DIAMOND of the Season

India’s arranged marriage with the English language

An English library filled with stacks of old volumes, decorated with paintings of old, white men. At the center is a dramatic confrontation— or rather, a moment of passion—between a British aristocrat and an Indian woman (at least in appearance). Earlier, we watched the aristocrat teach the Indian to shoot. Even further back, the woman was shown listening to the aristocrat’s conversation with his friends, in which he speaks of his requirements for a wife as if she’s a commodity.

These are some of the vivid scenes in the extremely popular second season of Shonda Rhimes’s Bridgerton, a fantastical, Regency-era drama which has been praised for its diverse casting. This season follows the enemies-tolovers storyline of Kate Sharma and the Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. While I was watching these scenes, I saw the complex love-hate affair between Anthony and Kate as something entirely different from what the creators had intended—a representation of post-colonial India’s relationship with British influence, in particular the English language that the British introduced to the Indian colony.

Ever since I came to America for higher studies, I have been wondering why I feel such a sense of pride that I can speak proper English—I even enjoy impressing others with my vocabulary—when I feel little to no sense of shame that I am barely fluent in my mother tongue, Hindi. My entire education has been at an international school where I studied everything in English. Funnily enough, my second language was Hindi. This was despite the fact that my grandmother had done her master’s in Hindi literature. Her vocabulary was excellent, as was my mother’s, who had studied at a Hindi-medium school.1 Yet my mother, despite being extremely well-educated, to this day feels nervous sending text messages to friends in English, always checking them with me as if she’ll be thought of poorly if there is some grammatical error. Why was English omnipresent in all of our actions? I never thought I would find the answer to this deeprooted identity question in the sexual extravaganza that is Bridgerton

Obviously, Bridgerton—an adaptation of Julia Quinn’s light-hearted, steamy, historical romance book series—is not really a commentary on colonialism, even with its progressive casting choices. The first season didn’t even feature cast members of Indian origin, as it focused on the love story of Anthony’s sister, Daphne. But watching the second season prompted me to reflect on my own relationship with my country’s colonial past and its enduring effects.

I first started thinking about these colonial reverberations when Edwina Sharma (Kate’s sister) was declared the “diamond of the season” by the Queen, who tended to bestow this title on her hand-picked favorite amongst the ladies of the British aristocracy, or the “ton.” Anthony’s subsequent determination to marry the diamond reminded me of Britain’s possession of India for its “diamonds”—in other words, its riches and resources. In fact, India was called the Jewel in the Crown.

I saw a parallel between the way Anthony sought to possess each of the Sharma sisters for different reasons (Edwina for her social status and beauty, Kate because he was attracted to her) and how England had conquered India all those years ago. Similar to Kate, India was an enticing prospect for the British. Kate and Anthony’s power dynamic certainly reminded me of the struggle against colonialism. India, like Kate, who constantly countered Anthony’s attempt to court her sister (and later seduce Kate), resisted and rebelled against British rule for centuries.

Even the ending of the show featured an unequal relationship. In Anthony and Kate’s marriage, Anthony controls the purse strings while Kate, who had lived in a family of limited means before, has little financial independence.

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This is where the parallel ends. Unlike Kate, who submitted to Anthony’s charms, India today is an independent country with its own trajectory. Yet the knowledge that my country is free did little to comfort me, as I felt that we retained some of our colonial links in subtle but disturbing ways. In my own experience, the most pervasive colonial effect that is often overlooked is the British’s influence on our language. Much like Kate and Anthony’s entanglement, Indian and British affairs seem to be intertwined permanently because of the power the English language has over the Indian population.

Being proficient in the English language is a requirement for high-ranking jobs in India and a symbol of the wealthy urban upper class today. It extends beyond symbolism, determining classes’ upward mobility in India: speaking good English is the key to success in India’s professional field. A 2011 study conducted by the Lok Foundation and Oxford University proved that 41 percent of the rich in India could speak English while fewer than two percent of the poor could do the same.

I have seen this dynamic through my own experiences with the Indian education system. Schools are divided into two classes: the government schools usually are of poor quality and rarely teach English properly, and the private (often international) schools are Englishmedium. This hierarchy extends to higher education in India, as well; prestigious universities like Indian Institutes of Technology and Indian Institutes of Management use English as their primary mode of instruction. When my father studied at such an institution, the Indian Institute of Technology, he realized he automatically had an advantage because he had been taught in English-medium schools, while his friend who had been taught at a Hindi-medium school really struggled, and had to take extra classes to improve his English so that he could comprehend the mathematics and physics he was taught there.

In fact, most Indians operate in two realms: the domestic realm is where they speak the mother tongue, and the formal, educational realm is where they use English. Of course, English is a lingua franca—a language historically meant for trade and work-oriented purposes. But that doesn’t explain why India, unlike other countries, has class segregation based on proficiency in the language and accent. The dominance of English is primarily an urban phenomenon; in cities, getting a good education and job requires English proficiency—a supposed indicator of both intelligence and social status. This is not an indirect consequence of colonialism, but a conscious, direct one. In 1835, a member of the Council of India, the imperial legislature in India under the East India Company, Lord Macauley, promoted the idea that all education in India should be taught in English. Macaulay’s main position was that Indian languages like Sanskrit are not strong enough modes of communication. His argument eventually led to the passing of the English Education Act, which established an education system rooted primarily in English, and which has led to native tongues being forced out of academic and professional contexts today. My father explained how this Macaulism persisted even after independence. He told me that attending an English-medium school had deeply ingrained the English lens into his mindset. He described the elitism of English-medium schools in India—most of them charge more than their non-English-medium counterparts, so that having English proficiency became a way to signal one’s rise in the socioeconomic pecking order.

