by Kabir Sehgal
Another way to “do thou good” is not to make someone al-gharimin in the first place. The Koran forbids riba, which has a literal translation of “excess” or “increase” but has come to mean “interest” or any increment over the principal of a debt.96 The Koran describes usury as “consuming of the people’s wealth unjustly” and says that those who engage in it will experience a “painful punishment.”97 At the time of the Koranic revelations, riba was considered to sever the link between labor and capital, since one could make money without producing value for society. Over the centuries, Islamic scholars have debated the translations and meaning of riba.98 If it means zero interest rates on loans, then the standard banking practice of lending with interest goes out the window. In order to comply with strictures on riba, Islamic banks have created at least twenty-one different types of business models, from levying service charges to structuring payment installments.99
Let Go
Indra, the Hindu god of the heavens, was supposed to defend the world against evil spirits known as asuras. He had largely succeeded because Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and good fortune, was by his side. One day, a wise man named Durvasa came across Indra, who was riding on an elephant. Durvasa gave Indra a garland of holy flowers, which Indra placed on his elephant’s head. The elephant threw the garland to the ground. Durvasa was alarmed to see his gift treated so poorly, and he cursed Indra to lose his powers and good fortune. Lakshmi grew angry at Indra’s arrogance and greed, and she descended into the milky ocean.100 The gods were subsequently defeated in battles against the asuras. The gods reached a rapprochement with the asuras by promising to share the amrita, or nectar of immortality from the ocean. Together they spent a thousand years churning the waters by using a mountain as a pole and a serpent as the rope—which eventually poisoned the asuras.
Finally, Lakshmi emerged standing on a lotus flower and with lotus flowers in her hands. A sacred elephant showered her with holy water from the golden jug it held in its trunk. A renowned craftsman gave her the most exquisite jewelry. All the other deities sang hymns of praise to welcome her. After accepting the gifts, Lakshmi joined Vishnu, one of the primary gods, as his consort. Her presence ushered in an era of prosperity in which the gods reigned supreme.101
This story is laden with symbolism. The milky waters indicate the pastoral, agrarian economy of ancient times, in which milk was an important sustainer of life. The milk also represents the maternal, nurturing aspects of Lakshmi. The lotus flower blooms in the mud, its petals above the water, and it therefore symbolizes beauty and hope. It also represents, according to R. Mahalakshmi, a professor of Indian history, a “womb floating on the primordial waters.”102 The elephants signify royalty and confer regality to Lakshmi.
Over the thousands of years in which stories have been retold about this goddess, there have been various depictions of her. In one familiar portrait, she holds a banana and sugarcane to represent a rich harvest. In another, she has a child in her lap who embodies potential wealth for a family. And in others, she has golden-hued skin, is festooned with golden jewelry and ornaments, and is spraying gold coins from her palms into golden pots.
Hindu mythology is replete with stories of Lakshmi and her various incarnations, because she represents auspiciousness, wealth, and beauty. She is praised as a devout consort to Vishnu, and their relationship represents marital stability. One common depiction is of Lakshmi massaging Vishnu’s feet. In years past, she was held up as an ideal for Indian women, but that is slowly changing.103 Nevertheless, in Bollywood movies, several famous female characters are named after her, and a new baby girl is supposedly the arrival of Lakshmi into one’s family.104 New daughters-in-law also symbolize Lakshmi, and the amount of gold she wears on her wedding day is an indication of how much wealth she will bring to the new family.105 To pray to Lakshmi doesn’t mean that one is a money-grubber. Remember that it was Lakshmi who protested Indra’s greed. Many respect Lakshmi for her virtuousness.
