In search of the historical Radha

IN SEARCH OF THE HISTORICAL RADHA

Jawhar Sircar

{Published in Finding Radha (Penguin, 2018)

Ed. Malashri Lal and Namita Gokhale}

          We cannot ever imagine Krishna without Radha, but not many are, perhaps, know that she actually entered the life and legend of Krishna rather late. An even lesser known fact is that Krishna himself took his own time to blossom as a dominant figure in Indian mythology. Contrary to what most people are told, Krishna was certainly not visible in the Vedic period — when all that was or is “holy, good and great in India” is claimed to have appeared. His first mention — just a wisp of it — appears well after the Rig Veda had been completed and over with. It is in the Chhandogya Upanishad of the 8^th or 7^th century BC or BCE (Before the Common Era), that we get one ‘Krishna, son of Devaki’: Krisnaya-devakiputraya. However sparse, this single mention of Krishna indicates that some legends about him were possibly in circulation somewhere, in the post-Vedic period.

         This is about the time when the speakers of an Indo-Aryan language were coming to terms with the indigenous people of India — whom they had earlier reviled, rather intensely. Over the next few centuries, we get to hear of him, in bits and pieces, in other texts such as the Taittiriya Aranyaka, the Jain sacred tales, Panini’s Ashtadhyayi and so on. Vasudeva — as a divine character who is distinct from, yet allied to Krishna — makes his first physical appearance a century or so before the Christian Era or the Current Era commenced. On one side of a silver coin of Agotheles the Greek, we get an image of Vasudeva-Krishna. We must remember that, during this period, Vasudeva was an independent, established deity, while Krishna was a rather amorphous, upcoming deity on whom there was neither any literature or any icon. Pierre Amiet and his fellow scholars declare, rather decisively: “there is no evidence of Krishna (or Radha) in sculpture or coinage or inscription before the Current Era began”^[1]

          The first clear image of Krishna appears in the Ekanamsa group of sculptures of 2nd century AD or ACE in Gaya, Bihar^[2], where he appears to have broken free from Vasudeva. But he is still yoked with Balarama, whose images, incidentally, are quite visible in the preceding three centuries. This Kushan period sculpture of Ekanamsa positions Krishna next to Balarama, with a female who is identified as ‘Subhadra’, their sister. The first sacred text that mentions Krishna is the Harivamsa of the 3^{rd or} 4th century, that collated the hitherto-nebulous or patchy tales about Krishna into one authoritative omnibus. It is around this time that the Mahabharata and the Ramayana had reached a final stage of composition after almost five centuries “in the making” — busy absorbing and sewing together different, colourful tales from all over the Indo-Gangetic plains, and beyond. Yet, though both the Harivamsa and the Mahabharata extol the ‘mature and godly Krishna’, we do not come across any corroborative sculpture or other arts. These are all on Bala-Krishna as are the large number of sculptural or terracotta representations of Krishna that appear in the next six hundred years. Gupta and post-Gupta art depict Krishna as a baby or a child, not as a youth or adult — which precludes Radha’s arrival.

       To reach Radha, we need to cross another six long centuries, to reach the 9^th century sacred text, the Bhagavata Purana. But before we come to the first Radha-like young woman in Brahmanical literature, we must mention a secular text that mentions Radha. The Gatha Saptasathi is a collection of seven hundred verses composed in Prakrit by a king named Hala. We know that he belonged to the upper Deccan but we do not know when he did so. This could have been in the 2^nd century AD/ACE, which means this book preceded the final version of Mahabharata and the Harivamsa. Or, it could have been composed some three-four centuries later — no one knows. We are taken aback at the explicit reference —  pada 225 of the first chapter, that says, “O Krishna, by the puff of breath from your mouth, as you blow the dust from Radha’s  face, you take away the glories of other milk-maids”^[3]. Not only this, we come across a verse in another work, Banabhaṭṭa’s Harshacharita, which describes how“the breasts of Radha made Krishna dance in the courtyard, and people were amazed.” It is clear that the myth of Radha and Krishna — including his loves and leelas — was surely known to a section of the masses of India, by the middle of the first millennium of the Current Era. The moot point here is, however, that Radha was still not ‘recognised’ by Brahmanical religion, even though we find Radha in Jain commentaries. In the 7^th century, we get a mention in  Bhattanarayana’s Venisamaraha. Another Jain scholar, Ananada-vardhana, also mentions her in his famous Dhyanaloka, which preceded the first Hindu sacred text to refer to her, that too, rather indirectly — the Bhagavata Purana.

          This Purana speaks of an unnamed  lady who is so much like Radha, but she is not called Radha — she actually remains without a name. In his well-researched work, Sumanta Banerjee^[4] states that she has been called Anyaradhita or the ‘conciliated one’ —which is an appellation, not as a proper noun. And she is conciliated by a Krishna-like cowherd called Mayon who frolicked with several gopis and disappears occasionally with one of them. The Bhagavata Purana, however, mentions that she is usually singled out, for special favours. Because the cowherd (not Krishna, by name) is divine, this was his way of teaching humility to all the gopis and even the special gopi was also taught her share, by being abandoned, time and again. Book 10, Chapter 30, Verses 36-38 of this Purana describes it all. This solitary word, Anyaradhita, is taken by scholars to be the origin of the proper name ‘Radha’, but as we have seen, the name Radha was already known to the folk. We see how much time it takes a folk deity (or a popular tale or a rhyme) to reach the next higher level — of finding some mention in a sacred text.

