Dr Noour Ali Zehgeer
If global diplomacy were judged like a reality show, India might just walk away with the award for “Most Dramatic Neighbour.” For a nation aspiring to become a global powerhouse, we seem to have perfected the art of alienating almost everyone we share a border with. Welcome to the subcontinental edition of How to Lose Friends and Still Expect Invitations.
Let’s start with the obvious elephant in the room (pun intended): China. While we were busy flexing soft power muscles and issuing statements with the passion of a morning news anchor, Beijing quietly rolled out a masterplan — the String of Pearls. It now stretches across key ports and chokepoints: Gwadar (Pakistan), Hambantota (Sri Lanka), Kyaukpyu (Myanmar), and even Djibouti in East Africa. China invested billions. We, meanwhile, clung to nostalgia and the belief that geography alone guaranteed loyalty.
Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
For decades, we’ve acted like the region’s moral guardian, convinced that our democratic credentials and cultural dominance should naturally make us the leader of the neighborhood. But regional diplomacy isn’t a school reunion where everyone owes you for helping them pass math class in the 70s.
Take Nepal, for instance. A once-trusty ally, now visibly drifting toward China. Why? Not because they suddenly fell in love with Mandarin, but because Delhi’s overbearing tone made Kathmandu look elsewhere. Infrastructure projects, soft loans, and diplomatic respect — China served all three. We offered stern press releases and a sense of entitlement.
Then there’s Sri Lanka. When the island nation was sinking in debt and desperation, we did step up — eventually. But by the time Indian aid made headlines, China had already built ports, roads, and influence. We showed up with blankets. They showed up with blueprints.
Let’s not forget Bangladesh, the very country whose liberation we proudly supported in 1971. Today, we have an on-again, off-again friendship based on whichever political party is ruling in Dhaka and how many editorials get written in Delhi that week. We keep making noise about cultural ties, while quietly letting trust erode.
As for Pakistan—well, that relationship has long moved past passive aggression into outright estrangement. It’s no longer even a diplomatic rollercoaster. It’s a slow-motion demolition derby where the only rule is to never blink.
And what about the Maldives, Myanmar, and Bhutan? High-level visits, Instagram-worthy summits, and some generous grants now and then. But let’s face it: transactional diplomacy doesn’t build permanent friendships. These countries have options now — and Beijing makes sure they know it.
All the while, the geopolitical chessboard is changing. The U.S. plays good cop and gun dealer, Russia has a soft corner for authoritarian friendships, and China is busy offering roads, railways, and soft loans — no questions asked. Meanwhile, Europe is too busy figuring out itself to care about South Asian melodrama.
In this mess, India’s foreign policy feels less like a grand strategy and more like a festival—lavish on the day, but forgotten by morning.
To be fair, credit where it’s due. Vaccine Maitri was a moment of glory — diplomacy with a heartbeat. Our assistance to Sri Lanka during its economic freefall was timely. And the Act East policy, while a bit sluggish, shows potential. But isolated actions can’t replace strategic vision. We can’t expect regional goodwill if we treat our neighbourhood as an afterthought.
What we need is a fundamental shift in mindset.
What if — and hear me out — we stopped treating our neighbours like annoying tenants and started seeing them as partners? What if we stopped preaching and started listening? What if instead of reacting to China’s every move like a jealous sibling, we built genuine bilateral relationships grounded in trust and respect?
Because foreign policy isn’t about who shouts loudest on primetime news. It’s about quiet, consistent engagement. It’s about showing up — not just when elections are due or tensions rise — but when cooperation is needed the most.
It’s also about humility. We must understand that being the biggest in the room doesn’t mean we automatically get to lead the dance. Influence isn’t gifted; it’s earned — through trust, fairness, and vision.
Even Sun Tzu — the Chinese strategist we love to quote but rarely follow — said that the best victories are won without fighting. He wasn’t talking about armed combat alone. He was talking about influence, strategy, foresight — all areas where we need a serious upgrade.
In a world moving towards multipolarity, regional leadership isn’t optional — it’s essential. If India genuinely wants to be seen as a Vishwa Guru, it needs to first pass the neighbourhood test. Because let’s be honest: we’re currently losing the popularity contest in our own classroom.
The West may cheer our democratic values and economic growth, but they won’t save us from geographic reality. You don’t get to choose your neighbour’s. But you do get to choose how you treat them.
So, here’s the choice: Continue alienating those around us while blaming global conspiracies, or roll up our sleeves, swallow some pride, and actually build bridges.
Because in the end, as the Greek poet Hesiod wisely put it:
“A bad neighbor is a misfortune, as much as a good one is a blessing.”
And sadly, we’ve got a full house of misfortunes — many of our own making.
(Note:Dr Noour Ali Zehgeer is a corporate guy with 29 years of Experience in Telecom, Retail and Electric vehicle Industry. He has worked across the World in different geographies and Industries. One of the pioneers in telecom Industry since 1995 in India. A winner of ATMA NIRBHAR BHARAT AWARD in 2023.)