In India, she has inspired some of the biggest festivals and largest temples. Every autumn brings the five-day festival of Diwali, or the “festival of lights.” In some regions, the first day is known as Dhanteras, which involves prayers known as Lakshmi puja. Villagers decorate their cows, the source of their earnings. Families clean their homes and light lamps to welcome Lakshmi and repel evil spirits. Businesses reset their accounting ledgers and ask for blessings in the New Year. Little footprints are drawn on the floor in preparation of Lakshmi’s arrival.106 Many buy gold coins and metal utensils. They also gamble: Every year at this time, my taxi driver in Kolkata plays cards with his five friends. They believe that whoever wins will have good fortunes for the upcoming year. He blamed the card game he lost as the reason why he failed to get a better job as a driver at a top hotel.
In Delhi, I visited the iconic Laxminarayan Temple, which is dedicated to Vishnu and Lakshmi. While I examined one of the wall etchings, a priest put a red tika, or mark, on my forehead.
“Lakshmi will bless you with good fortune,” he said.
A bit surprised, I managed to say, “Thank you.”
He stared at me. I stared back. Then I got the message. I gave him a few rupees and he disappeared.
Lakshmi has long been part of India’s monetary history, too. During the Gupta Empire in the fourth and fifth centuries AD, the kings issued coins with images of Lakshmi on them, in hopes that Vishnu would bless their kingdom.107 In the eleventh century, the Chauhan kings, who ruled much of what is modern-day Rajasthan, India, made silver coins with impressions of Lakshmi.108 During the eighteenth century, French colonists in Pondicherry, India, issued coins with images of Lakshmi. Even today, because of the association of Lakshmi and money, many regard money as a gift from the divine. Some will even apologize if they desecrate money by accidentally dropping it on the floor.
In the Hindu pantheon, Lakshmi serves as a focal point for comprehending the nexus of Hinduism and wealth. But this goddess shouldn’t be the only topic of study. Hinduism is an ancient amalgamation of copious myths and contradictory philosophies that lack a central leader or commandments. Two of these incongruous beliefs, artha and moksha, relate to money and deserve further attention.
According to the Vedas, ancient Hindu texts that date back to 1500 BC, there are four aims of life, known as purusārtha, or “that which ought to be sought”: (1) dharma, duty; (2) artha, wealth; (3) karma, pleasure; and the ultimate goal, (4) moksha, liberation.109 Artha is the accumulation of external successes and earthly treasures like money, image, and status. Moksha is partly about the renunciation of these things and embracing the paradoxical wisdom of spiritual riches. These two aims blur the lines between what is supposedly secular and sacred.110 But the lines must be blurred. Instead of shunning the pursuit of material wealth, Hinduism arguably embraces it: An understanding of artha is that humans need material items like money to live. The economic logic of more is better is necessary up to a point, since nobody wants compulsory poverty. Praying to Lakshmi, a mythological manifestation of artha, should be to avoid suffering wrought by poverty and misfortune. The same can be said for several other regional wealth deities, like the Buddhist goddess Vasudhārā, who is supposed to help alleviate poverty, bestowing material and spiritual abundance.
The larger point is that the purusārtha balance each other and are interdependent. It’s not okay to pursue artha while violating dharma—one’s duty to do what’s morally right. However, without experiencing the limitations of earthly treasure, one is unlikely to recognize the need to renounce it: You need artha to attain the awareness of moksha.111 Without the emptiness that results from the economic logic of more is better, you’ll never realize the need for the spiritual logic of less is more. It’s a gradual process that one undergoes through life. The purusārtha correspond to the four stages life, which are (1) brahmacharya, student; (2) grihastha, householder; (3) vanaprastha, hermit; and (4) sannyasi, renouncer.112 In the first two phases of life, one needs and pursues artha, ma
king money to live. After fulfilling one’s material duties to family, for instance, one seeks moksha in the two final stages of life. Scholars have even suggested that the purusārtha correspond to times of the day: Remembering one’s dharma should be part of morning rituals, and artha should be reserved for the daytime.113 It’s this lesson of interdependence, of artha preparing the way for moksha, that Lord Krishna provides his pupil Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita, a central text of Hinduism:
Pleasures from external objects are wombs of suffering, Arjuna. They have their beginnings and their ends; no wise man seeks joy among them.114
This suffering is the realization that earthly riches like money are, as Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, fleeting and perishable. In Buddhism, suffering is the first of the Four Noble Truths: Life is full of dukkha, which means “pain” or “anxiety.” Money is part of this suffering. It is maya, or an illusion. If you define yourself according to wealth or the lack thereof, you can easily lose your self-worth. It’s this sorrow that leads one to look for something richer. Just as Lakshmi protested and inhibited Indra’s greed, moksha extinguishes artha.