          Of course, ‘conciliation’ of Radha does form an integral part of the Radha-Krishna love-story and however ‘humiliating’ this act may have appeared to patriarchy, the common people enjoyed it.  They could, obviously, identify themselves with the repeated episodes of ‘conciliation’ of the woman — irrespective of the religiously-sanctioned prescription of gender domination. These are the subtextual inferences of societal behaviour that copybook historians usually shy away from — as they are more comfortable with indexed hard references to quote from. In any case, it is interesting to note that Brahmanism finally ‘legitimised’ the character through a new Sanskrit Purana. It is worth noting that  this bold Purana was composed in deep Tamil country and not in Braj or Mathura and also that by this time, all the 18 Maha-Puranas had either been completed or had reached a stage of maturity. They were all focused on male deities — Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma, Krishna, Agni, Vayu — and the major exception was the Markandeya Purana of the 7^th or 8^th century, that had ‘legitimised’ Durga. But the Devi Mahatmya episode did not feature in the main body of the MarkandeyaPurana — it came in through an appendix. We also need to be clear that though the Bhagavata Purana surely introduced a Radha-like character, who hailed from the community of herders and milk-men, and it also described in detail the divine dance, the Raas Lila, it is actually a long eulogy of Krishna. "Though art Brahman, the ancient One, the immortal One, free from all qualities and miseries. Thou art all-bliss...…the Lord of the Self, Atmesvara …. who is to be adored” (VIII.12.7).

        The fact that this Sanskrit Purana was written by Tamil scholars hints at the existence of a tradition where romance and unorthodox dalliances were accepted.We need to appreciate that Tamil poetry, notably the Sangam literature, was quite familiar with the spirit of puranchi — which was not just love making, but a sublime experience. The romance described in the Bhagavata Purana was thus, in the best traditions of Tamil poetry, especially the Aham variety.  Let us recall the story of Andal to understand how deep was the yearning for the lord in Tamil Vaishnavism, the Alvar tradition. Andal could just not live without him and thus merged herself physically into his idol. It is, therefore, not surprising that Sanskrit writers in Tamil country were more comfortable with a long poetic tradition that celebrated a spirited gopi, called Nappinnai in Tamil lore, who drew Mayon into her dance and was thus his favourite^[5]. It was not only in South India, but also in Eastern India, that we get indications of Radha. In the same 9^th century, we are intrigued to observe a partner positioned next to a sculpture of Krishna in Paharpur in Pala-ruled Bengal. As we have seen, Jain tradition was more open to Radha, while Brahmanical literature was still reticent or ambiguous about her. Jain scholars like Somadeva Suri and Vikramabhatta, who wrote between the 9^thand the 12^th centuries, keep mentioning Radha.

         The real credit for bringing Radha into the mainstream of devotional poetry, however, goes to Jayadeva in eastern India. His immortal Gita Govinda, composed in the 12^th century, set new trends like the Ashtapadi or groups of eight lyrical couplets. He could portray divine love with such finesse that he became the fountain of inspiration for countless generations of poets, singers and dancers since then. Though Jayadeva mixed his Sanskrit with Apabhramsa, an Eastern sub-language, Brahmanical tradition not only accepted him and his Radha-Krishna, but several learned Sanskrit commentaries like Khumba’s Rasikapriya, Shankara Misra’s Rasa-Manjari and Tirumala Deva Raya’s Sruti Ranjana were actually written on Jayadeva’a work. We have also to mention two other later 15^th century poets, Chandidas of Bengal and Vidyapati of Mithila who elaborated the path-breaking work of Jayadeva of Odisha very picturesquely. The trio’s poetry could finally establish the Radha-Krishna legend beyond any challenge. We must not forget to mention that it was Vidyapati who could successfully express for the first time, the subtle nuances that personify the feelings of a woman, that male poets had missed earlier. It was, however, that the pinnacle was reached a century later by Surdas — who broke totally free from Sanskrit tradition. By composing in simple and lyrical Braj Bhasa, Surdas touched the common man as none else could dream of. However, Surdas was an Ashtachap poet and a follower of Vallabhacharya, who did not agree with the questionable marital status that the romance represented — so Surdas overcame the distinctly uncomfortable affair by promptly “getting them married”. Despite this, Surdas’ language and emotions were so intense and his style so utterly masterly that he could  describe Radha’s pangs as a virahini as vividly as a passionate, forlorn lover.

              We have reached the 16^th century by now, which is when one can safely aver that Radha and Krishna became an inseparable and accepted part of the Indian tradition. This is also the time when Mughal miniature paintings appeared and started circulating the finest polychromatic paper images ever, all over India. The Rajput schools and other genres of miniatures introduced the much-needed visual component to the story of Radha and Krishna. The Bhakti movement was another factor that really propelled the romantic tale and Chaitanya portrayed Radha as the metaphor for yearning “to be one with the lord” — to its fullest. Along with literature, visual arts and religion came the powerful and immensely popular medium of mass communication — the performing arts. Radha and Krishna were, thus, united for ever. We can conclude his brief account of how Krishna arrived nearly one and a half milleniums after the Vedas were first composed and, also noting how Radha took another 13 centuries more — to make it to the top billing position. A bit of history and a minimal sense of sequencing dates and events will easily belie oft-believed, oft-repeated notions of how deities like Radha-Krishna have always been a part of our history and culture for ever — without dates — i,e, sanatan or eternal. We are not demeaning them — we are only clarifying facts so that those who know less may not hijack them, for their own agenda.

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^[1] Amiet, Pierre& 7 others, (1973), Arts Asiatiques, Tome XXVI, Parcourir Les Collections

^[2] Banerjee, P. (1978) The Life of Krishna in Indian Art, National Museum, New Delhi, pg xvi

^[3] Banerjee, S. (1993) Appropriation of a Folk- Heroine, Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla, page 9

^[4] op cit

^[5] Sumanta Banerjee (1993) page 225.

Modi’s invincibility is finally shattered

Modi’s invincibility is finally shattered

By Jawhar Sircar

(Lokmat Times, Nagpur, In English, Hindi, Marathi. 14 Dec 2018)

      When Narendra Modi swept to power May 2014, it was not just incredible, but quite stunning. No single party had won with such a huge majority in thirty years since 1984. The Congress that had won 404 seats in 1984 soon after the assassination of India Gandhi, was down to its lowest ever — just 42 seats. Modi defied poll predictions and had more than doubled the BJP’s earlier tally, to win 282 seats. He had a very impressive 31 percent of the total votes polled and even a section of the Muslims had voted for him. Both the stock markets rose and so did the Indian rupee — in acknowledgement. There is no doubt that the Indian media played a very important hand in building up Modi’s claim and image as the man that India must have. Over a period of two years, it went on a relentless mission, attacking the ruling Congress-UPA government in the severest of terms. After all, 5000 crore rupees that were reportedly spent on the media blitz in favour of Modi and the BJP is surely a lot of money. The corporate sector was clearly on his side as he had hard-sold his image as a business-friendly chief minister for over a dozen years. He turned the social media into his Brahmastra and he used it to full advantage, especially among the youth who were clamouring for a change and for jobs.