Anglophones still look down on non-speakers as if speaking excellent English is representative of competency. Perhaps the biggest consequence the British are responsible for is the death of pride in our national languages or mother tongues as means of communication.

It’s not just the technically linguistic aspect of Indian education that is the result of colonialism, but everything the language entails—the British cultural force that overshadows traditional practices. Similar to how Kate married Anthony and stayed in England, the reverence with which Indians treat the English language is suggestive of an abstract marriage to Britain’s culture. I have heard from friends and family how education in English-medium schools, especially Christian missionary schools established by the British, promotes Western culture. For instance, pupils are encouraged to eat food in the Western way: with a fork and knife, instead of the Indian way of eating with your hands. Even to this day, these schools have a startling amount of Christian imagery and reference to Christian ‘moral science’ or ‘history’ that many claim impose a Western view of everything, including Indian history itself. My father shared that at the convent school he went to, British rule was glorified—as if India had no governance before, and needed to be ‘uplifted’ by the Anglo-Saxon race. Convent schools aren’t as conservative now, but this example illustrates how the dominance of the English language has a cascading effect— it also leads to the promotion of the English perspective and culture over Indian traditions, especially in institutions with a colonial past.

Clearly, the English language’s influence on India is all-encompassing and, at times, oppressive. This doesn’t mean that one native tongue can unite India, as Prime Minister Narendra Modi seems to think reflected in his decision to convert all medical textbooks to Hindi. The plurality of languages we speak renders that impossible: South Indians, like Tamilians, do not even speak Hindi. It also isn’t practical given that a large part of education, including medical education, has been taught in English.

This familiarity is partly why our relationship with the English language is so multi-faceted and ambiguous. Despite our issues with it, in some ways, English serves as a unifying presence in India. After independence in 1947, there was much talk about making Hindi the national language in India, but that incited a violent protest from those in Tamil Nadu. The compromise was that English also became an official language; today it is arguably the de facto national language—one that, while passed through colonialism, has evolved into a bridge between the different parts of India.

And it’s not as if India hasn’t had its own effects on the English language, in the same way that Kate influences Anthony’s growth as a person. She helps him face his fears and insecurities about his father’s death, even as she lets some of the more problematic aspects of his behavior (like his keeping mistresses) slide. Similarly, lots of Indian words have found their way into English—bangle, bungalow, karma, jungle, etc.—reflecting an integration of different cultures. I take pride in our additions to the English language. They show that even under colonial oppression, we made our mark. So much so that Taylor Swift uses the word “karma” in her songs. Today, our language is heard by the whole world.

So, quite interestingly, the Kate-Anthony dynamic between India and English, while unequal, isn’t completely one-sided, due to our contributions to the language. However, we’d do well to remember that colonialism wasn’t a love story like Kate and Anthony’s. As critic Sashi Tharoor argues, forgiving colonial rule is not the same as forgetting the traumatic experience India underwent as a colony or overlooking the often degrading impact it has had on our national dignity. I still see that impact in the special status English receives, in the advertisements for lightening skin cream, and in Bollywood’s promotion of light-skinned heroes. Implicit Anglo-Saxon mindsets prevail; they remain embedded in our psyche—subtle, but puissant. +++ confused about what language we are supposed to speak? This confusion arises from the ambiguous aspects of the post-colonial identity, which involves a perpetual conflict between the desire to stay true to our traditions, but also an inability to completely rid ourselves of the linguistic hierarchy established by the British.

Don’t lose faith. There is a way to reconcile the two. Perhaps future shows will show Indian culture in all its complexity and brilliance. More importantly, there is a way to acknowledge English’s influence on our country, while at the same time, not thinking any less of our own languages. We can’t change our history, but we can change our future—one where students adept in native tongues are not barred from elite education, where knowledge is offered in all our languages so that people can choose according to their comfort. Who knows? This may ultimately lead to the birth of a multilingual generation, which would be a true force to be reckoned with.

It is these implicit patterns that led me to cynically view Bridgerton as a glossy attempt at displaying diversity instead of representing cultures accurately. The show is progressive in its vision and I certainly don’t expect it to comment on colonialism; it is anachronistic, after all. But a few Indians have noticed the lack of flashbacks showcasing the Sharmas’ lives in India. Another criticism of the show was that it inauthentically portrayed Indian languages. The origins of Kate and her family were a confused

To help myself stay hopeful, I always think back to one bright, sunny afternoon. My family and I were driving in the heart of the city I live in, Bangalore, and I pointed out a particularly pretty red building to my mother. She informed me that the picturesque architecture of the building was Victorian in style; it had been constructed in colonial times. Yet, it merged perfectly with the hustle-bustle of the typically busy Indian street in which people carried on with their lives, indifferent to it. Such buildings have unobtrusively become part of the Indian landscape. I like to think of it as emblematic of our messy, but ultimately triumphant history—it embodies a dream for India to neither shed its past nor be ruled by it. I think English can be that building—a beautiful language that is not idolized, but among the many beautiful languages in our country. If there’s one thing Bridgerton got right, it’s the diverse vibrancy of the Indian color palette that should also extend to our forms of communication, so that English doesn’t play the authoritative Anthony to our Kate.

NAVYA SAHAY B’26 concentrates on English Literature.