It’s the wise person who seeks moksha. According to the Hindu tradition, humans are caught in a cycle of reincarnation, in which one is reborn as a different being that experiences human emotions and desires—like lusting after money. How one lives in the current life determines the circumstances of the next life. Living righteously, as by donating money to charity, elevates one to a higher plane until one can break free from the maya of the material world—to a place devoid of money, markets, and mankind. This is liberation, or moksha, when a person’s soul merges with the supreme. In Buddhism, moksha is known as nirvana, which means “to extinguish,” as, for example, all desires and material needs.
The Bhagavad Gita mentions various paths to achieve moksha. But the theme that keeps coming up is the paradoxical wisdom of detachment, renunciation, and letting go—only then will humans be liberated and achieve the everlasting:
A man unattached to sensations, who finds fulfillment in the Self, whose mind has become pure freedom, attains an imperishable joy… He who controls his mind and has cut off desire and anger realizes the Self; he knows that God’s bliss is nearer than near… when desire, fear, and anger have left him, that man is forever free.115
In other words, there should come a time in one’s life when one renounces money, external success, and indeed all worldly things, like belongings, status, and image. Renunciation can happen only if one abandons all desires and fears.
Adopting the spiritual logic of less is more is very much an internal mental battle. Neuroscientist Andrew Newberg of the University of Pennsylvania examined the brain activity of Buddhist monks while they meditated, moving toward nirvana, and found that the prefrontal regions activate.116 This brain region is the seat of reason, gives rise to our consciousness, and makes us human. These studies seem to reinforce what spiritual leaders have long known: It’s in forgetting money that we remember ourselves.
Symbolic Attachment
In a world in which almost everything is valued in terms of money, faith can be a refuge, a spiritual dam to the flood of money flowing through the rest of the world. In the humanities, such as religion and art, there is arguably less focus on the accumulation of wealth and more on how one lives—whether one is kind, generous, and content.117 By revisiting ancient religious texts and the teachings of the spiritual masters, we glean rich guidance on how to live with money.
Across these faiths, the spiritual logic of less is more (or enough is enough) is presented as a powerful instruction. It’s this lesson that the teenager at the Kolkata hospice took to heart when he detached from his material possessions and served among lepers. His faith helped him remember what’s important. The lepers, those on the edge of death, showed that those with nothing can be grateful and content. My trip to the hospice helped me see how the economic logic of more is better was shaping and driving me. My research into different religious traditions reveals that the attachment to money can lead to a life devoid of personal contentment. But used in the right way, money is an instrument to be shared, and can promote human flourishing. Paradoxically, the purpose of making money seems to be to share it with others.
But some people have come to see money, the object itself, in a different way. The art on money can tell the story of our shared past. The symbols stamped and printed are a reflection not only of value but of what we have valued, across different societies, cultures, and the entire sweep of modern human civilization. My quest led me to folks all around the world who taught me to look more closely at money, and to consider how it’s a symbol of our values.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gilt Complex
The art on money
Coin collecting is a hobby for boys, an investment for fathers, and a windfall for grandfathers.
—D. Wayne Johnson1
And the parrot would say, with great rapidity, “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” till you wondered that it was not out of breath, or till John threw his handkerchief over the cage.
