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Traditions in Motion
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Go!a king, Kulaccirai, the Pli!14Ya minister, and perhaps even Tirunli!aippf>vlr, the outcaste. Tirumankai, the Vai$i;iava Alvar also refers to the temples built by Koccenkan to the eight-armed deity.9 Of the sixty-three Niyanlr, mainly seven are credited with hymns. They are the trio (Appar, Campantar, and Cuntarar). a fourth saint, MAJ:tikkavicalcar, added to the trio to form the Camayakkuravar nilvar, Kirailckil Ammaiyir (fifth-sixth centuries AD) of a merchant family, Gan~riditya, the only woman saint and Ceramin Peruma! (a Cera king and a friend of Cuntarar). Besides these seven, the Cf>la king (tenth century), Karuvi:ir Tcvar, was made to compose hymns specifically for the temple in Tanjavur built by Rijarija I (eleventh century). Only the hymns of the first four form a regular part of ritual si_nging in the temples, while those of the others do not. The special status assigned to these four is seen in the references to the ritual singing of their hymns from ninthtenth centuries in inscriptional records for which special grants were made. 10 They were also the first to be apotheosized and worshipped in the temples from the tenth century AD. Appar was a Vc!i!a, Campantar and - , Cuntarar, Brihmai;ias, and Mii:iikkavlcakar, a11 Adi Saiva Brihmai:ia and the son of a minister at the Pii:iress. Briggs, George Weston. 1989. Gorakhnath and tM Kanphata Yogis. Delhi: Motil al Banarsidass (I st edn Calcutta, 1938). Burton, Richard, L. 1992. Sindh and tM Races that Inhabit tM Valley of tM lru:Ws with Notices of tM Topography and History of tM Province. New Delhi/Madras: reprint by Asian Educational Services (!st edn London, 1851). Engineer, Asghar Ali. 1993. The Bohras. New Delhi: Vikas (!st edn 1980). Gajwani, S. L. 1998. Sindhi Sufi literature in Independent India. New Delhi: Sindhi Academy (!st edn 1997). Grewal, J. S. 1990. The Sikhs of tM Punjab. Cambridge and New Delhi: Cambridge University Press in association with Orient Longman. Harl, R. M. 1982. Shrimad Bhagwad Gita (/Um Ludani-Va-TohiQ). Bombay: H. M. Damodar.
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- - - . 1995. Some Moments with the Master: Spiritual Dialogues with the Sufi Saint Sai Rochaldas Sahib. Shanti Nagar: H. M. Damodar. - - - . 2000. Sri Yoga Vasishtha. Bombay: H. M. Damodar. Hiranandani, Popati. 1980. Sindhis: TM Scattered Treasure. New Delhi: Malash. Khan, M. Ishaq. 1997. Kashmir's Transition to Islam: The Role of Muslim Rishis. Delhi: Manohar. Lambrick, H. T. 1952. Sir Charles Napier and Sind. Oxford. Malkani, K. R. 1984. The Sindh Story. New Delhi: Allied. Masselos, J.C. 1978. 'The Khojas of Bombay: The Defining of Formal Membership Criteria During the Nineteenth Century', in Imtiaz Ahmed (ed.), Caste and Social Stratification Among Muslims in India. New Delhi: Manohar, pp. 97-116. Metcalf, Barbara Daly. 1982. Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, 18601900. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Mirchandani, B. D. 1980. Glimpses of Ancient Sind: A Collection ofHistorical Papers. Bombay. Rastogi, T. C. 1982. Islamic Mysticism- Sufism. New Delhi: Sterling. Shils, Edward. 1981. Tradition. London: Faber and Faber. Singh, Jagjit. 1985. Perspectives on Silch Studies. New Delhi: Guru Nanak Foundation. Singh, Khushwant 1991. A History of Sikhs, 2 Vols. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Sorley, H. T. 1984. Abdul lalif of Bhit: A Study of Literary, Social and Economic Conditions in 18th Century Sind. New Delhi: Ashish. Thakur, U. T. 1959. Sindhi Culture. Bombay: University of Bombay. Thapan, Anita Raina. 2002. Sindhi Diaspora in Manila, Hongkong and Jalcorta. Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press.
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9 Understanding Traditions State, Cults, and Legitimacy in Early Medieval Maharashtra AJA y DANDEKAR
This chapter examines the emergence of a cult centre and its place in legitimizing an emerging polity in medieval Maharashtra. This is done for two cult centres: the cult of Viththal, emerging at Pandharpur, in presentday Solapur District in southern Maharashtra and its value in legitimizing the state in the evolution of the Yadava kingdom of Devagiri (Sections I-III); and the cult centre at Sikhar Singhnapur, east of Phaltan in Satara District in southern Maharashtra: we consider its place in the rise of the Bhosales, culminating in Shivaji in the late seventeenth century. When Shivaji sought to seal the legitimacy of his state, however, he leaned not. on the legacy of the cult centre at Singhnapur but on a Brahman from Varanasi-the pastoral Yadava tradition seems meanwhile to have been subordinated to the Brahman-led caste order (Section IV).