             What followed thereafter has been described as ‘disappointing’ by numerous simple Indians who had voted for change and development, and ‘traumatic’ by those who saw the secular constitution and its cherished values of plurality and freedom being trampled upon mercilessly. Though the BJP had avoided issues of Hindu nationalism and direct references to Hindutva in the election campaign, once it was in power, it unleashed a viscous form of right-wing storm-trooping that India had never seen before. After all, the BJP had been in power before, under Vajpayee, but it had not revealed the ugly face of Hindu majoritarianism in this manner. A systematic campaign was undertaken to overwhelm the minorities that was carried through with appropriate excesses, from physical violence to downright manslaughter. What was more disturbing was the impunity with which the perpetrators got away, without retribution. The plot soon became clear that this was ‘state sponsored’, ‘outsourced violence’. Equally distressing were the instant glorification of such unabashed crimes and an eerie total silence from India’s most talkative PM.

            While most of the mainstream media went on mute mode, in the world of social media, rabid trolls and fake news manufacturers captured WhatsApp, Facebook and Twitter, eulogising every act of their infallible leader. Calculated poison was spread about Nehru, Indira and ‘the dynasty’ and this well-financed industry of hate avoided the mainstream media because their claims would be exposed and even legal action could be taken. A CM like Yogi Adityanath, with a long history of criminal cases, spewed more venom and publicly honoured murderous cow vigilante gangs and lumpen kanwariyas. The result was a series of calculated violence and local riots — these keep the cauldron boiling.

           At the national level, it was a one-man show that India had never seen before and narcissism became part of the national policy. Every ministry appeared to be run by the PM and all great benefits to the people were delivered by him alone, as huge public hoardings carrying his smiling face proclaimed. In May this year, an RTI query revealed tht Modi’s government has spent 4,346 crores on upfront publicity and no one can ever guess how much more was wasted by public sector units and public funded organisations to build up  Modi. He appeared on Akashvani once a month to explain to the nation why it was lucky to have him as the PM — and all other radio and TV channels were ‘persuaded’ to carry his memorable speeches. 

            This public-funded personality cult was reinforced by the iron-handed grip of the Modi-Amit Shah duo on the party and the organisation. The unequivocal message was that Modi was invincible, so every one may as well fall in line. Millions actually believed this till very recently. Along with this, all critics, big and small, tasted the quick wrath and brutal raids of the CBI and Income Tax. This sent the second message that Modi was dangerous as Gujarat had found out and so it was best not to contradict or oppose him. Four years have been a terrible period when people actually spoke in hushed whispers, when they dared to speak at all. Every national public institution was packed with his supporters and cheer leaders, and India came the closest to a fascist rule in its 70 years. But then, a democracy of 130 crore people just cannot function without debate and dissent and some brave-hearts rose to the occasion — despite viscous vilification and dire threats, overt and covert. But what mattered more was Modi’s own hubris and it was the sheer arrogance of power that became Modi’s undoing.

         Without the benefit of genuine advice, he embarked on the biggest economic blunder made by any PM since Independence and his most-cherished goal to be remembered for ever will surely come true. With his devastating ‘Demonetisation’, Modi has gone down in history not as a glorious statesman but as the second Muhammad Bin Tughlaq. Small industries and self-earners suffered the most, as did farmers — who voiced their frustration against Modi, even as the better-off classes cowered and dithered. Then Modi announced his rushed-through GST in Parliament at midnight on 1st July 2017 with all his theatrics but it was a poor and pathetic imitation of Nehru’s ‘Tryst With Destiny’ speech that he delivered on the eve of our Independence. GST tied up trade and industry in avoidable knots and tangles that took several months to unscramble, leaving the economy mauled. The people then retaliated and sent a message to Modi, whose party lost by-election after by-election to Parliament. Yet, Modi learnt nothing. Even after the BJP just managed to scrape through the assembly elections in Modi’s own Gujarat, thanks largely due to his hand-picked chief election commissioner, he learnt little. Then, he lost the major state of Karnataka despite relentless campaigning, but his haughtiness grew even more. In lieu of real economic growth, he tampered with GDP figures, and even tried fixing employment figures when he realised that he could not produce the many jobs he had promised          

     

        It is only after he lost the Hindi-belt states of Chattisgarh, Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh, that he has uttered the words “I accept with humility”. We know that he is certainly not sincere and we know that he has sworn to rid India of the main opposition party, but those who are truly wedded to democracy can never wish for a ‘BJP-mukt Bharat’. All we want is that India’s most intolerant PM imbibes just a whiff of democracy in the remaining six months, and that he tries to fulfil even a small part of what he had promised India in 2014.

For the BJP, Sabarimala Is Not a Place of Worship But a Battleground

For the BJP, Sabarimala Is Not a Place of Worship But a Battleground

By Jawhar Sircar

(The Wire, 5^th November, 2018)

Despite the Rs 2900 crore, 182 metre statue of Patel dedicated to India’s unity, not a week passes when the nation is not split down the middle, quite bitterly. Sometimes, it is the lynching of Muslims or Aadhar’s intrusion into our privacy, ‘triple talaq’ or the national flag. The battle of Sabarimala is the latest on the list of rows.

The extensive media coverage notwithstanding, most people may be unaware of the issues central to the Sabarimala controversy. All they see is a large group of women (and men) fighting an obdurate patriarchy resisting the entry of women of all ages into the sacred temple. On the other side, they see a large number of women and men opposing the court-sanctioned right for women in the menstruating age to enter the temple.

