In a development that would have made Lord Macaulay smirk, the Indian film industry has dropped its boycott of Ranveer Singh. The actor, once the target of a cultural rebellion, has been pardoned by the union. Why?
Because a British production was threatened. The colonial tentacles, it seems, still hold sway over the subcontinent. This is not a story of artistic solidarity but of economic vassalage.
The boycott, which was meant to punish Singh for his Westernised ways and alleged 'anti-national' comments, collapsed the moment a British director threatened to pull funding. It is a classic tale of the periphery bending to the core. We have seen this before: in the Opium Wars, in the Partition, in the cricket fields where India still bows to the MCC.
The union’s decision is a microcosm of India’s intellectual and cultural dependence. They will shout about Swadeshi and boycott foreign goods, but when the chips are down, they run back to the British for validation. The irony is thick enough to spread on toast.
This is the Indian elite in a nutshell: nationalist in rhetoric, colonialist in action. They will burn effigies of the Queen while simultaneously begging for her films to be distributed. Ranveer Singh, the peacock of Bollywood, has been saved not by his talent but by his ability to sell tickets in Leicester Square.
The boycotters discovered that nationalism is a luxury they cannot afford when the rent is due. And so the union folds, like a cheap umbrella in a Mumbai monsoon. The lesson?
The British Empire is dead. Long live the British Empire.
