NB. The footnotes for this article are linked to a separate
footnote page.
Introduction - Objectives, orientation, rationale One basic, but, I think, as yet unanswered, question that hovers
over the current upsurge of Hindu fundamentalism and communal politics
in India is: do traditional forms of Hindu religion on the whole
reinforce this upsurge or tend to resist or retard it; or, perhaps,
do they have no perceptible impact at all?
Alternatively, and more precisely, one may ask, do the diverse
types and denominations (sampradayas) of traditional Hindu
religion relate to the Hindu communal upsurge in much the same way,
or in differential fashion? And, if differentially, how so? These
are not purely academic questions, especially for those who may
be anxious over the waxing of communal Hindu religio-political nationalism,
but uncertain where to look for effective alternatives.
I do not want to get into here the semantic and conceptual problems
of defining Hindu and Hinduism, which could take us far afield.1
This paper focuses, not on Hinduism or Hindutva (the ideologically
driven notion of religio-socio-political "Hinduness").
Rather, it examines the religious self-understanding and socio-political
orientation of one devotional (bhakti) movement or denomination
(sampradaya) within the far wider Hindu religio-cultural
and social world, the Chaitanya Vaishnavas (also known as Gaudiya
Vaishnavas). Analogous studies might well be done for other bhakti
movements, as well as for other sampradayas shaping traditional
Hindu religious life. Interestingly, the religious self-understanding
of Chaitanya Vaishnavas traditionally has tended not to emphasise
the category Hindu, though most devotees, if asked, would consider
themselves in some sense Hindu.
The sketches drawn in this essay of Chaitanya Vaishnava bhakti
and of the traditional devotees' typical orientation to socio-political
affairs are matters on which I feel reasonably confident. However,
I am less confident in estimating how strongly that traditional
pattern of Chaitanya bhakti and socio-political orientation
is maintaining itself in contemporary India and abroad. I am even
less confident in predicting how Chaitanya Vaishnavas will, in the
face of continuing controversy, resolve the tensions between fidelity
to their distinctive kind of devotion to Krishna and the demands
of Hindu fundamentalism and communal politics. Hence, this essay
is exploratory rather than conclusive.
In this essay I provide a schematic sketch of Chaitanya Vaishnava
devotion (bhakti) and its basic relationship to socio-political
affairs. I also consider how this kind of religious commitment,
especially if intensified through systematic religious discipline
(sadhana), might be expected in theory to reinforce, resist
or ignore Hindu fundamentalism and communalism. I then offer my
own anecdotal observations and those of another scholar, Klaus Klostermaier,
on how in practice Chaitanya Vaishnavas appear to be reacting to
recent communal Hindu religio-political initiatives. Finally, I
suggest some directions in which further inquiry on these points
might go.
Even if the typical response of Chaitanya Vaishnavas to Hindu fundamentalism
and communalism can be determined, this need not at all imply that
bhakti movements generally (nor all other Vaishnava or even Krishnaite
Vaishnava bhakti movements) would relate to Hindu fundamentalism
and communal politics in the same way. Further empirical research
on Chaitanya Vaishnavas' current socio-political performance, what
to speak of that of other Hindu denominations, is much to be desired.
I would hope, however, that the ways by which I have analysed Chaitanya
Vaishnava bhakti, its distinctive mode of religious community,
and how this mode of Vaishnava community relates to Hindu communalism
might lend themselves to parallel studies of different bhakti
movements and other traditional and more recent Hindu religious
sampradayas.
Schematic Outline of Chaitanya Vaishnava Bhakti and its Basic
Relationship to Social and Political Affairs Basic religious orientation of Chaitanya Vaishnavas The religious orientation of Chaitanya Vaishnavas is very
well documented and readily accessible; it need only be highlighted
here.2 The Bengali Brahmin
ecstatic saint known as Chaitanya (1486-1533) is held by his devotees
to be the divine Lord Krishna in the form of perfect human devotee.
Specifically, Chaitanya is understood to be Krishna in human form,
having taken on the persona of the divine mistress Radha, the ultimate
exemplar of loving devotion (prema-bhakti) to Krishna. This
loving devotion (prema-bhakti), his devotees hold, constitutes
the yuga-dharma, the normative mode of religious practice
for the current age, the Kali-yuga. This dharma of loving
devotion supersedes in excellence and relativises (though it may
not invalidate altogether) other forms of dharma, including
certain kinds of Vedic and other Brahminical dharmas. This
new dharma teaches that every soul is in essence, even if
not behaving so in practice, a dependent servant (and at least potentially
a devotee) of Lord Krishna.
Chaitanya Vaishnavas put special stress on the idyllic pastimes
(lilas) of Krishna - as baby, little boy and amorous youth
- rather than on Krishna the powerful adult warrior/statesman or
almighty Lord of Vaikuntha heaven. This distinctive mode of devotion,
featuring the gentler, more playful winsome and loving Krishna,
is called madhurya (sweetness, delicacy, affection). It permeates
the dedicated Chaitanya Vaishnavas' devotional life and affects
their orientation to socio-political affairs also.