Those unfamiliar with the Sabarimala mythology must know that Sabarimala is the name of a hill, and not a god. The god’s name in the narrative at hand is Sastha Ayyappan. Both appellations have interesting contexts to them. The first name – its full form Dharma-Sastha – is a Malayalam term used to refer to the Buddha. It’s widely believed that the original god was Buddhist. Even now, pilgrims in paying homage, chant ‘Sharanam’. The second name Ayyappan, is derived from Ayy, inspired by the oldest Dravidian tradition of Ayyanar, the popular Tamil folk god.

Ayyappan is represented as a thick moustachioed man, keeping vigil outside every village. Wielding an upright sword, he is seated on a horse. So non-Aryan is his lineage that none of the 18 Maha Puranas mention him. But there have been attempts to Brahmanise the tradition, as is evident from a local upa-purana called Bhootanatha-Upakhyanam, lauding his Mahatmya.

This semi-Brahmanised god of the Dravidians has also been appropriated by Nambudiri Brahmans, who entered Kerala in the eighth century. Their mission was to Sanskritise any and everything, from language and culture to temples and worship.

As legend goes, Ayyappan was born out of the union of Shiva and Vishnu, when the latter assumed the seductive feminine form of Mohini. We may recall this in this context Kerala’s famous Mohini Attam, which is recognised as a ‘national classical dance’. Ayyappan’s feats included defeating Mahishasuri, the buffalo demoness, and crushing the dacoit-king Udayanan.

The story goes on to narrate how Ayyappan led his troops in a victory march to Sabarimala temple, climbing the 18 holy steps. On approaching the idol, however, he was miraculously merged with Sastha. The Brahmanisation of Kerala’s most popular folk god was thus completed in one master-stroke. Many customs and rituals around Sastha-Ayyappan, though, still remain non-Sanskritic.

Each year, millions of devotees cutting across class and caste from Kerala and beyond assemble at the foot of the hills. From there, they begin the arduous trek to the temple. Entry is granted for a limited period. That Muslims and Christians are among the pilgrims testifies to the pilgrimage’s inclusive character. In fact, a respected Muslim deity called Vavar resides within the temple premises, to whom all devotees pray. Most pilgrims also make it a point to seek blessings at the nearby Arthunkal church.

Before the landmark Supreme Court verdict, only women above 50 years of age were allowed entry into the temple. Interestingly, a temple at Chengannur near Alapuzha in Kerala houses a goddess who has ‘regular periods’.

On September 28 this year, a five-member bench of the Supreme Court declared that women between 10 and 50 years cannot be barred from entering the temple. Such a ban, the court said, violates Article 25 of the Indian constitution. Surprisingly, Indu Malhotra, the sole woman judge on the bench, dissented with this majority decision.

Though widely welcomed, Sabarimala’s high priests – guruswamis – protested the court decision on the grounds that it violated tradition. Large numbers of Malayali women too protested the decision. They argued that the entry of “menstruating women” would corrupt the purity of Ayyappan, a naishitika brahmachari. Rationalists, however, observe that the same logic can be used to keep men out of the Kanyakumari temple as the devi is a virgin.

Interestingly, the Hindu Right, which celebrated the apex court’s triple talaq judgment for liberating Muslim women, is now protesting the court’s interference in religious practices.

But their claim that this ban was always in effect flies in the face of history. Till the 1940s, women of all ages, if they could withstand the pilgrimage rigour, were allowed to enter the temple.

In 1950, a mysterious fire in the temple paved the way for the entry bar. Even then, women of all ages entered the temple, in small numbers. This continued even after 1965 when rules under the Kerala Hindu Places of Public Worship (Authorisation of Entry) were framed, prohibiting women of all ages from entering the temple.

The genesis of the row, however, can be traced to 1983 when a stone cross was discovered in that area. The Christian community had built a church at Nilakkal near the Mahadev temple. Pluralism and tolerance took a beating as mobs led by the temple priests fought with policemen. The Christian committee voluntarily removed the church.

The issue of women’s entry remained unresolved till as late as 1991. More than two decades later, the Supreme Court has reversed an earlier Kerala high court order retaining the ban. Notwithstanding the logic behind the decision, the court order has given the BJP a window to scramble into Kerala. The party’s attempts to enter Kerala’s political arena through the front door had come to nought.

Nominated Rajya Sabha member Swapan Dasupta has recently castigated the judiciary as “a self-perpetuating unelected oligarchy”. He criticised the Supreme Court for bowing to “cosmopolitan wisdom” and “the diktats of modernity”. The court has “mechanically directed radical change on a Hindu culture that is both eternal and constantly adaptive,” said Dasgupta. Delivering a veiled threat, the MP has held the court responsible for “a hardening of attitudes”.

Following the court’s order, the temple opened for just one week for its monthly worship. There will be a fresh challenge to implement the court order when the temple opens on November 6 and 7 for the Sree Chithra Atta Thirunal, and then again from November 16 to  December 27, for the Mandala Pooja. After a two-day break, the temple will remain open from December 30 to January 14 for the Makara Vilakku Mahotsavam.

Last week’s provocative statements by BJP leaders at Kannur, in the presence of party president Amit Shah, were aimed at riling up the party base. Shah publicly called upon party workers to defy India’s highest court. It may be argued that even more ominous have been the recent frequent references to Ayodhya. We can only pray that the Sabarimala temple issue is not turned into an ‘Ayodhya dispute of the South’.

The BJP must clarify to the people of Kerala and to the women of India its plans for Sabarimala – as the temple doors open in November. On the other hand, those determined to execute the order would do well to keep the BJP’s track record in mind. They must remember that the party will leave no stone unturned to use the Sabarimala row to its own electoral advantage.

(Please Click Here to read the article of The Wire’s Website )

Private Prejudice as Public Policy is Displacing Teen Murti's Most Revered Resident

Private Prejudice as Public Policy is Displacing Teen Murti's Most Revered Resident

By Jawhar Sircar

(November 2, 2018, The Wire)

When the former prime minister, who is known for his strict economy with words, writes a long letter – one of his rare ones – to his rather over-articulate successor, one assumes that the matter must be important. The letter I refer to is dated August 24, 2018, in which Manmohan Singh expresses deep concern at the move, initiated obviously at Narendra Modi’s behest, to change the character of the Nehru Museum Memorial and Library (NMML) from a memorial to Jawaharlal Nehru to one for “all PMs”.

