On Partition
Indians have never had an integrated society. Besides caste and language divisions, the greatest barrier has been the Hindu–Muslim divide. Hindus and Muslims have got along reasonably well but have always kept their distance from each other. There has never been any real integration—by way of families mixing, visiting each other’s homes, and contemplating matrimonial relationships. The British fostered the feeling of separateness between the two. As the time neared for the British to leave, Muslims began to feel uneasy at the prospect of living in a Hindu-dominated India.
Years before Partition, Lala Lajpat Rai had made a rough map dividing India along communal lines. Later, Chaudhry Rehmat Ali coined the word ‘Pakistan’. Allama Iqbal, who at one time composed patriotic verses including Saarey jahaan se achchha, spoke of a Muslim state. Jinnah’s contribution to separateness was evolving the two-nation theory—that Hindus and Muslims were two separate nations which could not live together in one state. But long before Jinnah had come up with the two-nation theory, it was people like Keshav Baliram Hedgewar, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Lala Lajpat Rai and V.D. Savarkar who had come up with the Hindu-nation theory.
The belief that Hindus and Muslims should each have their separate nations found widespread support among middle-class Muslims across the subcontinent. After that no one, not Gandhiji, nor Nehru, Sardar Patel or Jinnah, could stop the process of religious cleansing of Hindus and Sikhs from Muslim-dominated areas. It may be recalled that as early as March 1947, Hindus and Sikhs were being driven out of towns and villages in northwest Punjab. There were communal riots in many cities in Punjab, including Lahore.
By 15 August 1947, the migration of Hindus and Sikhs from Pakistan had become a bloody exodus. Sikhs and Hindus of east Punjab made sure that this was not going to be a one-way traffic: they drove out Muslims from east Punjab with double the violence. It was the most catastrophic exchange of populations in the history of mankind, leaving a million dead and tens of millions homeless. The aftermath was more barbaric than anything beasts could have done to each other.
I don’t think either Pandit Nehru or Jinnah had imagined this level of violence. In any case both of them seemed to live in a dream world of their own—Jinnah had even hoped that he would go back to Bombay and live in his house there. The only person who did seem to comprehend the seriousness of Partition and all that followed was Mahatma Gandhi. He did not take part in any of the Independence celebrations in 1947. He remained quiet. When anti-Pakistan feelings were at fever pitch and the Indian government refused to honour its pledge to pay Pakistan Rs 55 crore, he went on a fast, forcing Patel and Nehru to keep their word.
Pointing accusing fingers at Nehru or Patel or Jinnah serves no purpose. They were helpless against the tidal waves of hatred generated by history, which were the real cause of the wars we have fought against Pakistan and the continuing conflict over the future of Kashmir.
The English-Language Paradox
I have often felt that language purists are the worst enemies of their mother tongue. The truth is that the more a language takes from others, the more it enriches itself. English is the richest language in the world because it has taken words from all languages with which it has come in contact. There is no dearth of examples. India has over two dozen languages. English has taken words from each one of them. Hindi, which is our national language, has not. Consequently, Hindi, which should have become our link language, has failed to do so, and the language that links all parts of the country remains English.
There seem to be two reasons for the failure of our intellectuals to change society. One is that all of them write in English, a language that barely 10 per cent of educated Indians can read and comprehend. The masses never get to know about them and what they are saying. The second and the more important factor was, and is, the fact that the vast majority of our countrymen look up to their gurus or godmen for guidance because they speak their language. And the mode of communication of these gurus and godmen is oral and not written.
Gurus have massive following, but their learning is limited to churning out accepted religious concepts unaffected by occidental learning. Most of their pravachans (lectures) are accompanied by hymn singing and, at times, dancing in ecstasy. Their congregations return to their homes content and at peace with themselves because they do not have to wrestle with new ideas. That is why caste distinctions persist, foeticide is widely practised and we continue to breed at a suicidal rate. Our gurus never deal with these serious problems that pose such a threat to our society.
To Prohibit Is to Promote
One way to ensure higher sales of something is to ban it. The case of prohibition of alcoholic drinks is as old as history; the ban on smoking is recent. Both have proved to be flops wherever they have been tried.
America went through many years of prohibition before it discovered it did not work. India tried it in fits and starts in different states and gave up after realizing that however stringent the laws, people addicted to drinking managed to get their hands on alcohol—if not legally, then through some spurious substitute which took their lives. Gujarat is the one state that has refused to learn lessons. It is not surprising then that people in Gujarat die regularly after drinking poisonous brew.
Drinking is not a vice, drunkenness is. All over the world, adults are allowed to drink when and what they like. It is only when they get drunk and misbehave that they are arrested. Drink like a gentleman or a lady; it is a civilized thing to do. It breaks the ice and encourages bonding. If England had no pubs, life in that country would become drab. All over Europe, the making of wine is a fine art. People have wine cellars in their homes and have their favourite wine with both meals. No one is any the worse for doing so.
