Modi or Rahul, All Respect the Mahatma. Why No Spirit of Inquiry?

Years ago I had walked into the manual scavengers’ colony at Dadar in Mumbai, and for the first time discovered that there is a Mahatma Gandhi that is not a road name, not a face on currency notes, not a statue or a line drawing, and most certainly not a universal metaphor for all that is virtuous. 

For the first time I discovered that there is a Gandhi that others see, and not as a human beyond the Mahatma angle, but as a seriously flawed person. The obeisance industry refuses to even consider the viewpoints of Dalits, feminists and anti-communalists. From politicians to the leftist ‘azaadi from poverty’ ring leader Kanhaiya Kumar, they quote the Mahatma when they wish to speak out against Hindutva. 

Fact is, Gandhi was the Lord Ram and the Chanakya of his time. The rejecter of a throne manoeuvring the game of thrones.

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Swami Agnivesh's Double Barrel

He wears orange robes and then appears on behalf of 'civil society'. Why does no one pull up Swami Agnivesh for mixing religion and politics?

Now during a conference with Syed Shah Geelani of the Hurriyat Conference he talked about aspirations of the Kashmiri people. Very slyly he sneaked in a controversial comment about the Amarnath Yatra. Had he delved into the security issues, it would have some validity. Instead, he called the ice formation of the Shivalinga melting a fraud, so what faith was this?

I have a few points:

1. Hindu religion believes in idol worship and all idols are made of some material that breaks. Why, some are put out at sea. When he was initiated, did he not worship anything?

2. In dargahs, the tombstones are indicators of a dead saint. Often, the body is not even buried there and, if it is, it would have degenerated over a period of time. Why are they so popular?

3. The embalmed body of St. Francis Xavier in Goa is a religious and tourist attraction. What value does it have?

Are all of these frauds? A voice should be raised against superstition and blind belief and especially if it causes friction among different groups. As I mentioned, the Amarnath Yatra does result in security issues, and in the past caused deaths during clashes. What does the Swami have to say about that?

His opportunism is clearly visible because he chose to make the comment in Kashmir where he was meeting a separatist leader. His so-called concern for the Kashmiri people gets a setback because often they help in the smooth running of the pilgrimage.

His is politicking of the worst kind, for he portrays himself as a spokesperson of Kashmiris and by default all Indian Muslims. This is what causes problems.

If he wants to address the fraud in the Hindu faith, then he should go where the action is and give his two bits or lecture from some temple or ashram pulpit. And tell us why he is wearing those saffron robes.

Civil society does not need moonlighting sadhus.

Sabarimala: A Test of faith?

Pilgrims on the way

Every year, in some part of the world, in some pilgrim sites, people die. Tents burned, landslides, stampedes. Yet, year after year people continue to visit these places. As a non-practising anything, I can only tell myself that we don’t stop flying because of air crashes or driving because of road rage or indulging in risk-filled activities and eating the wrong foods knowing they are wrong for us.

However, where anything religious is concerned, both believers and non-believers alike start analysing faith: If there is a god, then why put the devotees through such things? We must understand that these are totally besotted people and they want to see miracles happen because they trust in them, blindly. They are not challenging the superpower; they are submitting to it.

I think such queries are too rational to understand religious faith or the god-mechanism. In fact, there is rarely rational explanation even for air crashes, because it is not always engine failure. It could be a bird hit. I mean a bird in the sky, that pretty feathered creature, can bring down a whole airplane. Turbulent weather can do so. These cannot be factored in by science. So, how can disasters at pilgrim sites?

The miracle light

On Friday, the 14th, 106 people were killed and several injured near the Sabarimala temple in Kerala. There were 200,000 people gathered there at one time. The shrine where the Makara Jyoti (celestial light) appears on its own thrice a year is a sight that every worshipper wishes to behold. There is talk of mismanagement, about how vehicles that are prohibited at the last stretch managed to get in, how there were few cops to man the area, how people had no choice but to push because parts of the rubble were falling on them.

A liquor baron had donated Rs. 18 crore to get the roof of the sanctum gold-plated. This sort of thing is done regularly by the rich in India, but no one bothers about basic infrastructure and, more importantly, management.

The state government has paid Rs. 5 lakh compensation and the Centre has chipped in with Rs. 1 lakh each for the families of the dead and there is money for the injured. This is done when there is large-scale calamity of this kind, but never when an individual is killed in a road accident due to the terrible condition of the roads. And who will take action against the cops who were not there? What about the vehicles when the drivers too are dead? What accountability can there be when there are no accounts?

I am beginning to appreciate these virtual rituals now. I think devotees should follow the rites they wish to and just watch the light or the idol on the internet or on television. And during Haj they can stone the devil in this manner, too, with some sort of interactive software. I know this sounds blasphemous, but I am sure the gods can take care of themselves; it is people who need to be protected.

And let us try and ‘unbrainswash’ them from believing that all this is because god is testing them. Given the way some of our lives go, even the atheists among us must then count as the greatest believers.

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I do have some memories of Sabarimala on my frequent visits to South India during a certain period of my life.

As we’d drive from the Kerala side to Tamil Nadu there would be people walking, often barefoot, in saffron robes mostly to meet Lord Ayyappa, the reigning deity. Women of a fertile age are not permitted in the sanctum because the sage was celibate.

One day I had to return urgently to Mumbai and since there was no night flight, I drove past midnight to reach Thiruvananthapuram airport before dawn to catch the hopping flight at 6.30 AM. There were two drivers, both Tamilians, to ensure that should one feel sleepy the other would be ready to take over. The guy at the counter said the flight was delayed and I could not purchase the ticket since it was not certain what time it would arrive or even if it would make the scheduled stop.

My two escorts, accustomed to an early breakfast, asked if I was hungry. No, I said. Realising that they were, I told them to go ahead. “Madam, you come also,” they said. We went to a small eatery and all eyes turned. I had just worn a loose T-shirt over tights and my lids were heavy from lack of sleep. There were only men in here. Once we settled in, no one cast a glance at all. A banana leaf was placed before us, that was to act as a plate, and all kinds of chutneys were dumped on it, arranged rather neatly though in corners and then arrived my paper dosa, crisp and golden. The two men had ordered half a dozen things. The coffee came in a steel tumbler with an extra one that it had to be poured into from a height with the arm at a right angle. I stopped trying this jugglery but watched with fascination. This cools the beverage and adds froth. The contents of my cup remained in repose.

I could hear the others murmur, if it is possible at all to murmur in Malayalam which is a language that requires one to make groaning and gargling sounds …but there was softness in their demeanour, and I am not romanticising. They had just returned from Sabarimala. Their long fast was over and they were headed back home. They had made it safely, feet calloused, but worth the walk.

I did not take the flight and returned. This time I slept on the drive back. It was fate. Or faith?