by S L Bhyrappa
She was shocked by the force of her own speech. She couldn’t believe she had said all that. Suddenly she experienced a strange sense of elevation that felt good. Amir was still upset. He went out to the balcony and lit a cigarette. What’s wrong with her? She’s stuck in that stupid village reading her father’s books. Why? She’s neglecting her wifely duties. What am I supposed to do here? And he remembered. She wants me to join her there, in that village! He couldn’t dream of spending even a night in that hellhole. And she said she lives like a Hindu there, wearing that bindi just like…like the Hindus wear. Oh! And it was so easy for her to ask me to stay with her in her father’s house. Amir, husband of a Hindu woman…damn! How could she understand how embarrassing…inadequate it would make me feel. He was boiling now.
‘Dinner is on the table, sahib,’ Amina Banu’s voice brought him back.
‘Okay. Go home now,’ he said and then sat on the chair in the balcony.
A long time afterwards, Razia came to him. ‘Let’s eat.’
‘Please go. I want to be alone,’ he said without looking at her.
She came closer, ‘I’ve come from so far and it’s been so long…’
‘I’m used to staying alone and…and I like it now. Please, don’t disturb me,’ he said, purposely turning his head away from her.
She felt slighted and left. There was no point pacifying him. Her last visit had shown her how difficult the task was. She was very hungry and sat at the table but couldn’t get herself to eat alone. She stared at the dishes blankly and recalled an incident that had occurred four months ago. It was her first visit to Bangalore after she had gone to Narasapura and later to Sangama to immerse her father’s ashes. She and Amir had just been about to start dinner when she had opened the lid of the vessel to serve the curry but stopped midway—she couldn’t tell by looking whether the curry was beef. Amina had cut the meat neatly and cooked it to a fine tenderness. The only way to find out was to taste it.
‘Amir, can you taste this a bit and tell me if it’s beef?’
‘Why?’
‘I no longer eat beef.’
He had stared at her for a long time, looking as though he was talking to himself. Then, tauntingly, ‘May I ask you why you’ve adopted this retrograde step?’
She had ignored the taunt. ‘I’m my father’s only daughter. I wasn’t present when his last rites were performed and all I could do was immerse his ashes in the river. To do that, I had to atone for the sin of eating beef. Part of the atonement ritual was to take an oath that I’ll never eat beef again.’
He had just stared at her. She had remembered his other argument during the tension-filled days when they were living in his parents’ home. Each time he had pressed her to eat beef, she would counter it with, ‘Why don’t you eat pork?’ And then she had sensed he’d revive that same argument. After sometime, he had said, ‘Fine! But in that case, you need to give up eating meat entirely. You can’t argue for a special status for cows without sounding hypocritical.’
It had made sense. And then she had recalled that her Gandhian father was a staunch vegetarian. As long as he was alive and now, even after he was gone, Lakshmamma and Kenchappa continued to respect his strictly vegetarian lifestyle. They didn’t cook meat at home.
‘Amir, you’re right. Ever since I’ve been in Narasapura, I’ve not touched meat. And yes, food is a question of individual choice. But there is such a thing as showing kindness to animals—honouring their right to live. If you look at it that way, vegetarianism stands on a higher plane. Which is why I’ve decided to give up eating meat. Even when I come here,’ she had replied with a tone of finality.
‘Oh? If we’re so different in something as basic as food, how do you sustain one of the main bonds that make this marriage?’
‘You become a vegetarian.’
‘But God has created animals so that man can eat them. Right?’
‘This kind of reasoning stems from deep-rooted arrogance. And any religion that reinforces it is arrogant to the same extent.’
The conversation had ended there. She hadn’t eaten the curry. Her dinner that night was just rotis dipped in curd. The consequence of our earlier argument had shown itself in bed later that night—we simply lay next to each other. I thought the newfound difference in food had diminished the sense of oneness between us.