In congregational gatherings, Chaitanya Vaishnavas are urged to
be accommodating, helpful, affectionate with one another. Their
ethos advocates humility and non-violence towards humans generally,
not just fellow Vaishnavas, and even to animals; they eschew blood
sacrifice and the eating of meat. Their festivals, even for the
deceased, are joyful affairs (mahotsavas): singing, dancing,
decorating images, feasting . . . celebrating with one another the
delightful and beautiful pastimes (lilas) and aspects of
Krishna with his eternal companions. Similarly, in private prayer
and meditation, Chaitanya Vaishnavas cultivate madhurya,
as they visualise and savour the sweetness, beauty and loveableness
of Krishna engaged in his pastimes.
The heroic events among Krishna's repertoire of sports - including
conquest of demons while He Himself is a mere child - they also
acknowledge, but do not dwell upon. These glimpses of His lordly
power, or aishvarya, remain just that: glimpses, not central
foci for celebration and meditation. For, according to Chaitanya
Vaishnavas, to allow power, or, to dominate one's devotional life
would create distance between Lord and devotee, would overshadow
intimacy by awe, would replace delightful spontaneity with dutiful
formality . . . which, the devotees say, is far less pleasing to
and devotee both.
Basic Socio-political Orientation of Chaitanya Vaishnava
Bhakti Chaitanya Vaishnavas, like so many communities of devotees,
maintain a heightened state of affectionate, relatively egalitarian
solidarity and ethos with fellow devotees, especially in congregational
gatherings. (The notion of communitas, as developed by Victor Turner
following Van Gennep, has considerable explanatory value in describing
the character of in-group religious attitudes and practices among
Chaitanya Vaishnava devotees.) The historical community, or communion,
of devotees embraces men and women, brahmanas,sudras and
sinners, as well as, in principle, persons outside Hindu society
altogether, provided they experience devotion to Krishna.
In the wider socio-political realm, however, as in marriage, business
and politics, that special solidarity and ethos may give way to
more structured, functional, impersonal relationships, even in dealings
with fellow devotees. Chaitanya Vaishnavas typically differentiates
the realm of devotional activities from the realm of practical affairs,
and they do not (except for a minority of recluses and mendicants)
cut themselves off from mundane activities. They are not sectarian,
but denominational. That is to say, they constitute a voluntary
community, or communion, of persons whose primary religious concern
is devotion to Krishna-Chaitanya, but who are expected to behave
responsibly in their respective historical socio-political situations.
Certain authoritative Chaitanya Vaishnava writers appealed to the
principle of lokasangraha (holding the world together/maintaining
the general welfare), a principle also enunciated in the Bhagavad-gita,
by way of explaining how to participate responsibly in the environing
mundane world without fundamentally violating one's basic commitment
to krishna-bhakti. Rather than occasion unnecessary difficulties
and distractions, Vaishnavas should put up with less than ideal
conditions in the mundane, or laukika, sphere. The Chaitanyaite
interpretation of lokasangraha justifies participating in
public affairs, even under Muslim regimes (as well as under the
British colonial and independent Indian regimes). Chaitanya Vaishnavas
may also accede to many Brahmanic ritual-social customs even though
these may be judged to be devoid of sacral legitimation in and of
themselves. However, if governmental or Brahmanic or other interests
were to interfere seriously with their exercise of krishna-bhakti,
then devotees would be expected to object and seek redress,
preferably through discreet, negotiated settlements.3
A number of Chaitanya's prominent contemporary devotees held important
posts in the Muslim regime of the day, either at court or in the
revenue collection throughout Bengal. At least one highly placed
devotee in Husain Shah's court, Sanatana Goswami, the Sarkar Mallik,
resigned rather than participate in an anticipated attack on Orissa,
which would have meant devastation of temples there. Many prominent
Chaitanya Vaishnavas were comfortable working for the successor
British colonial regime.
One matter of principle, however, on which Chaitanya Vaishnavas
are expected not to even 'go through the motions' of Brahmanic customs
was prayashcitta, a class of purificatory/atonement rituals.
As only Krishna can break the bonds of karma, they insist, doing
prayashcitta would imply lack of faith in Krishna. On the
other hand, various samskaras, life-cycle rituals, could
be performed according to Brahmanic or other customary norms.
My reading of Chaitanya Vaishnava socio-political practice and
theory is that it implies acceptance of a religiously plural society,
with a broad zone of mundane activity that is neutral in religious
terms, neither sacred as deriving from any special revelation, nor
an abomination for not so deriving. Devotees are expected to act
intelligently and responsibly - discerning the demands of lokasangraha
(the general welfare) - in whatever social, economic or political
situations they find themselves. What they expect of the mundane,
or 'secular', realm, is that it function effectively in its various
operational sectors; and, of course, that it not violate the free
exercise of krishna-bhakti, in public or in private. Within
such a laukika, or secular, realm, it was taken for granted
that other religious communions too would practice their own modes
of religious life, even though more or less lacking in explicit
devotion to Krishna.
Application of this basic relationship to recent Hindu fundamentalism
and communalism What does this sketch of Chaitanya Vaishnava bhakti
and its socio-political orientation suggest about how devotees might
respond to contemporary Hindu fundamentalism and Hindu religio-communal
politics?
1. To begin with, consider the focus of Chaitanya Vaishnavas' faith.
They are committed in faith to devotion to one personal Lord Krishna,
not to Hinduism, Hindutva or the land of Bharata. Moreover, for
them the religiously valued community is the trans-temporal communion
of Krishna devotees, not a pan-Hindu community or Hindu national
state. Rama though revered by them as a lesser manifestation of
Krishna, has never been a central focus of Chaitanya Vaishnava piety.
