Just Like That| Why India still hopes: The faith that outlives poverty
Hindu philosophy is a magnificent structure of thought, yet most Hindus, in my experience, show little knowledge of or inclination for its deeper intricacies
Why do most Indians retain hope even in the midst of pervasive poverty and deprivation? Does religion or philosophy have something to do with it? After all, Indians love their spiritual halo, and many foreigners have asked me whether our inner ‘spiritual equilibrium’ is the reason why, for instance, even in the most cramped quarters of a chawl in Mumbai, there is the buoyancy that tomorrow, perhaps, things will get better and lady luck will shine.
Undoubtedly, Hindu philosophy constitutes a truly magnificent structure of thought. But from personal experience, I can say that the majority of Hindus have little knowledge of or inclination for the intricacies of philosophy. The Vedas recognise 33 gods, the Puranas 330 million. So long as any of these deities can fulfil our desires, Hindus have very little interest in understanding the complexities of philosophy. The existence of so many divine guardians sustains a peculiar mood of hope in which the individual never ceases to believe that, as a consequence of a personal equation with some magical higher power, destiny could change one day.
It is quite common to find this legend written on trucks on the highway: ‘Milega Muqaddar: I shall find my destiny’. A sense that, out of the blue, a personal god can smile, a guru’s blessings can work, a religious donation can fructify, or a ritual can do the trick never leaves Indians. There are no ceilings on the possibility or potential of divine intervention. Anything is possible. People believe that one day the wheel of fortune will turn the right way. ‘Kismet ka karvat lena’, the turn of fate, or ‘Bhagya ka badalna’, a turnaround in luck, are not only common Indian phrases but also articles of faith.
No wonder astrologers proliferate and are much in demand for predicting when this will happen. In fact, Nirad Choudhary, in his inimitable way, concludes that ‘in a Hindu, faith in his horoscope is far stronger than his faith in any god or goddess or even God’. Good fortune, like suddenly finding a pot of gold, is a possibility that can never be denied. Hindu mythology is full of stories of huts turning into palaces and base metals turning into gold. Elders often say: ‘Na jane kis bhesh mein mil jayenge bhagwan: You never know in what form you will run into God’.
Indians, therefore, easily fall prey to fake gurus or godmen. Also, their general approach is to never be overly finicky about whom or what to make an object of faith. Let me give two random examples. I remember in the 1990s, at the Sri Bhagwati Sai Sansthan Mandir at Panvel, not far from Mumbai, a dog was worshipped as the reincarnation of Sai Baba of Shirdi. When Sai Sri Pandu Baba (as the dog was christened) left for his heavenly abode in 1997, he was bathed in water from India’s holiest rivers and buried in a samadhi lined with sandalwood to the chanting of Vedic hymns. The priests at this temple did not delay in finding another dog as the reincarnation of Pandu Baba, and the crowd of worshippers did not lessen. I do not know if this tradition still continues, but I am happy that a dog was given so much care.
The second example: in a village near Lucknow, the grave of an English captain who died during the 1857 Revolt is widely worshipped. The Gora Baba is known to fulfil every wish of his followers, and being an Englishman, he is especially pleased when offered liquor, cigarettes, and meat! A prayer is incomplete without the lighting of a cigarette along with an incense stick. However unreal this may appear, a far more common example is the throng of devotees who routinely offer liquor to the deity Bhairav at most temples dedicated to him.
This is not to say that Indians are irretrievably bound to superstition and ritualism. The point being made is that Indians live harmoniously between rationality and ritual, modernity and superstition. It is not uncommon to see a young techie, working on the frontiers of cutting-edge technology, wearing a ring on every finger on the advice—very often—of some quack masquerading as an astrologer. Hard work has its own place. But faith in luck, divine grace, or the unexpected intervention of some higher power—and the rituals that this may demand—is, for Indians, a hotline to cosmic benevolence that could always be accessible.
There are, of course, other factors too, but religion, I think, is a key factor in explaining why, even in the most adverse circumstances, Indians never lose hope or faith. If today is less than good, who knows, tomorrow could be better. Mukesh Ambani’s gigantic palatial residence in Mumbai is a bit of a tourist attraction. Staring at it, many Indians think that if Dhirubhai Ambani could make it so big starting off as an employee at a petrol pump, why can’t they hit the jackpot too?
(Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat, and former member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). The views expressed are personal)
Why do most Indians retain hope even in the midst of pervasive poverty and deprivation? Does religion or philosophy have something to do with it? After all, Indians love their spiritual halo, and many foreigners have asked me whether our inner ‘spiritual equilibrium’ is the reason why, for instance, even in the most cramped quarters of a chawl in Mumbai, there is the buoyancy that tomorrow, perhaps, things will get better and lady luck will shine.
Undoubtedly, Hindu philosophy constitutes a truly magnificent structure of thought. But from personal experience, I can say that the majority of Hindus have little knowledge of or inclination for the intricacies of philosophy. The Vedas recognise 33 gods, the Puranas 330 million. So long as any of these deities can fulfil our desires, Hindus have very little interest in understanding the complexities of philosophy. The existence of so many divine guardians sustains a peculiar mood of hope in which the individual never ceases to believe that, as a consequence of a personal equation with some magical higher power, destiny could change one day.
It is quite common to find this legend written on trucks on the highway: ‘Milega Muqaddar: I shall find my destiny’. A sense that, out of the blue, a personal god can smile, a guru’s blessings can work, a religious donation can fructify, or a ritual can do the trick never leaves Indians. There are no ceilings on the possibility or potential of divine intervention. Anything is possible. People believe that one day the wheel of fortune will turn the right way. ‘Kismet ka karvat lena’, the turn of fate, or ‘Bhagya ka badalna’, a turnaround in luck, are not only common Indian phrases but also articles of faith.
No wonder astrologers proliferate and are much in demand for predicting when this will happen. In fact, Nirad Choudhary, in his inimitable way, concludes that ‘in a Hindu, faith in his horoscope is far stronger than his faith in any god or goddess or even God’. Good fortune, like suddenly finding a pot of gold, is a possibility that can never be denied. Hindu mythology is full of stories of huts turning into palaces and base metals turning into gold. Elders often say: ‘Na jane kis bhesh mein mil jayenge bhagwan: You never know in what form you will run into God’.
Indians, therefore, easily fall prey to fake gurus or godmen. Also, their general approach is to never be overly finicky about whom or what to make an object of faith. Let me give two random examples. I remember in the 1990s, at the Sri Bhagwati Sai Sansthan Mandir at Panvel, not far from Mumbai, a dog was worshipped as the reincarnation of Sai Baba of Shirdi. When Sai Sri Pandu Baba (as the dog was christened) left for his heavenly abode in 1997, he was bathed in water from India’s holiest rivers and buried in a samadhi lined with sandalwood to the chanting of Vedic hymns. The priests at this temple did not delay in finding another dog as the reincarnation of Pandu Baba, and the crowd of worshippers did not lessen. I do not know if this tradition still continues, but I am happy that a dog was given so much care.
The second example: in a village near Lucknow, the grave of an English captain who died during the 1857 Revolt is widely worshipped. The Gora Baba is known to fulfil every wish of his followers, and being an Englishman, he is especially pleased when offered liquor, cigarettes, and meat! A prayer is incomplete without the lighting of a cigarette along with an incense stick. However unreal this may appear, a far more common example is the throng of devotees who routinely offer liquor to the deity Bhairav at most temples dedicated to him.
This is not to say that Indians are irretrievably bound to superstition and ritualism. The point being made is that Indians live harmoniously between rationality and ritual, modernity and superstition. It is not uncommon to see a young techie, working on the frontiers of cutting-edge technology, wearing a ring on every finger on the advice—very often—of some quack masquerading as an astrologer. Hard work has its own place. But faith in luck, divine grace, or the unexpected intervention of some higher power—and the rituals that this may demand—is, for Indians, a hotline to cosmic benevolence that could always be accessible.
There are, of course, other factors too, but religion, I think, is a key factor in explaining why, even in the most adverse circumstances, Indians never lose hope or faith. If today is less than good, who knows, tomorrow could be better. Mukesh Ambani’s gigantic palatial residence in Mumbai is a bit of a tourist attraction. Staring at it, many Indians think that if Dhirubhai Ambani could make it so big starting off as an employee at a petrol pump, why can’t they hit the jackpot too?
(Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat, and former member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). The views expressed are personal)
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