At regional meetings, Southasian writers invariably repeat old themes – translate literary works into each other's languages, share common experiences and, most spectacularly, revitalise the common heritage of the region's countries. Additional clichés found their ways into the agenda of such literary meets – as if the countries of Southasia came into existence only after SAARC itself did! At a Southasian writers' conclave in Delhi, there was suddenly a commotion in the middle of one session. Some officials came rushing from nearby Vigyan Bhawan, where SAARC leaders were meeting at the time, with a handwritten message. They were invited to the dais, and the news they had to share was indeed good: Afghanistan had been admitted to SAARC as a new member. But what followed was a travesty. The organisers shuffled around, trying to include some pieces of Afghan literature; some token references were added to the proceedings; a 'poet' was found to read his poems. Those familiar with the language cheered the poet. As such, the entire discussion moved to consider the virtue of including new members to the Southasian writers' organisations. Burma, many hoped aloud, would join the organisation one day. A Sri Lankan writer asked me, "In as dramatic a way as this?"
In reality, the politics of the countries of Southasia are at odds with the cultural and literary heritage of the region. Geopolitical historicism is out of step with geo-cultural reality. The history of cultural commonalities is long, and transcends borders and governmental boundaries. The literary and artistic heritage – poetry, drama, painting, sculpture, architecture, music, dance and poetic-spiritual forms, such as the singing of bards and Sufis and travelling folk performances – is what has created the unique texture of unity in this region. Politics, meanwhile, has both contributed to and disrupted the flow of these traditions and genres. British rule in Southasia has left us with a paradoxical situation, one in which the literary and cultural discourses across the region and its countries are confined to the English language. Speaking in postcolonial terms, English rule left a dual legacy of canon and context – ie, literary and cultural education drew heavily from the canons of the English metropolitan culture, and new contexts were created for the literary, artistic and theatrical education of the Southasian region.
Monolithic mode
We continue to live with this dual legacy. Ironically, the postcolonial context has also generated bases on which to define a cultural unity for the countries of the region. Indeed, the strong heritage of the cultural commonality that becomes manifest in the genres mentioned above does exist in Southasia. But the postcolonial situation of Southasia also appears to have put this heritage of common bonds into some difficulty. There are several reasons for this.
A new nomenclature called Southasia (which also has postcolonial, geopolitical origins) was interpreted by politicians of the region as a geographical unit that could encompass everything that the region had to offer – the vast diversity of nature, the region's varied political systems, the happy and traumatic origins of its countries, and its wonderful possibilities of progress and developments. All of these imaginings had their origin in the monolith called Southasia, and these politicians believed that this fanciful monolith would regulate all activities of all organisations in the region. The idea was romantic; its thrust to emphasise a romantic unity.