A Story of Taiwan and India
There was once an Indian gentleman who had spent about a year in Taiwan. He had made quite a few friends during his stay, but still, something felt off. Despite the friendly conversations and camaraderie, he sensed a distance that never really closed. Nobody ever invited him home, not even for a cup of tea. It started to bother him more and more as time passed.
One day, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He decided to ask a close friend—a Taiwanese local—about it. His friend paused, hesitated for a moment, and then, with a sigh, began to explain.
A Tough Conversation
“Tell me,” the Taiwanese friend began, “how many British people were there in India when they ruled your country for 200 years?”
The Indian gentleman thought for a moment and said, “Maybe about 10,000.”
His friend nodded and then asked, “So, who actually enforced their rule on 320 million people? Who helped the British maintain control?”
The Indian man was quiet. The answer was uncomfortable—his own people were complicit. They were the ones who had followed orders, suppressed uprisings, and ensured British control continued smoothly.
“Who fired on those unarmed people at Jallianwala Bagh when General Dyer gave the order?” the friend continued. “It wasn’t the British soldiers. It was Indian soldiers, right? Why didn’t even one of them turn around and shoot General Dyer instead?”
The Indian gentleman listened, stunned. The questions stung because they touched on an undeniable truth: colonial rule relied on the complicity of the colonized.
The Hard Truth
The Taiwanese friend went on, “You see, it wasn’t just the British or the Mughals who ruled you. Your own people have betrayed each other for centuries. For money, for power, for a bit of personal gain. This isn’t about just history; it’s about a mentality that still exists today.”
He paused before continuing, “Here in Taiwan, when the British came to Hong Kong, not a single person joined their army. We refused to fight against our own people.”
The Indian gentleman felt a deep sense of discomfort. It was true that India’s history was full of moments when people turned on each other, whether during colonial rule or even before that. Greed, fear, and the desire for power had often led to betrayal.
Why the Distance?
His friend then explained why this history mattered even today. “You see, we’ve seen how, time and again, Indians have been ready to turn on each other for personal gain. We see it in the news, in politics, in the way people treat each other. And it scares us. We don’t want to get too close, only to be let down. That’s why many of us keep our distance.”
The Indian man understood now. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t about him as an individual. It was about a perception—a belief formed from history, from stories, from the actions of a few that had come to represent the many. It was a stereotype, yes, but one rooted in a painful past.
Finding a Way Forward
The conversation left the Indian gentleman with a lot to think about. It was easy to feel defensive, to argue that things were different now, that people had changed. But he knew that actions speak louder than words. If he wanted to change how people saw him—and how they saw Indians in general—he would have to live in a way that defied those stereotypes.
He decided to start small. To show his friends in Taiwan that not all Indians were like the ones they had read about in history books. He wanted to build trust, to show that he was reliable, that he valued friendships beyond personal gain. Slowly, he hoped, he could change their minds—one cup of tea at a time.
Conclusion
This story isn’t about blaming or shaming. It’s about understanding where misconceptions come from and why people sometimes keep their distance. History is complicated, and the scars it leaves can take generations to heal. But healing starts with individuals—people who are willing to listen, to change, and to bridge divides.
The relationship between Taiwan and India, like any relationship, is built on countless individual connections. By understanding each other’s pasts and working to build trust in the present, perhaps the distance can eventually disappear. Let’s strive to be the kind of people who break down walls rather than build them—one genuine connection at a time.
