Miscellanea/Kamala Das
All the religions now prevalent in the world have crossed their
expiry date
About a month ago the Malayali doctors living in America decided
to hold a two day-seminar in Cochin. They wished to discuss not
medicine but literature in their home-state. They stayed at the
Taj Malabar and conducted the seminar in a shamiana
built close to the lobby. It was masterminded by Dr Pillay of
Washington and his friends.
I accepted Dr Pillay's invitation to participate in the discussions
mainly because my cousin Kalyani Kutty was to be present with
her husband Dr Jan Mangalat and daughters Laja and Priya. Laja
was accompanied by her American husband, Paul. The younger generation
could not share their elders's enthusiasm over Malayalam. They were born and
bred in America.
Except
in the colouring of the skin they were no different from the Americans
of their generation. They could not speak any language other than
American-accented English. Their elders tried to convince
them of the greatness of their Indian heritage. The world culture
permeated the lectures given by the parents who took solace in
memories. The younger generation did not find any charm in quaint
Malayali costumes or in the group dances which were an integral
part of the celebration of Onam, Kerala's harvest festival.
Most
rice fields have grown. There are no harvests worth speaking about,
leave alone celebrating. To celebrate Onam in the US and other
foreign countries, young girls who can only mispronounce Malayalam
words are taught to lisp out ancient ballads and to dance around
in a circle waving their bejeweled arms and tapping the floor
with their feet making the anklets jingle. By no stretch of imagination
could they be taken as Indians.
They were impatient with their
parents who talked incessantly of the need to safeguard the Indian
culture and, of course, Malayali culture. They did not want the
children to get too close to the Americans. Dating was taboo.
Obeying such parents meant segregating themselves. Segregation
would make them feel alienated. Theirs was a generation that neither
belonged to India nor the US. Conservative Indians met at
regular intervals to sing bhajans in praise of God. The young
ones were encouraged to join in.
All the religions now prevalent in the world have crossed their
expiry date. They cannot exert any beneficial effect on human
beings. They prejudice and poison the minds of their followers.
Intolerance grows to vast proportions. Rioting can occur, and
violence.
Survival depend on the compassion one can cultivate within oneself
and on the swift realisation that religious differences are myths.
When, being compelled I decided to speak at a spiritual gathering
in New Jersey. I told them of my belief that God is pervasive
like ether and has no form, no colour, no name.
Afterwards one of the organisers of the get together snarled at
me: "We took years to instill in our children some faith
in our Gods and now you have confused them. Our work is undone."
I had not guessed the bigoted nature of the group till I was escorted
there innocently by a doctor-friend of mine.
These days at places of worship one hardly sees a peaceful expression
on any face. Every devotee frowns and sulks. Each looks frustrated.
There is a cruel glint in the eye. Avarice and concupiscence are
evident in abundance. They conduct a rite known as sathru-samharan
which in plainer language means the killing of one's enemy.
Once I had escorted a friend to a temple in Trichur and was standing
in a queue to talk to the clerk at the counter. A sour faced woman
paid two rupees and asked for a coconut. To kill my enemy, naturally,
she said with a wry smile, handing over the coins. The clerk
did not look surprised . I followed the determined woman to the
edge of the sanctum sanctorumand watched her fling the coconut
on the granite steps to break it.
It broke into two halves. The woman licked her lips in glee.
Once I had a friend who used to visit an obscure Kali shrine with
my cook Chirutheyi Amma who had impressed upon her the need to
destroy her husband's mistress.
After all only two rupees were needed. And the willingness to burden
oneself with old superstitions. Chirutheyi Amma was forever boasting
of the ease with which she prayed her foes to death, back in Balusseri,
a village near Calicut.
Probably the recollection of the two women, one an elegant sophisticate
and the other a rustic indulging in such rites caused a revulsion
in my mind towards places of worship. At Guruvayur I too have been
collided against in a stampede. I have not been to a shrine for
over a decade. Probably I never shall see such places again. I
do not have the need to externalise God. I feed at times that
God has matured along with me, filling the crevices of my thought
with the pristine light of energy.
Illustration: Dominic Xavier
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