Manu S Pillai on Sengol: For some, rediscovery is cultural renascence, for others, political Hinduisation of a national symbol

A sengol — or chenkol — is a royal sceptre, signifying kingship, righteousness, justice, and authority, among other qualities linked to the correct wielding of power. Its origins lie in Tamil Nadu, and it served as a kingly emblem. Among the Madurai Nayakas, for example, the sengol was placed before the goddess Meenakshi in the great temple on important occasions, and then transferred to the throne room, representing the king’s role as a divine agent.

It was also, therefore, a legitimising instrument: the Sethupatis of Ramnad, for instance, when they first attained kingly status in the seventeenth century acquired a ritually sanctified sengol from priests of the Rameswaram temple. It marked the ruler’s accountability to the deity in the exercise of power, as well as his graduation from chiefly status to a more exalted kingly plane.

As such, the sengol may be described, in its historical context, as a symbol of dharmic kingship.

My own view on the #sengol controversy is that both sides have good arguments. The government rightly argues that the sceptre reflects a continuity of tradition by embodying sanctified sovereignty & the rule of dharma. The Opposition rightly argues that the Constitution was… pic.twitter.com/OQ3RktGiIp

— Shashi Tharoor (@ShashiTharoor) May 28, 2023

What do we know about the 1947 ceremony in which Nehru was reportedly handed over a sceptre?

Not enough. What seems to be in the air at the moment stems from some oral accounts mixed with a few scattered facts. It appears that Nehru was presented a sengol by Hindu leaders from Tamil Nadu, and that he accepted it.

But claims that it was a major event, and that Lord Mountbatten handed it over in a ceremonial fashion to signify the transfer of power, seem exaggerated. Something of that nature — given the importance of the moment — would have been widely recorded and reported. Mountbatten himself — a great lover of pageantry, with an inflated sense of his own centrality to events — would not have omitted to make a big hoo-ha about the affair.

The very obscurity of this sengol and the absence of adequate contemporary evidence suggests it was not a key episode in 1947, but an incident on the margins. The Hindu leaders presented it to Nehru as a mark of honour, and he, in turn, received it in good spirit. But that was that. From what is known of Nehru’s personality, besides, he was not the type to be drawn to kingly rituals. It is not surprising that the item was packed off to a museum.

The government said it was C Rajagopalachari who suggested the particular ceremony to Nehru. Is this true? If yes, why did Rajagopalachari suggest it?

Only the government can answer this. One trusts they have done their research and will put into the public domain the requisite documents and information backing their stand. After all, the claim being made is big; it must be sustained with equally firm evidence. It is likely that beyond the fact of Tamil Hindu leaders presenting Nehru a sceptre, the rest of the tale is gloss, accumulated over several retellings, and which came to be believed in some circles.

This kind of thing is not unusual in our country, and historians often discover that seductive tales have a grain of truth, with the rest being wishful colour and romance. We often encounter situations where there is enough fact to make the narrative seem credible, until on closer examination, the story falls apart, leaving a pale residue. But that said, this residue is never attractive in terms of public imagination; people often prefer the heady narrative to the facts.

The government also said the Sengol was the symbol of transfer of power from British to Indian hands. Is it true? If not, what did the sceptre signify?

Again, this is for the government to explain. If it was a critical symbol of the transfer of power, it is somewhat surprising that very few had heard of this until the summer of 2023. Yes, the persons presenting the sengol meant it that way, and yes, that is what the object represents: the recognition of legitimate authority. But the event seems to have been a marginal one.

It is, however, possible that the government wishes to highlight it today as part of the larger project of constructing a Hindu political history. In a sense, Nehru’s sengol is a means to add to the legitimacy and status of the present government rather than the first government of independent India. Think of it as an act that holds meaning in terms of cultural assertion. The government desires to raise a new symbol, a new set of meanings.

What Nehru and his successors saw as belonging in a museum, our present rulers visualise as part of a tradition to be resurrected.

What then, is the significance of Prime Minister Narendra Modi re-enacting the 1947 ceremony during the inauguration of the new Parliament and installing the historic sengol near the Lok Sabha Speaker’s seat?

The new parliament is a monument meant to mark a break with the past. It is not just a utilitarian building. The erection of statues, the construction of the Ram temple, and such projects supported and/ or encouraged by the government are a reorientation of the national narrative — a narrative which, for much of its post-1947 history, was dominated by a different set of values, parties, and players.

The Prime Minister is not appealing to constitutional norms but to a cultural — or some might say, a civilisational — legitimacy. The placement of the sengol near the Speaker’s chair is to give that chair — which derived meaning so far via Western parliamentary conventions that we adopted and adapted — a more visibly Hindu quality and casing.

The Prime Minister and his supporters will see it as an act of cultural renascence; others will bewail the political Hinduisation of one more national symbol.

(Manu S Pillai is an author and historian of South India. His first book was the award winning The Ivory Throne: Chronicles of the House of Travancore (2015); he has since written three more books, most recently, False Allies: India’s Maharajahs in the Age of Ravi Varma (2021).)