Treating Rama as the arch-symbol of Hindu nationalism and the focal
point of agitational communal politics is altogether alien to Chaitanya
Vaishnava tradition.
2. Consider also the distinctive quality of religious experience
cherished by Chaitanya Vaishnavas. To them it is loving devotional
feelings and moods, bhavas and rasas, not socio-political
interests and enthusiasms, that are at the core of religious life.
Krishna is Himself rasaraja, the king of devotional mood;
Radha, his beloved, is maha-bhava, the great (amorous) feeling.
The whole thrust of Chaitanya Vaishnava literature, collective activities
and private religious discipline (sadhana) is to evoke, focus
properly, purify and enhance the whole gamut of traditional devotional-aesthetic
experiences. To do this effectively, they drew from Sanskrit dramaturgy
and poetics, propagated their own rich devotional literature, and
institutionalised a complex network of mechanisms designed to foster
krishna-bhakti-rasa, permeated by madhurya: sweetness,
gentleness, love.
Furthermore, Chaitanya Vaishnavas conspicuously 'failed' - 'declined'
might be more accurate - to transform their flexible devotional
movement into a structured organisation, refused to define simplistic
boundaries as to who is or is not 'within' the movement. They did
not allow their devotional communion to become identified with a
socico-political power. After the passing of Chaitanya they declined
to designate a central leader or governing body-such as might become
the focus of power struggles which could rupture solidarity and
shatter the mood of bhakti-rasa within the communion of devotees.
Much of current Hindu fundamentalist rhetoric, by contrast, seems
bent upon stirring up old resentments and generating new frustration
and hostility. Whereas humility and accommodation are virtues in
the eyes of traditional Chaitanya Vaishnavas, to Hindu fundamentalists
such attitudes bespeak weakness and degradation. Whereas the Chaitanya
Vaishnavas systematically avoid what might transform their devotional
communion into an ethnic community or mundane religio-political
force, Hindu fundamentalists strive to do just that: to weld Hindu
religious sentiments into a powerful communal political force leading
to a national religio-ethnic state. Whereas Chaitanya Vaishnavas
cherish the special refinement and richness of texture of their
distinctive mode of loving devotion to Krishna (and to fellow devotees,
human and transcendent), Hindu fundamentalists endeavour to supplant
the plethora of such sampradaya-specific pieties with a least
common denominator commitment to Hindutva (vaguely symbolised by
Rama) and to the Hindu nation, Bharata.
3. Further disparities between Chaitanya Vaishnavas and Hindu fundamentalists
might be noted, but let us now consider certain points of commonality,
or aspects of Chaitanya Vaishnava mentality which might lend themselves
to reinterpretation more favourable to Hindu fundamentalism and
communal politics.
For one thing, there has long been a Vaishnava conviction that
those who molest Vaishnavas deserve the harshest of treatment:
the Lord will not pardon one who has molested a Vaishnava-unless
the offended Vaishnava first forgives the wrong-doer. In traditional
Chaitanya Vaishnava literature, however, this theme is usually
illustrated by episodes in which it is reconciliation that results
from conflict, not retribution; for, they say, did not Krishna
come as Chaitanya to propagate the dharma of loving devotion?
Still this theme conceivably could be seized upon and reworked
to motivate hostility to secularists, Muslims, Christians or any
other hypothetical enemies of Vaishnavas.
Then again, the underlying identity of Rama and Krishna might
be stressed to gain sympathy of Krishna devotees, especially nominal
devotees, whose knowledge of the finer points of krishna-bhakti
is shallow, and whose numbers very likely are growing as modernity
wears away traditional knowledge and sensibilities.
There is always the crass, or should we say practical, matter
of short- and long-term economic advantage and influence which
might well induce Vaishnavas of some prominence to be with the
winners, if they were to see the tide turning in favour of Hindu
communalist politics. Even Vaishnava leaders who might have misgivings
about Hindu fundamentalism and communal agitations might judge
that the institutions they represent would be more generously
treated by an explicitly Hindu government. And they might be wary
of inviting reprisals, if they were known to have opposed an eventually
triumphant communalist Hindu religio-political cause.
Perhaps the one aspect of Chaitanya Vaishnavas' bhakti
in relation to socio-political affairs that could most facilitate
Hindu fundamentalist/communalist initiatives is their traditional
preference to not become active in political matters explicitly
and publicly as Chaitanya Vaishnavas. This tendency could render
devotees less inclined to detect and assess the threats posed
by fundamentalist and communalist Hinduism - not only to the secular
state in India but to the future of their own cherished mode of
loving devotion (prema-bhakti). It could also mean that
those Chaitanya Vaishnava spokesmen, if any, who would see trouble
in the waxing of the Hindutva cause might find it difficult to
make their concerns known promptly and effectively among fellow
devotees, not accustomed to think of confrontational politics
as pertinent to bhakti.
But at this point let us leave this schematic and somewhat idealised
account of krishna-bhakti as related to Hindutva in theory,
and shift to the fragmentary accounts of two observers of what is
actually going on among Chaitanya Vaishnavas in response to Hindu
communalism. As will be obvious, these accounts point up the need
for more systematic and extensive inquiries, if anything like a
definitive answer is to be given to the question of whether this
devotional movement (or any other) tends to reinforce, resist or
ignore the communalist Hindu religio-political cause.