I In the making of the cult of Viththal at Pandharpur, three traditions have been at work: the Saivite, the Vaisnavite, and the pastoral. Of these, the Saivite, the tradition around Siva, can be sensed only vaguely in epigraphic, Sanskritic, and oral sources (Dhanpalwar 1981: 26-34; Dhere 1984: 109-24). The earliest Viththal temple complex found at Bhattiprolu in Guntur District in Andhra Pradesh, happens to be a Siva temple, indicated by the presence of a Nandi bull facing the lingam .in the sanctum. The deity, of course, is represented by the lingam. In Andhra Pradesh niany Viththalesvar
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temples are in fact Siva temples. At Bhattiprolu, an inscription dated 1144, notes the donation of some land by Visnuvardban Cbond Gonk to Viththalesvar (Rangacbarya 1919: 818). Another inscription at the same site, dated 1147, refers to Viththal as a deity. The Saivite influence at Pandbarpur can be discerned through the story of Pundalika and bis relationship as bhakra eminent of Vitbthala. According to the mahatmya (text of stories that sanctify and also ascribe some legitimacy to the cult centre), Viththal came to Pandbarpur to meet his bbakta Pundalika. Pundalika was busy serving bis parents. He threw a brick for the god to stand on. The god is still standing there on that brick. The saints were aware, however, of the true identity of Pundalika, and refer to him as lingam in their writing (linking him with Siva). The Pundalika temple at Pandbarpur is, in fact, a Siva temple (Bbandarkar 1929: 124; Mate 1957: 1- 15). Epigraphy supports this Saivite influence, of Siva being the primary deity, at Pandharpur. Later Vaisnavite transformation was to reduce Siva to being a follower of Vithtbal- as the bhakta Pundalika (Dhere 1984: 187- 92). The identification of Viththal with Siva, then, becomes discernible in epigraphy and iconography in Andhra Pradesh; and later, the tradition of Viththal as a deity seems to have come under Saivite influence at Pandharpur. This influence was overlai4 later by Vaisnavization. The Vaisnavite influence at Pandharpur is relatively late, starting only in the twelfth century (Deleury 1960: 36-7), but it is more pronounced than the Saivite influence. It makes the deity, Viththal, the twenty-fourth avatar of Visnu, and the various titles used for it in inscriptions by Yadava kings link the deity closely to the Vaisnavite pantheon. The pastoral tradition-the most interesting, and least pronounced, at the cult centre-is. not so easily visible outside the oral traditions associated particularly with pastoral groups. In the pastoral tradition, lord Viththal appears as the younger brother of Biroba/Birappa/Virabhadra. There are innumerable stories regarding the two brothers, narratives of their journeys and the processes of their settling down. We refer to one story illustrative of this tradition before examining the tradition, and its importance to the state, more closely.
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Once upon a time Viththala and Bramal (Biroba) felt that they required a new place to stay. They started looking for a new place and came down to Pattankodoli. Here they saw a huge empty space and decided to settle down. In the meanwhile, Kallya learned that these Dhangar gods have come to the settlement. He immediately summoned Lingusha Patil, Dattoba Kulkarni, and Japtap. They were informed about this arrival. He also complained !hat, now that they have come, they will
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surely kill a goat and the blood will flow past my door! The leaders of the village dec ided that t:l!ey would not allow them (the gods) to stay in the village. The next day Viththal and Bramal sent out Soma Pradhan to find out whether anyone was willing to give them shelter. As no one was w!lling to and that they were not quite welcome in the village was conveyed to Soma. He came back and reponed this to the gods. The gods then became angry. Bhandara was.sprinkled over the village. The entire population of the village sans the brothers went blind. The leaders then rushed to the gods. The gods agreed to restore the sight of the people in lieu of space for them. Thus an agreement was reached and they stayed in the village (Joshi, Viththal Virappa Mahatmya 1988).
The pastoral oral tradition is replete with such stories (Bhagwat 1970; Sontheimer 1989). Viththala is not always a younger brother of the sheepkeepers' god. Some versions present him as the son-in-law of the Hatkar Dhangars (a prominent pastoral community of Maharashtra) and Padubai/Rahi/Rukmini as their daughter (Sontheimer l 981: 103- 12). Yet, the son-in-law maintains a distinctive identity; his temple is different from that of his wife (Bhagwat 1970: 32-43). These oral traditions connect the deity to a strong pastoral context, a connection supported also by other kinds of evidence: hero-stones (see Section m, this chapter); and a thirteenth-century story from another sect that suggests a strong link between the hero-stones and the origin of the cult at Pandharpur (Kolte 1982: 659). Through these linkages we can s uggest a kind of prehistory for the cult. All these stories bring out a basic conflict between the pastoralists and others. We shall locate this conflict in the history of the semi-arid belt and consider the response of the polity to this conflict.
II The epicentre of the cult of Viththal is in the township of Pandharpur, at the heart of what used to be a Yadava kingdom, on the right bank of river Bhima (Deleury 1960: 23; Gazetteer of India 1977: 879). The locality is mentioned first in a sixth-century Rastrakuta grant, by the Rastrakuta king Amoghavarsa, which says that Pandarangapalli along with Anewari, Cala, Kandaka, and Duddapalli were granted to a learned Brahman, Jayadviththa (Mysore Archaeological Department [MAD] .1929: 198ff). This grant refers also to a scribe, one Pandaradrisena, or the lord of the Pandara hill. The next reference to Pandharpur, in an inscription dated AD 1189, is slightly indirect. The grant refers to a small temple, a ' lahan madu ' , being erected by the Mahajanas, Dandanayaka, and others, during the reign of Bhillama (Tulpule 1963: 85- 92). We will come back to this inscription in another context.
