Skip to main content

Left out of Ayodhya


I just received a query from a friend on WhatsApp.

Have you received an invitation to visit the Ram Mandir Pran Pratishtha?

I responded with a lot of laughing emoticons.

Then I thought

Is it a matter for laughter?

I am a citizen of India whose Prime Minister is going to inaugurate the temple. As a citizen, I deserve an invitation. Otherwise, the inauguration (whatever name one may give to it in local languages) should be carried out by anyone other than a government official. What has the government got to do with a place of worship without involving the citizens?

I’m grateful to my friend for provoking me to write this.

I’m reminded of a parable I read in a cynical novel a few years ago.

Some crows were sitting on an electricity cable as they always do in India as if they were mocking our entire systems. Even our electric power can do them no harm, let alone the semiliterate politicians.

Then came a dove, pure white dove, from somewhere and sat a few feet away on the same electricity cable.

One crow said to the next one pointing out the white colour of the different one, “Saala, convert kar liya.” [The bastard has been converted.]

Anyone who doesn’t look like us is a traitor in India today.

Religious conversions are the worst crimes.

You can rape in India. You can plunder. Kill. You can do whatever you wish. As long as you belong to a particular religion, a particular political party. Wear a particular robe of a particular colour. Worship a particular god - not the heavenly one, you know.

Even if you do all that, you won’t get the invitation to the inauguration [Pran whatever] of the Mandir. Because the god there suffers from an acute sense of insecurity.

I have no problem about not being invited though I do feel let down as a citizen of India. But my friend who sent me the WhatsApp message seems to have a serious problem somewhere. He is a diehard fan of the god who suffers from the most terrible feelings of insecurity in the world of ordinary mortals.

 

Comments

  1. You wrote:
    "One crow said to the next one pointing out the white colour of the different one, “Saala, convert kar liya.” [The bastard has been converted.]"
    The translation of text within the square brackets, honestly is:
    [The brother-in-law has been converted.]
    Now Sir, never ever call bastard to anybody's brother-in-law, even if he is a convert or pervert or whatever and/or has not been invited to go to Ayodhaya or Vadodara etcetera, because this may lead to a mini Mahabharat war.! 😂

    ReplyDelete
  2. I was going to say I hate to say, but I'm clueless what an "Whats-app is. I really don't hate to say. But I don't know.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hari OM
    Yeah, there's a reason I don't app, what... YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
  4. You probably don't want to be there, anyway. Sure, you should have a right to go. But it sounds like it'll be filled with people you'd only argue with.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The growth of Hindu fanaticism is the product of Islamic threat - cruelty.

    ReplyDelete
  6. THE TEMPLE WILL BE DESTROYED

    100% ! NO MATTER WHAT ?

    WHETHER BEFORE OR AFTER CONSTRUCTION IS DONE - IS THE QUESTION !

    THE WORLD HAS TO NOTE THIS VERSE IN THE GRANTH ! WHO IS REFERRED TO HERE ? dindooohindoo

    Bhai Gurdas Ji Vaaran - Pannaa 33

    ਦੁਹ ਵਿਚਿ ਦੁਖੀ ਦੁਬਾਜਰੇ ਖਰਬੜ ਹੋਏ ਖੁਦੀ ਖੁਆਰਾ।

    Out of these two, the mongrels-apparently sadhus but internally thieves--are always in wavering state and, suffering for their ego, go astray.

    ਵਾਰਾਂ ਭਾਈ ਗੁਰਦਾਸ : ਵਾਰ ੩੩ ਪਉੜੀ ੧ ਪੰ. ੨

    ਦੁਹੀਂ ਸਰਾਈਂ ਜਰਦਰੂ ਦਗੇ ਦੁਰਾਹੇ ਚੋਰ ਚੁਗਾਰਾ।

    Such double-faced thieves, backbiters and cheats remain pale-faced due to their bewilderment in both the worlds.

    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

Yesterday

With students of Carmel Margaret, are you grieving / Over Goldengrove unleaving…? It was one of my first days in the eleventh class of Carmel Public School in Kerala, the last school of my teaching career. One girl, whose name was not Margaret, was in the class looking extremely melancholy. I had noticed her for a few days. I didn’t know how to put the matter over to her. I had already told the students that a smiling face was a rule in the English class. Since Margaret didn’t comply, I chose to drag Hopkins in. I replaced the name of Margaret with the girl’s actual name, however, when I quoted the lines. Margaret is a little girl in the Hopkins poem. Looking at autumn’s falling leaves, Margaret is saddened by the fact of life’s inevitable degeneration. The leaves have to turn yellow and eventually fall. And decay. The poet tells her that she has no choice but accept certain inevitabilities of life. Sorrow is our legacy, Margaret , I said to Margaret’s alter ego in my class. Let

Zorba’s Wisdom

Zorba is the protagonist of Nikos Kazantzakis’s novel Zorba the Greek . I fell in love with Zorba the very first time I read the novel. That must have been in my late 20s. I read the novel again after many years. And again a few years ago. I loved listening to Zorba play his santuri . I danced with him on the Cretan beaches. I loved the devil inside Zorba. I called that devil Tomichan. Zorba tells us the story of a monk who lived on Mount Athos. Father Lavrentio. This monk believed that a devil named Hodja resided in him making him do all wrong things. Hodja wants to eat meet on Good Friday, Hodja wants to sleep with a woman, Hodja wants to kill the Abbot… The monk put the blame for all his evil thoughts and deeds on Hodja. “I’ve a kind of devil inside me, too, boss, and I call him Zorba!” Zorba says. I met my devil in Zorba. And I learnt to call it Tomichan. I was as passionate as Zorba was. I enjoyed life exuberantly. As much as I was allowed to, at least. The plain truth is

Everything is Politics

Politics begins to contaminate everything like an epidemic when ideology dies. Death of ideology is the most glaring fault line on the rock of present Indian democracy. Before the present regime took charge of the country, political parties were driven by certain underlying ideologies though corruption was on the rise from Indira Gandhi’s time onwards. Mahatma Gandhi’s ideology was rooted in nonviolence. Nothing could shake the Mahatma’s faith in that ideal. Nehru was a staunch secularist who longed to make India a nation of rational people who will reap the abundant benefits proffered by science and technology. Even the violent left parties had the ideal of socialism to guide them. The most heartless political theory of globalisation was driven by the ideology of wealth-creation for all. When there is no ideology whatever, politics of the foulest kind begins to corrode the very soul of the nation. And that is precisely what is happening to present India. Everything is politics

Kochareekal’s dead springs

“These rubber trees have sucked the land dry,” the old woman lamented. Maggie and I were standing on the veranda of her house which exuded an air of wellbeing if not affluence. A younger woman, who must have been the daughter-in-law of the house, had invited us there to have some drinking water. We were at a place called Kochareekal, about 20 km from our home. The distances from Kochi and Kottayam are 40 and 50 kilometres respectively. It is supposed to be a tourist attraction, according to Google Map. There are days when I get up with an impulse to go for a drive. Then I type out ‘tourist places near me’ on Google Map and select one of the places presented. This time I opted for one that’s not too far because the temperature outside was threatening to cross 40 degrees Celsius. Kochareekal Caves was the choice this time. A few caves and a small waterfall. Plenty of trees around to give us shade. Maggie nodded her assent. We had visited Areekal, just 3 km from Kochareekal [Kocha