And now she continued to stare at the dining table. Nobody had instructed Amina to prepare vegetarian food for her separately. And Lakshmi wasn’t sure what she had cooked. She didn’t have a heart to eat alone, without him. He was still sulking, sitting there in the balcony, smoking. She went to the bedroom, lay on the bed and waited for him for interminable minutes. He didn’t come. She decided not to call him. She sighed and closed her eyes. It wasn’t just her newfound vegetarianism that upset him so. Hampi…the sight of the broken Virupaksha idol, the destroyed temples and now, her letter detailing Tipu’s atrocities…he must be fuming. But she couldn’t pretend that all of that was not true. Why is he so rigid? Can’t he see the truth for what it is?
When she opened her eyes, she could see the sunlight softly illuminating the room from behind the semi-transparent window drapes. She couldn’t remember when she had finally fallen asleep. She was alone on the bed. She wanted to weep. So he was purposely distancing himself. She got up and a few minutes later, stepped into the living room, moving towards the dining table. Amir had already eaten and he hadn’t called her to join him. She climbed the staircase that led to Nazir’s room. The door was half-shut. She pushed it open. Amir was lying on his back, smoking.
‘Why did you sleep here?’
He didn’t look at her. ‘Sorry, I forgot to tell Amina to cook vegetarian food for you whenever you come here.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll tell her myself. You don’t need to turn vegetarian for my sake. But you didn’t answer my question: why did you sleep here?’
Now he turned his face away from her pointedly. ‘I realized there’s nothing a vegetarian woman can offer me.’
‘Amir! That’s vulgar! Is that how you saw me all these years? I’m your wife.’ Her voice was shrill, trembling with rage.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound vulgar.’ He paused, looked at her and continued, ‘Here’s the thing: only a vegetarian woman can stay apart from her husband for months at a stretch.’ The triumph in his tone jarred her. She glared at him, wanting to retaliate, but turned back and left the room.
5
Around ten in the morning, Kenchappa entered Razia’s study and gave her an envelope. Razia was surprised to know that there was actually a post office in her village.
‘Since when do you have a post office here?’
‘It’s been seven–eight years, amma.’
Not bad. She looked at the envelope. It was addressed to her in Kannada. She couldn’t recognize the handwriting and there was no return address. She tore it open and extracted the letter written in English. Professor Sastri. She felt happy.
My dear Lakshmi,
I’m writing to you for the first time in my life. Think of it. There was neither reason nor opportunity to actually write a letter to you all these years. What name do I call you? Shall I call you Lakshmi or shall I call you Razia? To me, both are beautiful names.
I was abroad and returned two weeks ago. I met Amir last Saturday. He told me in quite some detail about how you have changed. But I can sense what you’re going through. Ever since you saw the Hampi ruins, you’ve become sentimental, and you’ve uncritically accepted the lies written by communal historians. This sentimentality is what is preventing you from proceeding with the script. You were such an ideal couple—there was no film you did not do together. And now this? Amir had to get someone else to write the Hampi script? I’m disappointed…no! I’m pained. Terribly hurt.
The true history of Hampi—of the entire Vijayanagar Empire—is far more complex than the imaginary tales that these ‘historians’ narrate. The Vijayanagar Empire invited its destruction upon itse
lf; the Muslims did nothing. I agree that some Muslim kings destroyed Hindu temples and idols, but they were aberrations, acts of revenge. Even Hindu kings were not as tolerant as most believe. I don’t know if you’ve been following recent historical research. You’ll be shocked to learn that the Vijayanagar Empire witnessed some of the most barbaric strife between the Shaiva and Vaishnava sects. Rivers of blood flowed as a result. All the disfigured idols and ruined temples that pained you so deeply—all, all of them are dedicated to Vishnu. In other words, they were built by the followers of the Vaishnava sect. The Lakshmi Narasimha and Vijaya Vittala temples are just two very prominent surviving examples of the hundreds of Vishnu temples that were demolished. But did you ask why the Virupaksha temple still stands intact with not so much as a scratch on it? Virupaksha is Shiva, the god of the Shaiva sect. What does it say? The Vaishnava followers had immense backing from the powerful leaders at Tirupati, which was how they managed to oppress the Shaivas. I really don’t need to tell you that Tirupati is in Andhra Pradesh but I’ll say it because if you look at it, doesn’t this also mean that the people of Andhra Pradesh oppressed these Shaivas in the Vijayanagar Empire? And Lakshmi, this oppression didn’t last for a few years. It was prolonged over a hundred years. How long could the poor Shaivas tolerate this? When they decided that enough was enough, they invited the neighbouring Muslim kings and showed them all the vulnerable spots they could attack in Vijayanagar. These Muslim kings agreed because the temptation of seizing Vijayanagar’s enormous wealth was irresistible. And so, when war broke out, it was the perfect time for the long-suffering Shaivas to destroy as many Vishnu temples and idols as they could. But how do our communal ‘historians’ narrate this? They blame all this temple-idol destruction on the Muslim kings.
