Aavarana- The Veil

by S L Bhyrappa

  ‘No thanks, sir.’

  ~

  The government had organized a three-day seminar to discuss and find ways to achieve national integration and foster communal harmony. It had sent invitations to eminent people from all walks of life—intellectuals, professors, scholars and historians. About thirty people turned up at the seminar from various parts of India. Most of these were regulars on TV and in print. Razia was the only exception. She had disappeared from TV for the last five years. Several people recognized her in the tea party just before the session started: ‘Where have you vanished, Madam? Are you still in India?’ Professor Sastri played his part to perfection. He was the gracious host who went around making cordial talk and generally making everybody feel important. The secretary and assistant secretary from the ministry went around likewise, greeting everybody and making them feel welcome. None of the invitees failed to notice the difference in the way these two powerful bureaucrats treated each invitee. It became quickly evident to everyone the kind of influence the professor wielded. Earlier when they were waiting for their luggage at the Delhi airport, he told Razia that he had recommended her name for this seminar. Unlike others who were lodged in Hotel Janpath, a car from the ministry arrived and transported him to the state-owned five-star Hotel Ashok. She took a taxi to Hotel Janpath.

  The minister who inaugurated the seminar walked in. Most of the invitees went up to him and availed of the good fortune of his introduction. He smiled, shook hands and spoke to each person in a genial tone. He enquired about their health, general well-being and asked them if they were satisfied with their accommodation. He knew a few of them for some years. He was not a minister of the old days. He didn’t wear that trademark politician-uniform of kurta, pajama and white topi—all made of khadi. He was dressed in a safari suit stitched with terry-cot mixed khadi.

  He adorned the stage several minutes after the introductions were done.

  ‘You’re all highly learned people here, and you know the truth better than I, that this nation has no future unless we destroy the divisive forces of caste, community and religion, which are tearing this great nation into pieces. Evil forces have already infiltrated most of the institutions—education, art, universities, literature, research and media. This seminar has been organized with the express purpose of seeking recommendations on the course of action that the government has to embark upon to uproot these evil forces. Please keep in mind that this is just a precursor—the government will take the actual decision, however tough it may prove to be. The direction, rules and conduct of this seminar will be set by this country’s pre-eminent intellectual, Professor Sastri, in his keynote address.’

  The audience was impressed. This was no ordinary minister. He was a very smart politician.

  Professor Sastri got up. He smiled warmly, said a few words about the minister and praised the current government. Then he said that the nation was at a fork in the road to the future.

  ‘India was never one-dimensional. Ajanta and Ellora are as important to us as the Taj Mahal. Let’s not forget that the number of foreign tourists that visit the Taj Mahal greatly outnumber the number that visit Vijayanagar. Let it be said again and again, yet again, that there was nothing like Hindus versus Muslims at any point in this country’s history! We must counter a poisonous assertion that has infected our education of late if we want to save our children from this toxic propaganda: the assertion that Muslim kings demolished Hindu places of worship and that they were intolerant of other religions. Accordingly, every participant of this seminar has the weighty responsibility—and goal—to come out with specific recommendations for tackling this menace. How should we design our educational curriculum? What’s the method and pattern of teaching history that we should adopt? How should the media, artists, publishers and critics shape public discourse so that this grave threat to national integration is effectively checked? This is only a preliminary seminar. Several more of this nature have already been planned. The recommendations provided at the end of each seminar will be examined, aggregated and acted upon as appropriate. In the coming months, there will be seminars dedicated to specific fields of endeavour. For now, we need to evolve certain general guidelines. The honourable minister has asked me to set the direction, rules and conduct for this seminar. Frankly, I’ve already declined to accept this responsibility, given the presence of someone like him who’s far senior to me in accomplishment. However, I must also humbly bow before the verdict of the audience…’ At the end of a dazzling display of oratory that lasted forty-five minutes, it was clear to everyone that he was indispensable to this seminar. Equally, everyone knew that they were there in the first place because the professor had recommended their names. Professor Sastri was the minister’s choice.

  ‘What is the verdict of the gathering with regard to the choice of chairperson for this seminar?’ the minister asked. The faint noise of the first few hands that clapped gradually grew to deafening levels as the entire audience joined in.

