by Sudhir Kakar
In the Hindu nationalist discourse, the militancy of Hindutva is often in conflict with Hinduism’s master narrative. The nationalist often seems split between a vigorous opposition to all foreign influences—proselytizing religions, cultural and economic globalization—which undermine the roots of Hindu samaj (society) and the tolerance ethic enjoined by the Hindu dharma. In its current phase, Hindu nationalism appears to be steering closer to the shores of militancy than of tolerance, but the latter, as we shall see later, continues to preclude an unambiguous commitment to the former. Even the founding document of the VHP must perforce take a bow towards openness: ‘Hindu society today faces challenges and problems of vast magnitude, grim and intensely complex in character. But challenges and problems, vilification and vicissitudes, shocks and suppression, are not new to Hindu society...History stands as an eloquent testimony that Hindu samaj has never been unwilling or allergic to readjustment of its outer behaviour, without sacrificing its soul and spirit...’6 The VHP ideologues may violently oppose conversions but are careful to point out—in their public statements, however unconvincing—that this opposition is only against conversions that take place because of financial enticements and other ‘underhand tactics’ used by the missionaries of other religions, primarily Christianity and Islam, and that they are not against an individual’s free choice of another faith. In spite of many deviations in his activist and sometimes violent practice, the nationalist is unable to completely and openly renounce the ideal of tolerance expressed in Gandhi’s well-known words which he often quotes with approval: ‘I do not want my house to be walled on all sides and its windows to be stuffed. I want the cultures of all lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown off my feet by any.’7
Although Hindu nationalist discourse is rich in images of an embattled faith that has survived many onslaughts and endured in the face of many storms—from militant Islam to proselytizing Christianity—it is hesitant to view the current encounter with the forces of globalization solely as a confrontation. The tolerance theme of Hinduism’s master narrative prevents the nationalist from articulating his response to globalization in terms of winners and losers locked in mortal combat and thus obscuring the processes of assimilation, transformation, reassertion and re-creation which, as the historian Raymond Grew notes, are characteristic of all cultural encounters.8 Besides giving the nationalist a new self-confidence, these processes have also provided him with a forum for pursuing his interests and propagating his ideology. In other words, the nationalist’s hostility toward globalization is mitigated by the fact that he regards it as a second modernization which not only holds a threat but also provides an opportunity for Hindus to actively participate in shaping its future course.
The Hindu nationalist may have had some success in eroding the importance of traditional doctrinal and liturgical concerns that led to Hinduism’s division into sects, but he has not yet quite altered the mindset of the traditionalist—who still forms the majority of all Hindus—at least as far as his response to the challenges emanating from the outside world are concerned. Reacting within the framework of the master narrative, the traditionalist is less inclined than the nationalist to feel defensive or to take up an ideologically committed, activist stance. The Hindu tolerance theme of the narrative casts a longer shadow on the reactions of the traditionalist. Thus, for instance, whereas Jesus Christ may sometimes find mention as a figure worthy of emulation and respect in nationalist writings (a courtesy not extended to Prophet Mohammed), traditional Vaishnava gurus have little difficulty in transforming him into a son of Krishna, to give him the status of an avatar (incarnation of Vishnu), or to illustrate their teachings with examples from the Gospel and the lives of Christian saints.9 But greater tolerance tends to go together with greater indifference and the Hindu traditionalist, in contrast to the nationalist, is much less concerned with the impact of globalization on his faith, tending to regard this issue, if he at all considers it worthy of his attention, as one concerned with finding ‘Western answers for Western questions.’
The second major theme of Hinduism—universality—makes the Hindu nationalist hope that his religion will reign supreme in a globalized world that is being currently born and thus hinders him from walling himself off completely from foreign influences even as he combats them. To the nationalist, Hinduism is universal because its cornerstone is an eternal mystical truth, the fundamental unity of all creation, animate and inanimate. It is the recognition that the Supreme Soul pervades one and all. If all religions are different paths to the same truth— ‘’kam sat, viprah bahudda vadanti’ (One truth, many ways of reaching it)—then other religions are only different manifestations of Hinduism. At their core, then, all religions of the world are Hindu and the nationalist accepts religious pluralism because it is pluralism in appearance only.
