Last week, a moment went viral; it was spontaneous, unguided, and surprisingly delightful.It was a video clip of the usually stoic Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh, Yogi Adityanath, smiling, taking selfies with Japanese school children.AdvertisementAlso Read | In Uttar Pradesh, don’t paint workers’ protest as conspiracyThe moment was evidence of the unpredictability of the internet – summits may well have discussed plans for social media “traction”, but often, the moments that triumph are unscripted and deeply human.Investments, green hydrogen, “Japan City” and industrial corridors made headlines; however, the real DNA of a relationship between nations often lies in cultural synchronicities — inherited ways of seeing and responding to one another that require neither translation nor diplomatic choreography.The meeting between Yogi Adityanath and the Japanese children was an effortless display of this synchronicity, and the result was a tender political moment that shone a light on something far deeper — the idea that differences are an intellectual construct, not an instinctive response.AdvertisementJapanese children were not just meeting an Indian political leader; they were also meeting a monk. For too long, mainstream political wisdom has centred around Yogi’s saffron-clad persona and its assumedly limited appeal on the international stage. Yet here was a moment where that saffron turned the assumption on its head.Indian commentators have often viewed international acceptability through a predominantly Western lens. But the world is changing and so must our calibrations. In many parts of the world, the saffron-clad monk is a figure of cultural resonance, not an abstraction.And the Japanese know monks.For centuries, the Buddhist temple has been woven into Japanese life. It is certainly sacred but has also been the pulse of social life. Temples have traditionally been places of worship and also centres for community gathering in times of grief and festivity, as well as spaces for education. Some Buddhist temples operate kindergartens and primary schools, and their priests play a part in family functions and prayers, thereby developing relationships over generations.In several Japanese traditions, priests can marry and raise children, and temples may pass from father to son. The monk, therefore, occupies worlds that are purely sacred as well as regular. As a consequence, for a Japanese child, a monk is not a distant figure; he is someone who has integrated into everyday life in different ways.In India, a sanyasi is a familiar figure but is more often associated with renunciation. Saffron signifies an abandonment of worldly attachments. As a result, our instinctive reaction contains an element of deference.This is why the Japanese children’s interaction with Yogi was so surprisingly delightful. There was an element of immediate camaraderie and familiarity which was refreshing. There was no hierarchy of reverence; the children clearly identified the man in the robes as familiar and responded accordingly, unguarded and friendly.Cultural vocabulary replaced linguistic vocabulary, and what it resulted in was a warm and happy interaction. The Chief Minister, visibly delighted by their warmth and his well-documented fondness for children, was in his element, holding the selfie stick and facilitating photographs. A youngster placing his arm around Yogi’s shoulder left the CM unfazed and amused.Maybe our understanding of cultural connection is stunted because we often look for it in grand gestures — commitments bolstered by shared values. But an interaction like the connection between Yogi and the children articulates another premise: Perhaps the deepest connections are those we don’t recognise until they are reflected at us.So whilst the business relationship deepens between Uttar Pradesh and Japanese institutions, civilisations respond to subtler cues like simple gestures of familiarity.Yogi is distinctive, not only because he is a political figure, but also a cultural one. Political office came relatively late in his life. The saffron came first. His public life in the math, an institution which has been a guidepost for lakhs of people, brought him into contact with families, children and the anxieties of everyday life, in ways far more intimate than governance troubles. It also gave him an understanding of public life that was shaped outside of political power.Children, on the other hand, don’t really care about power. They respond instinctively to warmth; they know if someone is pleased to see them and their presence is a safe space.Perhaps, in an Indian monk, thousands of miles away from home, they saw a safe and familiar presence. And in Yogi’s response, they received their answer and the permission to be themselves.Because Yogi couldn’t stop smiling.Kala is a writer, including of the novel, Almost Single