Recent Observations on Chaitanya Vaishnava Response to Hindu
Fundamentalism and Communalism General comments The following remarks derive largely from my own observations
during visits to India in October to December 1990 and May to August
1992 and from a published report by Klaus Klostermaier of a visit
by him to India in January-February 1992. Most of the time of my
visits passed in West Bengal, where the Left Front Government until
then had been quite effective in containing communal politics and
violence. For instance, in November 1984, when Delhi and some other
north Indian cities were the scenes of massacres of Sikhs in reprisal
for the assassination of Prime Minister Gandhi, West Bengal quickly
snuffed out incipient anti-Sikh violence. Again in the days leading
up to the October 1990 aborted attack on the mosque at Ayodhya,
there were Hindu-Muslim solidarity marches by left parties, such
as those I witnessed in Bolpur near Santiniketan. But, after the
December 1992 razing of the mosque at Ayodhya, even West Bengal
was not immune to widespread communal violence.
The focus of my visits, however, was the spiritual exercises, or
sadhana, of the Chaitanya Vaishnavas, a topic that did not
directly relate to Hindu communal politics. Klaus Klostermaier,
on the other hand, in his visit to Uttar Pradesh, was directly concerned
to document the changes in Hindu religion, especially the politicisation,
in the three decades since his own residence at Vrindavana in 1962-64.
I also passed a month at Vrindavana in 1990 (and some days again
in 1992), situated in Uttar Pradesh, the state most affected by
Ayodhya-related agitations and communal violence. Our visits and
projects, though not strictly analogous, were closely enough related
to allow for some broad comparison.
Vrindavana (and West Bengal) as observed by the author My own impressions during both visits was that among the
Chaitanya Vaishnavas with whom I was in contact there was very little
active involvement in Hindu communal activities. Not one of the
dozens of public Vaishnava pujas, discourses, kirtans,
processions, festivals etc. that I attended so much as alluded pro
or con to the Ayodhya struggle, Hindu-Muslim relations, or Hindu
communal politics. Only once while I was at Vrindavana in the month
after the Ayodhya debacle of 1990 did I hear a loudspeaker supporting
the Rama-janma-bhumi (birthplace of Rama) cause, but after fifteen
minutes it stopped and was not heard again. Though Hindi and English
newspapers available in Vrindavana were carrying quite sensationalist
reports and pictures of communal violence, there were relatively
few Hindu communalist graffiti to be seen, and little or no evidence
of incidents or demonstrations of a communal sort in the town (though
the paucity of Muslim residents in Vrindavana would in any event
minimise the local pretexts and targets for such things).
I recall quite vividly the day I attended the closing session of
Bhagavata Path discourses in nearby Mathura, delivered to an audience
of upwards of five thousand outside the Krishna-janma-bhumi (birthplace)
temple. Not fifty feet from this new temple (erected since my first
Vrindavana visit in 1965) stands a comparably large mosque said
to have been erected on the site of Krishna's birth. I attended
- in the company of a Gujarati Hindu pilgrim I had met in Vrindavana
- with some anxiousness, as it was only a month or so after the
October 30, 1990 attack on the mosque at Ayodhya. That Babri Masjid
at Ayodhya is alleged by Hindu communalists to have been constructed
at the putative birthplace of Rama, using materials from a hypothetical
pre-existing Hindu temple on the site. At Ayodhya a number of rioters
had attained 'martyrdom' for the Hindu communal cause. The mosque
at Mathura, which also may well incorporate materials from pre-existing
Hindu, Jain and/or Buddhist edifices is looked upon by some Hindu
fundamentalists as next only to 'Babur's Mosque' at Ayodhya as an
offence to Hindu religion and self-respect and thus as another prime
target for demolition.
My observations at Mathura are fragmentary, as I was present for
only the last few hours of a multi-day series of talks. But, while
I was there, neither the concluding points of the lecturer nor the
closing formal remarks of the organisers made any obvious reference
to the Ayodhya struggle or other aspects of the Hindu political
agenda that I could notice. The themes were typical Vaishnava ones
that I had heard drawn out of the Bhagavata Purana since
coming first to India nearly thirty years before. Among the thousands
of devotees present, there was no overt sign of awareness of, or
hostility toward, the large mosque adjacent to the temple. Police
were few, but adequate. There were no slogans, banners or signs
hostile to Muslims generally, to the mosque in particular, nor even
extolling Hindutva or the Hindu communal agenda. Interestingly,
one of the dignitaries present was of the Dalmia family (some of
whom had contributed handsomely to the temple at Mathura, and some
of whom are prominent in Vishva Hindu Parishad activities). The
bookstore in the temple complex - to which I made two subsequent
visits for purchase of books on sadhana -offered a variety
of Hindu texts, including some on Rama and the Ramayana,
but did not seem to be displaying provocative Hindu communalist
material.
Is it not striking that barely a month after the Ayodhya debacle,
while communal violence was still flaring up elsewhere in Uttar
Pradesh, so large and peaceable a Vaishnava assembly could take
place virtually in the shadow of the mosque at the Krishna-janma-bhumi,
and yet not even allude to the old mosque's presence? Does this
perhaps suggest that, where Vaishnava (and perhaps other forms of)
religiosity is amply experienced and expressed, there is no deeply
felt need to save Hinduism from Muslim or secular threat, nor to
restore a Hindu self-respect which had not been felt as lost? One
might also suspect that those who plan the strategy for popular
agitations and orchestrate riots would think twice about unleashing
upon Mathura a potentially destructive campaign to 'liberate' Krishna's
birthplace. Mathura as far more real estate and commercial interests
that would be at risk, as well as more religio-cultural involvements
by prominent Hindus, I would estimate, than did far-off Ayodhya,
a more expendable field of battle.