—Robert Louis Stevenson2
Of all antiquities coins are the smallest; yet, as a class, the most authoritative in record, and the widest in range. No history is so unbroken as that which they tell; no geography so complete; no art so continuous in sequence, nor so broad in extent; no mythology so ample and so various. Unknown kings, and lost towns, forgotten divinities and new schools, if not new styles of art, have here their authentic record. Individual character is illustrated, and the tendencies of races defined.
—Reginald Stuart Poole3
Sufi Mostafizur Rahman and me at Wari-Bateshwar, in rural Bangladesh. He has found hoards of ancient coins from these ruins that are from an ancient, lost civilization.
I had one day to spend in Dhaka, Bangladesh, to learn about the coins from a lost civilization. And I picked the wrong day. The country was in the midst of a political dispute. The opposition party had taken to the streets to protest, creating a citywide blockade that devolved into deadly violence.4
I wasn’t leaving my hotel, so Sufi Mostafizur Rahman, an archaeologist at Jahangirnagar University, visited me. He is leading the excavation of forty-eight archaeological sites that are roughly fifty miles from Dhaka and known as Wari-Bateshwar. The ruins date back to at least 450 BC. He believes that the ruins are of an ancient city, Sounagora, part of Gangaridae, an area near the Ganges River known for trade and referenced by Virgil, Plutarch, and Ptolemy.5
“Ptolemy mentioned many cities on the subcontinent that are now lost. Now archaeologists are trying to find them,” he says.6
Rahman arrived at this hypothesis because of the many artifacts that his team has unearthed, including hoards of coins.
Noticing my intrigue, he whispered, “Would you like to visit the ruins?”
“Yes, but how?” I replied, remembering the blockade.
“We’ll have to start early,” he said.
The next morning, we threaded the blockade with only a few protesters banging on the van door and escaped to the hinterland, where a majestic set of ruins of an ancient walled city awaited.7
“One of the best ways to identify this civilization is to study its coins,” Rahman tells me. He says that it’s from coins that we can learn about a society’s economy, trading routes, political leaders, and cultural traditions.8
More than one thousand silver punch-mark coins have been found at Wari-Bateshwar. The coins are of similar weight at 57.6 grams, which suggests that a central authority with uniform weights made them. The fronts of many of the coins have punch marks, which indicate how they were created. The coins don’t have the names of rulers but bear their symbols. For example, a moon and triple arches are the mark of rulers during the Mauryan Empire. These coins also bear images of boats, fish, flowers, trees, and the sun—more than one hundred symbols. Sometimes these symbols represented the head official at the mint or whoever was in charge of the monetary syst
em. The symbols on the backs of these coins were made by bankers to denote different denominations and give them status as legal tender. Scholars have classified the coins in two groups: janapada (which refers to a series of ancient Indian kingdoms) and imperial. The janapada series were issued from 600 BC to 400 BC, before the Mauryan Empire. The imperial coins were made from 400 BC to 200 BC, during the Mauryan Empire, one of the world’s largest empires during that era.
The janapada series coins are an incredible discovery because they challenge the commonly held belief that civilization didn’t take root in this area until 300 BC. These coins indicate the existence of an urban center that participated in commerce, banking, and trade—with areas throughout the subcontinent, and maybe even the Mediterranean world. “This means it was the earliest state in Bangladesh and in the Indian subcontinent as well,” says Rahman.9 Not only that—these coins were made around the same time as those in Lydia, making them some of the oldest in the world. “These coins are symbols of a lost civilization,” he says.
In the first chapter, we explored Paleolithic cave art from 40,000 years ago. Those symbols are a record of early human expression. They demonstrate man’s capacity for symbolic thought. Symbolic art from this era is the beginning of man’s creative story. Symbolic understanding gave rise to the invention of money. In order to define and denote the various denominations and types of money, we emblazon it with art, images, and insignias that represent us. We put symbols on symbols. It follows that money can be a guide to cultural history and our collective past.