India has had a total of 14 prime ministers, including Modi – and three among them are alive. Some spent just a few months in office which, frankly, did not permit them to make a mark on history. The plan that is underway, however, appears to literally ‘crowd out’ the memory of India’s first prime minister from the very precincts that were his home for 16 long years, right up to his death in 1964. It is reported that Rs 280 crore have been promised, just for starters. As the former culture secretary who liaised with NMML and is aware of the ground realities, one knows what great difficulties have to be surmounted in securing additional funding under the existing system.

However, before we take up Manmohan Singh’s insistence that “the museum must retain its primary focus on Jawaharlal Nehru and the freedom movement”, let us go over the facts. The Nehru Memorial Museum is set in a large campus that was built in 1930 to accommodate the residence of the commander of the British Empire’s army in India. It remains today one of the few patches of greenery that is left within the gasping lungs of Delhi. The premises, perhaps, constitute one of the handful of unspoilt, well maintained public spaces in Delhi that are actually open to the common citizen.

Several publications have celebrated the memorial’s numerous species of ancient trees and the fascinating variety of birds that populate the campus. In fact, the ‘nature walks’ and ‘heritage tours’ that NMML organises within these grounds offer unforgettable treats to so many children and young men and women each year. The building itself is a handsome piece of Regency architecture that does not scream for attention like some neo-classical edifices do. Yet it does not fail to command a quiet dignity with its simple white and pink stone and stucco elegance. Designed and executed in 1930 by Robert Tor Russell, the same architect who presented Delhi with the imposing, signature buildings of Connaught Circus, this ‘Flagstaff House’ (as it was called) dared to break free from the almost ‘Soviet uniformity’ and boredom of plain, white shoe-box buildings of the Lutyens’ zone, that had a tiny portico and some faux pillars thrown in, for effect.

Its appellation ‘Teen Murti’ or ‘three statues’ refers to the very prominent landmark in the traffic island in front of its main gate – three Indian soldiers who face three different directions as their backs rest against a pointed obelisk. They symbolise Indian soldiers from the three largest princely states of Jodhpur, Hyderabad and Mysore who fought in the First World War. It was created by British sculptor Leonard Jennings and was installed eight years before ‘Flagstaff House’ was up.

Returning to the main campus, we have an impressive museum but what has assisted generations of serious researchers of colonial and post-colonial India is the enviable library. It has nearly three lakh books and two lakh photographs and it also houses a mind-boggling archive. Among its treasures are more than 1,200 collections of  ‘papers’ of Gandhi, Rajaji, G.D. Birla, P.N. Haksar and even Savarkar and Golwalkar who really need serious and dispassionate evaluation. There is a wealth of really useful microfilms and microfiches that scholars can access for priceless historical materials. In 1964, President Radhakrishnan was made chairman of the Jawaharlal Nehru Memorial Fund that offers fellowships and scholarships and this fund is also located in the campus. Till recently, NMML was a buzzing hub of open discussion and free debate under Mahesh Rangarajan, its former director, and speakers could criticise the government of the day, without fearing income-tax raids or dirty trolls.

Rangarajan resigned in 2015, soon after the constitution of a new executive council (EC) of the NMML as he realised it was impossible to function normally when the 14th prime minister of India, who is also president of the NMML Society, constantly gunned for the first prime minister, in whose memory this institution was set up. He was certainly not willing to be an accomplice in plans that are palpably opposed to the NMML Society’s Memorandum of Association and rules. The chairman of the new EC, Lokesh Chandra, started the ball rolling by raising publicly a rather foxy concern: “Why should the Nehru Memorial remember only Nehru?” We are not sure what the vice chairman, M.J. Akbar said, just as we are not sure if he is still there or whether he has resigned. Nor do we know what the world’s lone Oxbridge apologist for the Hindu Right, Swapan Dasgupta, had to say. But then a fatuous query made by Chandra obviously amazed people, many of who had earlier held him in high regard for his contribution to Buddhist iconography and Vedic studies.

The symbolic dwarfing of ‘Nehru’s memorial’ is obviously meant to tell the nation who runs the country and on what terms.

In sharp contrast to Modi’s institutionalised meanness, we note Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s class, when he went into raptures to describe Pandit Nehru after his death – and Singh has reminded Modi about it. Vajpayee called Nehru “that vibrant personality, that attitude of taking even the opposition along, that refined gentlemanliness, that greatness we may not again see in the near future.” This eloquent praise hurts his party man Modi the most, for while he kissed the steps of parliament in grand theatrical style before cameras, he has never betrayed for a moment any fondness for the institutions of parliamentary democracy.

The way Modi reacts to the very name ‘Nehru’ is not normal, to say the least, and not a month has passed in the past 56 when he has not dragged Panditji out of his eternal rest at Shanti Vana, to punch him around, for any reason that strikes him. Psychologists and those in allied professions can give their diagnoses, but for us, it becomes a real problem when private prejudice masquerades as public policy – with the exchequer funding the spews that emanate.

Singh reminded Modi that Nehru had spent ten long years in jail during the freedom struggle, that “no amount of revisionism can obliterate that role and his contributions”. This perhaps touches a raw nerve of those who stayed far away from the national movement, like the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), which is the father of the party that currently runs the government. In fact, it is from the RSS that Modi rose, but equally important is the fact that his ‘guru’ and the ideologue of Hindutva, V.D. Savarkar of the Hindu Mahasabha did go to jail. What the Hindutva brigade can never live down is that Savarkar actually begged and pleaded with the British to release him at any cost, exposing his real character, as contrasted with, say, Gandhi, Nehru and the countless other patriots. Yet it is Savarkar’s followers who never cease to flaunt their ‘ultra-nationalism’ and terrorise others with excesses that obviously mask the fact that they were nowhere when ordinary Satyagrahis followed Gandhiji through the merciless batons and bullets. Modi must surely be conscious of the selfless sacrifice that Nehru made and this rankles him even more.