  The actual proceedings began after the minister left. Servants supplied biscuits, tea and coffee to everybody seated. After many digressions, the chairperson steered the topic to the area of his focus.

  ‘The one area, the one field, indeed the most fertile field where evil forces have sown the seeds of divisiveness is history: the teaching of history to be precise. We all agree that the goal of history is to show the road to progressiveness. In other words, to ensure harmonious living based on the principles of innate human equality. However, shameless lies—like the ones about Muslims demolishing Hindu temples and forcibly converting people of other faiths—have managed to find their way into our history books. And so the urgent task is to clean up our history texts, to erase these lies and to tell the truth. We must thoroughly revise our history curriculum and disseminate it across all schools and colleges in India. In other words, come up with recommendations for a model history textbook. To that end, we must constitute a core committee of experts…’

  When she heard this, Lakshmi at first felt chagrined, which turned progressively to annoyance and then disgust. She found it hard not to stand up and call this man’s bluff. She also realized that this was a seminar comprising scholars who had earned national renown. She didn’t want to be cornered. This seminar had been organized by the highest levels of the central government.

  ‘…to purge the perversions of truth about Aurangzeb, Tipu Sultan, Sultan Mohammad Ghori, Mohammad Ghazni…’

  She stood up. She didn’t know how the words hurtled out from her mouth, ‘Sir, have you seen Benares?’

  It was as though someone had suddenly erected a rude dam that stopped the professor’s deluge-like oratory. ‘Huh?’ He looked at her. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘A huge mosque stands on the site of the Vishwanath temple. The local Muslims themselves refer to it as the Gyanvapi masjid. Behind this is a small temple-like structure, which devout Hindus regard as the Vishwanath temple where they offer their worship. So who built that mosque and why did they build it on that spot? It certainly feels good to deliver a sweep-all speech. However, before you do that, you need to answer similar questions about some thirty thousand such Gynavapi mosques.’ She was surprised by the emotion in her voice.

  ‘Let’s see. Here’s the thing: some mosque was built somewhere on an empty plot of land. Assuming that Aurangzeb built it, how does it prove that he built it after demolishing a pre-existing temple on the same site? What’s the evidence? Isn’t it unscientific to simply make assertions?’ he retorted, beaming confidence.

  ‘Have you heard of Saqi Mustad Khan? He wrote the history of the life and times of Aurangzeb after being commanded to do so by Inayatulla Khan Kashmiri, the last prime minister of Aurangzeb. This was Inayatulla Khan’s way of paying posthumous tributes to someone he truly regarded as the ideal emperor. And in order to write the book, Saqi Mustad Khan went through the official records documented, maintained and archived during Aurangzeb’s rule. This book is called Maasir-E-Alamgiri. Every
line in this work is supported by such official evidence. The same book tells us that in 1669, a report was received by the court about the successful demolition of the Kashi Vishwanath temple as per the orders of Alamgir Aurangzeb. The next chapter of the same work tells us that in the holy month of Ramzan in 1670, Aurangzeb ordered that the Keshavaraya temple in Mathura be demolished and a mosque built on its site. I wish to bring to the attention of this gathering that the Vishwanath temple was destroyed in the twelfth year of Aurangzeb’s reign and the Keshavaraya temple in the thirteenth year.’

  The audience lapsed into silence instantly. She had found her voice after spending five years in near-total silence.

