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On December 30, last year, we were treated to the most unusual spectacle of the Prime Minister of India sitting on the floor or a cell of a jail, his legs crossed over each other, and his palms joined in prayer.
He was, however, not praying to God — he was actually worshipping his guru, Veer Damodar Savarkar, who had once been imprisoned in this cell and his eyes were transfixed on his portrait that was propped up a few feet away.
Public administration, as distinct from political governance, has its own problems. For political programmes have a way of boomeranging on the government of the day. Sometimes, they can be anticipated, on other occasions, they are intended to provoke and occasionally, they just create a mess: a recent example is the ugly fallout of Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath's complete ban on cow slaughter in Uttar Pradesh that might have been avoided with some planning, patience and a sense of perspective.
This is not the first occasion when I have expressed India’s indebtedness to Buddhist records for reconstructing Indian history in the last two centuries. Those who are familiar with this issue would be aware of the basic problem of deciphering history as an empirical discipline from materials that were never meant to serve as historical records or documents.
The topic which I have chosen to speak today seeks to bridge, to some extent, the ever-increasing gulf between the social sciences and the physical sciences. As academic disciplines improve their coverage and become more organised, more systematic and reach higher levels of understanding of reality in their own different ways, they become more and more exclusive. They begin to speak in languages that arise out of the requirement of their own disciplines without realising that their lexicon is hardly understood by anyone else who is not a part of their limited domain.
The moment I read in the papers that the South India Club on Hindustan Park was closing down its famous canteen, I rushed for a last breakfast. But alas, when I reached I found it had already shut down. To make up, I went to the old trustworthy Ramakrishna Lunch Home on Lake Road, so close to where I was born and brought up. I gorged on steaming idlis, crisp vadas dipped in sambhar and a wonderful masala dosa. To me, it was not food — but nostalgia. I grew up on Lake Road that was known as Little Madras.
The recent election results in the three Hindi belt states of Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh have proved that Narendra Modi is certainly not as invincible as he was being made out to be. But they have also proved that voters are split right down the middle, as the difference in the total votes secured by the two major parties, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and the Congress, is literally hair-thin.
Despite the Rs 2900 crore, 182 metre statue of Patel dedicated to India’s unity, not a week passes when the nation is not split down the middle, quite bitterly. Sometimes, it is the lynching of Muslims or Aadhar’s intrusion into our privacy, ‘triple talaq’ or the national flag. The battle of Sabarimala is the latest on the list of rows.
The extensive media coverage notwithstanding, most people may be unaware of the issues central to the Sabarimala controversy.
When the former prime minister, who is known for his strict economy with words, writes a long letter – one of his rare ones – to his rather over-articulate successor, one assumes that the matter must be important. The letter I refer to is dated August 24, 2018, in which Manmohan Singh expresses deep concern at the move, initiated obviously at Narendra Modi’s behest, to change the character of the Nehru Museum Memorial and Library (NMML) from a memorial to Jawaharlal Nehru to one for “all PMs”.
During Durga Puja, the indomitable spirit and irrepressible energies of Bengalis literally burst forth, holding normal life to ransom. The spirit of festivity surrounds us as hundreds and thousands of gaily-decorated pandals – those magnificent creations made of bamboo, cloth, plywood and imagination – come up everywhere. They house the mammoth but exquisitely sculpted figures of Durga and her family, and the whole neighbourhood is transformed into a wonderland of lights, animation and music that the organisers conjure.
Fate, they say, leads a man to glory but hubris undoes what destiny confers. It is expected of those who are catapulted to the highest posts or even those who propel themselves to reach such historic heights to accept certain obligations. Among these, the most important is to conduct themselves in a manner befitting the post. If they cannot enhance its dignity, they are duty-bound not to devalue it. India has been lucky in this regard as every prime minister, except one, has acted his or her role in the manner expected – even when their personal inclinations appear to dictate otherwise.