We have also no idea whether the NMML Society that is chaired by the prime minister has taken the final decision, as the public domain gives us no clue. If the PM had the courtesy of replying to his predecessor’s letter, the press would know first of course, but we would hear his stand on the issue. So, in the absence of a clear declaration from NMML, lesser mortals have to assume that “it has been decided” that Nehru has had enough of adulation from the nation. There is a bit of evidence that we shall discuss soon, but it is clear that Nehru should now share his glory with ten other dear, departed prime ministers. If we exclude from this list those like Lal Bahadur Shastri and Indira Gandhi, who already have well-visited memorials in Delhi. If it is only about a memorial, then we may recall that almost all deceased prime ministers have one, a sthal near Rajghat in Delhi in their name. Many have memorials in their honour in other cities, like Morarji Desai’s in Ahmedabad and Narasimha Rao’s in Hyderabad. Besides, does it not make better sense to have other more useful institutions in their name in towns associated with them, like, say a university of advanced agricultural sciences named after Charan Singh in Meerut.

The leaders ‘from the opposition’ (not ‘of the opposition’, since the present regime did not have the grace to permit one) are, of course, being assured that decisions would be on a consensus basis. But the website of NMML mentions that it wants “Expressions of interest” from competent parties to instal digital displays for the Prime Ministers’ Museum. Let us introduce some humour at this stage by asking readers to make sense of this vexatious piece of bureaucratese on the Nehru Memorial’s website that reads:

“Notice for limited tender enquiry for supply installation and commissioning of large multi-user tangible table and standalone transparent digital display with interactive digital content with software and hardware components integrating exhibition content and the final testing commissioning of the complete product along with warranty specifications for a special exhibition as part of the new museum project on prime ministers of India…”.

Whew! No comma, semi-colon, full stop. The short point, nevertheless, is that steps are underway to execute a project for “all prime ministers of India” within the present Nehru memorial. While committees and sub-committees may decide “how best to remember all of them”, the question is why destroy a developed campus and an institution that was brought up with love and care by some of India’s most distinguished sons and daughters? It is learnt that the current regime plans to devastate the unique back lawns, as it would not dare to build a building in front of the stately present one. This would surely destroy the skyline, serenity and gravitas of NMML forever, with a new CPWD-construction that are usually unimaginative eyesores.

It is unrealistic, however, to expect the ‘Amar-Chitra-Katha’ educated intellectuals of the Hindutva brigade to ever replicate the treasures of either the library or the archives of NMML in their proposed “Prime Ministers Memorial” – which could, actually, be built anywhere. For instance, one side of the famous octagon around India Gate does not have a worthy public building. But the regime appears hell-bent on damaging what already exists in Nehru’s name and the veritable ‘go slow’ at present in enriching the library, the archives and the digitisation project is just an example. After all, the favourite strategy of the ‘short’ banal, who just cannot stand excellence, has always been ‘cut the tall’. They are, poor souls, acutely conscious of their in-built inadequacies to reach the much-desired heights. As Singh put it “Jawaharlal Nehru belongs not just to the Congress, but to the entire nation”. Vajpayee, however, went a step ahead and rued that “such a resident may never grace Teen Murti ever again”.

(Please Click Here to read article on The Wire's Website)

Durga Puja – Bengal’s Cultural Magna Carta

Durga Puja – Bengal’s Cultural Magna Carta

By Jawhar Sircar

(The Wire, 18^th October, 2018)

During Durga Puja, the indomitable spirit and irrepressible energies of Bengalis literally burst forth, holding normal life to ransom. The spirit of festivity surrounds us as hundreds and thousands of gaily-decorated pandals – those magnificent creations made of bamboo, cloth, plywood and imagination – come up everywhere. They house the mammoth but exquisitely sculpted figures of Durga and her family, and the whole neighbourhood is transformed into a wonderland of lights, animation and music that the organisers conjure.

This is, incidentally, when the rest of India observes Navaratri, the nine holy nights and days of piety, restraint, fasts and vegetarianism. Bengalis, on the other hand, led by their Brahmanical class, revel in strict non-vegetarianism, gorging voraciously on mutton, chicken and fish in enormous quantities.

But why did the Bengalis splurge on Durga when they had 33 crore deities to choose from? Here is the story most miss out on. We need to view broad-spectrum ‘state deities’ like Bengal’s Durga or Odisha’s Jagannath not so much as gods but as platforms that offered recognition to aspirational classes for having ‘arrived’. While the basic character of the deity remains apparently unchanged over centuries, its innate flexibility permits contending socio-political groups to take turns in sharing power, without painful breaks. Since the deity itself is the fountainhead of ‘legitimacy’, the very association with its worship confers on the ‘new class’ that celebrates it, social or political ‘legitimacy’. Above all, it ensures a smooth linkage with the rest of the populace. In other words, the deity is itself a ‘grand treaty’ or a ‘Magna Carta’ of that state or region that everyone respects.

Where Bengal’s Durga is concerned, we need to go back in time, but not too much, as nothing that is truly ‘Bengali’ can boast of history beyond six-and-a-half-centuries or so. The Bengali language got its act together in the 15th century, with most of its present alphabets and its grammar and syntax in position. Its very signature accent must also have come up by then. The first batch of literature produced by Brahmans and the comprador Vaidyas and Kayasthas were actually verses on Krishna, not on Durga or Kali.

We get the first ‘net practice’ played by three ‘upper castes’ during this phase and this trio of castes were the ones that emerged a couple of centuries later, as the powerful bhadralok or Hindu gentry. What is more significant in the history of literature is that the first major genre, the Mangal-Kavyas, were downright anti-Puranic. These balladic poems were composed mainly by impoverished rural Brahmans, who must surely have panicked as large numbers of common people preferred the Sufi variety of Islam.

These Mangal-Kavyas were sung by professional kavis to goggle-eyed villagers over several evenings (18, 24 or 36 of them) about how their local non-Aryan, non-Brahmanic gods and goddesses like Dharma (a Sanskritised Austric name), Manasa and Chandi defeated, yes defeated, the mighty Puranic deities like Durga and Shiva. The Hindu elite must have squirmed as Durga 1.0 lost out, but it worked, as large numbers of subaltern castes moved to this new user-friendly brand of Hinduism. Chaitanya’s caste-less Vaishnava faith also appealed to the masses but soon after his death in 1533, the six Goswamis of Vrindavan who took over the movement, practically ‘re-introduced’ casteism in medieval Bengal. Incidentally, the present position is that of the 25 to 27 crore Bengali-speaking people who live in Bangladesh and India, two-thirds are Muslims – a fact that is hardly mentioned.