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The sixth-century inscription refers to Pandharpur as a palli, a small settlement (Saletore 1935: 773). Remaining unchanged until the twelfth century, the status of the settlement changes drastically over a hundred years following AD 1189. In AD 1237, it is noted as a mahagrama (a large settlement) and in the next fifty-seventy-five years it changes further. In the reign of Kanahardeva, the inscription states, one Malliseui gave a village at Paundarikaksetra, on the Bhimarthi (Indian Antiquary, Vol. XIV, 1885: 68-75). By the middle of the thirteenth century, the palli is referred to as ksetra. By the end of the century, the Cauryasi grant referred to this mahagrama as a 'pura', an urban settlement (Tulpule 1963: 165-90). Pandharpur thus graduates from a mere palli to a grama, then to a ksetra, and finally, by the thirteenth century, to a pura. The epigraphic evidence about Viththal as a deity gives us a time and space context in which to understand the play of traditions and the role of the state in this drama. This evidence has four phases. In the first, AD 516 to 1188, we get references -to Pandharpur, as a palli, a settlement, but no conclusive evidence of Viththal being there as a deity. There is a controversial reference to the 'Lord of the Hill', but its significance eludes us. All that can be inferred from this oblique reference to the lord is that some kind of a worship centre might have existed on the hill at Pandarangapalli. This phase comes to an end in the twelfth century when, towards the very end of the reign of Bhillama V, an inscription invokes Viththal as a deity and refers to the small temple/shrine that has been erected. This is the first clear reference to the deity at Pandharpur. The inscription also refers to one Viththaldevanayaka-a personal name-suggesting that. by then, the name of the deity had found other uses in the society at large (Tulpule 1963: 85-92). The settlement begins to show signs of change in the next phase. The Hoysala inscription of AD 1237 refers to grants for anga-ranga-blwga .. for the upkeep and clothes, entertainment, and food, for the Siva temple. What had been a palli is now noted as a mahagrama. The change in the nature of the settlement can be seen to be linked to the changing fortunes of the deity. Between AD 1273 and 1277, the last phase of the transformation, the grand temple sponsored by the Yadava-dominated domains comes to stand in full glory before the world. The settlement is now noticed as a pura (Dandekar 1994: 218- 36; Tulpule 1963: 165- 90). To sum up, in the first phase Pandharpur shows no trace of Viththala as a deity. The construction of the small temple in AD 1188 turns out to be the most crucial event for both the settlement and the deity. Within a hundred years, that temple is renovated and expanded and, alongside, the
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palli of the sixth century becomes a pura. Intimately connected with all these developments are the Devagiri and the Hoysala Yadavas. Clearly they are interested in one of the traditions at the cult centre and are able to give it patronage. Viththal as a deity finds a reference in the twelfth century (Tulpule 1963: 170). Is this due to an extraordinary interest shown by the state in the traditions existing at the settlement? What is the significance of this process in terms of the Yadavaization in the Deccan in the early medieval period? Approaching the deity from the perspective of a state and the compulsions of its political tradition will enable us to understand how the cult at Pandharpur evolved through an interplay of traditions by the end of the thirteenth century. Epigraphic evidence makes it clear that the Viththal cult was intimately connected with the Seuna and Hoysala Yadavas, and also with Vijaynagar kings who identified themselves with the Yadava clan. Yadava intervention was crucial to the birth and evolution of this cult. We have noted that Yadava feudatories erected a small temple at Pandharpur in the twelfth century: This initiative came from the ruling political class. A call was given to mobilize resources. At the beginning, the call was not heeded and very little seems to have come forth. Then the Kamadhipa, the keeper of seals of the Yadava kingdom, made a donation to the cult centre in AD 1273 (Tulpule 1963: Slab I.28-9), which was followed by a spate of further donations. The small temple was expanded/renovated/reworked late in the thirteenth century, when the state intervened at Pandharpur decisively. The Yadava king Ramcahdradeva Yadava capped the donations at the temple with his own, taking on the role of the Pandhari phad pramukh, or the head of the congregation at Pandharpur in AD 1277 (Tulpule 1963: Slab vn. p. 170). In a manner, the Yadavas were responsible for the rise of the deity and the cult centre at Pandharpur. They held sway over most of the Deccan between ninth and thirteenth centuries (Vanna 1978: 164). Epigraphic records suggest that the state administration divided this extensive territory into numerous administrative units: Seuna desa, Kuntala desa, Karhataka desa, and Man desa (Tulpule 1963: No. 34: 165-90: 9,1,8). Other divisions noted in the records are: Amra desa, Chahanda desa, Keja desa, Ausa, and Udgir desa (Tulpule 1963: 23, 122). Of these latter five administrative units, or desa, four were in the Mominabad ta Iuka of present-day Bid District. The area to the east of PuneSatara-Kolhapur-and-Sangli and the entire Ahmednagar District fall in 'semi-arid' zone, with low precipitation and dry land agriculture. In this zone the land grants appear to have come to a halt in the eighth century (Dandekar. 1991: 324ff, 1994: 139-56). We do not come across any significant number
