What is Black Friday doing in India, I asked myself when I saw a spate of online promotions and colourful ads promising discounts galore. Having grown up with the usual Diwali and Christmas sales, I had never heard of Black Friday until the internet happened, bringing with it an overdose of American habits, customs and, of course, strange-sounding words that have now become common in India.
We cannot blame this one on British colonial rule. But leftists and ultra-nationalists may ascribe the surge in the Black Friday phenomenon to cultural imperialism. Still, a careful look may tell you there is more to it than a culture imposed on Indians.
It’s undeniable that burgers and colas are a part of the Americanisation of global culture, often serving as symbols of being ‘with it’ in certain circles. Some extreme forms of this can be found in elite enclaves like SoBo (South Mumbai) and The Gram (Gurugram).
Parents of kids marked for higher education in the US are happy to see their wards acclimatising in advance with Halloween parties that entail trick-or-treats and outré costumes. They are probably not aware that Bengalis have had their own celebration of ghosts and ghouls on the Bhoot Chaturdashi that falls close to the Kali Puja (Diwali), much the same way that the American festival falls close to the old Christian All Saints’ Day and borrows heavily from the Day of the Dead in Aztec Mexico.
To Bharat’s cultural puritans who would prefer a renaissance of Bhoot Chaturdashi, the latter-day desi might well respond with an Indianism: “We are like this only,” which translates in propah Angrezi as “that’s the way we are”. A recent viral video has an Indian TV anchor celebrating Indian English, calling for the inclusion of words like ‘prepone’ in the global lexicon.
We Indians also tend to embrace some habits out of curiosity and a perpetual desire to celebrate. But much like Americans, there is an element of commerce and ad-mixing of habits that blurs their origins. What we see is a reverse swing of language, culture, and dressing styles.
Indo-Western is a sartorial style that has aged well. You can match a mirror-work kurti with torn jeans and earn global sighs of appreciation. British designer Zandra Rhodes took the sari to Western fashion shows way back in the 1980s. Today, saris in India have sprouted pockets and zippers. The adaptations remind me of a collegial one-liner: “The pizza is just a paratha that went abroad for higher studies.”
Like the pizza, which has its origins in Italy’s Naples but became quintessentially American over decades, Black Friday has its origins in the Thanksgiving dinner, which marks a 17th-century harvest feast between European settlers and the native Wampanoag people. What’s left unsaid is that it was followed by centuries of killings, land theft, and disease thrust upon indigenous Americans.
Meanwhile, the harvest festivals of Pongal in Tamil Nadu and Baisakhi in Punjab do not bring pan-India mega sales the way Black Friday does. Originally used to describe the chaotic Philadelphia crowds ahead of the Thanksgiving weekend, the term ‘Black Friday’ now marks the day marketers turn from red to black as holiday shoppers fall for their discounts.
Nothing stops Indians from giving their own colourful brush-strokes. East-West cultural appropriations are again on a two-way street after a post-colonial blip. Pizzas have been offered with paneer or tandoori toppings for a long time; they now come with pav-bhaji flavour too, I am told. The aloo-tikki burger has travelled abroad, whereas the ‘kulhad pizza’ is yet to make the trip.
As a true-blue Tamilian, I will refrain from complimenting the abomination called Schezwan dosa; though, as a liberal, I respect the right of the culinarily-misguided to eat as they please.
However, Indian Chinese has been a distinctive cuisine for decades. Manchurian, with any filling, has nothing to do with Manchuria. It’s part of the Tangra Chinese cuisine, named after the old Chinatown in east Kolkata, that is now served as far as New York.
Not every cultural leap can be blamed on colonialism. Korean restaurants are found near several university mohallas around India. Thanks to K-pop and K-soaps, even Korean desserts have their own little niche. Mind you, those patronising such exotic food today are no longer elites, but middle-class kids accustomed to a global outlook in a world radically shrunk by social media.
Let it not be said that we are culturally steamrolled. After all, the Rig Veda guides us: “Let noble thoughts come from all sides” (Aa no bhadra kratavo yantu vishwatah). Two-way trade—in thoughts, culture, and goods—between India and the world has flowed for millennia. A new cohort of popular history writers are busy helping new generations of Indians rediscover their roots through those routes.
This eclectic Indian spirit is what made Bollywood lyricist Shailendra craft his magical words for Raj Kapoor in Shree 420 (1955): “Mera joota hai Japani, yeh patloon Inglistani, sar pe lal topi Russi, phir bhi dil hai Hindustani” (My shoes are Japanese, my trousers English, the red hat on top is Russian, but my heart is still Indian).
Madhavan Narayanan | REVERSE SWING | Senior journalist
(Views are personal)
(On X @madversity)