Durga version 2.0

It is in this background that we need to understand the installation of Durga version 2.0 – which blipped on the screen during Jehangir’s rule from 1605. It is he, more than Akbar, who was really successful in occupying the Eastern core of Bangladesh, and it is he who employed local Hindu Brahmins for the first time since Muslim rule in Bengal began in 1202. This empowered a few Hindu zamindars in economic terms and it was one of them, Raja Kansa Narayan of Taherpur who is reported to have celebrated Durga Pujas in 1610 – as a public token of gratitude and a show of his power and pomp. Bhabananda Majumdar of Nadia followed, as did other Brahman zamindars who had enough earnings to make their presence felt.

What was critical to the first Hindu ‘nobility’ was the patronage of Jehangir and Shah Jahan, who were a bit fed up with deadly intra-Muslim rivalries in their courts and in Bangla Subah as well. After all, the first four centuries under the Muslim sultans of Bengal had ‘dried’ up wealth and power from Hindu landlords and hence, we get not a single temple of consequence being built in Bengal in this period of 400 years.

A new wave of Durga Pujas

Aurangzeb was, however, made of different stuff but he relied heavily on his Muslim Dewan of Bangla, Murshid Quli Khan, to provide him with endless funds to finance his perennial wars in the Deccan. As soon as he died in 1707, Mushid Quli declared his independence, from Murshidabad. What is interesting is that he encouraged Hindu zamindars like Lakshmi Kanta Majumdar, leading to a new wave of Durga Pujas in Bengal. The first two phases of pujas in the 17th and 18th century were definitely expressions of elitism – with a lot of imaginative social engineering built into it.

The Bengali Durga accommodated the pressure from the folk that insisted on visualising her as a good ‘mother’ with a happy ‘family’. Kartik and Ganesh had been created as Durga’s sons much earlier by the Shiva Purana and the Skanda Purana and had already made their ‘guest appearance’ in Bengal. This is evident in the 11th-12th-century icons found at Naogaon in Rajshahi and Comilla’s Dakshin Muhhamadpur, where they stand next to Durga. But Lakshmi and Saraswati were a bit problematic as Lakshmi is actually ‘older’ than Durga in the troubled linear history of Brahmanism. Additionally, Saraswati was already Brahma’s daughter, but the Bengalis made her Durga’s without the formality of an adoption certificate. They got away with it, as there were neither the ‘Succession Act’ nor hassles like Aadhaar cards.

But even when conceding to mass demands, the zamindars would insist on their warrior goddess – as her power is what they prayed for – and she had been in full battle regalia. And then came the next very-Bengali variation, which is in pursuance of the genetically-induced principle of ‘differing with Hindustan’. Surprising as it sounds, up-country Indians of the Ganga-Yamuna belt were always referred to by Bengalis as ‘Hindustanis’, just as all who are from the south are surely ‘Madrasis’.

Bengalis take their urge to be different very seriously and for the last 51 years, they have invariably voted governments to power that were opposed vehemently to whoever ruled the Centre. The only exception was in the 1970s, when Siddhartha Sankar Ray ruled, with healthy musclemen and trigger-happy policemen. Differ they must – thus when India celebrates Diwali as ‘the festival of lights’, Bengalis pray to the black goddess of darkness, Kali. There are many more, but let us get back to the odd situation thus created by Durga’s ‘family’, affectionately called the Saparivarey Durga – that is not seen anywhere else in India.

The oddities have, mercifully, not been noticed by the loudly argumentative people, but many often wonder why Kartik, the warrior-god, looks away while his mother fights her life and death battle. The other children are also blissfully detached in their mother’s battle with that terrible Mahishasura, aren’t they? The reason is that these four were very ‘local’ extrapolations that have not been assigned any role by the Puranas, but had to be there or else Durga 2.0 may also have flopped. The patriarchy of the Brahmans and zamindars also needed to introduce their own anomaly, to display their ‘Bengali genius’ and we land into another mess. A belligerent goddess is all right for zamindars to draw their strength and social legitimacy from – but she may give wrong ideas of ‘supremacy’ and ‘autonomy’ to womankind. Durga’s ‘family paradigm’ suited Bengal’s patriarchy, which ‘permitted’ images of Bengal’s Durga to be crafted with her indifferent children by her side – because children were constant reminders that ‘motherhood’ is more important to women than the beastly and dangerous business of war.

Post-Plassey Durga

Then came the Battle of Plassey where Muslim rule ended for all practical purposes and many ‘far-sighted’ upper caste Bengalis switched to Lord Clive. The next hundred and fifty years from 1757 were a dream run for the ‘loyal’ Bengali babus and Durga became their mascot. Ambitious bhadraloks like Nabakrishna Deb and Krishnachandra Ray made their fabulous fortunes and this post-Plassey Durga 3.0 ensured that several of the regulations that the new British rulers made went in their favour. All the way to the Permanent Settlement of 1793 and well beyond. Families rose and fell but the institution of zamindari was at its peak and their pomp and splendour were reflected through ostentatious Durga Puja celebrations. ‘Nautch girls’ from Delhi-Agra-Lucknow were brought in to entertain their British guests who graced the palaces of the fawning, nouveau riche babus, where wines flowed freely and dance ‘numbers’ and mountains of food were heaped on the tables. Commoners gaped in sheer awe at all the splendour.

The choice of the imperial lion for Durga was problematic in Bengal as no sculptor or artist had even seen one. A sherawali mata or a vyaghra–vahini devi would have been easier as this Durga rides a tiger – and Bengalis knew what this beast looked like. The result was that the ‘lion’ beneath the classic Bengali Durga actually turned out to be an animal that was a caricature between a horse and other quadrupeds, but certainly not a lion.