To reach the higher states of spiritual evolution, though, the nationalist argues, one needs to go beyond appearance. Hindu pluralism does not exclude the existence of a hierarchy among the various faiths; there are many ways, yes, but not all of them are equal. In asserting that the Hindu’s mystical path is a superior one for the mature individual, what we have in nationalist discourse is a tolerance of the elite for the ‘lower orders’, coupled with the hope that Hindu universality will be the religion of a future, more evolved world order. For the nationalist, then, globalization is not only a danger but also a unique opportunity for the Hindu ethos to establish itself as the universal ethical value system of mankind. K.S. Sudarshan, for a long time the chief ideologue of the RSS and now its head, is convinced that in the coming years ‘Hindutva would dawn upon the world as the supreme philosophy and way of life’10 where ‘the belief in the ultimate victory of Hindu thought is based not on blind faith but on a deep inner awareness that Hindu philosophy is based on laws which are not just Hindu laws but universal laws applicable to all.’11
Although the theme of its universality is uncontested within Hinduism, the nationalist, as compared to the traditionalist and the flexible Hindu, expresses a disquiet with some of its consequences. He worries whether in placing so much emphasis on universality, on the Vedic dictum of ‘Vasudhaiva kutumbakam’ (the universe is one family), the Hindus have not sacrificed the possibility of a community feeling and a necessary unity which they have lacked in the past and which they need to face the challenge of other faiths. He is concerned whether the concept of ‘Vishvabandhutva’ (universal brotherhood) has not led to a weakening of ‘Deshbandhutva’ (national brotherhood) and ‘Dharmabandhutva’ (religious brotherhood).12 In other words, there are two conflicting souls, of universality and nationalism, of Hindu dharma tolerance and Hindutva militancy, that are struggling within the Hindu nationalist’s breast.
In the end, though, however it is interpreted by the nationalist and the traditionalist, the universality theme of Hinduism’s master narrative can be problematic. Even by accepting other religious traditions as valid, as pointing to the same truth, from the vantage point of the higher ‘universal’ wisdom of Hinduism (and not in terms of their own self-characterization), Hindus—nationalist and others—may ultimately be hindering a dialogue with other faiths and the possible evolution of a universal ethics. In the long run, discerning a common Vedantic monism in all other religions leads not to harmony and friendship but to misunderstanding and possible discord. In one of the legends about the child Krishna, Yashoda opens the god’s mouth and sees the world of Hindu cosmology within. This is the master narrative of Hinduism, with all good intentions, identifying itself with the universe of all faiths, and when this vision becomes the nationalist’s expectation of a coming triumph of the Hindu worldview in a globalized world, it is fated for disappointment. Illusions, irrespective of their worth in mobilizing large numbers of peoples or creating utopian communities, ultimately remain mere illusions.
THE FLEXIBLE HINDU
Besides the nationalist, there is another, ‘flexible’ Hindu—urban, educated in
the modern idiom and belonging to the expanding middle class. The flexible Hindu can be a traditionalist in the sense of choosing to adopt or revive selected Hindu rituals in his religious life. He can be a nationalist in his sympathy with certain stances of the Hindu right (more VHP than RSS). And he can also—at the upper end of the socio-economic scale—be a globalist who enthusiastically embraces new religious and spiritual movements irrespective of their territorial origins. The flexible Hindu differs from the other two in that he is more eclectic in his religious attitudes and beliefs than the traditionalist and is less ideologically committed than the nationalist.
