T
he Sanskrit phrase vasudhaiva kutumbakam (the whole world is one family) happily rolls off even the most parochial tongue to show how our weltanschaaung finds its origin in the Vedas. But scratch an Indian hard—scratch yourself hard!—and you will find that despite 20 years of living in a supposedly wired world, supposedly flattened by globalisation, it’s still a tiny oyster we inhabit in our mind’s eye. Much of our interest in the third rock from the sun, beyond our borders, is largely restricted to gaping at Pakistan’s nuclear navel—or, lately, Veena Malik’s air-brushed one. The spunk and strides of Bangladesh barely cause a tinkle in the scotch glasses at India International Centre. Sri Lanka, of course, is another continent.