Yours Whimsically - Part 17: Uncomfortable Questions (Part 2)

It is not possible to comprehensively write about all aspects which make up an individual's identity with my limited understanding, experience and worldview. All I am doing here is to write about two aspects which I find 'muse-worthy'. 

Mt. Kailas is said to be the abode of Shiva and hence, holds special significance to Hindus. It is considered holy even in Jain and Buddhist traditions, probably because they are off-shoots of the Hindu faith. For the religious, it is the ultimate place to be. Irrespective of convictions, one should go there simply to experience nature at its pristine best.

Ever since I heard my uncle and aunt’s experiences on their trek to Mt. Kailas, I decided that someday, I would go there as well. What I had not anticipated was that my chance would come so early when last year, I went on a Kailas – Manas Sarovar ‘package’ with my family, as part of a larger group. The group itself consisted of Hindus of multiple varieties. (What are my opinions on such 'packaged' shortcuts to the divine? What were my experiences? Let me not dwell on them here). The one comment which my brother and I heard often on the trek was that we were ‘blessed’, ‘lucky’. Perhaps. Is it because of the financial implications of the tour? I cannot take credit for that. Is it because we were going on the trek at such a young age? If you ask me, this is the right age to undertake such a strenuous exercise. I had hoped for a life-changing religious/spiritual experience which could turn a skeptic into a faithful. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Believers would say maybe I was not ripe/seasoned enough. I intend to go there again, some years hence. I wonder if I will have my questions answered then.

Born and brought up in a not-so-conservative household in an urban setting, I have never bothered to find out the caste of any of my friends or acquaintances. If you think a little deeply, that very statement seems to be an assertion of my so-called upper-caste, urban identity. Isn’t it true that I can choose to be ignorant of the caste-question, simply because I am a Brahmin? Our society, unfortunately, still doesn’t allow such privileges to people from ‘lower’ castes. Apart from this ignorance, what have I gained as a Brahmin? No. Let me not make it appear a profit-loss statement. Let me rephrase it. How has being a Brahmin shaped me? What would have changed if I was not born one? Is it the emphasis placed on education? Frankly, most Brahmins are middle-class, without any benefits of reservation. Since we lack the drive and resources to be businessmen, without a good qualification, we cannot aspire to get anywhere in life. Also, doesn’t that criterion qualify anybody who is highly educated to be a Brahmin? Is it the ‘refined’ upbringing, with respect to language, culture and customs? One could argue it has got more to do with ‘nurture’ than ‘nature’; that it is the 'privilege' of the elite of all faiths. However, can you absolutely rule out genetics while answering that question?

I asked myself the same questions about being a Hindu, especially at a time when, overnight, people began taking pride in their religion and asserting their identity. Respecting all faiths began to mean faithless. ‘Secular’ became ‘Sickular’. The discourse changed. Politics of the day unleashed a dormant, primal instinct by rallying people around religious identity. Do I call myself a Hindu or do I adopt the more fashionable ‘atheist’ tag? I had little knowledge or understanding of Hinduism or any other faith. I wanted to know if I could remain a Hindu without asserting my identity. Facebook posts, WhatsApp messages propagated less knowledge and more vitriol on the question of faith. Searching for answers, I came across two books: Dr. Shashi Tharoor’s ‘Why I Am A Hindu’ (which I got signed by him!) and Dr. S Radhakrishnan’s ‘The Hindu View of Life’.

Dr. Tharoor’s book is part-academic, part-political. While I do agree with his arguments, I found the political part of the book repetitive. Perhaps it is because I had heard him speak on the same, before reading the book. Dr. Radhakrishnan’s book – transcript/notes of a series of lectures delivered by him, on the other hand, is purely academic. Dr. Radhakrishnan’s book very briefly outlines the evolution of the Hindu faith from the very beginnings till the early 20^th century, describing the challenges it faced from other faiths – foreign and indigenous, which led to it becoming less accommodating or accepting. There are parts of the book which I find difficult to agree with but perhaps that is for another day.

Faith is much more than what you eat, which (if any) gods you worship or how you worship them. It gives rise to the traditions and customs you follow (or choose not to). It can merely be a code of conduct you wish to adhere to. I do not need a holy book to tell me not to do to the neighbor what I would not have them do to me. These two books managed to give a bird’s eye view of the Hindu faith, without the strictures and dogma. What was reassuring was that one could remain a Hindu even while not believing in many or any forms of God which are worshipped; even while not believing in the very existence of God itself! Hinduism is very similar to the country it was born in: it houses a lot of variety and contradictions under one umbrella. If a faith can accommodate so many differences within itself, it can surely thrive even when there are other faiths in the land – as it has for many centuries now. Any attempt at homogenizing the Hindu faith or homogenizing the country in its name would perhaps be its greatest betrayal.  