I’m proud of your newfound interest in studying history. I’ll introduce you to solid Progressive historians. They’ll happily guide you. And you know I’m always there for you. Actually, now that I say this, I think you have the discipline and commitment to study the history of not just Vijayanagar but the whole of India. But don’t ever forget that the goal of history is to enable the forward march of humanity towards Progressiveness.
Yours lovingly,
N.S.N
She folded the letter, put it down on the bed and thought for a few minutes. It was trademark Professor Sastri. She admitted that it contained specific points that provoked closer attention. But then she had almost abandoned the idea of a Progressive history. She thought hard. Actually, there was nothing like Progressive history, she concluded, suddenly recalling her research on Tipu Sultan, and her father’s copious notes. What was history then? She inserted the letter back into the envelope and idly threw it on the study table. She read it again the next day and suddenly recalled a note her father had made. History is a quest for truth. These words filled her mind. She knew almost nothing about Hampi or the history of the Vijayanagar Empire and Professor Sastri’s history of the empire wasn’t convincing. She decided to study Vijayanagar in depth and then ask the professor to introduce her to his Progressive historians and hear out what they had to say.
She began to rummage through her father’s collection. She was sure there’d be at least a few authoritative histories on the Vijayanagar Empire. Sewell’s A Forgotten Empire stood on the topmost rack of the third bookshelf. She pulled it out. Where have I seen this book before? Ah! In Hampi. But where? And it slowly came to her. It was in a local bookstore in the narrow street right opposite the Virupaksha temple. But she hadn’t bought it because working towards a deadline on a documentary, she didn’t have the time or the patience to read something like that. No. I hadn’t known the extent of my father’s self-earned scholarship back then. She opened A Forgotten Empire’s cover page to find a thick wad of papers folded inside. Father’s notes. They threw additional light on her father’s approach to study. She recalled seeing similarly folded, handwritten papers in most of the other books she had read. Without opening them, she knew what they contained—eight or ten pages of notes summarizing the entire book. She looked at the neighbouring books on the same row. Srinivasa Ritti and B. Gopal’s A History of Karnataka; N.Venkataramanayya’s The Delhi Sultanate; Suryanath Kamath’s A Concise History of Karnataka; P.B. Desai’s Karnataka Through the Ages. She suddenly felt puny, ashamed. How did I agree to do that documentary without reading any of these? And how did I let Amir convince me that two tourist booklets gave us everything we needed to know about Hampi? She decided to read them all from the very beginning, together with her father’s notes.
Back at her desk, she began reading her father’s notes on A Forgotten Empire.
The question of whether history has a goal is one that falls in the domain of philosophy and rides on the back of logic. But the study of history has a definite goal: the search for truth. Digging into primary sources and records, classifying and categorizing them and then giving them a shape that is both faithful to the facts unearthed and is logically consistent is a painstaking task. However, in modern times, especially post-Independence, historians have devised innovative interpretations of Indian history, which now qualify as authentic history. Overcoming such interpretations is harder. This applies equally to the ‘history’ of Hampi. This history tells us that Hampi’s magnificent temples were destroyed and the idols there were smashed because of violent strife between the Vaishnava and Shaiva sects, and that the neighbouring Muslim kingdoms had nothing to do with it. As evidence, these histories tell us that all the destroyed idols and temples belong to Vaishnavas. They also assert that the powerful forces located outside, in Andhra Pradesh, with the backing of the powerful Vaishnavas at Tirupati, had persecuted the Shaivas of Karnataka for long years. The Shaivas finally rebelled and sought the aid of Muslim kings, which resulted in a massive war during which they destroyed the temples of the Vaishnavas. This ‘history’ is a ploy to whitewash the religious fanaticism of Muslim kings. But what the writers of this ‘history’ don’t understand is how their own interpretation shows the people of Karnataka in poor light—it implies that the people of Karnataka and Shaivas, specifically, indulged in acts of such heinous vandalism. In any case, this history is untrue.
