Bread and Wine

The Last Supper is not just Resurrection. It seems a challenge to authority, to the haters, to those who kill, and who cannot stand dissent. It is rebirth, not of oneself but of those who stand by you. It is a lesson to face the traitor head-on, but also to keep people guessing about the identity of the one who betrays — in that way, everyone is on their toes.

Jesus was a sharp man. He went through tribulations, yet he also knew he was destined to be much more than one nailed to the Cross. There has been much analysis of the famous eponymous painting of the event by Leonardo da Vinci, including the sort of food displayed. The salt-shaker in repose as bad omen; the plate before Judas being empty; the choice of fish - did Christ get his apostles from among the fishermen?

Bread and wine, of course, mean what has been said:

"For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:23-25)

Would remembrance imply rejuvenation of those who remember? Are they the only chosen ones?

I am not qualified enough to discuss the symbolism in religious terms, or even in detail. Also, I was quite intrigued by this other painting by Jacopo Tintoretto:

It is darker, has more happening, and except for the light near Jesus, the rest is almost mundane. Does it need the routine to show up brilliance or does brilliance put everything and everybody else in the shade?

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. (John 6:53-58)

Was this spiritual barter? Or, is it the submergence of flesh to live in another (off another?)? If the eternal is based on the temporal, then is it really eternal?

PS: It took a Mad takeoff, with cellphones playing an important role, to suggest that, indeed, the temporal is eternal, connecting, staying in 'touch' with others and, therefore oneself.

© Farzana Versey

Return to light...

Lights greeted him upon his return after a 14-year exile. If we do not see the symbolism of epics and mythology, then what use are they?

Diwali surely is not only about a well-lit Ayodhya welcoming Lord Rama.

The light conveys coming out of darkness, of the warmth from diyas, of flames dancing in the wind, conveying evanescence. And the oil and the wick that stay in the background to light up things and are then burned out themselves.

Yet, light is never far away.

It is said that some raagas are so potent they can create and destroy. Legend has it that when Tansen used to sing in the emperor's court, the room would be filled with light. I think the power of such light is within us.

"Curving back within myself I create again & again."
- Bhagvad Gita

A Happy Diwali!

Kebabs don't grow on trees

Children are cruel. And those whose school tiffins would be filled with all kinds of meat would snigger close to the time of Bakri Eid. We never got quite around to saying Eid-al-Azha, or however it is spelled and pronounced in other places. The bakri immediately brought images of goats, and then the allusion to qasais, butchers who were mainly from the Muslim community. (Christians do have their own, though.)

It is easy to blame certain political parties today, but the attitude predates their prominence. It is no different from producing waste, and then looking down upon those who collect it and clean up your space. With meat, there is the added factor of 'sinful' consumption, never mind that animal sacrifice is fairly common in other faiths, too.

I won't repeat that I believe the spirit of sacrifice is more important than the qurbani, of sacrificing a goat on this day, to commemorate an event. But, then, for devotees all symbols need reiteration.

It could be through such sacrifice or other rituals. One hopes that irrespective of the level of faith, or its existence at all, we all learn to give a little of ourselves to something.

Eid Mubarak!

---

Reminds me of one year when I was in Dubai. Arabs celebrate rather quietly, except perhaps at the malls. I went to Festival City, and they had a performance. I expected some Middle-East type of music. Instead, it was a melange of artistes from different parts of the world, and the violinist was an Arab, as were a few others.

For those few hours, it was the religion of sur and taal.

---

Here is another such moment.

The Big Bad Ad

The US ad for Virgin Mobile appears to have made light of a crime: rape. The obvious question would be - are there no limits to sexism? But, then, we reduce the argument. 

As you can see, it features a man standing behind a woman, trying to shut her view. He holds a red box. The caption reads: 'The gift of Christmas surprise. Necklace? Or chloroform?' 

I go with the rape theory. However, for the sake of argument, are rapes always planned? By asking her, are we as viewers of the ad complicit in suggesting that a man will ask before he commits the crime, that the woman is to blame for wanting a gift so badly that she might - a very covert suggestion - just say chloroform to humour him? The ad is bad enough; seeing it as a joke on rape seems worse. 

Like most people my first reaction was the same. Then, I looked at the picture a few times. The gesture of her hands does convey exclamation; it could also mean she is protecting her neck from the necklace. Why is she smiling then? Blind trust?

Virgin Group founder Sir Richard Branson took immediate action: 

“Having just seen, for the first time, the Virgin Mobile US advert which has upset many today, I agree it is ill-judged. Although I don’t own the company [it is owned by a US  firm, Sprint Nextel], it carries our brand.”

Will anyone unsubscribe to Virgin Mobile or its US partner Sprint?

Now we come to the business of advertising. Why would a festive occasion like Christmas be transformed into something Gothic? Does it subliminally appeal to consumers, who probably become less sensitive to social propriety in their fervour to buy, and that as a result everything becomes an object?

That is something we should ask ourselves.  

