Variations on a Theme of "Three Cheers for India!"
Shashi Tharoor's book reads like a long and often repetitive series of newspaper columns – which, in fact, is precisely what it is. The copyright page notes that "Earlier versions of the essays in this book have appeared, in somewhat different forms, in the author’s columns in the Hindu, the India Express, the Times of India, and in the following publications: the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, the International Herald Tribune, India Today Plus, Time, and Global Asia."
That's an impressive list of publications, but note that it's for both internal and external consumption, which means that at times a non-Indian reader is bound to be confused, while, I suspect, at times an Indian reader might well be bored. The author has grouped the essays under six general themes, such as "The Idea of Indianness," "Indians at Work and Play," and "Experiences of India." However, there's considerable overlapping in the essays, and a tendency towards repetition of favored themes. At times the reader longs for an idea to be developed in more depth than can be done in three to five pages (the average length of each “chapter”).
The book is not so much a coherent exploration into the causes of India’s emerging status as it is a series of rhetorical questions the author asks -- then answers -- in confident flourishes. There's not much of a narrative thread, but he wields an impressive arsenal of statistics and trots out any number of old saws by way of illustration (e.g. “An Indian without a horoscope is like an American without a charge card" or “Two Indians equals an argument and three Indians equals two political parties.”)
This is a man who likes the sound of his own voice, clearly, and he gets a bit carried away at times with diplomatic posturing. (Of course, that's probably to be expected of someone who became the UN's youngest ever Undersecretary General. I had to chuckle when he wrote, “I am normally allergic, both as a reader and as a reviewer, to collections of official speeches,” as in some ways that is precisely how this book comes across.)
Moreover, there are undertones (actually overtones) of boosterism in Tharoor's writing that I found grating. This is particularly true in the essays that discuss his ancestral state, Kerala, which he gushingly describes as "a state that has practiced openness and tolerance from time immemorial; which has made religious and ethnic diversity part of its daily life rather than a source of division; which has overcome caste discrimination and class oppression through education, land reforms, and political democracy; which has honored its women and enabled them to lead productive, fulfilling, and empowered lives." Indeed, Tharoor returns so often to this idea of the enlightenment of the South (in contrast to the bigotry of the North), that one wonders just how these essays went over in, say, Calcutta.
Nonetheless, the book does reward selective skimming, for there are some interesting ideas and articles within the 68 “chapters” (read: former newspaper and magazine articles). Frankly, I skipped chapters on cricket players and film stars altogether, but on the other hand found his piece “Becoming Bengaloorued,” which discusses India’s penchant for renaming its cities, very entertaining. He gleefully points out, for example, that renaming Bombay "Mumbai" makes little sense given that the original name of the colonial city sprang from the Portuguese "Bom Bahia" or "good bay." He puts his finger on the probable cause of this renaming: “Nothing but a petty chauvinism, a reassertion of pride in the right to label rather than the capacity to build.”
In the section entitled, "Indians Who Made My India," (the title of which made me wonder about the use of the possessive), Tharoor provides some interesting sketches of seminal figures. I found this part of the book the most absorbing, particularly the pieces on Maulana Azad, Indira Gandhi, and mathematical genius Srinivasa Ramanujan.
Another essay which I found especially informative was “The Prehistory of Indian Science,” which examined deep roots of Indian science and technology. Here, again, the boosterism was at work, but nevertheless I was intrigued to read of the breathtaking range of India's early scientific advances. As he mentioned in another essay, “The Rig Veda asserted that gravitation held the universe together twenty-four centuries before the apple fell on Newton’s head. The Vedic civilization subscribed to the idea of a spherical earth at a time when everyone else, even the Greeks, assumed the earth was flat.”
In the catchily-entitled "India, Jones, the Template of Doom,” he slams Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom as full of inaccurate and hateful stereotypes, a “grotesque depiction of India.” He correctly posits that this film could never be made today, for now India is "a land that foreigners can no longer afford to be ignorant about."
Indeed, we can no longer afford to be ignorant about India. That was my motivation for reading Tharoor's book. I only wish he'd undertaken the task of informing us in a more orderly and impartial fashion.