Still stuck

August 2, 2020

 

I wanted to write about a conversation I had with a friend around identity and how like passports, which are about a certain kind of identity, our experience of our own identities also have an expiration date. But I am still stuck. On many things but mostly on the feelings I have about the Ram temple foundation stone being laid on August 5^th.

 

One of my favourite news anchors did a nine-minute clip of the impending inauguration. The whole clip was him reciting the resources, the thousands of people, involved in planning this --  during the time of a pandemic where India’s numbers are completely out of control. His list had a very powerful impact on me. The callousness of this enterprise was extremely painful.

 

The current ruling government came to power on this issue. The Ram temple. In 1992 the Babri Masjid was razed and then a legal battle raged around it. The judgment when it finally came last year was bizarre. It was a criminal act, but nobody is to blame. It was a violation of law but the perpetrators will still get the grounds. The judgment by the highest court of the land was based less on evidence and more on something that has been used to rouse emotions – a very twisted faith. It was part of the promises in the BJP manifesto, and though it was a legal judgment Modi, the saviour of Hinduism, appropriated it as his doing. Which India am I a part of I wonder – one that voted for a party with a manifesto that didn’t have much to do with unemployment or economics or social justice – just Ram temple, Kashmir, CAA and such stuff? Yet the path that got us here is easy to see and all political parties had a part.

 

Journalists are still treading carefully around the temple issue. Already just reporting the truth of the Indian covid situation is leading to arrests – what might happen if they tackled this? India has slipped to 142 out of 180 on the global press freedom index. Of course, the ruling party says that these surveys are a conspiracy against them -- and their followers believe it. 

 

I can’t come to grips with it. I walk around wondering why I feel this pain that can’t quite be pinned down to anything. 

 

I am resurrecting a story I wrote when I just began writing fiction several years ago, and using it to assuage my angst. My story is about Ram and Sita. About how epics glorify violence and wars reinforce rape culture. I am convinced though that the essence of Ram is not about tearing down old structures to build a temple in his name, that there is nothing moral about this behaviour and that it would mortify him. But gods and goddesses – mainly gods though – are used to spread violence and hatred these days. My story is subversive, blasphemous but it is necessary. I need to keep expressing my feelings or I might be swallowed by things.

 

I have in the past been called a bad Hindu or a hater of Hinduism and this story will lead to more such statements, but I’d rather be a bad Hindu and a good human. 

 

Today I want to end on a positive note. One of my students graded to 8^th kyu today. He did very well – correcting his mistakes and not giving up even when flustered. It is still hard to organise our trainings with the restriction of only groups of five allowed for exercise, but I am amazed at how supportive the students have been about outdoor trainings, rotating the use of the gym we rent, with seniors helping juniors and more. 

 

And I am finally done with anti-biotics for my ear infection. The second course had deadly side-effects – gastric, urinary, sleep disturbances, muscle and nerve weakness. The body is slowly recovering and I cracked open a beer after days of no alcohol.