What is Culture? A Collective Exploration

Culture is one of those words everyone uses, but no one entirely agrees on. Is it heritage? Art? Everyday behaviour? Identity? A political tool? A marketplace? A way of living? In a moment where societies are negotiating belonging, modernity, memory, and digital transformation, re-examining “culture” becomes not just relevant but urgent.

When culture is fluid and ever-changing, why do we place it on a pedestal and judge it by a single standard? Instead of offering a single authoritative answer, the cultural story is a living document that maps how different people understand, participate in, and reshape culture.

So, what happens when we ask everyone—from scholars to schoolchildren—to define culture? Because let’s face it, the word ‘culture’ has many definitions depending on who we ask, right? You have culture as “tradition,” culture as “pop,” culture as “policy,” culture as “identity, culture as “infrastructure. At ParibhaAsha, we are more interested in exploring culture as infrastructure. But that’s not exactly where we’d stop.

Now, why are we exploring culture through such a ‘by the people, for the people, of the people’ lens is because culture often gets entangled with religion and politics - two dreaded things in today’s times. There are stereotypes perpetuated in the name of ‘preserving culture’. At the same time, specific major shifts occur in our festivities and rituals without our noticing (e.g., electric lanterns instead of traditional earthen lamps during Diwali).

There are policies, definitions, misinterpretations, and even social media influencing culture. We don’t have to find one answer; we just need to look at multiple opinions that are actively reshaping culture, bit by bit, frame by frame, day by day, without us really noticing. So, let’s pause for a bit and think - have a common discussion - a Paricharcha.

Most people we speak to about culture often relegate it to ancient traditions, family values, religious practices, even clothes, romantic relationships, caste hierarchy, and patriarchy. While these narratives play an important role in shaping collective identity, they can also obscure the fact that culture is never static. It changes with migration, urbanisation, technological shifts, and evolving social relationships. What we often describe as “tradition” is, in many cases, a series of adaptations to new contexts.

Culture as Practice, Not Artefact

One of the limitations of popular discourse on culture is its tendency to treat it as an object—something that can be catalogued, protected, or displayed. Museums, festivals, and heritage lists often reinforce this idea. While such efforts are essential, they can also create the illusion that culture exists only in curated spaces.

In reality, culture unfolds most vividly in the ordinary. It lives in the rhythms of daily life: in how people greet one another, how meals are prepared and shared, how time is structured, and how relationships are negotiated. These practices may appear mundane, but they reveal deep-seated values and social norms.

Consider the small but telling transformations in everyday rituals. The replacement of handwritten letters with voice notes, the shift from neighbourhood gatherings to online communities, or the growing preference for convenience over continuity in domestic life—all reflect broader changes in how people relate to time, labour, and one another. These shifts are rarely dramatic, yet they quietly reshape the cultural landscape.

Mamata Dash, an educator, argues that culture is how things exist and the process of their change. “How many people go to each other’s houses with sweets on Diwali anymore? I recall that it was customary to visit one another on every festival. That’s not the case anymore. I don’t remember the last Diwali I received sweets from my neighbours. And slowly, I stopped doing that too. Then I moved to another city, and the culture in large cities has never included such collective celebrations. It’s the culture of isolated celebration,” she opines.

Her words resonate with Biswaranjan Behera, entrepreneur and content writer. “Just this morning, my father lamented the way the young generation celebrates what he says ‘Angrezi New Year’. “Since we all follow the Gregorian calendar, we have accepted January 1 as the New Year. Beyond the calendar, he attributes the problem to the convent and the English-medium education system. And even I’d say, it’s just out of convenience. The whole world, or maybe the Western world, celebrates it on January 1, so we do too. After all, we are following so many of their customs anyway since independence,” he reminds.

Such opinions don’t just reflect societal truths, but something more profound. When you pay attention to such moments, culture reveals itself not as something distant or monumental, but as something lived and continually remade. It might not always please everyone or work for everyone, but that doesn’t deter its fluid existence, subject to change and the vagaries of time.

Language, Power, and the Politics of Expression

Language occupies a central place in any discussion of culture. It is not only a medium of communication but also a marker of identity, aspiration, and belonging. In multilingual societies like India, language choices are rarely neutral. They are shaped by history, education, class, and access.

