When a benign god becomes the face of polarisation

A friend of mine in the US makes a yearly visit to see his 78-year-old mother who obstinately refuses to leave her ancestral village in Tamil Nadu. All the old residents have left. Her agraharam (Brahmin street) is full of locked houses. But she will give up neither her nine yards sari, nor bathing in the Kaveri.

Just as she reassures the son not to worry about her, Anwarbhai comes in with a bag full of palm leaf festoons, coconut, fruit, flowers, and lastly, a still-damp, just-made clay Ganesha for her puja on the next day. Anwarbhai is the local grocer who comes every day, runs her errands and reads the newspaper aloud for her. She indulges him with filter coffee and the traditional snacks she prides herself on preparing.

One day Anwarbhai asked my friend’s mother, “Aren’t you tired of dosa-chutney? Vada-sambhar? Same taste, same smell!” She was so challenged that she vowed to prove her culinary skills. Somehow the old lady found out about biryani, and made a vegetarian version. What a triumph when her guest swore that it was the best biryani he had ever tasted! My friend ended his story with a rueful sigh, “You know…. Anwarbhai is her real son…”  

I remembered this anecdote last week when I was trapped in a maze of vehicles, all immobilised by huge trucks jamming the streets, packed with frenzied men. A gigantic Ganesh loomed over their heads. But no, the men in the trucks were not ringing bells, burning camphor or throwing flowers. Nor were they chanting “Jai Ganesh!” or singing bhajans. In fact, they did not look like the devotees of a happy God that I always thought Ganesh to be.

They were flinty-eyed and hard-nosed, holding placards that blared in capital letters, “DON’T GO TO SHOPS BELONGING TO TERRORISTS!” and also “SAVE BHARAT FROM TRAITORS!” 

As I escaped from the melee I wondered: how can we allow a God who removes obstacles to become a God who creates obstacles? A God who loves sweets to become a God who fans bitterness? In the North I am often shocked to see posters of Lord Ram, armed to the teeth and looking ferocious. Where is the Ram who is described by Tulsidas as the ocean of compassion?

We expect nothing better from rabble-rousing politicians and their ugly vote bank strategies. But when so-called educated people talk about “us” and “them” I am disturbed. What kind of legacy are we going to scar our children with? 

I end with a personal memory of legendary Carnatic musician MS Subbulakshmi whose centenary celebrations are beginning now. Once she was asked, “What was your most fulfilling moment? When you were honoured with the Bharat Ratna? The Magsaysay Award? When you became the first woman to receive the Sangita Kalanidhi title from the Madras Music Academy?” She smiled as she answered gently, “No, it happened long ago, at the evening prayer in Sabarmati ashram. I was sitting in the crowd when all of a sudden Gandhiji called out, “Subbulakshmi, Ramdhun tum gao!” And then I led the bhajan, singing Ishwar Allah tero naam, sabko sanmati de bhagwan. Steeped in old-world tradition as she was, the conservative woman in Kanchipuram sari and kumkum bindi sang with equal conviction at the United Nations Organization about the need for unity among nations, races, and creeds. Later, at an Afro-Asian ophthalmological conference, she could sing to Allah in Arabic and to Siva in Sanskrit as she prayed for clear sight and true insight for humankind. 

The author is a playwright, theatre director, musician and journalist writing on the performing arts, cinema and literature