I have been carrying an intellectual burden since my undergraduate days as a result of quotidian prejudice. This burden is a response to confrontations with Christians of varying shades of fundamentalist Churchianity and professors alike. This prejudice has a history and seeks to contextualise troubling perceptions that communities have about each other. Where does the ardhanaareeshwara figure in this scheme of things? It is, indeed, not in our tendency to overlook and underestimate our tolerant selves.
When I first read about identity as one of the filters through which the social sciences can be studied, I began to mitigate my spiritual predilections in order to suit the zeitgeist. I was disturbed because I was unable to have conversations about Hinduism with those Christians who sought to debase my principles by substituting them with theirs. I remained their foe when I asked the most elementary questions like why can’t we define a plural religious culture? This is, unarguably, because the average metropolitan student buckles under the pressure of an establishment that refuses to acknowledge equal respect among religions.
I do not know if claims of Hindu nationalism as deterrents to progress arise at this juncture. I am not a ‘reluctant fundamentalist’. At the same time, however, I am unwilling to disengage myself from my beliefs and upbringing just because I belong to the majority. It is a fact that the less fortunate belonging to minority communities have faced the wrath of the aforementioned ‘absurd claims’. It is also a fact that the word ‘Hindu’ has been abused since the Persians, British and brown sahibs became chapters in our textbooks. The State has tried to rectify both of these unfortunate situations, but in vain. It has attempted to move beyond political and social bulwarks, yet Kancha Ilaiah doesn’t call himself a Hindu. So I choose to assert my views in a secular space that thrives under the notion of absolute equality of all faiths.
We deal with omnipresent politics today. I attempt to depoliticise in order to move away from a politics of exclusivity towards one that endorses spirituality. Unfortunately, the Hindutva branch refuses to acknowledge this spiritual discourse as an empowering tool; or if it does, it does not articulate itself on the right lines. As I write this for the first time in my life of 21 years, I realise that I have no interest in bringing spirituality into the political realm because its object of investigation is different. Sanatana Dharma begins when questions and answers end. It is a joyful anticipation to point out that this Hinduism admits the plural India.
I ruminate on an experience with a narrow minded Christian who said to me one morning, “If you want to bring up Hinduism, go to Hindu College.” I explained to her that Hindu College is just a name. She said, ‘This is a Christian college so you cannot speak against the Church’. I told her that Hindutva is different from Hinduism in the same way that Churchianity is different from Christianity. She did not approve of what I said.
What I strive to compel the reader to dwell on is the absence of a nuanced position with regard to perceptions of stereotypical views of communities. In the mean time, I hear a cacophony of pseudo ‘secularism(s)’ in the background as people debate Vande Mataram on Twitter.
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