The fluid movement between languages—often dismissed as casual or improper—actually reflects complex negotiations of identity. Code-switching, hybrid vocabularies, and regional variations indicate how people navigate multiple worlds simultaneously. Language becomes both a bridge and a boundary, enabling connection while also signalling inclusion or exclusion.

At the same time, specific languages are afforded greater legitimacy than others. Institutional power, education systems, and media visibility often privilege specific linguistic forms, marginalising others. These hierarchies influence which stories are told, whose knowledge is valued, and whose voices remain unheard.

Deepanwit Das, a coder and IT expert, points out the paradox that Indians exhibit with language. “Since colonial times, English has been the aspirational language. My grandfather harboured a dream of seeing his grandchildren speak English fluently because it was the language of the colonial masters.

Back in the day, speaking English earned them special privileges with the British, with some escaping their atrocities through the language. Our parents continued that trend because they felt it was a universal language. Compare that with the language wars happening these days. Every state seems to be aggressively pushing its language on supposed ‘outsiders’ and feels insecure about the continuity of its mother tongue. But didn’t they all collectively force their children to excel in spoken English? Didn’t they ask their kids to prioritise English over their native tongue? I feel the older generation passed down language hierarchy and inferiority to the future generation, and are now simply getting riled up by politicians and falling for their divisive ideology trap,” he emphasises.

Das believes that understanding culture, therefore, requires attentiveness to language not only as expression, but as structure—one that shapes access, authority, and representation. “Languages can coexist; they always have. We have been carrying the culture imposed on us by colonisation. Instead of adapting to the supersonic world that we inhabit today, we are wasting our time fighting over what Indian culture is and what it is not. The past is dead and gone, and the future demands that we develop a culture of solidarity and civic sense. We can’t keep fighting language and religious wars; we don’t have that kind of time,” he strongly opines.

Culture, Power, and Representation

Culture does not exist outside power relations. What is celebrated as “heritage,” what is dismissed as “backward,” and what is framed as “modern” are deeply political choices. Cultural narratives are shaped by those who define norms and distribute visibility.

For example, students choose a university or college based on the ‘culture’ of the campus. And that culture is profoundly shaped by the politics that work inside the campus and govern its daily life. A law student we spoke to shared how she prepared a relatively ‘less conservative’ campus of the same institution over a bigger one because she doesn’t want unnecessary curfew and sexist double standards to ruin her college days.

The situation at Delhi University and Jawaharlal Nehru University warrants examination. A decade or two ago, merit lists and cut-offs in DU’s colleges made headlines and remained an aspiration for millennials. One no longer sees the same frenzy, even though DU and JNU remain prestigious academic institutions. This change in the apparent culture of these universities has not always been ‘on-your-face’ but remarkably subtle.

India has entered Orwell’s surveillance world, as cautioned against in his dystopian Nineteen Eighty-Four, even among academics. The ‘culture’ of debate and dialogue, critical thinking, & rationale questioning appears to be under threat.

Institutions—whether educational, religious, media-driven, or governmental—play a significant role in shaping cultural meaning. Through curricula, policies, and representations, they influence how communities perceive themselves and others. Yet culture is not imposed from above alone. It is also reinterpreted, resisted, and reimagined from below.

Everyday acts of creativity—local art forms, digital storytelling, community rituals—often challenge dominant narratives. They offer alternative ways of seeing and being, reminding us that culture is not monolithic. Instead, it is a site of constant negotiation between conformity and resistance, continuity and change.

Understanding this dynamic is crucial. It allows us to see culture not as a static repository of tradition, but as a living field shaped by dialogue, conflict, and reinvention.

The Everyday as a Cultural Archive

One of the most powerful shifts in contemporary cultural thought is the recognition of the everyday as a legitimate site of analysis. Culture is not only produced in grand institutions or landmark events; it unfolds in routine actions—how people dress for work, what they watch in the evening, how they celebrate milestones, or how they express care and dissent.

