Stuck In Our Ancient, Exotic Mud

We are often in awe over the extraordinary recent revolutions in India.

Unlike export-led China, India's economic miracle is largely consumption-led. We haven't had much economic reform, export barely a fraction of what China does, and haven't quite begun investing in infrastructure. Still, Indians feel great about their future; their consumption has spiked accordingly.

This is a cultural revolution of sorts in a humble people long wary of conspicuous consumption.

Another -- likely more significant but less remarked on -- revolution is the notoriously introverted India turning its confident gaze overseas.

Given this new-found interest in the world one might expect our cultural expressions would echo the theme. This is to say, our literature and cinema and theatre should be about Indians sailing abroad -- looking at the world anew with Indian eyes and interpretation.

Instead, our culture remains introverted. The movies we nominate for Oscars, for example, are all about interpeting the exotic -- and often lapsed -- India for foreigners.

The books we sell -- and embarrassingly buy -- are also focused on Indian exoticism and social complexity. The much celebrated Maximum City is a classic case in point. How much more do Indians really need to understand India? Still, the book was a runaway success among India's elite. Had Suketu Mehta written about his life as an Indian in America instead, his book would likely not have been quite as successful.

This blog has long been a critic of contemporary Indian culture -- which invents nothing, has no insight, and offers very little to inspire the world. Our intellectual generation is culturally deficient -- this is why, even as our businesses have gone 21st century and global, our culture remains stuck in our ancient, exotic mud.