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of land grants within the semi-arid zone between the eighth and the thirteenth centuries; nor any majr land grants by the early medieval state in this period. Yet, in the early medieval contexts, cults or temples had potentials for integrating societies and polities-a valuable potential where the polity incorporates diverse segments. One way to integrate conquered areas would have been to extend patronage to local temple networks. It was important for the Yadava state to hold this territory. Given the scale of resources mobilized in the thineenth century, this region does not appear to be 'marginal' territory any more; it was very much at the centre of activity. Apan from the major complex at Pandharpur, there are minor ones at Pulunj and Velapur (Tulpule 1963: 251). Located al twenty miles nonhwest of Pandharpur, the pattern at Velapur is similar to the one at the major complex, but is smaller and more localized. It has a large Hemadpanti temple of Haraharesvara Mahadeva. Velapur has four inscriptions in all, dated AD 1206 (one), AD 1300 (two) and AD 1305 (Tulpule 1963: 103). Of these, only the last three concern us here. The inscriptions of AD 1300 and 1305 from Velapur form a group. The first states that in the reign of Sri Ramacandra Yadava, Jaideva was in charge of Mandesa, where Baideva and Brahmadevrana were officers under him. Baideva erected a temple of Vatesvara and gave some concessions. The second inscription, dated AD 1300, also concerning this temple, states that when Jaideva was the sarvadhilcari of Mandesa and when his representative, Baidevarana, was an officer there, he constructed a dining hall and/or a yajna-gruha for the temple there. The third inscription, in AD 1305 and concerning the same temple, states that, under the reign of Ramacandra Yadava, the sarvadhikari of Mandesa, Brahmadevarana, erected and considerably enlarged the temple of Vatesvara and brought order to the various temples of Velapur. A considerable restructuring seems lo have been carried out at that site. In AD 1300, Baideva Rana erected a temple for Vatesvara. The same year he built another structure near the temple-a dining hall and/or a yajna-gruha. Five years later, in AD 1305, Brahmadeva Rana constructed a palace and other structures. A general renovation.of other temples seems to have been carried out at Velapur at that time (Tulpule 1963: 103). During the intervening five years, Brahmadeva Rana had advanced in the Yadava administration, where he rose to become the administrative head-the sarvadhikari of Mandesa (Tulpule 1963). In that capacity he undertook what the king had done at Pandharpur in the late thirteenth century. The evolution of the Vatesvara temple at Velapur, paralleling the process at Pandharpur, and the general practice of making donations, suggest
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a deliberate policy at work. The Yadava lineage did not get involved in the process at Velapur directly. It seems that local rulers/feudatories/ officials of the state emulated the royal example in Pandharpur. Each at its own level was harnessing a tradition for legitimizing the authority of the prevailing political arrangements. This was crucial in the context of the early medieval polity. This trend is not unique to the Yadavas and their feudatories alone, as this process was underway in the early medieval context in Orissa where the cult of the Jagannath came up in a similar manner. Yet this may not be the primary reason why the Yadavas promoted the cult of Viththal at Pandharpur. Their link with the cult of Viththal was much older, as we shall see.
III Hero-stones are a subset of 'memorial' stones (Settar and Sontheimer 1982). These latter are spread across the subcontinent, from the deep south to the arid reaches of th~ Rajasthan desert. In Maharashtra these date from about the eighth to the thirteenth centuries. There are sati stones, and stones in remembrance of dead men. Some of the latter commemorate those who died a natural death; others honour 'heroes' who died in battle (Sontheimer 1982: 261-81). Normally the hero-stone, locally known as the viragala, has three panels. The lowest panel depicts the event-say, a battle, or a: skirmishin which the person died. This panel may be expanded, or new ones added, according to the scale of the event at issue. The middle panel depicts the heavenly march of the dead, escorted by apsaras, heavenly beauties. The top panel depicts the dead hero worshipping a deity, usually ·a sivalinga. The pattern allows for variations to cater to the need of the situation. In case more than one member of a family dies, two slabs may be joined, or the slab divided vertically. The hero-stones of Maharashtra carry no inscriptions. I have argued earlier that hero-stones depicting cattle raids are a marker to the pastotalists' political dominance of the semi-arid belt of the Deccan till the fourteenth century (Dandekar 1991: 324ff). In Pandharpur two such hero-stones have been discovered recently. There is also a story in a contemporary text about the origin of the deity. This story suggests that Viththala died while defending cattle, and a hero-stone was erected to commemorate the dead hero. Later the hero-stone started giving boons to worshippers and the cult was born (Kolle 1982: 659). Could the origin of the cult lie, then, in the tradition of commemorating dead heroes with hero-stones? There is some iconographic evidence
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concerning the earliest shaping of the cult of Viththal at Pandharpur. We notice that Bir Kunwar, the Ahir god, hero-stones depicting cattle raids, and the deity Viththal are all intimately connected to this pastoral landscape. Comparing the images of Viththal and Bir Kunwar with those on hero-stones is therefore instructive. It turns out that there is striking iconographic similarity between these three. All of them share a key attribute: in each case, the arms of the image are akimbo (Dandekar 1994: 183-97; Deleury 1960: 165-{)); but there is no iconographic similarity between the images ofViththal and Visnu (Deleury 1960: 147-{)6; Dhere 1984: 126-9). Iconography, thus, would seem to strengthen the case for the pastoral origins of the Viththal of Pandharpur.