Sunday ka Funda

"If men are habitations of God, we should fall at their feet
But we should leave alone their habits and goals
Fire is good to drive away cold
But you must not tie it up
And carry it around in a cloth."

- Sant Tukaram

There are different ways to celebrate festivals. Poems, music convey those sentiments better than most dhamakas. Here, it is about giving yourself up to god...the happiness that comes with giving yourself to something is unspeakable...

This song is from a little-known film Parinay. The visuals in this clip somehow take away from the beauty of the words and music. I like the straightforward tone in the beat. Nothing against the deities, but to enjoy it best you might need to shut your eyes, as you would if you try to look straight at the sun...

Happy Diwali!

Suraj ki garmee:

- - -

I had posted this earlier, but somehow this song and thoughts recurred to me again.

Be...and It Is. Kun Faya Kun

Eid Mubarak...

The term 'Kun Faya Kun' is not so much religious as mystical. It is about being and becoming...

I read this bit:

Does man not consider that We created him from a [mere] sperm-drop – then at once he is an open disputant? And he presents an (argument of) likeness for Us and forgets his own creation. He asks (in confusion): "Who will give life to the bones when they are disintegrated?" Say: "He will give life to them Who brought them into existence at first, and He is cognizant of all creation." He Who has made for you, from the green tree, fire. and then from it you kindle (fire). Is not He Who created the heavens and the earth able to create the like of them? Yes Indeed! and He is the Superb Creator (of all), the Ever-Knowing. Surely His Command, when He wills a thing, is only to say to it: Be! and it is!"

Just a touch of faith...

Never seen the Taj Mahal like this. Pic Hindustan Times

Of the first time I am supposed to have heard the azaan, there is no recollection. It was whispered in my ear as a newborn. My memory isn’t that great. The complete azaan is a full-throated call, every syllable enunciated with as much power as preventing an echo from falling off a cliff. You do not need to understand the language, and you must suspend the ‘yours and mine’ to be able to just listen to the sound. Think of it as thunder, of waves lashing, of a cry, of laughter. Of thoughts unspoken.

I know so little about religion that once when I was at the health club while travelling, and I needed to get to one of the machine, a man on his knees was in the way. I went up to the reception and asked, “When will this guy finish his yoga?”

“He is praying, ma’am.”

I had failed to notice the prayer mat or his hands on his ear. When he turned to the left and then the right, I thought it was an asana. Was I entirely wrong? If prayer is meditation, then it does not matter what you call it. I hasten to add that I know what a namaaz is. It was just the thought of seeing someone there, in my space, so to speak, that confused me.

This year during the month of Ramzan, I heard no azaan. It wasn’t something I was aching to hear. Just the thought of having heard it in days past made me wonder – crowded areas, traffic might well have drowned the sounds. Back in the early days, when one of my relatives fasted, along with the azaan call to prayer, I used to rush to look for the light bulb in a building across. It was an indication that it was time to break the fast. I felt no guilt that I had not been on an empty stomach, but did feel elated as I watched those who had stayed hungry bite into a date and eat slowly, waiting for tongues to form liquid to swallow.

Ignorant as I am, nostalgia is my shelter. Each morsel of life I take is celebration, each morsel I have denied or been denied is a lesson about vacuums, emptiness.

Here is a poem by Gulzar that conveys my thoughts:

Sparsh

“Quran haathon mein leke naabeena ek namaazi

laboun pe rakhataa tha

donon aankhon se choomtaa tha

jhukaake peshaani yoon aqeedat se chhoo rahaa tha

jo aayaten padh nahin sakaa

un ke lams mehsoos kar raha ho

main hairaan-hairaan guzar gayaa tha

main hairaan-hairaan thahar gayaa hoon

tumhaare haathon ko choom kar

chhoo ke apni aankhon se aaj main ne

jo aayaten padh nahin sakaa

un ke lams mehsoos kar liye hain”

My rough translation:

Touch

The blind namaazi brushed the Quran with lips

Kissed it with both eyes

Touched his forehead to the ground

With such faith

As though the verses he could not read

He could feel with a mere touch

Confused I left

Confused I pause

By kissing your hands

Touching you with my eyes

The verses I cannot read

I can still feel them

Eid Mubarak…

For those who came in late, for more of my memories More than a moon

Sunday ka Funda

It is better to sit alone than in company with the bad; and it is, better still to sit with the good than alone. It is better to speak to a seeker of knowledge than to remain silent; but silence is better than idle words.

- Prophet Mohammed

Eid-e-Milad, I must confess, was never a date on my calendar. It did not have the preamble of Ramzan Eid or Bakri Eid. It was quiet. I thought those who were deeply religious were introspecting about the Prophet's life. It was one way to celebrate a birthday.

I was surprised to read that it has become a huge commercial enterprise. Business thrives in the gullies selling badges, buntings, flags, tassels. And Muslims talk about how idolatory is against the faith. What is this, then?