  ‘The goal of inculcating harmony between Hindus and Muslims is both lofty and necessary and it has my full support. However, you can’t build a strong society on the foundation of untruth. Over twenty-five lakh pilgrims visit Varanasi every year. To these pilgrims, Varanasi is that ultimate and dateless spiritual harbour, the earthly berth of an entire way of life symbolized by the Vishwanath temple. This is the kind of fervour and longing every Hindu has for the Vishwanath temple. It is this fervour that makes them visualize a grand mental image of the temple. However, when they actually go there, they’re aghast, and their mental image is shattered. Disappointment doesn’t fully describe the feeling they experience when they see with their own eyes that the object of their devotion doesn’t exist. In its place, a huge mosque towers over not just the temple site—it invades the vision of the entire city, which Hindus consider as their holiest. Now, these pilgrims return home thoroughly disillusioned and share their disillusionment with family, cousins, relatives, neighbours and friends. When this is the bitter, everyday reality, on what basis do we hope to promote Hindu–Muslim amity? You can rewrite history textbooks and cover up these historical truths. But when the students who’ve read your textbooks go on educational tours to such places and ask uncomfortable questions, what answers should their teachers give? This is not just about Kashi or Ayodhya. Historical research yields us some thirty thousand temples that were destroyed by Muslim kings. Will you argue that wild animals destroyed them? Or will you argue that various sects within Hinduism—the Buddhists, Jains, Vaishnavas and Shaivites—quarrelled and destroyed each other’s temples? Not one scripture or text of these sects preach iconoclasm and temple destruction. In a stray case where this has happened, these sects have not glorified such an iconoclast as a role model. Iconoclasm, temple destruction, conversion at sword-point, jaziya, large-scale slave trading…these are precedents set by the founder who not only carried them out in his own lifetime but laid them down as the basic tenets of that faith. These are barbaric deeds done in a barbaric country at a specific point in history. How can we expect to achieve national integration and communal harmony if these beliefs persist, if these tenets continue to be preached and carried out even today? When it was envisaged, the makers of our Constitution rejected the hierarchical system of society that Manu and other lawmakers propounded thousands of years ago. In quite the same way, we can’t achieve true harmony unless we reject the belief and the mindset that asserts its superiority to the exclusion of everything else; a mindset that preaches conversion or death of those who hold a different view. Integration and harmony are meaningful only when we teach our children that Truth is one but is described differently by different people. How we can accomplish this should be the goal of this seminar.’

  She was astonished and happy at the same time. It was as if some force was propelling her. Besides, she knew she had enough material to last for more than three days. She hadn’t brought any notes or books. Until she got here, she had no idea what this seminar was really about. And now it didn’t matter. Her confidence rested on the strength of her father’s painstaking study coupled with her own research. She knew most of it almost by rote. She looked at the participants individually. She took her time to meet their eyes. It became clear to her that they realized they were being sized up. She thought she’d already won half the battle. And then she saw him. She didn’t recall seeing him when she had entered the hall. Later, when she spoke spiritedly, her focus had been on the professor. He must have come in late, after the session started. For some reason she felt nervous. But she would lose everything if she didn’t conquer this nervousness. She looked at his face first and then, more pointedly, at his eyes and held his gaze. Amir returned her gaze for a bit, then more forcefully and then in a moment, his eyeballs shifted and his gaze dropped and took refuge in the file on the table.

  ‘Thank you for clearly stating your perspective. If anybody has any observations or objections to Begum Razia’s opinion, they’re free to state them,’ the professor suddenly said and looked to the people seated at the extreme end of the round table.

  Lakshmi was furious. She had not yet finished but the professor had cleverly manipulated the situation. She looked at him again. His charming smile and the hint of naughtiness in his eyes told her that he had successfully managed hundreds of such uncomfortable situations. Now she turned to look at the extreme end of the round table. Ten people. Ten beards. It was tough to make out if they were Marxist or modern Muslim beards. She was reminded of her son’s beard. One of them spoke. ‘This isn’t the first time I’m meeting someone who accuses a religion and its Prophet on the strength of half-baked knowledge. But if someone can explain how such a person was invited to a seminar comprising responsible people, I shall be grateful.’

  It only took her a moment to understand that this was a direct personal attack. She wanted to turn the question back to him: that the audience has an equal right to know how he was invited and that making personal attacks instead of answering serious, valid questions was in poor taste. She refrained.

  Now the man seated next to him said, ‘Madam, do you know Farsi? If you do, can you tell us how well you know it? I’m asking this because the work you quoted, Masir-e-Alamgiri, is in Farsi.’

  ‘No. I don’t know Farsi. I’ve relied on Jadunath Sarkar’s translation.’

  Condescending laughter erupted from the entire group.

  ‘We have nothing to say to someone who relies on a communal historian,’ a voice said.

  And another, ‘Someone who knows no Farsi, relies on translations and is still convinced of her facts. We have serious doubts about the standard of your scholarship.’

  ‘Do you know Greek?’ she shot back immediately.

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘So you don’t know Greek but haven’t you studied the history of ancient Europe in translation?’ she said.