At no time during my Vrindavana visit did any Vaishnava sadhu
or layman with whom I was discussing Vaishnava practices bring up
on his own initiative such matters as the Ayodhya struggle and the
need to protect Hinduism, or express antagonism against Muslims
and Indian secularism. But, as my project was to learn about Vaishnava
sadhana, this is perhaps not surprising. But even in conversations
overheard on the pilgrimage train to Puri or in the slack periods
of the day while staying at ashrams and other Vaishnava institutions,
these issues hardly surfaced. Perhaps some of the same individuals,
if sequestered with persons they knew and trusted, or if gossiping
at work or leisure over tea, would have talked a different, more
political or communal line than when on pilgrimage or at an ashram,
I cannot say. But if they did harbour Hindu communalist concerns,
they did so in a mentally compartmentalised way, neither integrating
such concerns into their explicitly devotional life, so far as I
could see, nor trying to draw inspiration or legitimation for communal
Hindu agitations from krishna-bhakti.
On the few occasions when I did turn discussion to the current
communal strive, the most common reaction was to lament it and write
it off as 'politics'. Some of my interlocutors, however, confided
that Muslims had indeed been getting favoured treatment and that
it was hard to be Hindu publicly even in India. On one occasion
at Vrindavana, I did inquire of the secretary of an elderly babaji
his views on the Ayodhya struggle. Without noticeable rancour, he
said that the Muslims had done destructive things in the past and
were presently being favoured - precisely the themes upon which
the Hindu communalists harp and which can be used to stimulate and
condone violence. In his case, I did not detect any interest in
pursuing the communal agenda: the one practical project he was committed
to was distribution of his guru's many devotional publications.
By and large, I did not detect among Vaishnavas much sympathy for
Muslims as a threatened minority, even when communal violence was
being wreaked disproportionately against Muslims in the fall of
1990. That Muslims were in fact disproportionately the victims may
not have been common knowledge. Neither the secular governing interests
(sensitive to foreign perceptions and anxious to avoid yet more
reprisals that are violent) nor communal Hindu interests (intent
upon painting Muslims as the villains) were keen to highlight the
extent of Muslim victimisation. On the other hand, I did not detect
among the Vaishnavas I was associating with much real anger aimed
at Muslims, or at secular interests for that matter. Nor did my
interlocutors express any sense of religious duty, least of all
any Vaishnava imperative, to mobilise Hindu communal interests against
Muslim or secular threats. There simply did not seem to be much
concern or urgency over the whole communal upheaval in the Chaitanya
Vaishnava ashrams I visited in West Bengal and Vrindavana during
my last two trips to India.
Among Chaitanya Vaishnavas, especially those in Bengal, the overall
impression I received was that what they considered important religiously,
that is, krishna-bhakti, was somehow insulated from whatever
was going on in the turbulent world of Hindi belt politics and religio-political
agitation.4 Pursuit of krishna-bhakti
typically seems to have fostered a tendency among those especially
devoted to turn away from the allurements and the pain of the mundane
world to seek the bliss of Krishna's pastimes. One may, as a devout
Vaishnava, retire or go on pilgrimage to Vrindavana to leave behind
such worldly distractions. But counter-balancing this tendency are
other Vaishnava norms to the effect that one must not shirk one's
duties, that one should not rush into celibacy, and so on. The pertinent
ideal norms for the Vaishnava devotee-citizen are ambivalent and
call for responsible decision.
Chaitanya Vaishnavas' practice and discourse in the early 1990s
continued to be conducted within the basic symbolic patterns of
krishna-bhakti and the devotional communion. Krishna-Chaitanya
bhakti as such is highly distinctive and refined in its symbolism
and terminology and approved repertoire of devotional feelings.
Little of this traditional refinement and delicacy of feeling can
be found in what we are seeing of current Hindu communal religio-political
agitation. I have yet to encounter in written form, in public discourse
or private communication anything resembling a serious theological
(better 'ideological') reinterpretation of the specific symbols
and teachings of the Chaitanya Vaishnava tradition designed as an
explicit legitimation of Hindutva (ideological 'Hinduness') and
the communalist Hindu religio-political campaign. This does not
mean that there will not be (or may not be already in existence
but unknown to me) such ideological reinterpretations of Chaitanya
Vaishnava myths, symbols, doctrines and denominational history in
the interests of Hindutva. But such reinterpretations of Chaitanya
Vaishnava thought, if they do eventually come to the fore, will
be doing so in the wake of, not the vanguard of, the communalist
campaign for Hindutva.
Vrindavana as observed by Klaus Klostermaier By contrast, Klaus Klostermaier, reporting on his visit
to India in January-February 1992 for research on religious change,
encountered what he considers evidence of a shift toward Hindu communal
politics even among Chaitanya Vaishnavas in Vrindavana and the surrounding
Vraj area.5 His report is part
of a three year research project on 'History of Vaishnavism in Uttar
Pradesh since 1947.' He observes Hindu communalist Vaishnavas and
others are overlooking the differences between sampradayas
in favour of pan-Hindu political action.6
Klostermaier, it may be noted, also uses the term 'denominational'
in referring to traditional sampradayas, but with denotation
and connotation markedly different from what I, following sociologists
Ernst Troeltsch and Talcott Parsons, am using for 'denomination'.