The flexible Hindu views religious occasions and rituals as important expressions of his identity.13 Domestic rituals and fasts (vratas), celebration of festivals and visits to pilgrimage places are welcomed, and not only because they provide a change from the routine of daily life. The changing circumstances of urban middle-class life, however, do not allow him to do any of these things in the traditional manner. The scramble of big-city life, the increasing number of women joining the workforce or living in smaller families without the helping hands of many women, have all led to the modernization of rituals and shortening of religious ceremonies. The flexible Hindu welcomes these—often creative—alterations as he seeks to adjust traditional rituals to his changed life circumstances. Thus, for instance, the traditional frame of karva chauth, an annual fast undertaken by North Indian women for the health and long life of their husbands, has been progressively loosened. A young woman, concerned with her physical fitness, spoke of karva chauth as a welcome day of dieting. Other women, who no longer strictly observe the vow of not eating or drinking from sunrise till the moon is sighted at night, meet with friends or relatives on this day to play cards, watch television or go to the movies. They are rarely to be found in the kitchen, hungry and thirsty, preparing the evening’s festive meal. Instead, they are seen with groups of friends in the gaily adorned markets or in beauty salons, and they let themselves be taken out for dinner to restaurants by their husbands.
This increasing orientation toward one’s own needs rather than traditional mores is deplored by some who see in this behaviour a consumption-driven addiction to pleasure. In general, though (and this leads us back to the tolerance theme of the grand recit), changes in rituals and the cutting short of religious ceremonies are regarded with indulgence. As any average Hindu will concede, it is the inner stance—the bhakti and the faith—that is decisive rather than following a set of rules laid out by the elders.
A similar development has taken place with regard to pilgrimages. It is modernity that has turned religious pilgrimages into a mass phenomenon. Greater mobility, more money and regular hours of work make it possible for the flexible Hindu to seek out touristy pilgrimage destinations on weekend family outings or vacations. The interest in pilgrimages is not limited to the older generation; even youths and young adults go on pilgrimages with family or friends, linking the pleasures of community and leisure time to religious goals.
Hindu pilgrimages, tirtha-yatras, have a different atmosphere from the ones found in their traditional Christian counterparts—though there is considerable similarity when we look at many Islamic, especially Sufi shrines in the subcontinent. The fourteen-kilometre long climb to one of the most popular pilgrimage sites in North India, the caves of Vaishno Devi, has a number of rain-and-snow shelters, modern toilets, refreshment stands, souvenir shops all along the way, as also horses at regular intervals that tired pilgrims can ride up to the caves. There are pilgrims who walk the entire way barefoot, surrendering themselves completely to the benevolence of the deity. There are others for whom the touristy enjoyment and companionship aspects of the pilgrimage are the decisive motivations. The noise, loud music and incredible bustle convey the feeling of being a participant in a lively annual fair. To put it differently, a pilgrimage—like a vrata or a religious festival—may well become a sensuous and pleasurable experience as long as the ‘purity of heart’ and the sincerity of religious feelings are not absent.
Vaishno Devi and other such deities offer themselves as objects of reverence who may occasionally severely test the devotion of their worshippers but are always available and in crisis situations intervene in the devotee’s fate with miracles. If the deity fulfils the devotee’s wish—mostly it has to do with the circumstances of his material life such as professional success or recovery from grave illness—then the devotee is obliged to give the money, gold or silver ornaments or symbolic sacrifice that he had promised the deity when making his wish. Little wonder that in today’s India, where the growing middle class has much more money at its disposal than was the case in earlier decades, temples are ‘big business.’ The Tirupati Venkateshwara temple in Andhra Pradesh, one of the richest religious institutions after the Vatican, has a daily income of almost two crores of rupees—over 400,000 US dollars—from donations. The trend is not confined only to Hindu shrines. The Golden Temple, the holiest of Sikh shrines, has doubled its takings in the last ten years to a daily income of nearly one and a half crores, or 300,000 US dollars. Christian churches and Muslim shrines such as Haji Ali in Mumbai also contribute to the total yearly income of Indian gods and saints of approximately rupees eleven thousand crores, or 250 million dollars.