Most Arabs do not celebrate their own birthdays. It is a way of not deifying one's existence. But, then, all prayers also deify. And, again, I confess that some of the naats are beautiful. For, it goes beyond obeisance. It is suffusing of oneself in a larger Self.

I do not understand the language of this one. It is probably not even great. But I like the slow rhythm, the lack of self-conscioues rendition one has become accustomed to.

Sunday ka Funda

"Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present.”

- Albert Camus

- - -

And must we not be generous to the past too and leave it the way it wants to, was meant to be? Not everything we have is great, not all that we give is wonderful, not all that we receive fills the emptiness. But it is there and we are there. It just might be something beyond the obvious...

- - -

"The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes
Some of it's just transcendental
Some of it's just really dumb

But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything"

A Christmas full of giving and acceptance to all...and...

The Book of Love - Peter Gabriel:

Your turkey’s a Muslim

You’ve got the bird home, dressed it in its best Thanksgiving suit, and placed it in the warmth of the oven or the stove, the heat causing the flesh to melt softly inside and the juices to spill out and settle over its body. You will bring it out for the family dinner – an event so positive, so traditional. The turkey is only one of the many rituals.

You have been to the butcher’s often or to the food store. You checked the meat for health and bite. You are a carnivore and relish the tartness of plump flesh in your mouth, the chewiness of the white insides. Turkeys – or other birds and animals – do not have a religion. There are, of course, ways in which some faiths choose to kill. That is how everyone did at one time. But the times, they are a-changing, and what’s on your plate could decide how devout you are.

That is what American Thinker’s Pamela Geller asks rather ominously:

“Did you know that the turkey you're going to enjoy on Thanksgiving Day this Thursday is probably halal? If it's a Butterball turkey, then it certainly is -- whether you like it or not.”

There is challenge in this, as though you are a poor little thing forced to put up with it. She believes “that much of the meat in Europe and the United States is being processed as halal without the knowledge of the non-Muslim consumers who buy it”.

Under the pretext of the awful slaughter methods – she has nothing to say about fox-hunting and open barbeques that are pretty common in the west, or even the choice of steaks rare – she is driving home the point that this is an Islamic plot. Yes, in the heart of America and the western nations, where turkey is consumed more than in any Muslim country, these Muslims are managing a major coup by not labelling the meat separately as halal and non-halal. Do they own all the meat companies?

She managed to verify just one such manufacturer. Wendy Howze, a Butterball Consumer Response Representative, said: "Our whole turkeys are certified halal.”

Butterball is in trouble, because Ms. Geller is starting a campaign in the US:

“Across this great country, on Thanksgiving tables nationwide, infidel Americans are unwittingly going to be serving halal turkeys to their families this Thursday. Turkeys that are halal certified -- who wants that, especially on a day on which we are giving thanks to G-d for our freedom? I wouldn't knowingly buy a halal turkey -- would you? Halal turkey, slaughtered according to the rules of Islamic law, is just the opposite of what Thanksgiving represents: freedom and inclusiveness, neither of which are allowed for under that same Islamic law.”

I understand her pain, and more so of the turkey. But she is the antithesis of the “freedom and inclusiveness” she is talking about. She is emphasising the differences. American butchers are not all Muslim, and they do not run the industry anyway. This halal stuff gets to be tiring, whether it is those who want it and those who don’t. Especially if the motives are religious.

America is not a religious state, although Abraham Lincoln did use faith to explain Thanksgiving:

"…announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord… But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, by the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own… It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people…"

If the 16th President of the United States declared it a national holiday, it was for all citizens. This can be seen beyond faith as it was thanking for a good harvest initially. It can be a gesture of deep gratitude for so many things in life.

Geller is exaggerating and making an issue where there is none. If people like her are so concerned, they can just go chase a bird and put it to sleep in the gentlest manner possible. Or, better still, get a soya turkey.

- - -

"Thanksgiving comes to us out of the prehistoric dimness, universal to all ages and all faiths. At whatever straws we must grasp, there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings."

- J. Robert Moskin

Cowell Christ?

I can imagine Simon Cowell as a latter-day rock-star pontiff, but a 21st century Jesus? The Evangelical magazine ‘Re’ has given him the title and the reason is rather unusual: it is for his acerbic tongue that has been likened to the Messiah’s straight-talking.

I know there are several interpretations of how people view Christ, but I cannot imagine him sitting with others, listening to people who want to become idols for a year, and passing judgment over a competition. It is difficult that anyone might imagine Jesus’s straight-talking with Cowell’s rather sophomoric expertise.

Anyhow, just for the heck of it, here is the lordly and the good lord himself replying (actual quotes transposed):


SC: “If your lifeguard duties were as good as your singing, a lot of people would be drowning.”

JC: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

SC: “The end of the animal trade would leave more time to trap or beat to death pop star wannabes.”

JC: “I say, I've fed his sheep. Now I'll tend to them, ... tend to my sheep.”

SC: “If you've got a big mouth and you're controversial, you're going to get attention.”

