In considering the value of the concept of Southasia, the answer can be formulated as a neutral assessment of whether or not the term carries descriptive weight. It could be couched in the language of ideals, addressing the matter of whether Southasian identity fulfils positive goals and aspirations. In questioning whether the concept is useful, I can only say this: it must be useful for some, and pointless for others. Yes, geopolitical forces have pushed the governments of the region towards certain forms of cooperation, but then the same factors have fuelled endless examples of animosity as well. Sharing a common space does not necessarily give rise to positive outcomes.
The tensions between the governments of this region are well known. Despite these, Indian and Pakistani citizens pour out hospitality when they visit one another's cities. The opening run of the Srinagar-Muzzafarabad bus service was witness to heartrending scenes of repressed nostalgia – teaching us once again, if ever we need reminding, that hate is but a form of stunted love. Over the past five years, the crisis in Nepal saw an outflow of thousands of political refugees, who obtained warmth and generosity from Indians across the class spectrum. West Bengalis can never forget the origins of their greatest artists and leaders in East Bengal, which became East Pakistan and later still Bangladesh. What does a change of name do to us? Here is a country whose currency is still the taka, and which has a Gandhi museum in Noakhali. When the Pashtun peace activist Abdul Ghaffar Khan died in 1988, the Soviet-Afghan war was in full cry; yet the antagonists ceased their fire, and the Peshawar-Jalalabad border opened to allow thousands to join his funeral procession. Badshah Khan's death reminded many of the possibility of a closed border becoming an open frontier. Here was a man who could walk across three borders and into four countries, and be accepted as 'one of us' by the people of each.
The positive aspect of the category 'Southasian' is that it remains (thus far) an organic, rather than enforced, identity. Nationalism, or for that matter any form of authoritarian identity expressed as a political project, is based upon the enforcement of affinity. It involves being told that we must love this leader, this sole spokesman, this geographical space, this flag, etc. Yet it is quite a simple truth that you cannot enforce love at the point of a knife. Often, there are too many negative features to permit us to spontaneously love our state structures or rulers. This is why patriotism is often embellished with untruth. The official need for untruth is the birthplace of censorship and propaganda, two sides of the coin of official deceit.
If the people of Southasia regard each other affectionately despite the propaganda and the deliberately generated animosity, then this must be treated as a valuable emotional resource. Here is an opportunity to enable ordinary citizens from all over the region to communicate over questions of justice, economic well-being, health and education. Most of all, here is an opportunity to discuss the possibilities of forging a political culture of tolerance, equality and respect. The unevenness that characterises social norms across and within Southasian frontiers can only be bridged by free and uninhibited dialogue. The fact that such a dialogue is even conceivable is evidence that the concept of a Southasian identity is not only real, but has the potential to carry some of our cherished ideals as well.