Indians have been drinking since pre-Vedic times. The alcohol was mostly homemade stuff, and later, local brews like arrack, mahua, tharra and feni became a cottage industry. With the advent of the Europeans, the liquor industry developed, and we began to brew our own beers, distil whisky, gin and rum. In recent years, we have also started making wines. Vineyards have come up in Maharashtra and Karnataka. So we have our own red, white and rose wines as well as champagne. Many of them are as good as any imported wine, and are good enough to earn us foreign exchange.
Our aim should be to produce good-quality beverages with low alcohol content like lager, cider and wines—rather than spirits like whisky, gin, rum or feni—at low prices, which the poor can afford to buy. But will our stupid politicians ever listen?
Greed: The Deadliest Sin of All
Our ancestors made a list of five deadly sins: kaam (lust), krodh (anger), lobh (greed), moh (attachment) and ahankaar (pride). Of these, four take a deadly toll on the one who indulges in them, and marginally on their family and friends as well. However, greed (lobh) is the deadliest of the five sins. It not only diminishes the greedy in the eyes of his fellow beings but also deprives thousands of others of their hard-earned living. Very often it is greed that takes people down evil paths as they try to attain what they want.
What makes a person who has over hundreds of crores worth of assets—who eats the tastiest of food, drinks the headiest of wines, lives in a large mansion with a retinue of servants, has a fleet of limousines and gets everything he wants—want more? More real estate and more money in different banks? He should know he can’t take it with him when he dies. Perhaps he wants to provide for his sons and daughters, grandchildren and descendants down many generations. He should know inherited wealth is unearned wealth and is soon frittered away in contentious litigation. He would die a happier man if he spent what he cannot use in building schools, colleges or hospitals for the poor.
If we give ourselves some time to think about the things we have done because of greed rather than need, we might realize where we have gone wrong. Our minds would be cleansed. This would help us to be better citizens, and better human beings.
When It Comes to Sex
Indians have it on their brains more tha
n they have it in the right place but, as it happens, when you age, it automatically shifts from the groin to the head and you are obsessed with it. Sex is so integral and important to one’s life that you cannot avoid thinking about it. It is something which is elemental, vital and far more important than other emotions like love or anger. And it expresses itself in weird ways. You cannot suppress it, that’s why things like celibacy don’t work. The desire to have multiple relationships is also human. I have written about the so-called happily married couple many times. Whether they do it or not, adultery is always at the back of the mind of both partners.
Human relationships are basically dictated by the desire for sex. Sex is at the root of so much of what people do to each other——whether it’s what one hears from friends about their problems, or crimes of passion, or legal cases. I have realized that the relationships between man and woman can be so multiple and varied and take such weird forms sometimes. Some of them are quite unmentionable. But I feel one is being dishonest if one ignores sex, if one doesn’t talk about it or write about it.
I have always believed that sex is more important than romance. Romance is a waste of energy—it takes up time and loses its lustre very soon. The same person becomes boring after a while and you lose interest in a person once bedded. Desire and its intensity, on the other hand, make a difference. If there’s attraction on both sides, if the feelings are reciprocated and there’s no holding back, then the encounter can lead to a very fulfilling affair.
There’s too much sexual frustration in our country. This probably explains the rise in molestations and rapes. It’s linked to sexual repression and hypocrisy—we Indians are very interested in sex, have the curiosity and the appetite but pretend to be very prudish and conservative. It’s time we stopped withholding our urges and expressed ourselves. Or else it’s bound to come out in some other form that might not be pleasant or desirable.
The Qualities of a President
I recently came across a delightful job description for the President of India on the front cover of Thuglak magazine, edited by the satirist Cho Ramaswamy. Translated, it read as follows:
* Excellent job opportunity for the old and infirm
* Nature of job: President of India
* Age: 35 and above. Preference will be given to candidates over 80
* Job content:
Console people on Republic Day after the flag hoisting
Keep perusing mercy petitions from murderers without taking any decision
Travel abroad with family
* Salary: Rs 1,50,000 per month
* Perks: Space here not sufficient. Booklet with full list will be sent on payment of Rs 10 by crossed postal order
Most of our Presidents are forgotten soon after their term is over. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam is an exception. I’ve not the slightest doubt that he is the best President we have ever had. The reasons are simple: most of our Presidents were politicians who ended their careers in Rashtrapati Bhavan, and Indians do not have much respect for politicians.
Two of our Presidents, Radhakrishnan and Zakir Hussain, were academics. While Radhakrishnan was a scholar of Hinduism and a great orator, he did not practise what he preached. He indulged in cronyism and patronized people who did not deserve the honours he bestowed on them. Zakir Hussain was also a widely respected scholar. But he did very little besides discharging the routine duties expected of a President.
We also had our first woman President. But she too had a political background. What riled me most about her was that she subscribed to astrology.
What are the qualities one looks for in a President?
He or she should be financially clean and above nepotism.
The person must be principled and have a modern outlook.
He must not be a bigot.
He should be a brave man.
