kerala long ago. I still remember those women with lovely long hair and freshly cut, woven flowers tucked in. How jealous I was then!”

Getting a bit carried away, she continued, “I love India. Kerala and Rajasthan are so beautiful. I had been to the Ajanta caves too. So beautiful! As a memory, I bought beautiful fabrics, and sarees with golden borders for my friends and family. That trip to India was so currilicious and aromatic.”

Full of charm, diversity and with so much variety to offer, India for outsiders is like a different world. It hurts when anyone talks to me about the poverty, corruption  and rapes though.

I must confess that by now I was missing India to an extent that I wanted to board a flight right away! This was India for her; probably, she only shared the best with me and kept the worst experiences to herself.

Where are you from?

Getting back to track, we Indians are blessed with a diversity of attractive, sharp features. Some of us are so blessed that they people can guess which part of the state you belong to on the basis of skin color, height, accent, ornaments etc etc.

Brown skin, big eyes, distinct eyebrows and raised cheek bones is enough for an Indian to make out that I belong to the southern part of India. Are you a South Indian? My affiliation towards Maharashtra and Karnataka is questioned then. I reply, “My mum is a Kannadiga, well, from North Karnataka and my father is from Maharashtra.” The next question shoots, “You said Trupti Sharma, which doesn’t sound Marathi”.

Well, I expect this question these days and then with a smile I reply, “I am married to a Punjabi”.

We are so inquisitive about xyz’s origin. To speak to an Indian, one has to know whether he/she is from South, North, East, West and Central India.

Recently, on a journey to Cambridge, I had to change my train from London Paddington. As a first timer on a tube at Paddington and with a presentation at Cambridge this time, I was a bit nervous. The tube arrived and I stepped in. Unsure whether to sit or stand, (at times I am so indecisive about small things), I finally perched, noticing that besides me was a gentleman wearing a ‘Kadaa’ showing that he was a Sikh (Yes, I too am blessed with guessing ability).

Settling down, I opened my bag and took out a map, into which was tucked in a novel that I was reading. With some handwritten points on the map,  it was evident to anyone on the tube that I was a first time traveller on the tube.

 When nervous, diffident and upset, a soliloquy helps a big deal. I whispered a little louder to myself, “Good, you are doing well”.

Folding the map and tucking it away in the novel, I packed my bag waiting for St. Pancras station from where I would be boarding a connecting train to Cambridge.

“Hi, I am Michael”, said the gentleman now sitting besides me.

 “Oh hello, I am Trupti”, I replied with a smile.

 “Are you a first-timer on the tube? You seem to be nervous”, asked Michael.

 “Yes I am, but I should be fine. Earlier I’ve been on the tube with my husband and this time, I am all by myself” , came my reply.

“Don’t worry, I am walking towards Kings X and I can accompany you”, with a very English accent, showing his concern.

Not sure whether to say yes or refuse, I finally agreed to walk with him. After learning that I was going to Cambridge for a presentation, he definitely was impressed.

He hesitantly asked me, “I guess you are a South Indian?”

I quickly replied, “Partly. Now that I am married to a Punjabi I feel that I am an Indian first and then anything else because I feel that I am part of a National Integration program. My daughter will have traits of Maharashtrians, Kannadigas, Punjabis and if we stay here for a bit more longer, then English too”.

Michael laughed and said, “I guessed that you are a South Indian as I saw that novel in your bag. There is something very classy about South Indians. They love books.” He chuckled and added, “A Punjabi with a novel is a rarity; instead a can of beer suits them better than a book!”

We both laughed at that. I said though, unconvinced, “There are some exceptions though. My husband likes reading only Science Journals but not a can of beer.” He agreed that there were exceptions.