IV The Marathas have a special niche in the Deccan's middle and late medieval polity. the time of the rise of Shivaji. We wish to consider here the state that Shivaji formed, and his attempt to rework a cult at Sikhar Singhnapur where a temple complex stands in splendid isolation at the very heart of the semi-arid belt in the Deccan. We shall see that the cult's capacity for legitimizing a polity was unequal to the needs for underwriting a transition from lineage rule to a state. In a path-breaking study of the origins of the cult at Singhnapur complex, Dhere (2001) has demonstrated the close affinity between Shivaji' s Bhosale family and the cult centre there. He tracks the origin of the Bhosale family to cattle keeping pastoralists in Kannada country during the eleventh and the twelfth centuries. Specifically, he connects them to the originating pastoral chieftain in the Yadava and the Hoysala lineages and then the family's foundational journey to its pres~nt homeland (Dhere 2001: 90102). The journey into the territory that became their dominion took almost four centuries. A larger integration, what Dhere calls the Yadavaization of upwardly mobile social groups, was proceeding at the same time, and the Bhosale family was part of that larger process (Dhere 2001 : 328-54). He then integrates the evidence of Siva worship in the Bhosale family with the specific Saiva shrines, deities, practices, and memories of the Deccan's cattle-keeping pastoralists, especially during the time of Shivaji, his father Shahji, and beyond. Dhere' s argument follows in brief. Baliyappa, or Balip, is the originating figure. He was first cousin of the then Yadava king, and was related to the Seuna Yadava king Singhana I (AD 1200-1247). Balip led the migration of his people, with their cattle, and the family deity, Siva, from northern Karnataka to Satara District in
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southern Maharashtra. Dhere places this migration soon after the battle of Soratpur, fought between the two Yadava kings of Devagiri and the Hoysala. Balip installed the deity at Singhnapur some six hundred years ago. Then the lineage disappeared for about two hundred and fifty years, reappearing with Maloji Bhosale, Shivaji' s grandfather ( 1552-1620). Maloji renovated the temple, constructed a tank in the vicinity, and restored the temple's daily rituals. A cult was being formed. Maloji's son, Shahji, continued the patronage, followed by Shivaji and his sons Sambhaji and Rajaram. It can be argued that the Bhosales patronized the temple complex because they saw it as having been founded by their ancestor, Balip, as the family shrine of the Bhosales/Hoysala Yadavas. To support his arguments Dhere researched a diverse archive of historical sources, conventional and non-conventional, the textual tradition of bhakti movement, old Marathi literature, unpublished manuscripts. and a rich oral tradition. This enabled him to shape a multidimensional and multi-causal argument. It is not his. argument or sources that concern us here but another vital issue: despite so close an affinity with the Singhnapur cult, Shivaji did not draw upon that affinity to help legitimize the state he · was establishing. In calling a Brahman from Kashi for his own coronation, instead, was he also disowning his own identity as a Yadava? Was he doing this because the Yadava identity would hinder his gaining the status of a great king? What were the limits ofYadavaization and identity politics in the seventeenth century? Had pastoralism ceded ideological ground to the varna order by then?
v Yadava families clearly loomed large in the polity of the Deccan between the ninth and eighteenth centuries. In an earlier phase, they went on cattle-raids to assert their power over others and they defended their territories. Their later advance is illustrated in the rise of the Yadavas of Devagiri, the Hoysalas of Dwarasamudra, the Vijaynagar kings, and then the Marathas of the Deccan. These families left their traces behind in countless hero-stones in the Deccan. Their rule was legitimized by cult centres built around their ancestral gods; leading Yadava families supported and sustained these cults materially in the Deccan. This was a reciprocal relationship by which ruling groups sought legitimacy in such centres of worship. We have examined this process with the cult of Viththal at Pandharpur and that of Siva at Sikhar Singhnapur in the seventeenth century.
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10 Excavating Identity through Tradition Who was Shivaji? ANANYA
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Introduction Shivaji (CE 1630-80) came from a family by the name Bhosa!e, native to northern and central Maharashtra for several generations before him. His father and grandfather served one or the other from among the rulers of the neighbouring kingdoms of Ahmadnagar and Bijapur (both in the Deccan plateau) and the Mughal emperor in north India, by raising armies and collecting revenue from lands assigned to them. As landholders and warlords, the Bhosa!es enjoyed a reasonably high social status. This social status was tied to their jiili (the localized endogamous kin group to which they belonged), called 'Marlithl' . Being Marathi encompassed three important features of their identity and activity: control over land, martial prowess, and a connection to the linguistic-cultural region of Maharashtra. From this background, Shivaji inherited his father' s ties of subordination and service to various Muslim kings. However, slowly but steadily, through battle, conquest, resistance, massive exercises in fort-building, as well as a series of strategic alliances and conflicts with rulers all across south India, the western coast, the DeCcan, and the Mughal empire, he carved out an independent sphere of territorial and military control for himself. When he had, over the course of twenty-five years, established his power on par with if not exceecJing that of his former.masters, he decided to confirm his attainments by formally assuming the title of a king. To do this, he planned a ritual of royal consecration (rajiibhi$eka), in CE 1674. I~. is at this juncture that the story of Shivaji takes a curious tum. For he felt that before he could be king, he had to establish an unassailable
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position for himself in terms of his caste status. More precisely, he sought to be perceived as a member of the lcyatriya v~. the second highest social order according to Brahmanical texts, and the one proper to warriors and kings. In order to achieve this end, he employed various means. These included a bid to connect himself genealogically with a ruling Rijpiit family that enjoyed a high status in north India, and the engagement of a scholarly brtlhmat:ia (pundit), also from north India, to perform for him the rituals proper to a qatriya. Eventually Shivaji was able to undergo the royal consecration and become king, with the title 'Chatrapati Shivaji MahArlij' or 'The Great King Shivaji, Lord who bears the Royal Umbrella'. Why did Shivaji perceive a lack of fit between his actual social and political strength. and his caste status? From whose' perspective was he a person of uncertain caste, a pretender to the throne trying to seize a royal title, and why did the existence of this point of view seem to affect Shivaji 's perception of himself? How do we evaluate claims and counterclaims to the effect that he was or was not a siidra, and that consequently his kingship was invalid or valid? In re-examining the episode of the consecration of Shivaji, it turns out that the reality of his power is historically unquestionable. The fact of his caste identity, however, is problematic. This is because the lens through which it is projected ont!' history-the category of the sndra-itself is unstable. The transformation of Shivaji into a king is a moment that has captured the historical imagination of the people, not only of Maharashtra, but of India as a whole. Using genealogy as a mechanism of self-(re)presentation, Shivaji circumvented the handicap of a birth that might have been construed as low. and with the cooperation of an authoritative brlihmalJa he performed the rituals proper to someone with a high binh. He then went ahead and assumed royalty, that too in a spectacular ceremony the likes of which was not seen anywhere on the subcontinent in a long time before or since. These events have been repeatedly brought to bear on the problem of the relationship between political power and caste status, even as this relationship has been repeatedly transformed from pre-modernity to the present.