JC: “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

SC: “I think you have to judge everything based on your personal taste. And if that means being critical, so be it. I hate political correctness. I absolutely loathe it.”

JC: “The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks.”

SC: “I think he knows how to articulate something that people are entertained by and still be true to the message he's trying to send, ... very aware of himself.”

JC: “No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead he puts it on its stand, so that those who come in may see the light.”

SC: “If I said to most of the people who auditioned, 'Good job, awesome, well done,' it would have made me actually look and feel ridiculous. It's quite obvious most of the people who turned up for this audition were hopeless.”

JC: “For we walk by faith, not by sight.”

SC: “You've got quite a good voice, the problem I have is this looks to me like 10 years ago.”

JC: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

SC: “You are a saucy little thing aren't you?”

JC: “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”

- - -

Simon Cowell is really into the Christian spirit and decided to gift X-Factor co-stars $ 4500 worth of Botox packages. He in a sort of three-in-one Magi manner, one might say. After all, gold, frankincense and myrrh have been traditionally used to adorn and embellish. So, our man is only taking the gold polish, incense and unguent tradition forward and looking for frozen faces that make his smile seem brighter. A wise man, he is.

Secularism - not yet

So, I open the papers today and I see this picture. The caption says:

RELIGION NO BAR: Hindu members of the Madhursang Ganpati-Muharram Mandal of Crawford Market observe Muharram. The mandal's members also celebrate the Ganpati festival.

Since I have been accused of cribbing about Times of India and generally the media’s attitude of showing images of minorities doing the majority thing, I thought I’d give the flip side as well now that the newspaper has finally given us a peek into it.

I only hope these Hindus are not beating themselves with chains.

Having said this, I reiterate that religion is a private matter and when it does spill out as celebration or mourning, it needs to be confined to a certain space. In the name of secularism let us not make a tamasha of it and disturb the peace.

- - -

Those matkas (pots) of water that you see are placed in many localities; it is to symbolise, among other things, the denial of water to Imam Hussein. Anyone, and I mean anyone, can drink that water. Years ago, my mother was going somewhere and at a small store a woman was feeling faint and thirsty. In those days, bottled water was not available just about anywhere. But these pots were there, so my mother suggested she drink from it; the woman refused saying she would not drink Muslim water. It isn’t much different from how even within Muslim sects some would not touch water in the home of someone from another sect.

If one is not particularly religious, it also becomes difficult to explain some customs. I recall once being asked by a South Indian gentleman how Muslims celebrated Muharram. And because my memory was of those pots, I mentioned it. He looked surprised and asked, “Enough?” Obviously, festivals mean something more. So I told him it had a historical reason. “What?”

“Water problem,” I blurted out. Not the best answer, but he was a builder so it must have made some sense to him.

- - -


kijiye aur koi zulm agar zidd hai yehi
lijiye, aur meri lab pe duaein aayi*

(Jigar Moradabadi)

*My rough translation:

Torture me as much as you will
More prayers will spill forth from my lips

True sacrifice can be encapsulated in these sentiments, according to me. 

Those things our armymen do...

Now, this forward is supposed to make us go all gooey. I did try. Honest. But it’s not working. Why on earth is it even necessary to ask, “Any one more secular than the Indian army?”

Here are the examples. My two-bits in bold:

As a serving army officer, I never stop marvelling at the gullibility of our countrymen to be provoked with alacrity into virulence in the name of religion. I have never heard the word 'secular' during all my service -- and yet, the simple things that are done simply in the army make it appear like an island of sanity in a sea of hatred.

In the army, each officer identifies with the religion of his troops. In regiments where the soldiers are from more than one religion, the officers -- and indeed all jawans attend the weekly religious prayers of all the faiths. How many times have I trooped out of the battalion mandir and, having worn my shoes, entered the battalion church next door? A few years ago it all became simpler -- mandirs, masjids, gurudwars and churches began to share premises all over the army. It saved us the walk.

So, God is not omnipotent and omniscient, but has a) a foot fetish b) is a fitness instructor

----------------------------------
Perhaps it is so because the army genuinely believes in two central 'truths' -- oneness of god and victory in operations. Both are so sacred we cannot nitpick and question the basics.

In fact, sometimes the army mixes up the two! On a visit to the holy cave at Amarnath a few years ago I saw a plaque mounted on the side of the hill by a battalion that had once guarded the annual Yatra. It said, 'Best wishes from -....- battalion. Deployed for Operation Amarnath.

If there was oneness of god, then there would be no need for an Operation Amarnath.

-------------------------
On another instance, I remember a commanding officer ordered the battalion maulaviji to conduct the proceedings of Janamashtmi prayers because the panditji had to proceed on leave on compassionate grounds. No eyebrows were raised. It was the most rousing and best-prepared sermon on Lord Krishna I have ever had the pleasure of listening to.

