Independence from stereotypes and symbolism
The independence of India from its British masters did not automatically translate into the idea of “One Nation, One People”. India has always been, and still remains, a country patched together like a quilt — different states, different languages, different dialects, different dressing styles, different customs, different cuisines… even different Gods.
When I was growing up in Chandigarh in the 1960s, 70s and early 80s, stereotypes were pretty well defined. And, deeply entrenched. Anybody from south of the Vindhyas was simply a Madrasi. It was as if no other state existed in the southern half of India. Anybody from the East was dismissively labeled a Bengali and if he or she had oriental features, the label changed to being called a Nepali. Hindi movies, meanwhile, ensured that all Punjabis were shown as loud, garrulous, bumbling Sardarjis. In those days all of Hindi cinema’s top heroes were nearly all clean-shaven Punjabis — Rajesh Khanna, Dharmendra, Shammi Kapoor, Dev Anand, Vinod Khanna, Rakesh Roshan, Vinod Mehra — but the enduring stereotype to define the state was always a turbaned Sardar.
I had never eaten a dosa till almost the end of the 1970s. There was just one Madras Café in the city, and it had very few local takers. Few were willing to experiment. The only other place one could partake a dosa or savour South Indian filter coffee was at the India Coffee House, which in any case was seen to be the hallowed preserve of professors and intellectuals. The joke going around in those days was that if you ever happened to order a dosa in Amritsar, it would be served with chhole rather than sambhar! So deeply ingrained were the eating habits that anything not seen to be local and familiar was largely given a go-bye. It took the better part of the 1980s for the dosa, idli and vada to go mainstream. They are now staple offerings across the country. Similarly, noodles today are ubiquitous across the country. Till Maggi launched its 2-minutes offering in 1984, Chinese food was only available in select pockets of big cities that had sizeable Tibetan or Chinese settlements — Tib Dabs in Delhi or Tangra in Calcutta, or at fine-dine restaurants patronised by the city’s rich elite. But in recent years, food stereotypes have been considerably demolished. Vada pav, bhel puri, dhokla, chhole bhature and even pizza and momos now find mention on the menus of even small eateries across India with almost equal customer patronage. Stereotypes of origin have largely faded.
In my early days in advertising, I used to handle brand Horlicks. It was then one of India’s biggest advertisers. The client used to agonise like crazy over what the mother would wear in the brand commercials. Much debate would ensue on whether the mother in the ad should wear a saree ora salwar kameez (trousers or jeans were a complete no-no anyway those days — that would be just too modern and un-mother like). The saree would eventually always prevail, and everyone knew that the discussion was largely academic in nature. And the debate would encompass whether the mother’s mangalsutra should be clearly visible upfront; and whether she should have sindoor in her hair or a bindi on her forehead. And yes, the hair would never be left open — always plaited or in a bun. That was the stereotype of “mother” in Indian minds — or so Horlicks (and other marketers) believed.
Today girls across the length and breadth of India consider the “Punjabi” (colloquial for salwar suit) as acceptable formal wear to go to work. This is true in the South of India too where the saree once had almost a hundred per cent mindshare. The bindi is no longer indicative of marital status; it is a fashion accessory today. The bridal chooda — the red and ivory bangles that newly-wed girls wear in North India are being worn at weddings across the country, probably prompted by Bollywood’s much choreographed big fat Indian weddings which are being emulated all over the country, irrespective of geography or community. So, that’s another set of stereotyping and symbolism that has ebbed away.
The worship of Lord Ganesha was stereotypically a preserve of Bombay and Maharashtra. Till the early 1990s, Ganesha as a festival was largely unknown in Delhi or the North. Today, nearly every city in the North has huge Ganesha pandals and an increasingly large number of idol immersions. Mumbai’s Ganesha monopoly has been significantly pared.
Stereotypes can be changed in many ways. Sardar Manmohan Singh as an erudite, well-respected, cerebral prime minister put paid to the long-standing image of the funny Sardarji. Similarly, president Abdul Kalam changed substantially the image associated with Muslims as Urdu shaayars. Those stereotypes may have been perpetuated by popular cinema or by continued media portrayals, but each of these exalted personalities helped, through their towering personas, to erase mind images that were embedded deep in popular lore.