India has a very long historical tradition of poking fun at religion and the religious. It was not the wise, the learned and the educated who discussed religion as much as the common people. After all, the relationship between a person and the eternal was a question that was of far greater import to commoners than to those who claimed learning. Frequently, comments from commoners were in the nature of jokes, many being rather risqué. The film PK is as much
Frequently, comments from commoners were in the nature of jokes, many being rather risqué. The film PK is as much in line with that tradition as was another one called OMG.
A healthy sense of humour and a deep-seated irreverence are two of the most remarkable characteristics we find in Indian tradition over more than 2,000 years. And, one of the greatest figures of fun in Indian literature has always been the corrupt priest and the liquor guzzling, womanising monk, complete with pot belly. The fact is, there are examples of kings taking the lead in noticing antinomies residing within the interstices of India’s religious injunctions and practices.
“Bravo! Bravo! Glory be to Siva! Dearest:/ May the trident armed Siva forever reign!/ Who the way of salvation did thus ordain:/ Drink liquor, beloved’s face admire,/ Unselfconsciously wear outlandish attire!”
This was the king Mahendravikramavarman of the Pallava dynasty, writing in his famous play of the seventh century, the Mattavilasa Prahasana. Mahendravikramavarman even has a Buddhist monk bemoan that while the most enlightened Buddha had ordained that monks live in palatial residences, sleep in cozy bedding, eat good food and have tasty drinks, how could he not have made rules permitting wine and women.
The Mattavilasa Prahasana was a popular satire watched by thousands of people. We do not hear of any crowds disrupting those performances. What has changed in recent years is the use of bullying tactics by some in the name of religion and hurt feelings.
Irreverence in India has ancient roots. Stories from Buddhist texts dating back to the second half of the first millennium BCE, the Jatakas, frequently paint a picture of a corrupt priest who delivers crooked judgments in return for bribes. The Khandahala Jataka tells us sof the wicked priest Khandahala, who wished to get rid of the upright prince Chanda, who opposed his corruption and wicked deeds. So he devised a complicated plan to get many people sacrificed, among which one would be Chanda. Those to be executed included four royal princes, merchants, royal bulls and horses. The story goes: “When the king’s sons were brought the citizens uttered not a word; but the whole city was troubled when merchants were seized, and loudly protested against their being sacrificed, and went with their relatives into the king’s presence.” Khandahala would listen to no one and was determined to go ahead with the sacrifices hoping to behead the prince Chanda himself. At this point, the multitude rose up and killed the priest Khandahala.
But then those were different times. Times of dharma, perhaps? People were intolerant towards the corrupt and tolerant of diversity of opinion and humour. Even in Mughal times, the historian Muzaffar Alam tells us, the strictly religious were frequently troubled with the absence of desire in the king to stop the irreverent. Things are rather different in modern-day India.
The modern state’s ability to prevent wrongdoing is far greater, yet state authorities of modern times think nothing
of openly taking sides in ideological disputes of all kinds.
The state, through its sustained inaction, has often made it clear that they would not bat an eyelid at anyone resorting to violence to prove an ideological point. The absence of clear signals that no violence is to be condoned in the matter of protests against films, plays, stories and other artistic expressions encourages all sorts of woolly-heads to pick up a lathi and vent their ire by destroying property and beating up people.
Sad to say, in all the television debates on the issue, everyone discusses whether religious feelings are hurt or otherwise; no one says that the Indian Constitution does not allow hurt feelings to find expression in violence. Those who say that violence can be condoned in a right cause need only to look towards the Peshawar school massacre, for the lathi and the gun know no religion.
The writer is professor of history, Panjab University, Chandigarh.