For Klostermaier, the denomination is intolerant, intent upon imposing
its position on others: 'Denominational religions likewise have
predominantly partisan interests; they want to see their particular
doctrines adopted, their sectarian expressions of religion imposed
upon people, their numbers of followers increased.'7 'Denomination', as the sociologists I am
following in this regard use the term, means a religious group,
the membership of which is voluntary (at least in principle), and
which group (in contrast with a 'church') does not claim to control
the social and economic-political life of the region in which it
is present, nor does it (in contrast with a 'sect') urge its members
to withdraw from social and economic-political activities of the
region.
Klostermaier also notes that the ideal of the sannyasi
as withdrawn from mundane life is being replaced by one which places
the sannyasi in the forefront of even the political dimension
of the Hindu jagaran, 'Hindu awakening'. He notes in particular
how Vivekananda and Gandhi are seen as prototypes for this modern
merging of asceticism and religion with politics, though in ways
different from how Gandhi, if not Vivekananda, would have done it.
Alluding to the non-violence and humility traditionally attributed
to Vaishnavas, he writes pointedly: 'A rather radical rethinking
and readaptation may be necessary in the context of Vaishnavism.'
8 That such a 'radical re-thinking and re-adaptation' might
indeed be required reinforces my hypothesis that bhakti movements,
especially Vaishnava ones, may be so different in values from the
Hindutva cause as to provide resistance to the spread of Hindu communalism
- unless, of course, they give up their distinctiveness, in effect
cease to be the kinds of devotional sampradayas that have
been till now. Klostermaier makes the following observations:
Objectively speaking, the rhetoric of today's RSS is much more
restrained as compared to that of 'guru' Golwalkar and 'Vir' Savarkar.
. . To the credit of RSS and VHP representatives whom I met, it
must be said that they are intelligent, upright and purposeful
persons. They know their Indian history, they have a keen eye
for the ills under which India is suffering, they have a strong
commitment to the well-being of India . . . Whether one likes
it or not, there is no doubt that most of Indian culture is Hindu
culture . . . A society has no doubt the right to defend its own
culture . . .
And here we have to sound a warning note. If Hinduism becomes
intolerant it will lose its own soul and be little more than an
ideology, an instrument in the hands of unscrupulous politicians
. . . Religion instead of acting as the independent arbiter of
public life, the conscience of a people, will be part and parcel
of the oppressive system itself and will sell its soul for the
sake of power.9
Klostermaier, it should be noted, does not make explicit how extensive
is the base of empirical evidence on which he is generalising; nor
is it altogether clear whether his more general observations apply
equally to Vrindavana and Uttar Pradesh as a whole. His Vrindavana
evidence per se cited in the article in question focuses on two
individuals and their immediate associates: the late Swami B. H.
Bon Maharaj, founder head of the Institute of Oriental Philosophy,
at whose ashram Klostermaier lived in 1962-64; and Padmanabha Goswami,
currently a hereditary priest at he Radharamana temple.
Swami Bon, whom I also met several times between 1965 and 1978,
was an East Bengali Brahmin disciple of Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati,
founder of the revivalist Gaudiya Math (and thus a guru-brother
of Swami A. C. Bhaktivedanta, founder of the International Society
for Krishna Consciousness [ISKCON]). He was a talented and strong-willed
man, a disciplined ascetic, an articulate intellectual keen to see
Vaishnava theology at the forefront of modern religious thought
in India and worldwide.10
Swami Bon's main scholarly publication, done with the aid of another
scholar, was an English translation of the first quarter of Rupa
Goswami's Bhakti-rasamrita-sindhu, with paraphrases of several
commentaries.
When the Gaudiya Math ruptured upon the death of its founder, Swami
Bon joined none of the hostile factions, but settled at Vrindavana,
where he eventually built his own ashram with Krishna temple
and a samadhi temple for himself. He also ran a school for
boys at Nandagram, not far from Vrindavana. He had wanted to found
a Vaishnava (not Hindu, it may be noted) Theological University
at Vrindavana, but his vision was cut down to the size of a small
college under the University of Agra. It was called the Institute
of Oriental Philosophy, however, as it included a small, not very
productive, post-graduate research section.
I stayed briefly at Swami Bon's ashram twice in 1965-67
and again in 1975. He once stayed at our home in Toronto for a few
days in the mid 1970's. We last met during Gaura-Purnima (Holi)
at Sri Mayapur, West Bengal in 1978, not long before his death.
His Toronto visit was part of a North America tour to generate support
for his last grand project: a Vrindavana-based institute for advanced
studies in religion, replete with endowed chairs for distinguished
scholars of various religions. Like some of his other more ambitious
schemes, it did not come to fruition.