Geez, the army has maulvis and pandits? Can people not have their own little holy books they can read from? Would it be the same attitude had a pandit given a sermon about the prophet? Do they also have Catholic priests, Sikh granthis and Buddhist and Jain monks?

-----------------------
On the Line of Control, a company of Khemkhani Muslim soldiers replaced a Dogra battalion. Over the next few days, the post was shelled heavily by Pakistanis, and there were a few non-fatal casualties.

One day, the junior commissioned officer of the company, Subedar Sarwar Khan walked up to the company commander Major Sharma and said, "Sahib, ever since the Dogras left, the mandir has been shut. Why don't you open it once every evening and do aarti? Why are we displeasing the gods?"

Major Sharma shamefacedly confessed he did not know all the words of the aarti. Subedar Sarwar Khan went away and that night, huddled over the radio set under a weak lantern light, painstakingly took down the words of the aarti from the post of another battalion!

Is this secular? If there are no aartis, it would displease the gods? Since they know so much about the working of the mind of gods why don’t they ask the gods (please note the plural…didn’t someone talk about oneness of religion earlier?) to do some jaadu and get the troops on the other side to just disappear?

-----------------------
How many of us know that along the entire border with Pakistan, our troops abstain from alcohol and non-vegetarian food on all Thursdays? The reason: It is called the Peer day -- essentially a day of religious significance for the Muslims.

Only the armed forces seem to know about such days. Which Peer is being commemorated and for what? To the best of my knowledge, Peer is Monday in Urdu. So, how does Monday appear on Thursday? Civilian Muslims eat meat on all days and those who do not drink will not drink on any day. The rest will continue with their chhota and bara pegs.

-------------------------
In 1984, after Operation Bluestar there was anguish in the Sikh community over the desecration of the holiest of their shrines. Some of this anger and hurt was visible in the army too.

I remember the first Sikh festival days after the event -- the number of army personnel of every religious denomination that thronged the regimental gurudwara of the nearest Sikh battalion was the largest I had seen. I distinctly remember each officer and soldier who put his forehead to the ground to pay obeisance appeared to linger just a wee bit longer than usual. Was I imagining this? I do not think so. There was that empathy and caring implicit in the quality of the gesture that appeared to say, "You are hurt and we all understand."

Fine. Nice. Empathy is good anywhere. Have they asked themselves why they have to do what they do? It is better than putting the forehead to the ground and lingering a bit longer.

------------------------
We were deployed on the Line of Control those days. Soon after the news of disaffection among a small section of Sikh troops was broadcast on the BBC, Pakistani troops deployed opposite the Sikh battalion yelled across to express their 'solidarity' with the Sikhs.

The Sikh havildar shouted back that the Pakistanis had better not harbour any wrong notions. "If you dare move towards this post, we will mow you down."

So Santa Singh became Santa Claus for the Indian Army. This is his job. Why see it as a special gesture?

-------------------------------
Finally, a real - and true - gem.

Two boys of a Sikh regiment battalion were overheard discussing this a day before Christmas.

"Why are we having a holiday tomorrow?" asked Sepoy Karnail Singh.

"It is Christmas," replied the wiser Naik Gurmeet Singh.

"But what is Christmas?"

"Christmas," replied Naik Singh, with his eyes half shut in reverence and hands in a spontaneous prayer-clasp, "is the guruparb of the Christians."

Ok, a Sepoy would not know what is Christmas and he is supposed to rattle out the brand names of designer weapons. And a Naik who knows ups his GK quotient and becomes secular because he connects the celebration of something to do with his religion and another. Like taal se taal mila...

I wonder what he would have said if someone asked about the Last Supper. Would he call it temporary reincarnation? Or just say “Rab returning for holy langar”?

Maulvi in her hand?

Now,now. Mehndi is an important part of Eid. And it is sweet of The Times of India to remember that. As much as they have their ghazal/qawwali programmes that are nice sponsored events. Works as well as political iftaar parties.

But, obviously the advertising department has no clue about how to portray even cliches.

In this advertisement wishing readers Eid Mubarak they have used the most appalling stereotypes in a bizarre manner.

A mosque? The number 786 (conveying 'Bismillah') is just about fine. But, what the heck is a maulvi type reading the Quran doing on a woman's hand? Do they understand subtlety, forget sensitivity?

Even the most religious person would think a hundred times before having this on her palm. To make the idiocy more evident, the other palm has two men in an embrace as they do when greeting each other!

If it weren't so stupid it might have been funny. Well, I hope the TOI cow gets to jump over that crescent moon. Oh, it is there. Naturally...

News meeows - 21

Houses get destroyed. A temple and mosque survive the landslide. What can I say? I am the faithless. Faithless in terms of organised religion, if there is anything organised about religion at all.

Mid-week, in one of the suburbs of Mumbai, the boulders from a hill came tumbling down with the fury of the rains. A temple stood untouched; all the hutments in the area were crushed. Four years ago, there had been a terrible deluge. In the same locality 112 such tenements were destroyed, 83 people died. A mosque stood amidst the rubble without a scratch.

