Lastweek, my sister, who lives in Calcutta, got stuck in a massive traffic jam onthe way back from school. The reason she was stuck was that a bunch of people,who unlike my sister, never did go to school, were protesting against an articlethat The Statesman had reproduced from the UK'sIndependent. The protesters claimed that the article had insulted the Prophet.
Now, as you would know, this is somewhat of a recurring phenomenon. Every fewdays Muslims, Hindus, Christians, Sikhs or barbers pop up out of nowhereclaiming that their sensibilities have been hurt. And, more often than not, ourgovernment either capitulates or the goons beat up everyone in sight so thatthere’s a de facto ban on whatever these chaps were protesting against.
Now, there are a number of reasons why this should not happen.
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Firstly, we have the London bus argument: "There’s probably no God. Now stopworrying and enjoy your life". However, in all honesty, this is a futileargument not only in India but in almost all parts of the world including mostof the western countries. Also, I am a bit sick of the Dawkins fanboys and theirI’m-more-rational-than-99%-of-the-world expostulations.
Secondly, we have this: clock:time::religion:God.
A clock helps us to tell the time but a clock does not define time. So, if myclock is two hours slow or has stopped, it doesn’t mean that Time is two hoursslow or has stopped. Time is impervious to the clock.
Similarly, at best religion can be way for us to understand God, but nothingthat mortal men and women do on this Earth can ever affect God. A fair argument,if you ask me.
Therefore, it’s quite preposterous to think that an octogenarian (or is itnonagenarian?) painter can insult the very embodiment of Shakti or that anewspaper columnist can insult God’s chosen Prophet.
Incidentally, I’ve discussed this point on online forums (yes, I have too muchtime on my hands) and I’ve been met with one stock response: "Would you notfeel hurt if somebody insulted your mother? It’s a similar case when our Godis insulted."
Now, the thing is that, while my mum is somewhat of a remarkable woman (she canteach History to a bunch of unruly girls and make the best chaanpever) she is hardly a god—in fact she’s, unfortunately, quite mortal. She isneither omniscient nor omnipotent and, in what is cinching proof of herimperfectness, she likes to listen to ABBA.
Hence, it’s not a similar case at all and if you do insult her I should andwould feel a bit pissed.
Last and, well, least we have free speech. This has unfortunately taken such abeating in our country that I feel it futile to waste time writing about it.
Having enumerated (some of) the reasons as to why this stuff should notbe done, it is instructive to try and understand why these things aredone, nonetheless.
In one word, the reason is identity. Religion, in our part of the world, and, infact, in most parts of the world, is an intrinsic part of our identity. It’swho you are. In effect, insulting symbols of your religion is taken, almostinstinctively, as a personal insult.
So, when the chaps in Calcutta were ostensibly protesting against a columnistinsulting the Prophet, what they were really protesting was a newspapercolumnist insulting them.
In fact, a corollary of this would also explain the Ram Sena’s actions (asopposed to the more commonly held they-are-fags argument). The Ram Sena (and theother Senas) primarily consists of people who would charitably be called lumpen.Here Hindu culture, or their definition of it, gives them a lovely littlemake-believe world to hide in. A world in which they are actually better thanthe pub-hoping sahebzaadas zipping around in their fancy cars. That thesepeople are largely Hindus in the first place matters little, because by the newterms of engagement, the Ram Sena chaps are the "better" or "truer"Hindus which makes them leapfrog in social status over the harlots who frequentbars and what not.
So, what do we do to remedy the situation? Well, quite frankly, I don’t know.Yes, we could make people richer; the wholecut-at-the-root-of-the-discontentment rigmarole—admittedly our best bet. But,sometimes, even that doesn’t help—the eagerness of the residents of Punjabto murder their own daughters is proof enough.
However, if you do think of something, scribble it onto a pink chaddi andsend it to Muthalik. In the meanwhile, I suggest we follow Mark Twain’sadvice:
"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life standsexplained."