These everyday practices, though often overlooked, offer insight into broader social transformations. They reveal how individuals adapt to economic pressures, technological change, and shifting moral frameworks. In attending to the ordinary, we gain a clearer understanding of how culture is lived rather than merely described.

The ongoing pollution in the national capital is a notable phenomenon. People’s adaptation to such air pollution is now regarded as part of the new culture. Adaptation to anything - Delhi’s new mantra! Sounds terribly weird! But Delhiites say their city has always been hazardous, not in terms of air or water quality, but in the sheer number of times it was invaded, burnt, razed to the ground, and rebuilt. To them, bad AQI and lack of women's safety are just what they are. Something that can’t be helped anymore; something they have to live with, and ultimately be proud of, even if it is just to cope.

Non-Delhiites dub it part of Delhi’s ‘culture’ - collective apathy. Why Delhi? Sociologists and economists have long been warning the country’s government and its people of the consequences of collective apathy. Lalita M, a California-based sociologist, opines, “Culture is not only what a society celebrates or preserves; it is also what it tolerates, normalises, or chooses not to question. In that sense, collective apathy is not an absence of culture but a cultural condition—one shaped by history, power, fatigue, and survival strategies. Apathy is nothing but people encountering repetition over long periods of time, and their inability to cope with it anymore emotionally.”

Pointing out that India’s collective apathy is leading to ‘Brain Drain 2.0’, she emphasises the combined effects of bureaucratic and public failures. “It is taught through bureaucratic inertia, political fatigue, economic precarity, and the normalisation of dysfunction. Over time, disengagement becomes habitual, even rational. That is why some Delhiites appear to justify Delhi’s destruction. And why Delhi? It’s the case in most Indian cities, isn’t it?” She argues.

This approach also democratises cultural analysis. It shifts attention away from elite narratives toward the experiences of ordinary people. In doing so, it recognises that culture is not owned by experts or institutions but is co-created through shared experience.

In cities, it appears as indifference to public spaces, to everyday injustices, or to the slow erosion of civic trust. It appears in phrases such as “this is how things are” or “nothing will change anyway.” These are not expressions of ignorance but of resignation. When systems repeatedly fail to respond, people adapt by withdrawing emotional investment. That withdrawal itself becomes a shared cultural posture.

Importantly, collective apathy is not evenly distributed. It is shaped by class, access, and vulnerability. For those constantly navigating instability—economic, social, or political—detachment can be a survival strategy rather than a moral failing. In such contexts, participation, protest, or even hope can feel costly. Choosing not to engage preserves energy and dignity.

Culture and the Indian Woman

You can’t talk about culture without bringing women and their role in shaping it. For centuries, women have been central to preserving, cultivating, and passing down culture, especially to their daughters. A common refrain among women today is that culture has always been placed on their shoulders as a responsibility they must bear, often solely. However, there are important generational and corresponding socio-political factors at play here. Each generation develops its own culture due to the sociocultural and political circumstances in which it finds itself. Culture changes according to the world in which it is situated.

Sharda Saraswati, Associate Director, Clinical Sciences, believes that cultural crossroads shape how she and women in her age group view culture. “For me, culture symbolises belonging, responsibility, resilience, and tradition, emphasising a life centred on ‘we’ rather than ‘me,’ even as 'I' works to reclaim 'my” voice. It concerns identity because I know who I am and where I come from. It’s about continuity and balance: my culture will be passed down to the younger generation while we maintain a balance with new ideas. It’s about resilience because women quietly endure, adjust, and sustain families across change,” she reiterates.

One cannot overlook the differences in approach between generations, which stem from the drastically different worlds they inhabit. “A woman born in 1970 in India grew up in the late 1970s and 1980s. This was a pre-liberalisation world. Family came first. Hierarchy, duty, and togetherness shaped everyday life. Global exposure was limited. There were no smartphones or social media. Western influence was minimal. Adulthood, however, arrived with sudden change—economic reforms, globalisation, and digital life. Her generation learned to live between two very different Indias,” she says.

