Skip to main content

Vamana versus Mahabali


Kerala celebrates its state festival, Onam, today. The spirit of Onam is the sheer antithesis of contemporary politics which is governed by post-truth strategies. This morning’s national dailies brought us the news that the Income Tax raiders laid siege to more than 110 offices which were not kowtowing to the ruling party at the Centre. Raids and other forms of oppression have become the most common way of dealing with critics of the union government today. Every Indian today is expected to dumbly accept whatever the union government dishes out. This is just the opposite of what Onam teaches.

Onam is about self-sacrifice and integrity. Fundamentally a harvest festival, it is sustained by the legend of King Mahabali during whose reign Kerala was a sort of utopia where the people were highly virtuous. Honesty, equality, justice and other principles guided the nation unfailingly. The king was the paragon of all such virtues. But he was an Asura king. Hence the gods in the heavens were not quite chuffed with his popularity. None less than God Vishnu himself took an avatar in the shape of Vamana in order to sent Mahabali to the netherworld (Patala) using fraudulence.

Onam does not celebrate that fraudulence, however. Amit Shah wanted Keralites to do that. A few years back he wished “Happy Vamana Jayanti” to the people of Kerala on the occasion of Onan and tasted the hellish fury of Malayalis. No, Onam is not about the victory of the gods. Not the victory of fraudulence which is not uncommon in Indian legends including the epic Mahabharata. Onam celebrates the return of Mahabali to visit his people with the due permission of his vanquisher. An annual visit of his people by a loving king. The loving and virtuous king happens to be a demon and his nemesis happens to be the mightiest of the gods! Is it irony or catastrophe? You decide.

When I saw the names of certain publications which were raided yesterday – The Print, The Wire, The Caravan – I was reminded of the dwarf Vamana and the great Mahabali.

I think India is now governed by the spirit of Vamana and all Mahabalis are being sent to the netherworld through raids of all sorts.

The latest edition of Mathrubhumi weekly [Malayalam] carries a story by celebrated Malayalam writer Zachariah. Ammalu is a prostitute whose father was a Communist who loved Mahatma Gandhi. Seeing her father paying obeisance before a picture of Gandhi’s every morning, Ammalu too venerated Gandhi but without knowing who he really was. Ammalu asks the narrator-protagonist of the story, “Who shot Gandhi?” She wants to know the details of the Gandhi assassination. But the narrator doesn’t tell her. Instead he sings a song, the prostitute’s song: “Every night belongs to her.”

It starts raining outside. A spatter of raindrops falls on the narrator and Ammalu through the window. The narrator doesn’t see his room anymore. Instead he sees many skies. There are rainbows and stars and planets and international vessels floating in those skies. He hears the humming of eternity.

He hears Ammalu’s sobs.

I stifle my sob when I look at The New Indian Express headline in front of me: Tax raids on top policy thinktank, NGO, Trust.


I will celebrate Onam, however. Let there be light at least in my rare celebrations.

PS. My previous posts on Onam: Here

Comments

  1. Hari OM
    May this auspicious festival and New Year bring happiness and prosperity to you. And at least a day of respite from the ravages of news items... YAM xx

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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...

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

Romance in Utopia

Book Review Title: My Haven Author: Ruchi Chandra Verma Pages: 161 T his little novel is a surfeit of sugar and honey. All the characters that matter are young employees of an IT firm in Bengaluru. One of them, Pihu, 23 years and all too sweet and soft, falls in love with her senior colleague, Aditya. The love is sweetly reciprocated too. The colleagues are all happy, furthermore. No jealousy, no rivalry, nothing that disturbs the utopian equilibrium that the author has created in the novel. What would love be like in a utopia? First of all, there would be no fear or insecurity. No fear of betrayal, jealousy, heartbreak… Emotional security is an essential part of any utopia. There would be complete trust between partners, without the need for games or power struggles. Every relationship would be built on deep understanding, where partners complement each other perfectly. Miscommunication and misunderstanding would be rare or non-existent, as people would have heightened emo...

Tanishq and the Patriots

Patriots are a queer lot. You don’t know what all things can make them pick up the gun. Only one thing is certain apparently: the gun for anything. When the neighbouring country behaves like a hoard of bandicoots digging into our national borders, we will naturally take up the gun. But nowadays we choose to redraw certain lines on the map and then proclaim that not an inch of land has been lost. On the other hand, when a jewellery company brings out an ad promoting harmony between the majority and the minority populations, our patriots take up the gun. And shoot down the ad. Those who promote communal harmony are traitors in India today. The sacred duty of the genuine Indian patriot is to hate certain communities, rape their women, plunder their land, deny them education and other fundamental rights and basic requirements. Tanishq withdrew the ad that sought to promote communal harmony. The patriot’s gun won. Aapka Bharat Mahan. In the novel Black Hole which I’m writing there is...

A Lesson from Little Prince

I joined the #WriteAPageADay challenge of Blogchatter , as I mentioned earlier in another post. I haven’t succeeded in writing a page every day, though. But as long as you manage to write a minimum of 10,000 words in the month of Feb, Blogchatter is contented. I woke up this morning feeling rather vacant in the head, which happens sometimes. Whenever that happens to me but I do want to get on with what I should, I fall back on a book that has inspired me. One such book is Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince . I have wished time and again to meet Little Prince in person as the narrator of his story did. We might have interesting conversations like the ones that exist in the novel. If a sheep eats shrubs, will he also eat flowers? That is one of the questions raised by Little Prince [LP]. “A sheep eats whatever he meets,” the narrator answers. “Even flowers that have thorns?” LP is interested in the rose he has on his tiny planet. When he is told that the sheep will eat f...