Swami Bon, though he had spent several years of voluntary austerity
in an underground cell, had a public and even political side to
him. He once served as president of an all-India sadhus association,
and even stood (unsuccessfully) as a Lok Sabha (parliament) candidate
of the Ram Rajya Parisad, a Hindu party headed by a Vaishnava ascetic,
Swami Karpatri. According to Klostermaier, there were in the early
1960s several members of the Hindu nationalist RSS (Rashtriya Swayamsevak
Sangh/ National Volunteer Corps) on the staff of the Institute of
Oriental Philosophy, but he does not say that Swami Bon was ever
an RSS man. 11 Klostermaier
recalls how Swami Bon used to rant against the 'atheism' of the
Nehru Government-perhaps reflecting disappointment that his envisioned
Vaishnava Theological University was being thwarted, a theme I too
recall him voicing.
Klostermaier's other example of Hindu communal politics among Vrindavana
Vaishnavas is Padmanabha Goswami, one of a large lineage of hereditary
priests of the Radharamana temple. These Goswamis are descendants
of the priest deputed by one of Chaitanya's learned disciples, Gopala
Bhatta, to serve his consecrated Krishna murti (image) named
Radharamana. I do not recall having met or heard of Padmanabha Goswami
and do not know how much he maintains the devotional and cultural
traditions of a Chaitanya Vaishnava Goswami. When asked by Klostermaier
in 1992 about the RSS in Vrindavana, Padmanabha was initially 'taken
aback'; but then he took Klostermaier into his confidence. He told
him that 'he himself was the local RSS chief, an active member of
the Vishva Hindu Parishad . . . and that he was also involved with
the Bharatiya Janata Party, which had recently organised the Ramitula
Yatra, during which he (Padmanabha) had been arrested and then released
on Government orders.' 12
Padmanabha showed Klostermaier documents and publications of the
Hindu communalist organisations, briefed him on coming events in
India and abroad, and had him address a meeting of RSS and VHP members.
Subsequently, Padmanabha took Klostermaier to meet Swami Vamadeva,
founder of the Akhil Bharatiya Sant Samiti, and Swami Muktananda,
the current Secretary General of the Samiti. Swami Vamadeva is of
a Dasnami order, often considered theological adversaries by Vaishnavas
like the Chaitanyaites. This prompted Klostermaier to observe:
While the more conservative among the Vaishnavas in Vrindaban
consider the increasing influx of 'Mayavadis' as unwelcome and
objectionable, people like Padmanabha Goswami . . . appreciate
the strong political leadership provided by men like Vamadeva
and Muktananda, their eloquence on behalf of the Hindu cause,
and their unequivocal hostility towards the 'secular' government.13
Comparative Assessment and Suggestions for Further Inquiry What then is really going on among Chaitanya Vaishnavas in Vrindavana,
their main centre outside Bengal? Are they generally becoming Hindu
communalists? Or are 'the conservatives among them' (those for whom
religion still means krishna-bhakti in the distinctive Chaitanya
Vaishnava mode) retaining their influence and the integrity of their
kind of bhakti? Klostermaier's portrayal of 'the new dharma
of Braj' suggests that there is indeed a major shift going on in
Braj, from traditional to modern, from apolitical to political,
from specifically Vaishnava to generically Hindu, from non-violent
accommodation to violent confrontation. This may or may not be the
case, but persuasive empirical evidence of such a shift is yet to
be supplied.
Apart from Padmanabha Goswami, the only Chaitanya Vaishnava of
any prominence at Vrindavana identified by Klostermaier as involved
in Hindu communal politics, namely Swami Bon, has been dead for
fifteen years; and the high point of his involvement was back in
the 1950s. Thereafter it was theology and comparative religious
philosophy that he was promoting, not religio-political theology
and partisan politics. Moreover, it was specifically Chaitanya Vaishnava
theology that was at the centre of his theological-cum-philosophical
projects, not generic Hinduism, let alone ideological Hindutva.
Swami Bon could as well be characterised as moving away from religious
politics and communal Hinduism for the last thirty years of his
life, though he still wished to see Vaishnava and other modes of
religious life more prominent in Indian and world affairs. The Swami
remained critical of incompetence, corruption and 'atheism' in high
places. But I find it difficult to imagine him condoning the vulgarity
and barbarism of recent Hindu communal political agitations.
We have as yet no adequate evidence of trends within the Vrindavana
Vaishnava population, though one may suspect that trends toward
greater Hindu communalism, so evident elsewhere in Uttar Pradesh,
are at work in Vrindavana itself, especially among the many individuals
who are there by birth, rather than by devotional choice. But this
too remains conjecture in the absence of empirical study. However,
it does seem to me to be both interesting and important-on theoretical
as well as practical grounds - to ask whether the concentration
of Vaishnava devotees of Krishna (from the Chaitanya sampradaya
and several others) at Vrindavana correlates with greater reinforcement
of or more resistance to Hindu communalism (or shows no significant
difference) when compared with other towns of comparable size in
Uttar Pradesh, but without such a concentration of traditional religious
personnel and institutional resources.
It might also be informative to compare the respective attitudes
toward Hindu communal politics in towns or cities held to be especially
sacred respectively by each of several different Hindu denominations
or sampradayas. If it could be determined that Vrindavana,
or any other towns where the 'density' or 'intensity' of a bhakti
movement is very high, has a significantly greater resistance to
Hindu communalism, it might point to an as yet under-appreciated
and under-utilised source of resilience on the part of traditional
Hindu socio-cultural and religious system, with its pluralistic,
accommodating, even 'secular' (in sense proposed earlier in this
essay) characteristics. If the correlation should prove to be otherwise,
so also, of course, would the implications be otherwise.