  As he fumbled for a response, the man sitting next to him said, ‘We’re retarding the progress of this seminar by fighting amongst ourselves. This respected lady has already consumed forty-five valuable minutes. One person cannot monopolize the seminar. Everybody should have their turn. We’re thirty people here. At the rate of forty-five minutes per person, that translates to a total of twenty-two and a half hours. Can we afford that kind of time? Even if we can, this is surely a useless way of spending it, in my humble opinion. The honourable chairperson must give a ruling.’

  The chairperson ruled, ‘Let others speak. Mrs Razia Querishi will get her turn again.’

  She responded swiftly, ‘The question is far more serious than whose turn it is. Respected Chairperson, I’m asking fundamental questions—questions of constructing a building on a solid foundation. Politicians are creatively reinterpreting the lives and deeds of historical persons through mouthpieces, through people who’re willing to do it for them. Politicians have their party ideology to back these perversions and our artists, writers and film-makers are producing works based on history by perverting history just so they can please these politicians. Can I safely assume that this seminar doesn’t intend recommending such literary works to be prescribed in the curriculum?’

  ‘What are you talking about? And if you’re that convinced about the so-called perversions, can we have some examples please?’

  The voice came from the right. Lakshm
i turned to look at her. Sixth chair. Wearing a red coloured sari and blouse that stopped short of being completely sleeveless. A chain made of large red beads that clamoured for attention. She wasn’t wearing a bindi. Raziya looked at her searchingly, trying to place her. The lady continued, ‘How proper is it on your part to talk disrespectfully about the Prophet of one of the world’s major religions?’

  ‘I’ve neither spoken nor intend to speak disrespectfully about anybody let alone a Prophet. An honest seeker of historical truth should not show disrespect to any person—historical or contemporary. I’ll let the facts speak for themselves…so what did the Prophet do in Arabia?’ she paused, looked at the lady intently and then, ‘His first wife, Khadija, was a smart and prosperous businesswoman. She lived in a society that allowed her both the social and economic freedom to run an extensive caravan business. She chose her third husband on her own, a man fifteen years younger than her. He remained faithful to her as long as she was alive. After her death—he was over fifty-two then—he married eleven women.’ She turned and looked at all the faces around the round table before finally resting her gaze on Amir. It appeared as if she had placed the burden of answer solely on his shoulders. ‘After this, which woman in the entire history of Islam had that kind of economic independence? Pre-Islamic Arabia worshipped several female deities but Islam has no female God. Who has the guts to question why Allah should only be a male God? Why don’t the aggressive champions of female equality here in this country ask this question? Why doesn’t anybody talk about the ill-effects that Islamic aggression had on Indian women? Why is everybody silent about the Muslim invaders who carted off hundreds of thousands of Indian women and sold them in the lucrative slave markets in Kabul, Iran and Turan, and why don’t our feminists reveal the fact that the direct consequence of such sex slavery was responsible for a sudden and widespread increase in the sati practice, which later developed into a full-fledged tradition in Rajasthan, Punjab and most of north India? Why doesn’t anybody ask why marriages in north India are still conducted during the night? Our intellectuals, like frogs that croak only in the rainy season, relish in blaming all the ills of India on the door of Hinduism and its Dharmashastras. Do they know history? Post Renaissance, Europe grew rapidly in strength—mechanized ships, faster travel, expeditions across the globe, invention of the printing machine that quickened the spread of knowledge…while all this was happening there, what was happening here? Muslim rule was near-total in India. Muslim kings were busy hoarding gold and women, killing and converting the native majority Hindu population, destroying and looting temples, and burning down books, libraries and famed centres of learning such as Nalanda, Takshashila and Odantapuri. What kind of history blames India’s present-day backwardness on Hindu scriptures that were written thousands of years ago, when the real answer is found in the history of this country dating back to just a thousand years? This history is an unending narrative of how India was successively weakened militarily, spiritually, morally and culturally. Why doesn’t anyone talk about who was responsible for sucking out India’s vigour? Even Akbar—unarguably the most powerful Muslim emperor—sought the protection of the Portuguese navy, which controlled Indian waters, so that Indian Muslims could safely do the Haj pilgrimage. What does this say about India’s military might? So what do you ladies and gentlemen say? What is the history we need to teach our children?’ She paused, took a deep breath and looked around. Silence. Amir continued to stare at the file.