Skip to main content

When Arif Mohammed Khan becomes a Hindu

Pic from Manorama


Arif Mohammad Khan, the governor of Kerala, declared himself a Hindu yesterday while addressing the Hindu Conclave at Thiruvananthapuram. The term Hindu is not religious but geographical, he asserted with his characteristic disarming smile. ‘Hindu’ is a geographical term denoting the people of a region, the whole of India.

I was excited. Patriotism surged in my veins. Goosebumps embraced my entire body. I am a Hindu, I said to myself. Now I can enter the temple which has been denying entry to famous people like K J Yesudas because of the temple authority’s ignorance about what ‘Hindu’ means. ‘No entry for non-Hindus,’ says a board outside that temple (and many other temples in Kerala). But my governor gave me hope. So I went to the temple.

The board is still there. The temple looks slightly different from usual. The crowd is less and there are a lot of police around. Something is wrong, I can see. Maybe, Mr Khan has inspired a lot of other Indians like me and there is some security problem for the Lord Krishna, the presiding deity of the temple.

I notice a helicopter in the playground of the nearby college. Soon I learn that the son of the richest man in the world [that title keeps switching from person to person] is here along with his fiancée. No devotee will be allowed inside the temple gate until the country’s heirs leave. So I choose to wait outside.

“Why are you here?” The board asks me. That board which has been staring at me for quite some time with the inscription about no entry for non-Hindus.

I explain to the board that I am a Hindu according to the Khan theorem.

“What Hindu?” The board questions me. “A Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaisya, Shudra… You are not even an untouchable Hindu and you want to enter a caste Hindu temple!” The board spits out.

This is getting complicated, I say to myself as I walk to the nearby ‘cool bar’ to have a cool pineapple juice and contemplate on how to get geography and caste in the same circle of definitions.

The TV of the cool bar says that Akhilesh Yadav was stopped from entering the Pitambara Devi Temple in Lucknow. “Shown black flags by activists of Hindutva outfits during his visit to Pitambara Devi Temple in Lucknow’s Daliganj on Saturday, Samajwadi Party president Akhilesh Yadav alleged that the BJP sent its goons to stop him from entering the temple, and that this is part of the ruling party’s antipathy towards people from backward communities visiting temples.”

Dear Mr Khan, will you please check which premise of your theorem is wrong?

On the way back, the passenger on the next seat in the KSRTC bus tells me an  anecdote.

A man was standing the brink of the Venduruthy Bridge in the middle of the night. He was apparently going to commit suicide by jumping into the backwaters. A person who happened to pass by stopped his bike and asked the potential suicide to give him a minute.

“Are you a Hindu?” the biker asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“I am a Hindu too. A Brahmin or Kshatriya or Vaishya or…?”

“A Kshatriya.”

“How nice! I am one too. Nair or Menon or Pillai or …?”

“Nair.”

“Fantastic! I am a Nair too. Kiriyath Nair or Marar or Chembotti Nair or …?”

“Marar.”

“Oh! Then you die, wretch.” And he pushed him over. He was a proud Chembotti Nair.

I laughed. I knew it wasn’t a joke. But what is not a joke in this country anymore?

Comments

  1. Hari OM
    'Tis a conundrum, without doubt... YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
  2. Good one in your inimitable brand of sarcasm! But then as you say, today there is hardly any difference between reality and a joke/sarcasm.

    ReplyDelete

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...

Florentino’s Many Loves

Florentino Ariza has had 622 serious relationships (combo pack with sex) apart from numerous fleeting liaisons before he is able to embrace the only woman whom he loved with all his heart and soul. And that embrace happens “after a long and troubled love affair” that lasted 51 years, 9 months, and 4 days. Florentino is in his late 70s when he is able to behold, and hold as well, the very body of his beloved Fermina, who is just a few years younger than him. She now stands before him with her wrinkled shoulders, sagged breasts, and flabby skin that is as pale and cold as a frog’s. It is the culmination of a long, very long, wait as far as Florentino is concerned, the end of his passionate quest for his holy grail. “I’ve remained a virgin for you,” he says. All those 622 and more women whose details filled the 25 diaries that he kept writing with meticulous devotion have now vanished into thin air. They mean nothing now that he has reached where he longed to reach all his life. The...

To an Old Friend

Image by Copilot Designer Dear S, I don’t know if you’d even remember me after all these decades, but I find myself writing to you as if it were only yesterday that we parted ways. You were one of the few friends I had at school. You may be amused to know that a drawing of yours that you gifted me stayed with me until I left Kerala after school. Half a century later, I still remember that beautiful pencil drawing, the picture of a vallam (Kerala’s canoe) resting on a shore beneath a coconut tree that slanted over a serene river on whose other bank was an undulating hilly landscape. A few birds flew happily in the sky. Though it was all done in pencil, absolutely black and white, my memories of it carry countless colours. I wonder where you are now. A few years later, when I returned to Kerala on holiday, I did visit your village to enquire about you. But the village had changed much and your hut on the hill wasn’t seen anymore. Maybe, you moved on. Maybe, you took up your father’s...

Waste Land

This is a silly post though I dare to call it a poem.  Read it at your own risk. “In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.” T S Eliots’ Prufrock had at least the consolation of women coming and going talking of Michelangelo.   I’m back to regular routine tomorrow.  And women will come and go talking of duties, workshops and seminars.  They call themselves experts.  They will dictate the terms and conditions.  They have the backing of a religious sect. And I will sing along with T S Eliot : Weialala leia Wallala leialala The winter break is over.  The real break is going to begin. Religious break? Or feminine break? I’m looking forward to Madame Sosostris with her Tarot cards.  She will determine the future. The future of her staff.  She has started by terminating the services of the redundant.  Who is not redundant in this world? Is the expert essential? Is the Sw...