Hanuman Complex

 

It was by sheer chance I met Sri Hanuman ji at the junction where history turned into many diversions. It wasn’t at all easy to recognise him since he had a mask on to protect himself from the overenthusiastic Kerala Police that impose heavy fines on people without masks. The Kerala government’s revenue was limited severely by the closure of liquor outlets and the lottery business. Mercifully, the central government kept on increasing the prices of petrol and diesel everyday like a sacred ritual so that the SGST kept coming in. Without that, what would the State do? Beg from Delhi? That would be of no use because Delhi was an alien capital these days with Lutyens’ history being rewritten by roaring earth movers. Aryan pride was wiping out both British and Mughal symbols from Bharatvarsha.

It was not just the mask that made it difficult to recognise Hanuman ji. He had no tail. I asked him about that.

“I never had a tail, man,” he said. “That tail was an honour added by Valmiki ji who thought that the Dravidians had not yet evolved fully into human beings. Or maybe he mistook the tail of my konakam as my own tail.”

I looked around to make sure that no one was listening to this conversation. Both Hanuman ji and I would be arrested for sedition if the nationalists heard us. Many of our stand-up comics and cartoonists and poets and social activists are already in prisons just for employing metaphors much less dangerous than Dravidian tails. The konakam of the Vanar Sena won’t suit nationalism, surely.

“The tail suited us anyway,” Hanuman ji said. “It symbolised our absolute devotion to the fair-skinned Lord from beyond the Vindhya.”

Symbols are okay, I said to myself. Only metaphors are a problem.

“But I doubt whether Lord Rama would be pleased with what’s happening nowadays in His name,” he added.

I froze. The conversation was turning dangerously seditious. “Be careful,” I whispered. “We live in a time when you can’t even compare a crook to a bioweapon.”

Not only metaphors but similes were seditious too.

“But I’m using understatement,” Hanuman ji sighed. “What really worries me more than the majestic temple being built for a god who lived humbly in wildernesses is the Temple Trust selling the Lord’s devotees to a real estate dealer.”

“Not a cheap deal, though,” I said to console him without realising that my utterance would not be deemed innocent in a court of new justice.

“You look intimidated, brother,” Hanuman ji said looking into my eyes with compassion.

I tried to smile. The smile must have been warped.

“I’m guilty,” Hanuman ji said humbly. I looked at him inquisitively. He explained tersely, “I gifted people Hanuman complex.”

 

Note: Konakam was a prototype of briefs used in Kerala in the olden days. It was a long ribbon tied round the waist and passing over the genital covering it. with the end hanging loose behind between the bums.

PS. The post owes much to a satirical work written by O V Vijayan some time in 1980s.