I am amazed about how people have reacted. Apparently, these holy structures have given shelter to those displaced. A local politician said, “This is nothing but a miracle. It has revived our faith in god during these tough times.”

Revived faith? Is faith about a structure? I am glad there was a temple and a mosque. Now, there is talk about how people of all religions are praying at these places. If I know my city well enough, those from the lower strata have always been quite democratic in their beliefs. Every god is good enough.

But the real miracle would have been if the landslide had spared the homes of these people. If god is everywhere, then god does not need a home. People do, and they build it bit by bit, with hope for a better morrow. The even bigger miracle will be when people stop constructing places of worship in every lane and start building hospitals and proper homes and make sure that every year the financial capital of India does not make the city go haywire with one rainfall.

The gods are extremely partial and save their own homes. Sorry, this one’s not biting the bait.

- - -

I do not know how an Army Chief is supposed to behave, but General Deepak Kapoor’s statement about ceasefire violations by the Pakistani army to enable militants to infiltrate into India and “disrupt” the peace in Jammu and Kashmir don’t give out the right signals.

It makes us look as though we cannot deal with such violations.

“Firing is used as a diversionary tactic,” Kapoor said, adding that the only goal is to push in more and more people. He, however, said the Indian troops are alert and have foiled many such attempts at the borders.

Ok. So the Pakistani army uses diversionary tactics, we know about it, we are alert and have foiled many such attempts. This is a matter that should be discussed internally, at the army headquarters and with the defence ministry, and not be accessible to the media, the public and the Pakistani army.

The armed forces are about pugnacity. It is no occasion or reason to try victimhood. Or large-heartedness about how we will honour the ceasefire pact. Are we being given points on good behaviour or something? And by whom?

- - -

While ordinary Dalits strive to get accepted, Uttar Pradesh chief minister Mayawati is becoming larger than life. In an exhibition in Lucknow, she has been painted as a goddess, the ‘Dalit Devi’. Some fine arts student decides to get some reflected glory, but she ought to have better sense.


The concept of gods and goddesses are rich pastimes and certainly not for Dalits who have had to battle the faith itself. It is hugely ironical that Mayawati is not objecting to such deification; the statues are vanity and maybe to prove a point. There is one painting in which she is nestled among lotus petals with Kanshi Ram on one side and Dr. B.R.Ambedkar on the other. It is time for her to take a reality check. The lotus is a flower, our national flower (whatever that means), but it is also the BJP symbol. And this image represents Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth. This is sheer mockery.

- - -

Huh?

TOI caption: Ramzan shopping is in full swing at Bhendi Bazaar

This is from The Times of India. Find a group of women in veils, in Bhendi Bazaar (where else?), and assume that they are carrying bags so they must be shopping for Ramzan. What does that mean? They are buying dates, fruits, kebabs for the evening? A little education: Muslim women can shop for other things for daily living. And if you want to emphasise the festive nature of the shopping, then it is for Eid, which is at the end of Ramzan. And women and men who practise the faith will not shop before the Eid moon is sighted.

So, stop getting excited and brush up on some basics.

- - -

Poll results:

Jaswant Singh’s book makes you:

understand Jinnah - 5%; understand past Indian leaders - 10%; understand Partition - 15%; understand Pakistan - 5%; understand BJP - 31%; understand Marketing - 26%; understand Indo-Pak current problems - 10%; What book? - 26%

So, hate me as much as you will, but most of you are with me. That the book reveals more about the BJP and marketing than about Jinnah!

How holy!

I just got a box of modak. I wrote to a friend saying that these days they have fancy ones with cranberry, apricot, figs and chocolate to cater to cosmopolitan tastes, and I so want to be cosmo. They don’t look like the real thing with coconut flakes dripping grease or going squishy with steam. But, not many things look the same anymore.

Like this deity being taken for immersion.


I can imagine Ganesha telling the chauffeur, “Hawaa aane de (let the breeze come in).” Or insisting that the car have a wireless connection so that he can figure out how the poor ones are doing it and send some blessing their way while his ‘owner’ talks to Facebook friends about the awesome puja they had and the planned evening with brie on rye bread and a Chantilly. Laterz, honey, muaah, muaah…

- - -

So, the iftaar tamasha is going on strong. Don’t have to tell you what Ramzan is about, but it has to do with Islam that does not believe in idolatry. Look at this picture:


Sonia and Rahul Gandhi dominate. I am sure the minister knows that new and renewable energy does not possibly mean a change in the way the religion is practised?

Wrong number?

Dialled one? Do you expect to get beaten up for it, have your hair shaved off, and then be paraded through the streets?

In Bhiwani, a village in Haryana, a Dalit youth had to go through this. Dalits belong to the lower caste. It does not matter whether they are educated or have made some money. They are stigmatised only because they are born in what is still the backward caste. It is there in the scriptures. Perhaps, it was valid then as it pointed to certain professions, although there were clear rules about how to treat the shudras. These people, even four decades after independence, carried night soil (that is, shit) on their heads in a cosmopolitan city like Mumbai. And even today in some parts of the country they have to tie a broom behind them to clean the road on which the higher caste folks will later walk. Their shadow cannot fall on these people, and they are still not permitted to enter temples.

