Me, Indian, Minority

Esther David

When I was asked to write a piece about being a minority in India, I had mixed feelings. I started thinking about my minority status and asked myself whether I really felt like a minority.

The answer: Yes and No. There are moments when, unquestionably, I am an Indian: I look like one, speak Gujarati, wear Indian clothes, eat Indian food and behave like an Indian in more ways than one. In a crowd, it would be difficult to pick me out and say that I am a Bene Israel Jew.

But then, there are also moments when I do feel like a minority living amidst a larger majority community. This realisation immediately isolates me and I seek comfort by hiding in the cocoon of my minority mentality. This feeling reaches its peak during communal riots and festivals.

Suddenly, I feel as if I am standing on the sidelines, almost like an outsider who does not understand what is happening.

During festivals, I may follow the rituals and traditions, the way they should be followed, but if someone proffers the puja thali to me, I do not know what to do.

Even if I make an effort to participate in festivities, by buying diyas or pedas, I just do not belong. Suddenly I am gripped by the “insider who is an outsider syndrome”, and end up feeling isolated and lonely.

This also happens while travelling. I may befriend someone sitting next to me, when suddenly my new friend asks me my name, and I am dumbstruck. For a moment I do not feel like revealing my identity, nor do I want to get into detailed explanations about caste, community, religion, region or name. Even if I have a strong Indian identity, wear Indian clothes, and sport a bindi, my name immediately creates a barrier. This is one moment when I wish my name was Mina Patel or Lata Shah.

I squirm as I say I am a Bene Israel Jew. Sometimes, I say, “Yahudi,” and try to pass it off as an  exotic locale or try to  connect it with the old Dilip Kumar film, Yahudi Ki Ladki or tell them about Israel and how Bene Israel Jews came to India some 1,500 years back or more.

I notice signs of disbelief and look out of the window at the familiar Indian landscape, feeling like a stranger in the land of my birth. So, like most Jews I console myself by saying, if India is the motherland, then Israel must be the fatherland?!

To make matters worse, some cynics, either Indians or foreign Jews, often derail me by asking, how can I be a Jew, when I have lived in India for so many years.

Am I a convert? Meaning, if this is true, then I must be an inferior Jew. I try to hit back by giving them a crash course in Jewish history. I tell them how almost all the prophets believed in the Beget theory as they had wives of all castes, creed and colour.

My favourite story is about a TV anchor who could not believe that with a name like mine, I looked so Indian and spoke such perfect Gujarati.

She was also under the misconception that I had been living in Israel and had only recently moved to Gujarat, becoming an Indian in such a short time. There are also times when people bow and greet me with a big namaskar.

This tends to happen as I wear yellows with a fairly large bindi, and they are sure I am some God-woman type, and I revel in this misunderstanding.

Through the years I have also learnt to create some confusion about my name, on the telephone. Very few people catch the pronunciation of my name and ask, “As What?”

“As Her,” or “S What? Or “Ass The Errr…,” “Astra,” “Ester,” or even “Extra.” So, I change Esther to Asha or Astha and peace prevails. Even the surname helps, David turns into Devi and I become Asha Devi!

This is the fun part of being a minority, but then there are also some serious issues as it is true that I belong to a microscopic minority community and surviving in India for so long, is almost a miracle.

Because I do continue to feel Jewish in spirit at our beautiful Synagogue in Ahmedabad at the New Year celebrations, the Yom Kippur prayers, feel goose pimples when I hear the shofar, or attend the Friday Sabbath prayers.

For me, the Jewish graveyard is like a yardstick about how long we have been in India, as the names and dates are written in  Hebrew, English and Marathi. So, even if we say our prayers in Hebrew, at heart we are Indian, as at home we speak Marathi, Gujarati or English.

Yet, the outsider syndrome continues to bother me, because at the synagogue, there are moments when I feel like a minority within a minority community, as I am not fully conversant with the rituals. I like being a Jew, but do not know how to be a good Jew…so I amuse friends by calling myself a good Jew, meaning Gujju!

I can pinpoint many occasions, when I have been uncomfortable at the synagogue. I am the classic example of the insider who suffers from the outsider syndrome.

And, if I am often uncomfortable at the synagogue, I am also uncomfortable at temples, mosques, churches or any other place of worship. I like the art, architecture, heritage, history and folklore of religious sites, but dread participating in rituals connected with organised religion.

What I like best about being a minority in India is that it allows me to be who I am, and unlike the Jews of the diaspora, I belong to a minority community which has never faced persecution or anti-Semitism in India. We have been part of India and will continue to be so.

Esther David is a columnist and writer.