It was only when the first lion arrived in the Calcutta zoo in 1886 that the lion-looking lion first appeared. Aristocratic families who have worshipped Durga on the strange horse-like character, however, insist that tradition is more important and still refuse to bring in a lion-like creature. A word about the buffalo as well. These swarthy creatures occupied the lowest swampy regions and it became essential to drive them away and, where required, kill them, so that wet paddy could grow better – and give more rent to the zamindars. This explains why of all gods, it was Mahishasura-Mardini Durga, she who killed the buffalo-demon, who was invoked.

Let us return to the post-Plassey Durga-worshipping Bengali elite that kept strengthening its new hegemony, both economic and political. This class practically drove away from the previously-powerful indigenous gods and goddess, but on reviewing their own Durga 3.0, they felt it needed to be more feminine and more Sanskritic. This is when more Sanskritic themes like vatsalya or love and affection (for one’s children and juniors) entered the scene. The mighty Durga was then visualised as the ‘daughter’ of Menaka and Giriraj and the last four days of Navaratri became the annual homecoming of daughter Durga.

This clicked at the box office of faith as nothing before or after and to the Bengalis, she is still their daughter, so full of madhurya (tenderness). It is in her honour that the best of food is ‘served’ and eaten, as Durga’s children frolic to their nana nani. But Shiva is nowhere in sight, which is nothing to worry about – this happens with many an Indian son-in-law. The irony of how Durga dragged the carcass of the buffalo-demon to her mother’s home is, however, not missed out by a 19th-century poet like Dasarathi Ray, whose Menaka screams:

“Oh, Giri! Where is my daughter, Uma?

Who have you brought into my courtyard?

Who is this ferocious female warrior?”

Rishi Chandra Ray also echoes Menaka’s sentiment:

“Giri, who is this woman in my house?

She cannot be my darling Uma,

This terrifying ten-armed woman!”

But, by then, Hegelian anti-theses were also in action as a new bourgeoisie had quietly grown under the patronage of the British. It was a quirk of fate that British traders had to install a nouveau feudalism in Bengal even after the French Revolution had spelt the end of the ancien regime in Europe. From the 1830s, we get reports from contemporary newspapers like the Samachar Darpan and the Calcutta Courier that several traders associations and groups of commoners had also started organising their own brand of Durga Pujas, through public collections.

Durga 4.0 of the new middle class

Here, piety mattered more than pomp, but then politics could hardly miss this chance. The success of Bal Gangadhar Tilak’s public celebration of Ganesh Chaturthi – converting a private puja into an event that drew masses closer to his politics of nationalism was not missed out by Bengalis. Thus, when the Congress session was held in Kolkata in 1910, a full-fledged public or sarvojanin celebration of Durga Puja was also organised. Durga 4.0 had arrived. This is when the Tagore-inspired rite of kola-kuli (hugging friends, relations and even strangers) was introduced, and the colourful ritual of sindoor-khela (married women smearing each other’s faces with red vermillion) came in. The new middle-class built its own model and never looked back – as soon community worship and feasts brought in more solidarity among them.

Since then, thousands of such sarvojanin pujas cropped up all over the state in the 20th century – overshadowing the zamindari pujas that were limping as fates changed. For a hundred years, these celebrations encouraged the flowering of numerous cultural activities, from the best of modern literature that was made available through many highly-affordable ‘puja magazines’ to scintillating music that was specially produced for the season, with many others in between. As competition for attention and honour drove the organisers, novelty and experimentation reached a new frenzy. Images of Durga were crafted in every medium possible – from betel-nuts and glass bangles to nuts and bolts – in fact, anything. Kolkatans have thus seen every wonder of the world as huge pandals were skilfully designed to look like the Taj Mahal or the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower. Even the Titanic has featured as a puja pandal, as have the Twin Towers.

Mamata Banerjee brings in Durga 5.0

At the turn of the century, however, a new battle gripped Bengal. Mamata Banerjee was desperately looking for ‘fighting power’ at the grassroots or trinamool level, to take on the mighty Marxists. The latter’s grip was visible everywhere for three long decades and more and this was most felt at the ‘locality level’ where powerful local committees ruled quite unchallenged. She fraternised intensely with local clubs that slowly gravitated to her, as she spoke their language in their accent. The Left’s binary ‘haves versus have-nots’ soon became the new desperate subaltern’s ‘haves versus must-haves’ – with no holds barred. This Durga 5.0 helped bring the ‘lowest denominators’ to power in 2011 – demonstrating convincingly to the Left Front that their ‘working class’ was actually very middle class, limited to the better-off organised factory workers and government clerks.

This phase also brought in unabashed commercialisation into the celebrations, along with unheard-of money power and political patronage. Local councillors of urban bodies and panchayat functionaries in the rural areas strengthened their ‘rule’ by patronising almost every Durga Puja in their ‘raj’ and by ‘inaugurating’ every pandal possible. The chief minister personally has inaugurated a very large number of puja venues, spread over several days. Even a five-minute halt at a venue can surely send the ‘right signals’ to local policemen and officials ‘to cooperate’. It is no wonder that advertising companies have ‘bought’ up everything that is visible, except garbage. Billboards as high as two to three storeys are erected along every prominent road and lane, blocking out light and air for weeks, and the countless ad-filled gates, banners, festoons and standees only enhance Kolkata’s claustrophobia. In the face of this politically-backed Durga 5.0, the Durga 4.0 of the better educated middle class has quietly vacated the arena and moved to apartment buildings and ‘housing estates’. Here, warmth and social bonding are still valued over ostentation and display of political might.

The state government of ‘Bangla’ has stepped in with ‘legitimacy’ in the form of ‘assistance’ to local clubs and some 700 crore rupees have reportedly been spent from its coffers. This year, another 28 crore is being doled out to some 28,000 puja clubs at a flat rate of 10,00 rupees per club. This is rather interesting, as the puja budget of some of these wealthy clubs run into dozens of crores of rupees. One pandal has displayed a chariot made of 20 tons of silver, that is 60 feet high and 40 feet wide. It is, perhaps, this chariot that Banerjee hopes may finally take her to Delhi next year, in her true grand theatrical style.

(Please Click Here to readthe article on ‘The Wire’s” Website)