Neither horses nor donkeys, they are mules; I would overhear their Bangladeshi colleagues say (in Hindi no less - it is the lingua franca of our region). It wasn’t meant to be a derogatory comment. [break]I think they were just amused and attempting to make a sense of how the Hong Kong-ese obviously didn’t identify themselves with the “mainland” Chinese and seemingly aspired to all things modern and Western (supposedly the British) - without putting down the chopsticks or feigning the cockney accent.
Moving to Nepal and watching the yuva of Kathmandu (the country, I’m certain, is a whole another story) I’m finally able to make the musings of my parents my own. The youth of Nepal today, they are neither here nor there. I don’t mean this in an optimistic manner for they aren’t the bridging forces between “modern” and “traditional” or between the “East” and “West”, but only because the connection between the two worlds stop just where they start.
Sitting in traffic or walking into City Center, I watch these young folks who are unable and to an extent, unwilling to shed the skin of their forefathers. Masking “Krishna” with “Chris” only changes how you are addressed, but not who you are. Daal-bhaat eating Nepalis request the “Korean Cut”, and mimic the fashion of a country four time-zones away. People in their early-20s converse in forced English. And, I wonder how much of this feels plain awkward and how much thoroughly liberating. Perhaps “Harry” simply rings truer to their ears than “Hari”.
The way the youth in Kathmandu are isn’t a unique phenomenon. Youth as a subgroup transcend cultures - and not just MTV culture. The cynic in me would say they are “trying” to be someone they aren’t. But I’m also forced to acknowledge their “can do” attitude - from challenging climate change, coordinating street debates to counter bandas’ boredom and campaigning for the dignity of street children. They may be more up-to-date on whether Lindsey Lohan is in rehab or prison than with the ... peace process. They are perhaps more in tune with the status of Hollywood couples than their own relationships. They may be religiously poring over months-old issues of Elle while inattentively skimming through the dusty pages of Wave. But that is perhaps the allure of most things foreign and distant.
And yet, beyond this superficial platform of the global youth connection, there are also young people sitting on international panels mulling “real” (read: adult) issues, innovating feasible-if-taken-seriously electricity-generating machines for the remote energy-deprived countryside and passionately debating a plethora of global issues. They are driven and believe in a way that the rest are quickly forgetting how to.
This naive but chirpy, the-glass-is-half-full bob of the head leads to more questions. Are the young people of Kathmandu succumbing to pop culture and things of conflicting self-image? Or are they enjoying the positive externalities of a world growing smaller by collaborating ideas and efforts with those that lie beyond political boundaries? It is two sides of the same coin. The above mentioned “forced” English must be spoken, even if awkwardly to connect with the wider world - from the Taiwanese to the Chilean to the Flemish, it is the language that we can share.
In sprinkling our Nepali language with more Angrezi, we are perhaps expanding our vocabulary and not losing our language. But what is “our language” to begin with? Federalists rightfully object to Khas alone being recognized as such. Regardless, said languages have merged - to the agony of linguists and the delight of Kathmandu-ites. We now have our own version of the language that others have already made their own. If the Singaporeans ask “Where is she la?” Nepalanglish would answer with their own spiced vocab, “Coming re”. For bilingual personalities like us, the connotation with or without the “re” really matters.
Language sits at the forefront of preserving one’s “culture” and one’s identity, alongside food and dress. And, they differ at the same point they merge. McDonald’s arches are yet to march into the Valley, but when they do, I guarantee they will have to contemplate inserting momos and chicken chilly into their menu. Where the palates of the youth have been whet for fast food, it’s not just Western they salivate for, but for what they grew up accustomed to savoring and have memories attached to.
Language, food and looks express one’s identity. And, the fusion outcome isn’t always applaud-able. Movies create myths regarding what is beautiful and macho - most often drawing from the western lifestyle. Instead of protesting this, we lap it up. South Asia’s biggest qualm ought to be the ‘fair = lovely’ slogan plastered on hoarding boards, out TV sets, and eventually our minds. And these days, even this notion has surpassed gender, with ‘fair= handsome’ being promoted by Shah Rukh Khan and the lot. They have successfully disillusioned us - additional brands are producing their renditions to meet the demands of the market.
And, yet we’d be hardy fools to consider the identity crisis infused by pop culture on the East alone. If we are trying to whiten, the West is trying to tan. Examining beyond what is merely skin-deep, it’s evident that the assertive tussle between traditional and modern in Nepal is hardly flaring tension in the West. Urban young adults in America meal-hop from feasting upon Ethiopian injera (bread) to Turkish shawarma (sandwich-like wrap) to Nepali momos. They strum their guitars to Matisyahu (an American Hasidic Jewish reggae musician) and enjoy Bhangra dance classes. “Ethnic” garb has been sensationalized in the market. When westerners adopt eastern ways, there is no conflicting identity to be resolved, why is it different for the Kathmandu youth of today?
East meets West meets east again.
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