At the time, Europe had subjugated half the world, birthed the twin evils of fascism and Stalinism, and devastated the world with two World Wars, all of which we had to be rescued from by America. Still, die-hard imperialists such as Winston Churchill remained haughty enough to think that ancient civilisations such as India and China were not capable — or deserving — of governing themselves.

Europe’s ruling class gave their superiority refuge in a mixture of profound and priggish things, from the effectiveness of their governance and commerce, to the crispness of their collars and gait. Unfortunately, a lack of confidence born of colonisation led most Indians to accept the European view of themselves, leading to a kind of Pygmalion effect. For decades after 1947, our nation struggled to believe in itself and sunk into a funk that seemed like it would make the worst predictions of the British come true.

This was the age of awkward contradiction, where New Delhi shrilly echoed Moscow’s condemnations of western hegemony while Indian teens self-consciously imitated western culture, and Hindi film ‘heroes’ such as Jeetendra created their own wild versions of disco dancing. Overall, the country remained in freeze-frame, as bureaucrats used 19th century prose to say nothing, and khadi-wearing socialists mouthing mantras to self-sufficiency so deprived people of basic commodities that they would ask foreign travellers to bring back gifts of soap and socks.