Book Review
Name of the Book: Sacred Kerala—A Spiritual Journey
Author: Dominique-Sila Khan
Publisher: Penguin, New Delhi, 2009
Reviewed by: Yoginder Sikand
The southern Indian state of Kerala has a unique population mix. A little less than half of Kerala’s inhabitants are Hindus, who belong to various castes. The rest are Muslims and Christians, in roughly equal number, and a miniscule number of Jews, who form India’s oldest Jewish community. In contrast to much of north India, inter-community relations in Kerala have always been fairly harmonious, although the situation is beginning to change today. At the popular level, economic and social ties and inter-dependence between Kerala’s different religious communities have given birth to a strong sense of Malayali identity that transcends religious boundaries. This has been facilitated by the use of the Malayalam language by all of the state’s communities as well as a long-standing tradition of religious overlapping or shared religious identities, which is what this fascinating book is all about.
Published in The Friday Times (May 22 issue)
Raza Rumi discusses a new book on Sufism by Sadia Dehlvi
Getting a visa to India is a nightmare for ordinary mortals. My application was not very politely returned last month with technical objections. It was only when a letter from Harper Collins arrived that the High Commission rather efficaciously allowed me to enter enemy territory, that too with special instructions that cantonments were out of bounds. I guess the South Asian officialdoms have yet to discover that Google Earth has permanently altered the shape of boundaries and secrecy.
By PANKAJ MISHRA (NYT) reviews an interesting book that I must read.
Visiting India in 1921, E. M. Forster witnessed the eight-day celebration of Lord Krishna’s birthday. This first encounter with devotional ecstasy left the Bloomsbury aesthete baffled. “There is no dignity, no taste, no form,” he complained in a letter home. Recoiling from Hindu India, Forster was relieved to enter the relatively rational world of Islam. Describing the muezzin’s call at the Taj Mahal, he wrote, “I knew at all events where I stood and what I heard; it was a land that was not merely atmosphere but had definite outlines and horizons.”
Author Wendy Doniger, Professor of the History of Religions, University of Chicago’s Divinity School , writes on this blog about her new work. This new work further consolidates the view that much of the now politically packaged Hinduism was actually a product of colonial scholarship in the ninteenth centruy.
The Battle over Hindu History
For years, some Hindus have argued that the 16th century mosque called the Babri Masjid (after the Mughal emperor Babur) was built over a temple commemorating the birthplace of Rama (an avatar of the god Vishnu) in Ayodhya (the city where, according to the ancient poem called the Ramayana, Rama was born), though there is no evidence whatsoever that there has been ever a temple on that spot or that Rama was born there.
My friend IK has reminded me of W.H. Auden's poem “Partition,” published in 1966. These moving verses highlight the absurdity of the way the border was created sixty two years ago:
Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,
Having never set eyes on the land he was called to partition
Between two peoples fanatically at odds,
With their different diets and incompatible gods.
“Time,” they had briefed him in London, “is short. It’s too late
For mutual reconciliation or rational debate:
The only solution now lies in separation.
The Viceroy thinks, as you will see from his letter,
That the less you are seen in his company the better,
So we’ve arranged to provide you with other accommodation.
We can give you four judges, two Moslem and two Hindu,
To consult with, but the final decision must rest with you.”
Yoginder Sikand writing at DNA
South-central Sindh isn’t quite a favourite holiday destination, but I spent a fortnight there while on a vacation in Pakistan. My host was the amiable, 70 year-old Khurshid Khan Kaimkhani, a noted leftist activist, author of the only book on Pakistan’s almost 3 million Dalits. Along with a friend, he edits the only Dalit magazine in the entire country.
Khurshid met me at the railway station in Hyderabad, Sindh’s largest city after Karachi. We drove to his small farm, on the outskirts of his hometown of Tando Allah Yar, a two hour bus-ride ahead. Several Bhil families live on the farm. “They are like my own family,” Khurshid says as Baluji, a tall, handsome Bhil man, manager of the farm, welcomes us in with a tight embrace.