The Event: The Royal Consecration of Shivaji HOW SHIVAJI BECAME CHATRAPATI SHIVAJI MAHARAJ
The great Marli!hli warrior Shivaji, who lived in Maharashtra between CE 1630 and 1680, had, in June CE 1674, at the age of 44, at his seat in
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Raigarh, a formal abhi~eka. I translate this for convenience as 'royal consecration'. The rituals performed on this occasion were conducted by a specially invited pundit of Maharashtrian extraction who lived in Benaras, named Visvesvarabhana. or more popularly, Gagabhana. Gagli had to find, or-OT
GENEALOGY
As mentioned earlier, at the time of the consecration Shivaji let it be known that he was genealogically linked to the prestigious Rljpilt Sisodilis of Udaipur, and that thus he too was a Rljpllt. Following historical evidence, Shivaji's claim to Rlijpilt, and specifically Sisodiii ancestry may be interpreted as being anything from tenuous at best, to inventive in a more extreme reading. In all events, it served a purpose, which was to justify the upanayana, or sacred thread investiture ceremony, that Giigiibhana performed in order to make Shivaji a twice-born (dvija) k~atriya. His father ShahjI once used the term riljput to describe himself in a lener to the Adil Shah, but in that context he apparently meant something closer to 'honourable warrior-chieftain', much like riijille, rather than literally a person of Rljpilt extraction originally from the north.' 6 Shivaji's own descendants never picked up the Rlijpilt appellation, although they continued to style themselves as chatrapatis. Once the motif of a Rljpilt connection bad done its job, namely, guaranteed Shivaji's claim to being a ~atriya fit for royal consecration, it disappeared from the family's subsequent projections of its identity. 17 TifE RAJPUTS AND TifE MUGHALS
The term Rljpiit itself in Shivaji's usage of it has to be understood as signifying a member of a clan with its own 'clan-state' (Hallissey 1977: 21 ), a political form prevalent in Riijvlic,tA for many centuries.1 8 Rajpiit clans had power, a lineage structure, and almost invariably, a descent 16
Bal Krishna (1932: 189-92) includes this letter of Shlhjl's in a list of proofs for Shivaji's Rlijpiit ancestry. 17 However, according to one scholar, in his Sablulsad Balchar (ca 1696), a eulogistic chronicle commissioned by Shivaji 's second son Rajaram, the author Krishnaji Anant Sabhasad ' ... claims Rajaram's right to rule as a Kshatriya, the descendant of the Rajput Sisodia clan. Very adroitly, the text has Mirza Raje Jaisingh, Aurangzeb's Rajput commander "acknowledge" the "fact" that Shivaji's bravery stems from his Rajput heritage.' See Deshpande (2002: 21 ). 18 The Rlijavlidli of Shivaji's period included most of what is today Rajasthan, but also, at its extremities, contiguous parts of modem Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh. The 'clan-state' must by definition be a hybrid political form, though Hallissey himself does not theorize it sufficiently. See Thapar (2000) for a discussion, with reference to ancient and early medieval India, of how the transition from a society based on clan structure (jana) to one based on caste structure Gliti) corresponded to a transformation of tribal polities into monarchical states.
