But in looking at the ritual, at the idol, at the
concept, why not start with the opposite assumption? Why start by
assuming that they are empty, that they are the remnants of
superstition? They had occurred to, they had been devised by seers,
by persons of great insight. Therefore, why not start with the
assumption that the rituals, the idols have great significance, that
they address an inner need? If you find that a ritual has become
mechanical, why condemn it? Why not find a way to endow it with
life? If an idol has become a crutch, an object that induces
dependence, why look down on the idol or idolatry? Why not find a
way to have it work the potential in it, a way by which people will
translate into their lives the virtues they associate with, they
have endowed in that idol?
And there is the practical side too. These rituals
and idols and legends are in the very blood of our people, in their
breathing itself. Once they are given a new meaning, a meaning
suited to the needs of the time, would the task not get done that
much sooner and better? On the other hand, even if you succeed in
condemning and showing up the rituals and idols and concepts, would
you not have only demeaned our people in their own eyes, would you
not just have made them feel small? And having done that you expect
the people to stand up on their own, to do great things !
I summarise, and collate. But that is the point
that our reformers have stressed repeatedly -- Swami Vivekananda,
Gandhiji and others! Why denounce the ritual, why shatter the idol,
why look down on the simple festivals of our people? Why not breathe
new meaning into it, why not infuse another life into it?
Prayer may not be mere supplication, petitioning,
they have taught. It should be a way to imbibe humility, a way to
reflect, to learn about oneself. And engaging in service is the way
to know oneself, they have taught: As we serve lepers we see fear
well up in us: as we serve the weak we see our mind manufacturing
reasons to avoid the trouble -- 'They do nothing to help themselves.
They are undeserving" -- and we see the 'reason' as the excuse it
is, and thereby learn -- Gandhiji's words -- never to sit in
judgement over those we shall serve... Sacrifice is vital,
but it does not mean killing an animal, they have taught: the
things to be sacrificed are hankering, the base instincts in us, the
great sacrifice is that of the ego.
Most cannot contemplate the abstract, they cannot
be inspired to higher conduct by it, Swami Vivekananda taught having
been awakened to the truth by seeing the veneration of Ramakrishna
Paramhamsa for the idol of the Mother. They need a concrete
representation, an idol they can see and feel, an idol that embodies
an ideal, a confluence of virtues. Instead of denigrating or
smashing the idol, why not direct them through the idol to the
ideal it embodies? Why not teach them that worship of the idol
is complete when we see in each of our fellow-beings that spark of
divinity which we associate with the idol? That true worship of that
idol is service of the fellow being?...
That has been the way of reformers in India: it is
as if an algebraist were to leave the expression within the
parentheses unchanged but were to change the sign outside. And these
reformers have actually worked revolutions in India -- while others
have just talked revolution. This way of looking at things was
brought home to me some years ago by one of the most innovative and
one of the most effective reformers India has had in the last
haft-century: Shri Pandurang Shastri Athawale.
Bhakti does not consist in sending petitions to
God, he has taught, nor is it rooted in fear. But in loving Him
through His creation, His creatures. A ritual is the device to
arouse certain attitudes in us, to awaken us to, to inspire us to
live certain values. Rituals are important because, after much
experimentation and deep contemplation, persons of great insight saw
that those attitudes and values would be best awakened in us by
those steps. Therefore they are not to be dismissed or circumvented
lightly. But ft is the attitude -- the bhavana -- in the ritual
which is important: endow all work with that bhavana and all work is
consecrated, all work becomes an instrument for taking us towards
those values, all work becomes the means to knowing one's self. And
there is the other side to the coin: When we have transformed all
our work into a device for knowing our self, we are insulated from
the buffetings of 'success' and 'failure' for 'failure' reveals as
much of our inner condition to us as 'success'.
In a sense, because of the work and prodigious
output of these great reformers, redefinitions of this kind have
become familiar in the last hundred years. But these reformers have
done more! They have put the reformulation to work. The
reformulations, therefore, are not just ideas, they are ideas which
have worked.
