As India’s New Parliament was inaugurated on the 28th of May, the show stealer was neither the architecture nor the murals of the country’s civilization, but the Sengol or sceptre that was handed over by the Shaivaite Adheenams to the Prime Minister. A sundry of reactions followed the event, with the most absurd of them being the supposed tokenism of championing ‘Brahminism’.
Despite the religious heads present at the ceremony belonging to the backward section, India’s ‘intellectuals’ couldn’t seem to quite digest the difference between being faithful and being of a certain caste, and this is why the discourse must be corrected.
The idea of a Brahmin, as is popularly perceived today, constructs an image of a temple priest in one’s mind. This conception is not only incorrect, but also brings about unwarranted standardization in a rather heterogenous faith such as Hinduism.
Each temple of India has a legend associated with itself, and this legend goes on to translate into a lineage of unbroken tradition that acts as a medium between the past and the present. The Jagannath shrine of Orissa, for instance, is helmed by the tribal Savaras, who have been priests from time immemorial. The same can be vouched for the goldsmith pujaris at the Khandoba temple in Maharashtra, or the Mudaliars of Tiruchendur in Tamil Nadu and the Kumhars of Dhaneshwar Nath Mahadeo in Bihar.
India’s social fabric is neither linear enough for one to classify all Godmen as ‘Brahmins’, nor so oppressive as to stereotype a particular section as ‘inherently evil’. Caste, in itself, has been poorly understood by the educated minds as a four-fold hierarchy (Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas and Shudras), when it is an ethnic-cum-endogamous community with its distinct language, patron deity, and arts. For instance, the Rajputs are distinguished for their bravery and militia skills while the Gonds are known for their Dandari dance.
On the contrary, Varnashram in Hinduism is an occupation based social classification, depending on which domain one associates oneself with- intellectuals being Brahmanas, administrative being Kshatriyas, business clans being Vaishyas and entertainment cum manual section consisting of Shudras. Which is why one finds non-priestly Brahmins such as Aryabhatta who contributed to the domain of science and math, the Ojhas (Odia Brahmins) who associated themselves with medicine, Acharyas who dedicated themselves to teaching and the Vyasas who were engaged in compiling literature. As the nature of one’s work deems one’s occupation, even the intellectuals of India would happen to find themselves under the very Brahminical fold that they claim to despise.
More often than not, Urban Indians tend to display complete illiteracy when it comes to the country’s culture, which is why they have failed to understand the caste realities of India. The idea of religion itself, no matter the faith, is not exclusive to any particular social group. Rather it is concerned with the well-being of the masses, as one of the popular Hindu prayers says – “Lokah samasta sukhinoh bhavantu” (may the entire world be happy is our prayer). But to teach religion requires devotion, dedication and specialization, which is where the role of the priest emerges. Just as without having completed MBBS one cannot be authorized to perform a surgery, similarly without having spent all of youth in ritualistic and scriptural knowledge one cannot become a Guru.
To say one’s expertise in the theological domain makes one by default an oppressor because of social tensions is presumptuous. Similarly, when the unfortunate suicide of Darshan Solanki, a Dalit IITian, took place, the intellectual elites took no time in giving the case a Brahmin-Dalit angle, despite the investigation going on to reveal that the student was harassed by a Muslim colleague- after which all caste activists went completely silent and pretended as though the suicide never happened.
Ironically, India’s progressives find themselves catering to the viciousness of the stereotypes they seek to eradicate. What is often sold as caste-based justice is nothing more than fighting untouchability with reverse untouchability – for what else can explain the hateful slogans that were imprinted on the walls of the Jawaharlal Nehru University or the Periyarist mindset of “If you see a snake and a Brahmin, then kill the Brahmin”.
It is important to keep in mind that India historically never saw a subaltern uprising similar to the likes of France and America, which gives one food for thought with regard to the social mobility and individual expression present within the civilizational structure. Although some would vouch that Jainism and Buddhism were ‘protest movements’, the teachings of Buddha and Mahavira as extolled in Sramanic scriptures focused on elevating individuals from suffering and not changing the social fabric itself.
Much of India’s socio-political discourse draws from a colonial mindset that views the entire culture as ‘backward’ and in dire need of Anglicization, where there exists no identity besides that of the individual and his profession, that forms the core of First World countries – which is but a hushed manner of introducing extensive capitalism on a land as ethnically rich and culturally myriad as India.
While social justice movements mustn’t be evaluated through a utilitarian lens in accordance with how much it benefits all factions they must neither be tone deaf to the cultural heterogeneity that has always persisted on the Indian soil.