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claim from mythical qatriya ancestors. Habib (1995: 89-90) points out that the word IUjpilt as the name of a caste shows up for the first time in Persian records as late as the sixteenth century. It signifies a section of the rural aristocracy beginning to coalesce as a caste. By the seventeenth century, almost all the major Rajpiit rulers in Rajvi4a were mansabdiirs or military commanders and jiigirdiirs or landholders under the Mughal emperor; they owed political allegiance to and had marital ties with him and his family . 19 While they continued to perform various Hindu rituals (marking themselves as Hindu in contradistinction to the Muslim Mughals), including ones that installed the new head of a clan as king when an older one passed away, their most important royal ritual was not the abhi~eka but the fikii (literally: 'auspicious mark'). 20 This ritual was not the installation ceremony as such, but the recognition of the new king, or a confirmation of his royal status, by the Mughal emperor, who was the greater power above him (Hallissey 1977: Chapter 3, also 91-2). Clearly, the fact that it was always and only the Mughal.emperor who conferred the !ikli, and always and only IUjpiit chieftains who received it from him, made this something of a hybrid ritual. It was neither Muslim nor brahmanical, drawn neither from Islamic political doctrine, nor from the dharmllSAstra. Rather, it evolved in response to the particular historical problem of allowing Rajpiits to maintain their identity as independent Hindu rulers, even while they constituted a service nobility in the Mughal administration. The !Ikli continued to be in vogue through the reign of the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan (ce 162S-57), although in his rule it was delegated to the prime minister. Shah Jahan's son Aurangzeb during his reign (CE 165819-1707) abolished the practice altogether in May 1679, on the grounds that it was un-Islam.ic, or, as Sarkar puts it, that it 'savoured' of Hinduism.21 But this abolition of the p:ka was decreed five years after Shivaji' s consecration. While the claim to being a Rajpiit permitted Shivaji 19
Habib (1995) succinctly defines key terms used in the Mughal administrative system. A jiigir is a parcel of land assigned for a short period of time by the Mughal emperor to a jiiglrdiir for the collection of revenue. A mansab is a rank with two components, one indicating salary earned (ITlOHS
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panies till the fifteenth century when it was shown to be a forgery (Bowker 1997: 499)! The forgery was created to enhance the pivotal position of the bishop of Rome against that held by the bishop of Constantinople. Religious traditions need to be scrutinized to see if they are genuine and if they are essential conduits of the original message of Jesus. To conclude this section: Christianity seeks to preserve the Christian experience for succeeding generations through traditions that originated from the historical event of Jesus Christ. To ensure the meaningfulness of such an experience, the traditions must be reinterpreted authentically. In the next section, an attempt will be made to show that lack of a critical understanding of the Christian tradition led to tragic consequences.
Three Moments of Tradition and Their Tragic Consequences Tradition as a complex of processes has to deal with continuity and discontinuity. Continuity implies that the present tradition possesses elements that were also present in traditions of the past. Discontinuity stresses the newness that enters a process so that the present tradition harmonizes with the past but is not unqualifiedly identical with it. The early Christian tradition emerged in a particular setting and its flavour was distinctly Judeo-Christian. This happened because the first Christians were from among the people of Israel. When Christianity began to assume Roman trappings, the Christians in the East believed- rightly it would seem--that they too should preserve their own particular ethnic identity." Rome did not take kindly to such thinking and reacted in an authoritarian fashion. This set the stage for the split that took place between Latin and Oriental Christianity in the eleventh century. THE SPLIT BETWEEN EASTERN AND WESTERN CHRISTIANITY (AD 1054)
A text is not the context but the text can be understood only when it is placed in a context. The context brings out the meaning of the text, and hence a changed context could also suggest a. new meaning in the text. In fact, the subject that understands a text in many different contexts has probably fathomed the meaningfulness o.f the text more completely. Like a text, the Christian tradition can be expressed in different forms-through different theologies- that originate in different cultural traditions. The
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quarrel between the East and the West was less about the message of Christianity and more about the cultural diversity of people: the Easterners resented the 'Latinization' that came from the West and the Westerners were overly confident about imposing their will on the East! The following quotation well explains how cultural conflicts fanned the flames of religious intolerance between Eastern and Western Christianity: The Latinization was a natural result of the Crusades wherever the Latins were able to assert themselves. It is clear that at this period, which saw the development of ecclesiastical power, of ·canon law, and of Scholastic philosophy, the lack of an historical sense and of curiosity towards other men and other worlds gave Western Christianity that self-confidence which comprised its strength. On the other hand, it deprived the Latins of the feeling of legitimate diversity in the matter of rite, of ecclesiastical organization, of canonical tradition, and even of doctrine. True, the East had likewise hardly shown an attitude of tolerance in respecting legitimate differences; the controversy of the epoch of Photius, and more especially Cerularius, was largely based upon a condemnation of Latin usages differing from Byzantine practice, as contrary to true Christianity (Congar 1959: 25).
The need to differentiate between traditions that were cultivated and practised because of ethnicity and those that embodied the authentic spirit of the gospel was forgotten. The Catholic Church in Rome took a long time to recognize this truth as can be seen from the Church's negative judgement on the Chinese rites and the Malabar rites in the eighteenth century. In both cases, the missionaries found indigenous rites and customs to be compatible with the Catholic tradition and encouraged their inclusion in Christian worship. However, the Roman authorities lacked a breadth of vision to recognize an authentic interpretation of Christianity in such rites and customs. It was only in the twentieth century that the wisdom of incorporating such rites and customs into the Christian tradition was recognized and acclaimed. CHRISTENDOM AND COLONIALISM
The second moment has to do with the relationship that developed between Church and State. This relationship developed into the concept of Christendom9 where there was a tacit assumption on the part of the (European) Church and (European) State that they could be partners in 9
Christendom refers to those countries that collectively profess the Christian faith.