Legally and politically they are termed Scheduled Castes/Tribes, and the term Dalit was given to lend them an identity. It is way better than being called Harijans (children of god) that Mahatma Gandhi patronisingly anointed them with.

This is what Suresh, the young man, said, “I was trying the telephone number of one of my acquaintances on Monday when I inadvertently dialled the number of Dharam Singh (another villager). The moment I realized my mistake, I apologized immediately and disconnected the phone.’’

That is what we all do. And the person either tells us it is okay or bangs down the phone. But not for him. The next day the person who received the call brought six of his friends. They tonsured him, tied him to a motorcycle and dragged him through the streets, hitting him all the while. He could not go to the cops because they threatened him.

The police have yet to register a case and are, like old Indian bureaucracy, “looking into the matter” and that too because the Dalits have demanded action.

Will they get justice? No. I am going by precedent.

And here the papers are screaming out kitschy ads about the best Ganesh pandals for which there are prizes. The deity is fed, the devotees are fed. This is the god of prosperity. Prosperity for the few. The sculptor still lives in poverty. The guys who fix those neon lights will not prosper. The fat cats will become fatter cats. The ones in the middle will think they will get something out of all this. Make a statement. The Elephant God made from different materials.

Is prosperity about this? We should be ashamed about instances such as the one I mentioned, and it is really insensitive to say, oh, what is new? No. It is not new. And it has to be restated. That is the tragedy. So, feeding gods is not going to make your home a better place and priests dunking themselves in buckets of water are not going to bring rain.

We are ethically becoming poor. Damn all the exotica. I guess, I have got the wrong number…

Krishna and some innocence...

I can hear the drums. A bunch of young people will form a human pyramid and break a clay pot filled with curd and lots of money. Gods don’t come cheap anymore. The stakes are up. Because devotees are full of greed.

Today is Janmashtmi, the birth of Lord Krishna. As a young boy he survived attempts to kill him because of divine intervention. He was like most boys and was raised by a cowherd and his wife. That surrogate mother, in fact, was the principal influence on his life. Yashodha. He would rob the churned milk and return to her, his mouth speckled with white residue.

That made him human.

He was surrounded by gopis and would steal their clothes as they bathed in the river and demand more butter to return their garments. That butter did not add any cholesterol to his system nor lard to his girth. Krishna has always been pictorially depicted as lean, often playing the flute.

On Janmashtmi day, that human pyramid forming takes place. As a child I recall there used to be one right outside our building, in the lane. They used the window bars of an apartment to tie the rope from one end and the other end was secured in the building across. At the centre would be the pot. The fellows who climbed up were children of the labourers, tailors, maids, cooks, drivers in the locality. We would egg them on as they tripped. Finally, the smallest one would reach the top, break the handi and they’d share the money. It wasn’t much. Sometimes, they would come round offering us prasad (holy offerings). We took it without a care about how it was made and where.

Childhood hungers are different.

I would still look wide-eyed if everything had remained the same. But they don’t. Things change. We change. One transforming the other in a cycle that spins out of shape. Now those soiled and creased currency notes are replaced by money that can be in hundreds of thousands. The celebrations are held in designated areas sponsored by companies and attended by celebrities.

The pot is higher, many more tiers of people climbing and breaking limbs to reach it.

Yet, I keep my queries aside. For, it is only during these festivals that the poor become important. They are needed to fracture bones. To dance shamelessly in the streets. To stuff their faces with unhygienic colours. To get indelicately drunk. To snivel before the gods of today, Mammons in their limousines throwing big moolah to feel they have earned their place in heaven.

The gods have given up. Their myths that spoke of sagacity have been sold to the highest bidders. Their images come in forms that are ostentatious. Oh, I said, I would not raise a quizzical eyebrow, I said I won’t…

So, this morning I added an extra dollop of butter on toast in memory of the lord. The grease that stayed on my lips reflected a childhood I was born to lose.

- - -

Pop secularism?

Images:
Top - painting of Krishna and Mother by Raja Ravi Verma
Bottom - photograph in TOI

Ajmal Kasab's Sister: A very short story

His palms were sweaty and his body felt taut. He knew he was a small player in a larger game.

For days he had heard witnesses who had seen him shooting in cold blood. He was sharp. Until the blood had bled, how could it be cold? Why did they say "garam khoon"?(warm blood)

He laughed at the thought. He laughed because everyone imagined he was a grinner. He knew what he was saying and doing.

He did not care much about his lawyer. Abbas Kazmi looked like a polished villain in an old Hindi film. In those films the villain was not made to look bizarre like Mogambo. He looked like he could give competition to the hero, except that he was vile.