I believe Abdul Kalam, a scientist, had all these qualities. I hold him in high regard and have great respect for someone who believes in the following:
A borderless society with no divisions of caste and community can only arise from borderless minds. It has taken centuries for our society to evolve into the present structure of caste and community. Love, patience, good laws and fair justice are the best instruments for our society to transform itself into a borderless community where hands that serve are better than lips that pray.
—A.P.J. Abdul Kalam
The Highest Award
The Bharat Ratna, most recently awarded to Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, is the country’s highest civilian award. I think this highest honour should be restricted to social workers and creative people like scientists, musicians and artists, and should never be given to retired or deceased politicians or civil servants.
Watching Nature
Watching nature and observing the change of seasons has always been an important part of my daily routine. For many years I maintained a record of the natural phenomena I encountered every day. My nature-watching has been mostly restricted to the back garden of my house in Sujan Singh Park, but how much that little garden has taught me!
The garden is a rectangular plot of green enclosed on two adjacent sides by a barbed-wire fence covered by bougainvillaea of different colours. The other two sides are formed by my neighbour’s apartment and mine; my neighbour has fenced himself off with a wall of hibiscus.
I have four old avocado trees that used to give me dozens of avocados every monsoon, and a tall eucalyptus smothered by purple bougainvillaea. My wife had a very utilitarian approach to gardening so we had a small patch of grass with some limes, oranges, grapefruit and pomegranate. She also had a section reserved for vegetables. I don’t grow many flowers—a bush of gardenia, a few jasmines and a spray of raat ki rani. At one end of the garden is a birdbath that used to be shared by sparrows, crows, mynahs, kites, pigeons, babblers and a dozen stray cats.
Facing my apartment in front is a square lawn shared by all the residents of Sujan Singh Park. It has several trees of the ficus family, a chorisia (Mexican silk cotton tree) which bears large pink flowers in late autumn, and an old mulberry. I have a permanent view of this lawn from my sitting room window that’s framed by a madhumalati creeper.
What perhaps accounts for the profusion of bird life in our locality are the numerous nurseries in the vicinity and the foliage of many old papdi trees. There are also lots of butterflies, beetles and bugs of different kinds. But over the years I have observed some changes. One, the disappearance of vultures, sparrows, frogs, fireflies and moths during the rainy season. There are no vultures or sparrows that come to my birdbath or garden any more.
There was a time when I spent Sunday mornings in winter in the outskirts of Delhi, armed with a pair of binoculars and Salim Ali’s or Whistler’s books on birds. My favourite haunts were the banks of the Yamuna behind Tilpat village, Surajkund and the ruins of Tughlaqabad Fort. It has been many years since I’ve been able to do that.
Winter in Delhi has become more unbearable for me with each passing year and I find myself feeling miserable. It is not entirely due to the weather. I remember, during my school days, we lived in a house on Jantar Mantar Road (which today is Kerala House). It had a marble fountain in the front garden. On some days in December and January, it was so cold the water froze to ice. We had fogs and heavy mists. I quite enjoyed the winter months. I don’t do so any more. It’s probably because I’m in my late nineties and my blood is not as warm as it used to be. I keep cheering myself up, saying, ‘“If winter comes, spring cannot be far behind.”’ By Republic Day, 26 January, signs of spring are visible: all kinds of flowers are in full bloom in our parks and roundabouts and we start putting away our winter garments till late autumn. Till then, I have hot-water bottles in my bed, heaters glowing round the clock, log fires every evening. And misery all the time.
One phenomenon that baffles me is why many cities in the plains like Delhi, Amritsar and Chandigarh are colder than Shimla which is 6000 feet above sea level. And why Bhatinda freezes to zero degrees.
There was a time when people in Delhi wore overcoats, and other winter garments such as cardigans and sweaters were a must. Today you see hardly anyone wearing an overcoat; and woollen cardigans and sweaters are fast disappearing. This is due to thermal wear made of lightweight synthetic material like ‘fleece’ which seems to have revolutionized winter fashion. You can wear jackets, shirts and leggings made of these materials and need nothing more to ward off the chill. ‘No weather is bad when you are suitably clad,’ said Arthur Gutterman. I am as suitably clad as I can be, but still feel the winter chill, and don’t look forward to this season as I once used to do.
I remember a time I looked forward to celebrating New Years’ Eve by drinking, dancing and flirting, ushering in the New Year singing Auld Lang Syne at midnight. I spent many First of Januarys nursing hangovers with cups of black coffee and aspirins. I have not done this for many years. On New year’s Eve, I go to bed by 10 p.m., latest, and barely hear my neighbours bursting crackers at midnight.
All our calendars are man-made. The only one that is followed around the world is the Roman one. Every community has their own new year, but New Year’s Eve and the first day of January are celebrated universally as a new beginning. Making New Year resolutions is also the monopoly of the Roman calendar.
There was a time when I used to make resolutions to better myself. Year after year, I swore I would not malign people I hated. The resolution barely lasted a month before I resumed saying or writing exactly what I felt.
It is too late for me to become a better human being.
Poetry is Priceless
Khushwantnama Page 5
