Quest for West’s nod

A moment of national pride arrived recently when UNESCO added two foundational Indian texts—the Bhagavad Gita and the Natyashastra—to its Memory of the World Register. These ancient works have long offered profound moral, philosophical, and artistic insights. Their global recognition is worth celebrating. Yet it also reveals a disquieting truth: we often value our heritage only after it receives Western validation.

The British may have physically exited in 1947, but their cultural and intellectual influence remains deeply entrenched. As political psychologist Ashis Nandy observed in his seminal work The Intimate Enemy, “Colonialism survives as a psychological state.” He argued that colonialism was not merely about political domination--it reshaped the Indian mind, inducing a deep sense of inferiority and dependence on Western validation.

Nandy deconstructed the colonial binary that cast the West as “masculine”—rational, dominant, and progressive—and the East as “feminine”—emotional, passive, and traditional. This dichotomy became internalised. We began to see ourselves through colonial eyes. That legacy persists even today—from our obsession with fair skin and fluent English to the tendency to celebrate Indian traditions only after they are rebranded and marketed by the West.

Consider yoga, Ayurveda, or mindfulness. These practices are now lauded globally as wellness breakthroughs. However, they gained such prestige only after being repackaged for Western consumption. Within India, they were long dismissed as outdated or ‘unscientific’ – until the West gave them credibility. Even the Bhagavad Gita, revered for centuries, appears more ‘legitimate’ to some only now that UNESCO has acknowledged its universal value.

Frantz Fanon, in The Wretched of the Earth, exposed the psychological impact of colonialism. He warned that native intellectuals, educated in the coloniser’s framework, often become cultural imitators rather than innovators rooted in their own traditions. This pursuit of Western universalism, he argued, frequently leads to a fragmented identity-- neither wholly modern nor authentically native.

This fractured identity is visible in modern India. The joint family, once central to Indian social life, has given way to nuclear families. Our education system, once holistic and value-based, now mimics Western models that emphasise rote learning over moral and cultural development. Traditional diets are displaced by fast food; mother tongues by English--especially among urban elites.

This isn’t to suggest that Western influence is entirely negative. English has opened global opportunities for millions. Enlightenment-era concepts, such as individual liberty, gender equality, and civil rights, have enabled powerful social transformations. Women empowerment,
LGBTQ+ rights, and legal reforms owe much to these cross-cultural exchanges.

The problem arises when admiration turns into uncritical emulation--when everything Western is assumed superior, and everything indigenous, inferior unless externally validated. This mindset undermines cultural confidence, stifles innovation, and enhances class elitism. It fosters the idea that Indian goods, ideas, and stories need Western branding to succeed globally.

This tendency is also visible in the way we approach globalisation. Trade is meant to be a two-way exchange. Yet, India’s participation is often marked by a lack of self-belief. The fear of “being swallowed” by globalisation stems less from actual inadequacy and more from an internalised belief that India’s products are not good enough unless first endorsed by foreign audiences. The materialism of India’s former colonisers also lingers in today’s development discourse. The British embraced mercantilism--equating national power with economic accumulation. This idea now defines progress in India too. Economic growth is often equated with progress, sidelining questions of equity, sustainability, and social well-being.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, in Decolonising the Mind, reminds us that language carries culture. Using colonial languages, he warns, can spiritually disconnect a people from their heritage. Others, like Salman Rushdie, argue that English can be a tool of resistance—reshaped to tell subaltern stories. These debates underscore a critical point: the tools of colonialism can be dismantled or repurposed—but only if we are aware of their historical baggage.

Today, the most troubling sign of colonial residue is not ignorance but the unthinking glorification of all things Western. While Independence Day is marked with patriotic fervour, we often ignore what it means to be truly independent in thought and culture. Selective modernity risks reducing Indian society to a caricature of Western ideals, eroding its civilisational essence.

The question is not whether we should abandon everything Western, but whether we can begin to value our own heritage without needing a nod from across the Atlantic.

(The writer is pursuing a master’s degree in clinical psychology at Christ Deemed to be University)