From Confused to Confident

Uprooting Roots

A Survey of the Partying, Galvanizing, and Drinking Habits of the Young in India

by Tina Soin Sharma

Near the end of a hot Oklahoma summer my husband and I boarded a plane for India, the far-off, exotic birthplace of my parents and older sister. I had not been to India since my last family trip fourteen years ago and was excited to discover a land immersed in change. I had read so many articles about the rise of the Indian IT industry and how it was re-shaping Indian societies. I heard about girls in jeans and t-shirts dating, even living with their boyfriends--much to their parents’ consternation--in Bangalore. I heard that Pizza Huts and McDonald’s had sprung up everywhere. Could India, a civilization so entrenched in its eastern values, really be morphing into the West?

My deep-seated motivation for answering this question was to be able to come back to my own mother and say, “You said that Indian girls don’t wear miniskirts, stay out late at night, or have boyfriends. But you were wrong!” My trip to India was going to validate my own youthful behavior--behavior my mother routinely blamed on the bad western values of Canada, where I was born and raised. So, when I finally made it to India--in between visiting a ton of relatives, of
course--my first mission was to ferret out this new “westernized” generation of Indians.

What I actually found was more schizophrenic than a deliberate cultural rebellion by the up and coming youth. The essence of India had not changed from what it was in 1990: the country is still a disorganized, bustling, exotic land and the vast majority of men and women appear exactly the same as when I last visited. The older generation of aunties and uncles are still concerned about maintaining traditions and rites and rituals. I was still expected to bend down and touch the feet of an elder as a sign of respect, wear proper Indian dress on several occasions, and to respect the customs of the country. But there was change afoot. I could smell it in the air.

We were staying in Gurgaon, an affluent suburb of Delhi known for its five beautiful malls (which locals project will become sixty malls in five years, as the growing middle class wholeheartedly embraces consumerism), modern high rise condominiums, burgeoning call center businesses and exquisitely designed office buildings occupied by large multinational corporations. Although I did not have a chance to visit Bangalore, I knew that this was a more-than-adequate place to gather my evidence.

The malls were amazing. The display windows with saris and lenghas not withstanding, I could have sworn I was in North America. T.G.I. Friday's and Ruby Tuesdays were filled with hungry shoppers, the Domino’s delivery boys were roaring out of the parking lot on their scooters with tandoori chicken pizzas in hand. The bathrooms were actually very clean, and young mallrats were everywhere. I was surprised to see young couples walking around holding hands or embracing casually. Many were sporting western clothes--jeans, skirts (some mini, Mom), tank tops, and high heels. There were groups of co-ed youths hanging out together in the coffee shop, relaxed and having fun. I don’t remember seeing any such cavorting going on fourteen years ago.

The evenings provided me with the best ammunition for my assault of my mother’s “Indian” values. The City Centre Mall in Gurgaon is home to several clubs, including Buzz, which was our first stop in our tour of the nightlife. As the door opened I could hear the throbbing bass of the latest American dance songs. Glancing around the club I saw a young couple canoodling in a corner booth. Kids were gettin’ down on the dance floor. What was most shocking--well, after the initial shock of teeny-tiny tank tops--was that some of the girls were puffing on cigarettes. And of course, the alcohol flowed freely. For several nights we repeated this exercise, hitting bars and clubs with names like Last Chance, Odyssey and the
f Bar, a trendy spot in Delhi frequented by the world’s fashionistas. These places could easily have been in Toronto, New York or L.A. The modern design of f Bar, for example, could rival even the trendiest of urban American hotspots. The bar is lined with television monitors that constantly show fashion show footage. The upstairs level sports big, comfy beds, which instantly reminded me of the Sex & the City episode when the girls go to a new club aptly called Bed.

Between the purchasing and partying, it was evident that India is changing. But I wanted to know what my generation of Indians, those in their 20s and 30s, really think about how things have evolved over the past few years. I probed every person I hung out with to get an idea of what it feels like to be young in India today. One thing is clear: these party-going, IT-working modernists are straddling two different worlds. On one hand, their parents expect good grades, professional jobs, arranged marriages, and traditional Indian life-at-home. But when away from the watchful eyes of their parents (the proverbial cat), this generation (the mice) enjoys dating, sex, alcohol, cigarettes, skimpy clothes, western music, and western food as much as a Westerner. When I was a child, I felt like I had to choose between being Indian and being Canadian; the subjects of my research in India do not seem

to suffer from this kind of over-analytical identity crisis. They understand and carry out their duties to their families, and simply hide away their more westernized lifestyles. One person with whom I spoke at length, Sanjay (names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent), is to be married soon. Although he loves to party and his car stereo only blares Western songs, he opted for an arranged marriage instead of a love connection. I was confounded. He has had girlfriends in the past but feels that using his parents’ good judgment is a more sensible way to find a wife than dating. He had only spent one or two hours with the girl they chose before saying yes to the marriage. “But, but…” I stuttered as he told me all of this, “you’re so westernized. How could you think that an arranged marriage would be any fun?” He told me that he has several friends who had love marriages, but those unions almost all ended in divorce. In Sanjay’s experience, when dating, guys are always on their best behavior and have very modern outlooks. But after marriage, those same guys expect their girlfriends to suddenly turn into obedient Indian housewives, like the guys’ mothers had been. Needless to say, it usually didn’t end up the way the guys planned so it was off to divorce court.

This is a good thing, I thought--educated girls are starting to stand up for themselves and will leave their husbands if they are being mistreated. One woman I met, Pooja, is divorced and lives with her parents once again. A frequent bar hopper in her late twenties, she has an exciting job as an editor for one of India’s premiere lifestyle magazines. While Pooja is not happy to be divorced, she does not see the divorce as something that she will allow to set her back. “It’s just one of those things that happens,” she says very matter-of-factly.

On my way back to the U.S., as I thumbed through the collection of magazines and newspapers I had collected while in India, I was stumped. What could I make of modern-day India? India is at once the India I have always known--a place where I visit relatives and wear traditional dresses and be respectful--and a new India at the same time, filled with bars and hormone-charged youngsters, dating and mating. Magazines like New Woman have headlines like, “Is It Love or Lust?” and “Learn the Language of Love.” These new Indian women take quizzes that seek to answer questions like, “How Sex-Spirited Are You?” Scantily-clad women adorn everything from the front cover to the ad for hair-removal products--New Woman is a darker shade of Cosmopolitan. Is this really today’s India or a minor aberration in a culture whose traditions have remained largely intact for thousands of years?

As much as I would like to have the answer, I don’t. I walked away from my trip to India with unease--the same kind of uncertainties that still make me want to prove my mother wrong about mini-skirts. Yet, as much as I have embraced my western upbringing, there is something very comforting and secure about the traditional Indian way of life my mother prescribes. So, when she asked me how I liked India, I took my cue from Sanjay and Pooja: I told her it was great and never let out a peep of my nightly activities. I guess my vindication will have to wait.