In its two-hundred-plus years of history, the Vijayanagar Empire saw rulers who belonged to both the Vaishnava and Shiva sects. How did a ruler treat subjects belonging to the other sect? Did a Vaishnava ruler persecute his Shaiva citizens? I’ve read almost everything there is related to this and I spent many weeks at Hampi and toured the general region of the Vijayanagar Empire’s site on foot. My first-hand observations tally very accurately with George Michael and Philip Wagoner’s definitive Vijayanagara: Architectural Inventory of the Sacred Shrine. The third volume of the work shows photographs of both Shiva and Vishnu temples destroyed in Hampi. A brief list for ready reference of the disfigured Shiva temples:
Chandramouleshwara temple—Plates 20, 21—Mutilated.
Soumya Someshwara temple—Plates 67, 68, 69—Mutilated.
Linga-Shiva temple—Plate 329—Mutilated.
Chandikeshwara temple—Plates 352, 353—Mutilated.
Veerabhadra temple complex—Plates 390, 391, 392—Mutilated.
Virupaksha temple on top of the Hemakuta hill (reportedly, the ‘original’ Virupaksha)—Plate 520—Mutilated.
Apart from temples, the cave and the matt of the Shaiva saint-poet, Chaamarasa, have been thoroughly disfigured.
The Anantashayana temple, dedicated to Vishnu, and the Shiva temple—Mallappana Gudi—on the Hospet–Hampi stretch are mutilated.
On the Someshwara hill off-road the Hospet–Anegondi highway, the Someshwara cave-temple built for Shiva has been destroyed.
The Shiva temple inside the ‘Kings’ Cave’ behind the Virupaksha temple complex shows us the extent of damage—the scaffolding holding the lingam and the Nandi idol, Shiva’s vehicle, stands orphaned.
This is just a partial list but it’s enough to show how incorrect the Shaiva–Vaishnava conflict theories are. But the innovation of
history doesn’t stop there. It holds the fact of the Shiva temple destruction as another evidence of the barbaric nature of the Shaiva–Vaishnava conflict! It is, therefore, important to examine the attitudes and behaviour of the Vijayanagar kings first-hand:
The tower of the Virupaksha temple was built by Krishnadevaraya, a devout Vaishnava.
The magnificient Vijaya Vittala temple dedicated to Vishnu was built by Devaraya II, a Shaiva.
The Ramachandra temple, also used as a private temple by the royal family, was commissioned and completed by Devaraya I, a Shaiva. The Ramachandra Temple at Vijayanagara, co-authored by Anna L. Dallapiccola and John M. Fritz, is an exhaustive study of this temple.
The Virupaksha temple continues to be functional even today and largely remains intact. Based on my study, I find it reasonable to conclude that this happened because of a concerted effort on the part of ordinary people who fought the Muslims so they could preserve the founding deity of the Vijayanagar Empire.
~
This was enough. Lakshmi began to devour everything that was available on the history of the Vijayanagar Empire in her father’s library. She made notes meticulously and added her own findings to her father’s notes. She went to Bangalore and read the books her father had listed in his bibliography and under ‘additional reading’. After her work at Bangalore was done, she took the train to Hospet and found her way to Hampi again. She examined the entire region mostly on foot, like her father had. At the end of two weeks, she began to feel confident that she had a complete grasp over the history of the Vijayanagar Empire. Should I make an independent film on the story of this glorious civilization’s heart-rending destruction? She spent an entire day harbouring this dreamlike thought.
When she returned to Bangalore the day after, she called Professor Sastri.
‘Sir, I got your letter four months ago. Sorry I couldn’t respond earlier. I was busy researching the history of the Vijayanagar Empire that you had mentioned in your letter…you know, about the Shaiva–Vaishnava clash that wiped out the empire. And now I’m calling to tell you that that explanation does not hold. My findings tell me that it was the neighbouring Muslim kings who destroyed all those temples and idols. And now I’m ready to debate on this with the Progressive historians that you mentioned. Can you introduce me to them?’