By contrast, Shri Pandurang Shastri has led farmers
to set up Vrikshmandirs. Temples with no walls and domes, temples of
trees alone. Land is secured by the village itself. Everyone
nurtures the saplings. Each family in the village takes its turn by
rotation to take care of the trees, to keep the temple and its land
clean.
In the Amrutalayam mandirs which have been set up
in tribal areas by Shastriji's movement, there is scarcely a wall:
There are two or three-foot high brick pillars -- from these rise
arches of bamboo, and over them and across them stretches a canopy
of creepers. Each couple -- husband and wife -- in the village are
pujaris by turn, each couple for a week. They wake up early, bathe,
make their way to the temple, clean the courtyard, light the oil
lamps, draw the Swastika, and create an atmosphere in which everyone
who comes feels welcome and at peace.
Transformation accrues of its own. All families
contribute plants and creepers, all work together to tend them: Such
distinctions as there might be are thereby eroded. In the
Amrutalayams every couple takes turn at being pujaris. People thus
learn that function is important not birth - he among us is the
brahmin who is a wayfarer on the path of Brahman, Shastriji teaches
them. In the week they are pujaris, the couple forswear liquor as
much as lies - temperance is thus imbibed, and the habit of sticking
to truth. A Vrikshamandir caters to 20-odd villages. Every day, by
rotation, different villages send persons to be pujaris for the day:
They work together as a team, as priests tending the temple of
trees, caring for the soil, weeding: they sit and labour and eat and
pray and sing hymns together. The boons accrue automatically
overtime: Animosities between villages, distances between castes are
dissolved in the pool of devotional labour and working together.
The western-educated Indian, having made people
look down on themselves for their 'primitive', 'animist' beliefs,
then tries to teach people to plant trees an utilitarian and, at
best, aesthetic grounds. Shastriji's idiom -- like that of Swami
Vivekananda, of Gandhiji -- is religious.
"There is much we can learn from the trees," he
teaches the people. "Trees are marvellous entities. They send their
roots deep into the soil and seek sustenance there. Trees are
charity manifest -- they teach, by their own example to give
generously. Like the Lord Shiva, they inhale poisonous gases and
exhale life-giving oxygen. They give fruit to those who throw stones
at them: their roots are used for medicinal purposes, their flowers
and leaves are used in worship: their fruits satisfy our hunger: and
their dark cool shade invites the weary traveller to rest. Trees do
not expect anything in return for the service they render us: they
do not expect even thanks from us: it is their very nature to be
unchanging in their generosity and compassion. Truly, therefore,
there is much we can learn from the trees... God is not hidden in
these temples but reveals Himself in the guise of trees. This God is
clothed in the magnificent finery of spring. Vayu, the wind-God fuss
Him to sleep and brilliant stars in the heavens above send their
devotion to Him. He is bathed by the clouds and the birds sing His
glory with joy. Your temple of trees nestles in the loving bosom of
Mother Earth. It has neither doors nor windows: it has only the
abundance of your devotion. Your temple is the abode of living,
growing and flowering idols in the form of trees. When you enter
this temple do so with a sense of worship: while watering the trees
feel the presence of God. This is your spiritual discipline and your
way of life. God exists inside the temple and outside the temple
too. In worshipping our deities like Hanuman, Tulsi etc, we worship
the divinity which is immanent in all beings, in plants, in
trees..."
The least of the advantages is that this idiom goes
straight to the heart of the people. The more important point is
that the teaching builds on the life of the people, it starts with a
deep respect for what the people already know and do: The teaching
leads them to see the deep meaning in what they do as a matter of
course. As certainly as the idiom of our westernised elite --
'Superstition,' 'Primitive animism' -- undermines the self-respect
of the people and thereby their ability to help themselves, just as
surely the idiom of reformers like Shastriji enhances the
self-regard and ability of the people.
There is another point that enhances these: The
secret lies in what the followers are urged to put to use. Tribals
know how to nurture trees and creepers, that skill is what they are
urged to contribute -- they see that skill is special, that it is
capable of divine work. This is a key concept in Shastriji's
Swadhyaya movement.