Clearly defined expectations, marked gender roles, and quiet strength were the pillars of Indian women's lives. Not to mention that marriage marked a transition into adult life and was therefore an essential part. But then things changed post-liberalisation, and faster than anticipated. The advent of social media further aggravated this change. This is why adaptability has become the most desirable skill, both at work and at home. “Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of this generation is its adaptability. We observed India’s economic growth, witnessed daughters gaining freedoms they previously lacked, and learned technology later in life—embracing it to remain connected. This often evokes a mix of emotions: pride, nostalgia, curiosity, and sometimes inner conflict,” she admits. Often, this conflict appears as gatekeeping for the new generation, who accuse the previous generation of ‘gatekeeping patriarchy.’

Kalindi Patnaik, Professor of Sociology, states that ‘gatekeeping patriarchy’ is merely an interpretation and a fear arising from personal experiences. “The younger generation often feels that their mothers and aunts are jealous of their freedom. It isn’t jealousy—it’s fear. Many women learned how to survive patriarchy by adapting to it. They followed rules, made compromises, and found small pockets of power within strict limits. They paid a price for stability, respect, and acceptance. When they see younger women questioning or rejecting these rules, it can feel both freeing and unsettling. What looks like control or moral policing is often an attempt to protect—shaped by habit, worry, and the quiet grief of choices they never had the space to make,” she explains.

This tension—between wanting change and fearing its consequences—defines much of the emotional inheritance passed down alongside culture itself.

Culture as an Ongoing Conversation

To speak of culture, then, is not to arrive at a final definition, but to enter an ongoing conversation. It is a conversation shaped by memory and imagination, by disagreement and dialogue. Culture evolves through questioning—through the willingness to examine what is taken for granted and to listen to multiple perspectives.

Often, that is what’s missing from cultural narratives. We usually fail to place our relationship with the environment in context. And that ecology can be one’s geographical boundaries as well as racial or community boundaries. Kiran Yadav, a Mumbai-based corporate employee, mentions how African-American narratives are often told remarkably differently by white Americans on celluloid compared to the same stories put on screen by members of the same race. In an interview, Denzel Washington put it beautifully when he discussed the filmmaking choices of Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg, saying, “It's culture, not race.”

For a generation that has grown with an acute awareness of caste, class, and racial discrimination, culture does find a place in the sense of belongingness. Justin Joji, an undergraduate student, calls it “the ecology of belonging. “It’s the relationship we have with ourselves, the people around us, and with the environment. It also includes collective memory and experiences people have with nature, how they interact,” he says.

SK Jha, a researcher at IIT Bhubaneswar, says, “Culture is an identity that evolves and is embraced beyond all forms of discrimination, connecting people across different horizons. For me, Culture is embracing all life forms in their truest form, even when they differ from mine. It is our shared responsibility to preserve it and pass it on to future generations,” he says.

The generational continuity of culture, then, is a shared perspective among people across generations. Joji further says, “To me, culture also means how we sustain or keep alive our interactions with the world and how we pass it down to generations so that they can attribute their own experiences to what we consider ‘culture’. Basically, everything that we pass down from generation to generation.”

His views resonate with Sharda Saraswati’s idea as well. “My generation was raised with firm moral principles - good conduct (Sanskar), humility in actions, dress, and words, and prioritising respect over self-promotion. Many women continue to cherish these values even as they adopt newer norms.”

However, all agree that culture is fluid and can shift between contexts. You can’t fit it into a neatly categorised box. “If I want to learn a musical instrument, I have the liberty to do so and then become a part of the music culture scene in my city. Although no one in my family has ever been involved in music, I can still adopt a musical culture by learning to play, sing, or perform. I automatically become a part of that culture,” Jha says.

At Paribhaasha, this exploration is grounded in the belief that culture gains meaning through dialogue. The aim is not to settle debates but to open them up. Culture, after all, thrives in plurality.

In engaging with culture, we are also engaging with ourselves—with our assumptions, attachments, and aspirations. We begin to see how deeply culture informs the ways we think, relate, and imagine the future. It becomes clear that culture is not something we merely inherit; it is something we actively shape.

To ask what culture is, then, is also to ask who we are becoming. And perhaps the most meaningful response lies not in arriving at a definitive answer, but in continuing the conversation—with attentiveness, curiosity, and care.