More than any other kind of Indian, it is the flexible Hindu who lets gods and gurus participate in his prosperity. He offers puja, both at home and in temples, but also online, on the websites of some of the holiest temples. He uses the Internet for astrological advice on the auspicious time for his pujas and to find recipes for festive meals for specific religious occasions. He is the targeted visitor for the upcoming theme parks on Hindu gods and goddesses—Ramaland, Durgaland, Gangaland, that are being built on the model of Disneyland—and the intended customer for the devotional music cassettes and CDs which have captured over a third of the Indian music market.
The spread of new media and technologies—Internet, mythological comics, TV serials—is not only leading to greater homogenization of Hindu rituals and festivals but is also the main source of religious knowledge for the younger generation. On a number of TV channels, charismatic TV-gurus such as Asha Ram Bapu daily recite and comment on passages from the holy books and, in the process, like American television evangelists, are building religion-based empires with a following that is predominantly middle-class. And with a daily television ‘consumption’ of at least two to three hours, it is the middle-class housewife who is most susceptible to media-based religiosity.
Charismatic television gurus, healers and ‘god-men’ fit in seamlessly with the bhakti religiosity of the urban middle class where, similar to the Protestant faith, the individual communication with and personal relationship to the Divine are at the centre of religious awareness. A striking feature of contemporary religious developments is the ever-increasing popularity of healing-gurus, such as Sathya Sai Baba or Mata Nirmala Devi. The contemplative, meditative gurus identified with the Upanishadic tradition—such as the late Ramana Maharishi—are no longer the icons of the spiritual life among the upper and middle classes as they were for earlier generations. The flexible Hindu of today prefers gurus and religious practices that promise greater, immediate and quantifiable spiritual returns for smaller investments of time.
Gurus such as Sathya Sai Baba or Sri Sri Ravi Shankar are better attuned to the religious feeling of the flexible Hindu since they, too, orient themselves on the two great themes of Hinduism’s grand recit: tolerance and universality. The Sathya Sai Baba movement—one of the largest religious movements of present times—fuses religious style elements from varied traditions in a wild eclecticism.14 Sai Baba, avatara, healer and god, all at the same time, teaches a step-by-step way to salvation that resembles a simplified Vedantic ‘Realization of god through a realization of the Self’. In the spirit of postmodernism, aspects of Shaivism, Vaishnavism, Shaktism and Christianity are reinterpreted and declared to be a new universalism whereby within the movement one does not spea
k of a new creed but of the universal validity of the guru’s teachings. This claim to universality which we also encountered in the case of the Hindu nationalist is articulated in the symbol of the Sathya Sai Baba community: a five-petalled lotus which has the Hindu Om, the Christian cross, the Zoroastrian fire emblem, the Buddhist wheel and the Islamic crescent and star depicted on its petals.
‘New Age’ practices, which have met an enthusiastic reception in the Indian middle class since the 1990s, are similar to the Sai Baba and other new religious movements, in that they are exemplary for a postmodern religiosity which seems to have been anticipated in Hindu relativism and inclusivity. The flexible Hindu has no difficulty in integrating New Age practices in his daily life since they neither demand a break nor an alienation from his religious tradition. With the entry of New Age in the metropolises of Mumbai, Delhi or Bangalore, it is not only the practices of Reiki, Pranic Healing, Lama Fera, Tarot or Feng Shui but also Indian cultural concepts—for instance, the idea of karma—that are being reimported in their Western reincarnations. Courses on coping with stress that incorporate meditation or Yoga are as much a part of the menu as astrology, aromatherapy, Egyptian Tarot, aura readings, magnetic healing or channeling.
However, irrespective of how Westernized a flexible Hindu may be, his weekend or package-tour pilgrimages, his turning to gurus, keeping fasts or integrating New Age practices in his life all connect him to tradition and affirm his Hindu identity. In other words, the flexible Hindu’s response to modernity is not a turning away from his religious heritage but giving it a new form and adapting it to his changed life circumstances.