Ideological issues that drive regional parties are, by now, fairly well-known to those who may otherwise have little interest in either these causes or in the parties. The two DMKs in Tamil Nadu espouse Dravidian interests over ‘upper-caste hegemony’, the Shiv Sena cries for local Maharashtrians, the Asom Gana Parishad agitates for the true Assamese, the Akalis for Sikh interests, Mayawati for the Dalits and so on. But what exactly does the Trinamool Congress (TMC) stand for and how does it grow from strength to strength?
Though gurus have been an integral part of the ancient Hindu tradition, the celebration of a specific day purnima in their honour in the month of Ashadha has its roots in Buddhism and Jainism. Gurus no doubt got respectful mentions in the Rig Veda (hymn 4.5.6) and in the Upanishads (chapter 4.4 of the Chhandogya) and in chapter 3 of the Taittiriya or in chapter 6 of the Shvetashvatara.
This year, the July 14-22 period has been dedicated to Jagannath and to his annual Ratha Yatra, which has been described somewhat inadequately as the ‘Chariot Festival’. The rites associated with the journey of Jagannath and his two companions from the great temple and their return nine days later has been recalled.
But can we look beyond the trappings and festivities of this annual ritual of the Hindus, and grasp the essence of an eternal Indian tradition of accommodation?
In 2014, when Prime Minister Narendra Modi assumed office he could have—and should have—pushed through urgently required structural reforms to improve India’s conservative bureaucracy. He had an unprecedented mandate and had charmed voters into believing that he would cleanse Indian governance as none before him ever had. In reality, however, he appeared quite comfortable with the creaky bureaucratic apparatus that he had inherited, for he had assumed that his first-hand experience in running it at the State level for over a dozen years would suffice.
Jadavpur University is now surely a metaphor for both excellence and unrest that once characterised Presidency, more as a college than as a university, though it is sad to see how its present rulers are so ill at ease with the first and have steamrollered the other. History tells us that academic excellence and perpetual discontent have strange links, both licit and illicit, and also that the teaching community bristles at commands — real or imagined.
There are literally hundreds of books on the enchanting city of Kolkata—its history, its music, its streets, its people, its festivals and so on. But it is difficult to find a comprehensive volume on all the important places of worship, even with a lot of effort. Mala Mukherjee and Jael Silliman have filled this gap by bringing in vivid colours all the interesting places of worship of different communities that lend Kolkata its unique vibrancy and zest for life.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi has mastered the art of utilising insecurity as an instrument of his state policy and needs to demonstrate this at frequent intervals. Or else, when he has better things to do — and rather quickly, as time is running out — he has decided to rattle the complacent and over-secure babudom of New Delhi. That may explain his intention to recruit 10 new “professionals” — the definition of “professionals” has been kept delightfully vague — for lateral entry as joint secretaries in the Central government.
Now that Pranab Mukherjee's controversial visit to the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh headquarters at Nagpur is over, we may do well to focus on the best takeaways from this risky gambit. He underlined again the unique position he commands in Indian politics. No one else could ever have swung it and all criticism only magnified the event. Statesmen rise above politicians by skilfully converting events of their choice into landmarks in political history - to magnify the message they seek to convey.
In India, we are passing through a traumatic period when the very ‘idea of India’ is being challenged by forces that are ignorant of the contribution of different communities to the architecture of Indian existence.
A severe existentialist crisis is presently tormenting the fish-loving and (later) meat-gorging Bengalis — and many are seriously looking at the vegetarian option. A tragedy of epic proportions has visited everyone, rich and poor, Hindu or Muslim, just when the Registrar General of Census declared that Bengalis are the most non-vegetarian people in India. In all, 98.55% of them eat meat and fish, while at the other end, only 25% of Rajasthanis touch non-vegetarian food.
What amaze every liberal in India and abroad are Narendra Modi’s unending and brazen attempts to centralise all power and decision making in a federal, democratic setup. To achieve this, he has been systematically weakening or subverting every national institution that has flowered and flourished in Independent India. Their autonomous and professional functioning apparently stand in his path towards an unabashed one-man rule.