Have these two books helped me come to terms with the Hindu faith? Perhaps. I would want to be a Hindu to be able to at least question my very faith. What the two books have done is to make me feel the need to read more about the faith. However, I still have not managed to wrap my head around what it actually means to be a Brahmin. Have the books made me feel proud being a Hindu? Do I feel the need to assert my identity? No. Why should a question of private practice be a badge of public honour? What about the philosophy with which I started writing this piece? It is still a work in progress.

Yours Whimsically - Part 17: Uncomfortable Questions (Part 1)

I turn twenty-three in a few weeks’ time. This is the age when one should delineate his/her philosophy of life. Of course, there is no ‘one-size-fits-all’ rule. Moreover, the philosophy, the ground rules by which one plays the game, can evolve. However, unless a drastic, life-changing event occurs, the ground rules we draw now will fundamentally remain same through our lives. Or so I believe and  I decided to work out my philosophy. I might not find an answer anytime soon. That doesn’t prevent me from attempting, does it?

Disclaimer: This piece is basically me musing out loud. You might find points which are not agreeable. You, reader, are free to turn back at this point.

The first challenge I met was to define my identity, for your outlook towards life depends on who you are, where you come from and where you are headed. The first few bits were easy. I am an Indian by nationality – I have my passport, my Aadhaar (dutifully linked to my bank accounts, phone numbers, what not!). I am a Kannadiga. I accept these and I am happy. I have neither the chance nor the will to change either of them. Fate landed me in a Hindu Brahmin household. This is the tricky bit. I was born a Hindu, a Brahmin. Now, twenty-three years later, am I a Hindu, a Brahmin by chance or by choice?

At the very outset, why should I bother answering this question, be it to myself or to anyone else? It is because caste is a reality in the India of our times, however rosy a picture we may try to paint. Off late, religion is once again becoming part of the mainstream political dialogue, with a Hindu chauvinist party in power at the centre, the main opposition trying to signal that it is no less Hindu and another leading political figure saying she’ll convert to Buddhism along with her followers.

My grandmother was very finicky about rituals. It’s familial lore that I had once confronted her about whether she enquired the caste of the driver before boarding a rickshaw! No. I was not a born-revolutionary. It was merely a child’s prank to provoke his grandmother. Brahmanism to me, back then, was merely a collection of rituals. Within my extended family, I have extremes as examples. One the one hand, I have uncles who are very religious, perform elaborate pujas and are proud of their Brahmin identity. I shall not speak about their spirituality since I have never talked to them in this regard. Moreover, who am I to gauge and judge their extent and depth of spirituality? On the other hand, there is my father and his brothers whose Brahmanism (as far as I've seen) does not go beyond a few sholkas and stotras, along with wearing the janivara (janeu/sacred thread) at least during Ganesh Chaturthi and at the time of my grandparents’ shraddha. Then, there is my brother and I, who do not even have the sacred thread. Does it make us un-Brahminical?

As a teenager, there were times when I said I was an atheist. At one point of time, it was quite a fad to call oneself an atheist, with or without understanding the full implication of the term. A few of my friends still call themselves so, with some contempt to those who call themselves faithful. I then realized that being an atheist required much stronger conviction than I could muster. I took a few steps back and said I am an 'agnost'. Frankly, whenever I faced some challenge or an outcome which didn’t favor me, I said they were destined by the One above. In more successful times, I celebrated my hardwork and effort.

Then came a phase when I had ‘private conversations’ with Him/Her, whenever I accompanied the family to a temple. ‘I know you are not in there. If what they say is true, how can you be restricted to these four walls? I will not ask you for anything, for you are supposed to know everything and hence, would know what I want – even without me having to spell it out’. At the same time, I bowed my head in reverence in front of any Hindu temple, Jain temple, church or mosque I passed.

I never worked out why there were so many images of gods and goddesses. ‘How can all of these be true?’ I asked. An elephant-headed god made no sense, unless you looked at it as a symbol, signifying that knowledge and strength could lie within even imperfect exteriors. More importantly, who had seen these forms before creating their likeness? Seemingly historical figures, the Formless One started looking more attractive when compared to this, as I grappled to understand faith with my limited knowledge. 

To be continued...