Kasab understood that he was vile but he did not like the fact that Kazmi had to know so much. Everyone knew but he had to make Kazmi into a confidante. He had to look into those sad eyes and tell his version of the truth. He would get bored so he began to spring surprises.

That night he was restless. The floor was like a skin to him soaked in perspiration. He started licking it. "Kutta kaheen ka!" (dog) he screamed out and started beating himself.

The guard tapped the bars of his cell.

"Kya karta hai? Apun ko maarne deta tau promotion milta. Saala tu tau marke jaayega aur apun idhar sadega..." (What are you doing? Had you let me beat you I would get promoted. Now you will die and I will rot here.)

Kasab liked this guard. His name was Shinde. Shin-dey. He pronounced the D softly. Like they did in Faridkot.

He wondered how Faridkot had become so important. Everyone in India knew about it now. He started crying. He thought about his village, the khaat on which be sat as he broke the twig and used it to clean his teeth. His mother would bring him milky tea. He was afraid of his father because it was believed he had to.

His sisters thought he was a good-for-nothing as sisters usually do. They got married and left amidst much fanfare. When he left, no one knew.

"Ai, ab so ja," said Shinde. "Kal corut mein phir tera vaat lagega." (Go to sleep. Tomorrow in court you will have it good and proper.)

Shinde's mouth was stuffed with tobacco.

Kasab drifted off to sleep. Next day in the courtroom he saw hands with threads and tassels. What was it?

"Raksha Bandhan," they told him. He knew he could have protected his sisters. Now they did not need it. In Faridkot, they did not celebrate it. He was enjoying his Indian rendezvous. He had learned Hindi, he knew what they were saying in court. He remembered his sisters' eyes. They were sad eyes but not like Kazmi's. He turned to his lawyer and said he too wanted a rakhi.

They said it might happen.

The day passed. No one would get close to him. He had killed people. He had lied. He was too visible. And Faridkot was not like Sicily.

He scratched his wrist and a thin red line formed. When Shinde met him, he showed him his hand.

"Yeh kya hai?" (What is this )

"Saab, mera rakhi." (Sir, my rakhi)

"Tera behen kab aya? Haan? Kisko shendi lagata?" (When did your sister arrive? Who are you trying to fool?)

He fidgeted in his pocket and brought out a bright yellow thread with a spongy round flower on it. He handed it to Kasab.

"Mera behen ne bheja tera waaste." (My sister has sent it for you.)

Kasab smiled.

"Ai, yeda jaisa mat hans. Idhar rahega tau uska raksha waise ich ho jaayega. Tera tension nahin ke kab kidhar goli maare!" (Hey, stop grinning like a lunatic. If you are here she will naturally be protected since you can't be trigger happy!)

"Naam?" (Name)

"Kya naam? Kiska?" (Whose name?)

"Behen ka." (Your sister's)

"Rakhi."

"Thank you, saab..."

"Theek hai, theek hai." (Ok,ok)

Kasab touched the string and tightened it. The red of his nail marks was hidden.

- - -

Ajmal Kasab did ask for a rakhi in court. The rest is just fiction.

Diwali for dudes

Got this in the mail :)

Diwali through the eyes of NRI kids

A young second generation Indian in the US was asked by his mother to explain the significance of Diwali to his younger brother; this is how he went about it...

"So, like this dude had, like, a big cool kingdom and people liked him. But, like, his step-mom, or something, was kind of a bitch, and she forced her husband to, like, send this cool-dude, he was Ram, to some national forest or something... Since he was going, for like, something like more than 10 years or so… he decided to get his wife and his bro along... you know... so that they could all chill out together. But Dude, the forest was reeeeal scary shit... really man... they had monkeys and devils and shit like that. But this dude, Ram, kicked ass with darts and bows and arrows... so it was fine. But then some bad gangsta boys, some jerk called Ravan, picks up his babe (Sita) and lures her away to his hood. And boy, was our man, and also his bro, Laxman, pissed... And you don't piss this son-of-a-gun cuz, he just kicks ass and like... all the gods were with him... So anyways, you don't mess with gods. So, Ram, and his bro get an army of monkeys... Dude, don't ask me how they trained the damn monkeys... just go along with me, ok...

So, Ram, Lax and their monkeys whip this gangsta's ass in his own hood. Anyways, by this time, their time's up in the forest... and anyways... it gets kinda boring, you know... no TV or malls or shit like that. So,they decided to hitch a ride back home... and when the people realize that our dude, his bro and the wife are back home... they thought, well, you know, at least they deserve something nice... and they didn't have any bars or clubs in those days... so they couldn't take them out for a drink, so they, like, decided to smoke and shit... and since they also had some lamps, they lit the lamps also... so it was pretty cooool... you know with all those fireworks... Really, they even had some local band play along with the fireworks... and you know, what, dude, that was the very first, no kidding... that was the very first music-synchronized fireworks... you know, like the 4th of July stuff, but just, more cooler and stuff, you know. And, so dude, that was how, like, this festival started."