Skip to main content

The commonplaceness of religious terror





When I was young (and proportionately foolish), I decided to take a phone connection.  Those were the days of landline phones monopolised by the government through the telecom.  You apply for a connection and wait for ages to get it.  In the meanwhile you have to bribe at least half a dozen people in the telecom department.  My landlady came to know about my adventure and said unequivocally, “You can’t take a phone connection here.”  By ‘here’ she meant my rented house of which she was the owner.

“Why?” I wondered aloud.

“The cable will block the sunshine in the yard.”

She walked away without saying another word and without daring to look into my eyes.  I knew something was wrong somewhere.  A little later I bought a bike, a sleek Yamaha 100cc, the most popular bike in Shillong in those days.  I parked it outside my rented house in the remotest corner where it would hardly be noticed by anyone, not even by the sun.

“You can’t park your bike in this compound,” thundered my landlady.

“But it won’t disturb anyone in that corner,” I said feeling pathetic.

One of my BEd teachers who stayed a few doors away permitted me to park the bike in her yard.  When that was settled came my landlady’s order, “You have to vacate the house next month.”

“If it’s about the rent, you can raise it,” I said.  It was the usual trick of landladies to ask the tenant to quit when they wanted to raise the rent. 

“You have to vacate, that’s all.”  That was how she ended my eight years of uneventful relationship with her as a tenant.

Eventually, years later in fact, I learnt that the landlady was innocent.  There was a Catholic missionary who was behind all the games.  He wished to domesticate me by shifting me to a place where his manipulation would be easier.  He made my life a hell in the next five or six years until I quit Shillong unable to cope with the hell created by the missionary.

The acts of inhumanity perpetrated by the Catholic Church through centuries far outweigh its acts of charity.  Now the “official” religion of India seems to be emulating the Catholic Church by persecuting or even killing those who criticise it.  However, it is heartening to see more and more people protesting against such persecutions and murders. 

Why do religions depend upon devious measures to smother criticism?  Isn’t it because they can never, never provide intellectually satisfactory answers to criticism?  And most people are like my landlady, helpless, incapable of asking the simple question: “Why should I do this?”  People are scared of religious leaders.  Terror has always sustained all religions.  If Hinduism was an exception, it is no more so.
 

Comments

  1. "Terror has always sustained all religions" - Powerful statement this...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Where rationality has no place, terror becomes inevitable sooner or later.

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. That's very simple: I didn't live up to their expectations.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...

Ram, Anandhi, and Co

Book Review Title: Ram C/o Anandhi Author: Akhil P Dharmajan Translator: Haritha C K Publisher: HarperCollins India, 2025 Pages: 303 T he author tells us in his prefatory note that “this (is) a cinematic novel.” Don’t read it as literary work but imagine it as a movie. That is exactly how this novel feels like: an action-packed thriller. The story revolves around Ram, a young man who lands in Chennai for joining a diploma course in film making, and Anandhi, receptionist of Ram’s college. Then there are their friends: Vetri and his half-sister Reshma, and Malli who is a transgender. An old woman, who is called Paatti (grandmother) by everyone and is the owner of the house where three of the characters live, has an enviably thrilling role in the plot.   In one of the first chapters, Ram and Anandhi lock horns over a trifle. That leads to some farcical action which agitates Paatti’s bees which in turn fly around stinging everyone. Malli, the aruvani (transgender), s...

The Blind Lady’s Descendants

Book Review Title: The Blind Lady’s Descendants Author: Anees Salim Publisher: Penguin India 2015 Pages: 301 Price: Rs 399 A metaphorical blindness is part of most people’s lives.  We fail to see many things and hence live partial lives.  We make our lives as well as those of others miserable with our blindness.  Anees Salim’s novel which won the Raymond & Crossword award for fiction in 2014 explores the role played by blindness in the lives of a few individuals most of whom belong to the family of Hamsa and Asma.  The couple are not on talking terms for “eighteen years,” according to the mother.  When Amar, the youngest son and narrator of the novel, points out that he is only sixteen, Asma reduces it to fifteen and then to ten years when Amar refers to the child that was born a few years after him though it did not survive.  Dark humour spills out of every page of the book.  For example: How reckless Akmal was! ...

The Ghost of a Banyan Tree

  Image from here Fiction Jaichander Varma could not sleep. It was past midnight and the world outside Jaichander Varma’s room was fairly quiet because he lived sufficiently far away from the city. Though that entailed a tedious journey to his work and back, Mr Varma was happy with his residence because it afforded him the luxury of peaceful and pure air. The city is good, no doubt. Especially after Mr Modi became the Prime Minister, the city was the best place with so much vikas. ‘Where’s vikas?’ Someone asked Mr Varma once. Mr Varma was offended. ‘You’re a bloody antinational mussalman who should be living in Pakistan ya kabristan,’ Mr Varma told him bluntly. Mr Varma was a proud Indian which means he was a Hindu Brahmin. He believed that all others – that is, non-Brahmins – should go to their respective countries of belonging. All Muslims should go to Pakistan and Christians to Rome (or is it Italy? Whatever. Get out of Bharat Mata, that’s all.) The lower caste Hindus co...