Introduction: The Unhappiness of Diasporas
The opening epigraphs set the tone for a meditation on diasporic existence:
"All diasporas are unhappy, but every diaspora is unhappy in its own way."
This adaptation of Tolstoy’s famous line underscores the universal condition of diasporic melancholy while acknowledging its particular manifestations. Diasporas are defined by their hyphenated identities—neither fully belonging to their adopted lands nor entirely severed from their ancestral homelands. They exist in a liminal space, haunted by specters of displacement, exile, and an often-imagined past.
The diasporic imaginary is shaped by two contradictory impulses:
Celebration (by postmodernity) – Diasporas are seen as fluid, democratic, and transnational, embodying hybridity and border-crossing.
Malignment (by modernity) – They are viewed as rootless, fragmented, and incapable of true national belonging.
The tension between these perspectives is exemplified in Casablanca (1942), where the polyglot refugees represent both the promise of escape and the tragedy of displacement. The film’s protagonist, Rick Blaine, dismisses nationality with the quip, “I’m a drunkard,” encapsulating the diasporic refusal of fixed identity.
The Concept of Homeland: Real and Imagined
The homeland (desh) functions as both a physical and psychic anchor. For diasporic communities, it is often idealized—whether as Khalistan for Sikhs in Vancouver, Tamil Eelam for Sri Lankan Tamils in Toronto, or a pan-Islamic utopia for Muslims in Europe. Yet, despite this longing, most diasporas do not return.
Jewish diaspora is the exception—Israel was physically reclaimed.
Indian diaspora (both "old" and "new") rarely returns, even when conditions in the homeland improve.
The "old" diaspora (indentured laborers in Fiji, Trinidad, South Africa) and the "new" diaspora (post-1960s professionals in the U.S., Canada, UK) differ in their relationship to homeland:
The old diaspora saw migration as final, their connection to India sustained through memory and artifacts (Ganesha icons, dog-eared scriptures).
The new diaspora, hypermobile and digitally connected, experiences India through simulacra—Bollywood films, WhatsApp groups, and dual citizenship.
Yet, even within the "new" diaspora, there are those—like Afghan refugees or undocumented Fiji-Indians in Vancouver—who remain trapped in precarity, their mobility restricted by geopolitics and economic necessity.
Mourning and Melancholia in Diaspora
Freud distinguishes between:
Mourning – A finite process of grieving a tangible loss.
Melancholia – An endless, pathological attachment to an ungraspable loss.
For diasporas, the homeland is often an impossible mourning—an absence that cannot be fully symbolized. This leads to:
Internalized trauma – The ego becomes impoverished, fixated on an idealized past.
Essentialist nostalgia – The search for purity (e.g., Hindu nationalist rhetoric among diasporic Indians).
Derrida’s Memoires for Paul de Man frames mourning as a trope of absence, where the lost object (homeland) is preserved only as memory. Like Hamlet, diasporic subjects are haunted by ghosts—whether the Middle Passage for African diasporas or the Komagata Maru incident for Sikhs in Canada.
Travel, Translation, and the Digital Diaspora
Jim Clifford’s concepts of travel and translation redefine diaspora not as exile but as an ongoing negotiation of identity. Amitav Ghosh’s In an Antique Land exemplifies this, tracing medieval Jewish-Arab-Indian trade routes to show how identities were fluid long before modernity.
In contrast, Hari Kunzru’s Transmission depicts the digital diaspora, where migration is mediated by technology. Call centers in Bangalore simulate Western accents, and Indian programmers in Silicon Valley live virtual lives, their connection to India filtered through Bollywood fantasies.
Trauma and the Diasporic Imaginary
Trauma is not just a historical event but a retroactive construction. For the Indian diaspora:
Plantation trauma – The brutality of indenture is relived in labor exploitation.
Political trauma – The 1987 Fiji coups, Idi Amin’s expulsion of Ugandan Asians.
These events crystallize a deeper loss—the impossibility of return. As Sadhu Binning’s poem illustrates, diasporic memory is marked by erasure and adaptation:
"we forget the stares that burned through our skins...
we forget the pain of not speaking Punjabi with our children."
The Nation-Thing and Diasporic Enjoyment
Slavoj Žižek argues that nations are sustained by a fantasy of enjoyment—a "way of life" that is threatened by the Other (diasporas, minorities).
For the nation-state, diasporas represent a lost enjoyment (e.g., Fijian nationalists fearing Indian economic dominance).
For diasporas, homeland becomes a jouissance—a pleasure rooted in racial purity myths (e.g., Hindutva ideology among NRIs).
This dynamic explains why diasporas often support reactionary politics "back home" while advocating multiculturalism abroad.
Conclusion: Diasporas as Ethical Challenge
Diasporas force us to rethink:
National belonging – Can a people exist without a land?
Historical memory – How do we honor trauma without fossilizing identity?
Hybridity vs. essentialism – Are diasporas truly postmodern, or do they cling to purist myths?
The diasporic imaginary is not just about displacement but about how loss is lived. It demands an ethical engagement with ghosts—whether through literature (Subramani’s Dauka Puran), art (Mohini Chandra’s installations), or political resistance.
In the end, diasporas remind us that nations are not fixed but palimpsests, constantly rewritten by movement, memory, and the specters of history.