This piece entitled, My Name is Green, published in the weekly Outlook India traces how "forged in the cultural ferment of a century ago, Islamic poster art in India thrived on the frontiers of taboo." The author is Shruti Ravindran, who has obviously undertaken a lot of research and also published some great samples of such posters. That Islam in South Asia acquired and adapted the local flavour and modes of social and spiritual interaction is well known.
While reading this piece, I also recalled seeing similar eclectic posters in Pakistan in my childhood before the puritanism of General Zia ul Haq engulfed the country and Wahabi variant of an exclusive and suspicious man made 'faith' deepened its presence, well at least in the public domain of representation.
This piece looks at some of these aspects through the popular art form. Read and enjoy - full text has been posted below courtesy the intelligent Outlook.
Recently, I was asked to help a friend with the original text of Bulleh Shah's Hindu na Na heen Musalmaan. I found the original Punjabi and also found two other pieces that I am posting here.
Bulleh Shah's poetry addresses most maladies that we face in this day and age.
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HiNdu na naheeN musalmaan,
Baheeye tiranjan taj abhimaan.
Sunni na naheeN ham sheeya
Sulha kuhl ka maarag leeya.
Bhookhe na naheeN ham rahje,
NaNge na naheeN ham kahje.
RoNde na naheeN ham hasde
UjaRe na naheeN ham vasde.
Paapi na sudharmi na,
Paap pun ki raah na jaanaaN.
Bulhe Shah jo hari chit laage,
Hindu turak doojan tiyaage
Neither Hindu nor Muslim,
Sacrificing pride, let us sit together.
Neither Sunni nor Shia,
Let us walk the road of peace.
We are neither hungry nor replete,
Neither naked nor covered up.
Neither weeping nor laughing,
Neither ruined nor settled,
We are not sinners or pure and virtuous,
What is sin and what is virtue, this I do not know.
Says Bulhe Shah, one who attaches his self with the lord.
Gives up both hindu and muslim.
Indian Muslims Blog is now two years old. The IM team have compiled the best articles published at the blog in 2007. Shameless as it sounds, one of my guest articles - Journeying into Mysticism is included in the category. As the editor Mohib, said the "colorful downloadable pdf file is worth reading for the diversity of views and opinions. IM blog team has been most kind to allow me to occasionally contribute to the space. In the process I have learnt a lot about the country and its Muslim population. But most importantly, I have found a few good friends from Lucknow, Kakori, Bhopal, and Bihar among other places. wah wah, kiya kehnay blogosphere ke...
To blow my own little trumpet in this seamless and infinite blogosphere, here is my piece for those readers who may not have read it earlier.
Journeying into mysticism
I turn my face towards the monsoon breeze and lament that I'm in Delhi for work. How will I manage the sightseeing agenda? The faint scent of champa flowers seems hauntingly familiar and I am reminded of Lahore. Despite my efforts, visa hassles and my non-Indo-Pak-peace-brigade status have prevented this journey from materialising for years. Driving through Delhi at night, I almost start the litany of superficial judgments but stop for fear of falling into the abyss of cliches. Nevertheless, I cannot help but notice the images of exotic India, or the official Incredible India. Yes, incredible is the word.
The Maurya Sheraton hotel is a haven of comfort totally removed from the real Delhi world. This is what I resent about luxury hotels in developing countries: the sense of disconnectedness, the ultimate denial of what lies beneath. Maurya is packed with party-hoppers as there is a huge weekend bash at the hotel. The Delhi party-goers are far more free-spirited than the Pakistani lot. They appear at ease with what they wear and do, and conduct themselves in a remarkably unselfconscious manner. The hotel driver, Uttam Ram, warned me that the 'real' India is different, that this crowd is too Westernised and the influence of Bollywood is to be blamed. . . but how can I agree? I live on Bollywood myself. The journey has been too long and that first night in Delhi, I crash on the huge four-poster bed. I am not a party boy after all!
