“Like the phoenix it never dies It rises from the flames

It is that feeling which defies All betrayals and blames;

It will, revived, be stronger still A living, breathing Lazarus —

Which conceit pretended to kill What was between the two of US?”

- The Suicide of Lazarus by Bachchoo



The wars in West Asia in the beginning of this century have already brought about a central controversy in the interpretations of Islam. The argument is not between soft Sufi sects and the Wahabbis, it is a difference of opinion within the fundamentalist ranks. The self-proclaimed “Caliphate” Islamic State has threatened to decapitate Allan Henning, a British taxi driver, who went to Syria to help victims of the war in that country — mostly Muslims.

Branches and authorities of Al Qaeda have appealed to ISIS to spare the life of this “Good Samaritan” as it would be against the Sharia to kill him for any reason.

This small acorn of a dispute promises to grow into an oak of contention between various interpreters of the Sharia and the Quran. The very existence of this “Caliphate” and its claims are causing a worldwide debate within the religion.

Is the election of the Bharatiya Janata Party in India promising a controversy or a debate about the theology or metaphysics of Hinduism? There has been some move to ban books, to redefine history and a statement by Swami Swaroopananda (though he is or was a supporter of the Congress) that Sai Baba is a Muslim and ought not to be revered by Hindus. From the point of view of the deeply rooted syncretic traditions of India, this sort of statement amounts to “fundamentalism”, even though the good swami is not quoting some tenet from a gospel. I am sure none of the devotees of Sai Baba will abandon him because of what Swamiji opines. Traditional religious piety rather than eschatological debate is India’s norm.

Before I knew anything about Zoroastrianism, the religion of my ancestors, I was aware of the rituals of Hinduism — though I didn’t know that it had a name. I observed the rituals and was even induced to participate marginally in a few of them at the feet of my Maratha ayah Chandrabai. I now know she came from the villages of the Western Ghats. She had been expelled by her in-laws who somehow blamed her for the death of her husband who had contracted smallpox. She wasn’t of high caste, though having been long integrated into our Parsi-Zoroastrian family, having first served as the ayah of my younger maternal aunts, caste was never an issue and I was not aware of it.

The rituals consisted of the worship of unusually shaped stones, the obeisance to rocks painted red and placed under particular trees through the streets and in the recesses of our town and of her entering, for brief moments the tiny stone temples we passed.

There were also obscure rituals and ceremonies involving brass pots, limes, flowers and coloured powders. There were offerings to Gods named Pandurang and others whose names I forget though I distinctly recall that they were not the names of the Gods which I subsequently associated with official Hinduism. There was no mention of Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu, Nataraj, Laxmi, Kali, Durga, etc. I have vague recollection of her worship of Parvati and have subsequently been told by Maharashtrian scholars that most of the odd names I may have heard in my infanthood are indeed manifestations of Shiva and associated cults with localised, even tribal titles.

I suppose my proper acquaintance with “Hinduism” which is indelibly the very atmosphere of everywhere in India (and under a veil in Bangladesh and Pakistan? — Oh dear will I get in trouble?-FD. You bet!-Ed.) was when through a maverick impulse I chose as my “compulsory” Arts subject in college “Ancient Indian Culture”. Poona University required all science students, of which I was one, to broaden their horizons by studying one non-scientific subject. Most of my contemporaries took what they considered the easy way out and opted for “Civics” which was a study of the Indian Constitution. Some others opted for Economics. I was the only one of my batch who opted for Professor Arjunvadkar’s lectures on “AIC”. There were at most six pupils in his classes. The Civics lectures had audiences of 150.

One of the fascinating things I absorbed was that the very early books, the Rg Veda for instance, seemed to say that the Gods only appeared after creation was well afoot. This was contrary to all the precepts of Zoroastrianism, Christianity which was the religion of my schooling and Islam with which I was, through friends and through living in India adequately acquainted. The era in which my generation grew up was still heavily influenced by the politico-ethical creed of Gandhism, one of whose tenets was “Ishwar, Allah, tero naam, Sabko sanmati de Bhagwan!”

Nevertheless my delving into the texts which I had to read for AIC, seemed to tell me that the ritual, ceremonial and even festivity of “Hinduism” were very distinct from the profound philosophy of the Bhagwad Geet, which in the teaching of our professor took on a distinctly “Advaita Vedant” meaning. The Gods with their distinct shapes and names were the ultimate products of maya, of the illusion that consciousness provided. The fundamental reality was brahman and the individual soul, the aatma, had to break loose from the illusions of consciousness and selfhood and dissolve into the brahman. Professor Arjunvadkar would repeat “Tat tvam assi” loudly and then softly under his breath and use the metaphor of the individual drop of water dissolving into the ocean of brahman to make his — or the Geet’s — meaning clear.

But as I said about Swaroopananda’s statements, these theological niceties are destined to have little effect on practice. Hinduism is not a conviction religion, more a faith in a way of life and a duty, a dharma. Long may it remain that way, integrating Sai Baba and all.