Finally, to generalise the issue, it would seem to me to be useful
to do a study of those 'religious' individuals and institutions
most prominent in the Vishva Hindu Parishad (and any other Hindu
communalist organisations) to determine just what is the distribution
of Hindu sampradayas to be found therein. How representative
of, and influential in, the respective sampradayas are the
individuals who are (or appear to be) representing the sampradayas
in these communal organisations? Does the representation of sampradayas
as found in such Hindu communalist organisations more or less reflect
the distribution of sampradayas in the country (or region)
as a whole? If not, what are the correlations between particular
sampradayas and participation in Hindu communalist organisations?
If any striking correlations, high or low, of particular sampradayas
with participation in the communalist organisations emerge, then
these cases might be selected for more intensive study to discover
why there is such unusual involvement or non-involvement in (or
overt opposition to) Hindu communal politics. Whatever may be the
case with other traditional bhakti sampradayas, it would
be very surprising to me if, upon more thorough scrutiny, the Chaitanya
Vaishnavas were to emerge as at all prominent in the current surge
of Hindu communal politics. On the other hand, whether they have
(or are likely to) put up serious resistance to that surge is another
question, one well worth further inquiry.
This article was originally published
in the 'Journal of Vaishnava Studies', Vol. 5, No.1
Author: David Gordon White
Publisher: The University of Chicago Press Ltd., London,
1996
ISBN: 0-226-89497-5 (cloth)
The Alchemical Body excavates and centres within its Indian
context the lost tradition of the medieval Siddhas. Working
from a body of previously unexplored alchemical sources,
David Gordon White demonstrates for the first time that
the medieval disciplines of Hindu alchemy and hatha-yoga
were practised by the same people, and that they can only
be understood when viewed together. White opens the
way to a new and more comprehensive understanding of medieval
Indian mysticism, within the broader context of South Asian
Hinduism, Jainism and Islam.
Themes and
Issues in Hinduism
(A volume in the World Religions:
Themes and Issues series)
edited by Paul Bowen
Publisher: Cassel (London and Washington)
First published 1998
ISBN 0-304-33850-8 hardback
ISBN 0-304-33851-6 paperback
This book offers useful insights into the complex and internally
diverse realm of Hinduism. It is intended to acquaint the
reader with themes and issues that, while of relevance to
all religious traditions and systems, contribute to an understanding
of the abstract nature of Hinduism as a whole. Beginning
with Hindu religious understandings of the human condition,
the chapters are arranged so as to form a thematic survey
and overview of Hindu religious beliefs and practices. The
themes of morality and ethics, the role of women in Hinduism,
the Hindu religious construction of nature, and issues such
as mythology, the status of texts, forms of worship, and
sacred time and place can be systematically considered;
or, alternatively, focus can fall upon those topics that
are of particular personal interest. Readers should find
this book a wide-ranging and balanced introduction to Hinduism's
inner diversity.
Written for students of comparative religion and the general
reader, and drawing on the chapters originally edited by
Jean Holm and John Bowker in the Themes in Religious Studies
series, the volumes in World Religions: Themes and Issues
explore core themes from the perspective of the particular
religious tradition under study.
Tantric Visions
of the Divine Feminine: The Ten Mahavidyas
Author: David Kinsley
Publisher: University of California Press Ltd., London,
1997
ISBN: 0-52020498-0 (cloth)
ISBN: 0-520-20499-9 (pbk)
What is one to make of a group of goddesses that includes
a goddess who cuts her own head off, a goddess who sits
on a corpse while pulling the tongue of a demon, or a goddess
who prefers sex with corpses? Tantric Visions of the Divine
Feminine deals with a group of ten Hindu Mahavidyas, who
embody habits, attributes or identities usually considered
repulsive or socially subversive. It is within the
context of tantric worship that devotees seek to identify
themselves with these forbidding goddesses. The Mahavidyas
seem to function as 'awakeners' - symbols that help to project
one's consciousness beyond the socially acceptable or predictable.
Kinsley not only describes the eccentric qualities of each
of these goddesses but seeks to interpret the Mahavidyas
as a group and to explain their importance for understanding
Tantra and the Hindu tradition.
Hinduism for Our
Times
Author: Arvind Sharma
Publisher: Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 1996
ISBN: 0-195-63749-6
No religion ever remains static: it affects and is in turn
affected by material reality. It is the creative tension
embodied in this dynamic which makes the world of religion,
rich with possibilities.
This book examines the contours of this creative tension
in the context of Hinduism in our own times. For Hinduism,
a religion of unknown antiquity is also, in several ways,
surprisingly modern. Hinduism for Our Times is an attempt
to raise this dimension of Hinduism to an unprecedented
level of self-awareness. Thus the choices that Hindus
must make in the context of modernisation and globalisation
become conscious as opposed to random choices, choices which
will place Hinduism at the cutting edge of the contemporary
world instead of consigning it to the periphery. This
book will appeal to all those interested in giving religion
a modern agenda.
A Hare Krishna
at Southern Methodist University
Author: Tamala Krsna Goswami
Publisher: Pundits Press, Dallas
ISBN 0-9643485-2-7
A Hare Krishna at Southern Methodist University is a collection
of award-winning essays mapping the convergence of East
and West by Hare Krsna leader Tamala Krsna Goswami. Readers
are invited to enter the world of a unique spiritual pioneer,
who in reality is the seeker in all of us.