Sunday morning passes in work - yes, I work on Sundays and have often thought of killing myself for accepting such terms in my mortal life. After an afternoon nap, I wake up to a sense of regret for having wasted a day in Dilli. I get in touch with Sadia Dehalvi, hoping for her company during my visit to Nizamuddin Auliya's tomb. She is already planning to go there and we plan to meet a little before sunset.
I reach Mathura Road in an hour and soon find myself wading through its distinctly medieval ambience: labyrinthine alleys, crowds of beggars and street-vendors, a bazaar mood. To my delight, I spot a sign pointing towards Ghalib's mazaar . This is a traditionally Muslim area: there are several signs offering Umra packages and most signs are in Urdu. The stereotype of suffering Indian Muslims gains currency here. I try not to notice all that and walk around until I find Ghalib's mazaar . Having being fixated on Ghalib and his poetry for the better part of my life, I am a little disappointed by the matter-of-factness of the place. Even though the tomb has recently been renovated after a court order, it is quite low-key. Nevertheless, the area retains a unique atmosphere and the building itself is somewhat alluring. Near it is the Ghalib Academy, but I rush to Nizamuddin's dargah and follow the scent of desi roses until I find my way to the tomb.
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,
and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
(translation by Tagore)
Fifteenth century India witnessed the coming of age of a process that started brewing with the arrival of Central Asian Sufis who accompanied or followed the invaders from Asia Minor. When Sufi thought, an off-shore spiritual undercurrent to the rise of Islam, met its local hosts, the results were terrific. There was no shortage of fundamentalists and communalists in that cultural landscape; and the gulf between alien rulers and the native subjects was a stark reality as well.
Nevertheless, a synthesis of sorts was navigated by hundreds of yogis, Sufis and poets of India. Very much a people's movement from the below, Bhakti movement articulated a powerful vision of tolerance, amity and co-existence that is still relevant. This is many centuries before the suave, western educated intelligentsia coined the 'people-to-people' contact campaigns. Yes, much has been lost in the tumultuous twentieth century and perhaps the histories and nation states rhetoric are also irreversible. But common ground remains.
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Muslim societies can learn from the plurality of race and religions in Malaysia says Raza Rumi
A few days spent in Malaysia are enough to dispel many myths about Muslim intolerance that are projected and reinforced by Western media and pop culture. An economic miracle of the 1980s, branded as the Asian tiger and vision personified by the iron-man Mahathir, Malaysia is a heart-warming testament to plurality and co-existence within the Islamic framework. Malaysia's 25 million strong population – modest by Pakistani standards – is a baffling mix of Malay, Chinese, Indian, Ibans and Kadazandusuns, among others.While the Malays constitute a marginal majority (over 50 per cent) of the total population and practice Islam quite seriously, the other groups enjoy full freedom to believe and live according to their own faiths.
Kuala Lumpur's landscape is dotted with mosques, temples and churches and there seems to be little tension. Admittedly, economic progress over the last two decades underwrites much of this success; yet this cannot be attributed to economic reasons alone. Leadership has played a vital role in instilling the sense of national pride and vision among all the races and religions in Malaysia. The country gained independence a decade after Pakistan and was poorer than most developing countries, yet Mahathir's twenty-year rule transformed the former British colony and increased levels of prosperity beyond belief. Its economic development aside, Malaysia's recent cultural development carries important lessons for Muslim states and societies.
Surprisingly, little is said in the Muslim world about the Malaysian practice of Islam. Calls for levying jizya in Pakistan on non-Muslims are all too common. One only has to see how many Christian and other minority professionals have emigrated to the West to realise the loss of diversity and human capital that Pakistan has suffered. In Malaysia, the societal contributions of Christians, Buddhists and Hindus are accepted.