Ever so often when we feel particularly holy, or
grateful, or guilty, or fearful, we console ourselves by giving
something in charity, by making a donation to a temple. But the
phrase, Shastriji teaches, is to give tan (body), man (mind), dhan
(wealth) -- in that order, one's time and energy, one's mind and
devotion, and only then money etc. Persons who encounter the
Swadhyaya movement, are moved by the remarkable transformation which
it has brought about in the lives of lakhs, and approach Shastriji
with donations of money are politely told that donations cannot be
accepted till they have given of their own time, and their
particular skill: An accountant must first help look after the
accounts of one of the projects, an engineer must first help
recharge the well...
The special skill of fishermen is in catching fish,
in making and repairing boats. This skill, this work has been
transformed into dharma-work. By contributing their labour and
earning from a bit of their catch over time, fishing communities
have built and bought a motor-boat each, the matsyagandha, the
'Floating Temple.' It is cared for as a temple should be, fishermen
taking turns to man the boat for the day. Earnings from the catch of
the matsyagandha belong to the community as a whole. They are used
to help those who are in need within the community, to buy medicines
for the sick, to help those without jobs set themselves up, and to
acquire civic amenities. Communities of farmers have been led in the
same way to transform barren land into wealth of the community.
Fasts, festivals, pilgrimages have been similarly
transformed. Where the movement has taken hold, on Balipratipada
day, the New Year day by the Hindu calendar, all men, women and
children from a village visit the neighbouring village. At the
outskirts of the latter village they draw lots to determine the
house at which they shall have lunch: the hospitality is returned by
the first village in the same way. The consequences form as a matter
of course: The feeling of community is strengthened, taboos of
caste, the distances of income et cetera are overcome, families
develop bonds.
A pilgrimage is not just a journey to petition a
bank-manager, Shastriji has taught Swadhyayees -- It means
withdrawing one's mind from the pursuits and preoccupations of our
daily existence. Swadhyayees, therefore, visit the pilgrimage
centres of course -- as these have been identified by our seers as
specially charged places -- but in addition they visit villages on
the way to and around those centres to disseminate teaching of the
Vedic religion and the Gita.
Indeed, these perigerations in the villages have
become a keystone of the movement. They are known as Bhakti-pheris,
devotional tours. Every Swadhyayee devotes at least 15 days a year
to touring in the villages. His or her sole object is his or her own
spiritual growth, he goes merely to learn, to get to know, to make
friends. He must accept absolutely nothing from those he visits, he
must politely refuse even ordinary hospitality. Benefits accrue in
many ways, at many levels. The spiritual growth makes for a better
society. The ones he gets to know, see his conduct and are thereby
encouraged to improve their own lives. Often the outcomes transcend
individuals.
In the Saurashtra region, the hostility of Mers --
mainly agriculturists -- and Kharwas -- mainly fisher folk -- had
been legendary, it was murderous. All efforts to keep them from
assaulting each other had failed. Had the matter gone to one of our
modern experts in 'Conflict Resolution' he would have drawn up a
list of 'issues', suggested formulae for give-and-take and drawn up
a contract, a treaty. But no specific issue was the cause. When the
age-old enmity was put to Shastriji, he focussed on changing the
atmosphere, the air and water so to say. Swadhyayees began visiting
each community. Both communities developed trust in them. Eventually
both appealed to Shastriji to bring them together.
Shastriji did not seal that consummation by drawing
up a contract. He told them to organise a Satyanarain puja - there
must be 1,008 couples from each community: they must sit
alternately: a Kharwa couple, a Mer couple, a Kharwa couple: each
couple must perform the puja. And to avoid expense, Shastriji
simplified the puja so that it could be completed with just a few
flowers, water and rice. When the puja had been completed by such
large numbers from each community, by such large intermingled
numbers, and with Satyanarain as their witness the leaders of both
communities forswore hostility to each other...
As will be evident such experiments of our reformers are a result
of deep reflection and insight. They are innovative ideas. They are
ideas which build on notions and practices which lie embedded deep
in the psyche of our people. For that reason they are Indian ideas.
And, as we shall see, they are ideas that work.