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overseeing and directing the lives of people the world over. The partnership was possible from the time of Constantine the Great in the fourth century who first gave legitimacy to those professing Christianity in the Roman Empire. In the year AD 313, Constantine I (d. 337) who had now become emperor, issued the Decree of Milan that heralded changes in the entire history of Europe. Through it, Christianity became a 'licensed cult'. The Decree allowed freedom to persons to profess Christianity and removed the legal prescriptions that were detrimental to Christians (Cochrane 1944: 178). It defended the liberty and status of those who chose not to cultivate the cult of the State; it allowed Christians perfect freedom of assembly and worship; and restored to the believers the lands and properties that had been formerly confiscated from them. Finally, it allowed the Church as a body lo possess property. It would require more time for Christianity to become the religion of the State, but already the foundations were being laid for such an eventuality. While the Emperor Gratian (AD 367-83) gave back to the Christians what had been taken away from them by Julian (AD 361-3), it was under Theodosius I (AD 379-95) that the Roman Empire was Christianized (M. Grant 1985: 273). Through an edict promulgated from Thessalonica on 27 February AD 380, Theodosius gave Christianity an overriding importance over other religions practised in the Roman Empire and condemned those who did not profess Christianity ' to suffer divine punishment, and, therewith, the vengeance of that power which we, by celestial authority, have assumed.' (Cochrane: 1944: 327). It was not as though Theodosius handed over affairs of the State to ecclesiastical authority; rather, he made space for the Church to affirm and exercise its authority in the secular affairs of the State. This was clearly understood by Ambrose (c. AD 339-97), bishop of Milan, who asserted the authority of the Church to act and judge independently of the Emperor (Cross and Livingstone 1997: 49). Gradually, however, the action of Theodosius paved the way for the Church to have a greater say in the functioning of Roman society so that State and Church were seen as partners in the common task of preserving order in the Roman Empire. At the same time, the papacy was making its voice heard while settling disputes in neighbouring Churches and in its being recognized as the embodiment of Christian orthodoxy (R. Grant 1970: 155-8). Both Church and State relied on each other. The Church recognized divine sanction-the divine right of kings that was finally laid to rest in the eighteenth century. the' Age of the Enlightenment- in the authority of the king/emperor, and in tum was allowed temporal privileges to exercise its spiritual ministry. Against this background, one understands why Pope Nicholas V (1447-55) in the bull
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Romanus Ponti/ex, granted Portugal the territories discovered and conquered in Africa (Ehler and Morrall 1954: 144-53). Was the Church right in allying her spiritual mission with the political and commercial interests of Portugal? If the Christian Tradition was meant to proclaim a message of love and fellowship to all peoples, then the colonial adventure-with its oppression and exploitation-could hardly be a suitable articulation of that message. Here, the naivete of the Church should have given way to a ctitical understanding of the real motives that encouraged colonialism. When former colonies became politically independent-as took place in the twentieth century-their ecclesiastical status also had to be reconceived and the Christian tradition itself needed to be scrutinized anew. Did the partnership of the Chµrch with the colonial powers foster true humanism? Whose interests were being served? Certainly not the interests of those colonized! All the claims made by the Church did not necessarily concern the practice of Christian values, nor did the privileges granted to the Church by the State guarantee that Christian values would be better observed and followed. At times, even when Christian emperors presided over the government, values espoused by the Church were not necessarily reflected in the measures enacted by the State that was itself subject to political compulsions. There were problems when Church and State made conflicting claims in virtue of their respective 'divine sanctions'. Interestingly, it was the occasion of an issue of jurisdiction within the ecclesiastical establishment that decided the Roman Empire into according prominence to the Roman pope! In AD 444, Hilary ·of Aries deposed Chelidonius, Bishop of Besancon. Chelidonius appealed to Pope Leo I who sided with him (Ehler and Morrall 1954: 7-9). Valentinian ffi (AD 419-55) issued important decree that was enacted in AD 445 and recognized the pope's 'supremacy over the provincial Churches that many ecclesiastics had hitherto been reluctant to concede'. (M. Grant 1985: 300). Further, in association with his colleague Valentinian m, Theodosius II drew up a code of laws that was published in AD 438 and provided the foundation for the Code of.Justinian that was published in AD 529. These laws together with other material became known as the Corpus Juris Civilis. The Justinian Code 'became the authoritative and ordered statement of Roman law which was gradually accepted, subject to certain variations' in western Europe and even today forms the partial basis of many legal systems (Cross and Livingstone 1997: 916). It is here that the distinction between the priesthood (sacerdotium) and the imperial authority (imperium)
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is found. 'The former ministers to Divine things, the latter presides and wittches over human affairs; both proceed from one and the same source and together they are ornaments of human life' (Ehler and Morrall 1954: 10). Such an understanding, however, did not prevent Pope Gelasius (d. AD 496) from expounding a theory on Church-State relations that upheld the supremacy of the priestly authority and, in tum, influenced medieval political doctrine. Gelasius held that of the two powers that rule the world, the one representing the priesthood was more important 'because it has to render account for the kings of men themselves at the Divine Tribunal' (Ehler and Morrall 1954: 11). To a lesser or greater extent, Gelasian theory about the two powers remained in the consciousness of churchmen who actively charted the destiny of the Church and made decisions for the Christian faithful. In the nineteenth century, when the Church found itself sidelined during the era of Napoleon, there was fear that it would have little place in people's lives. To offset the effects of the secular constitution that the French state had adopted, the Church resorted to signing concordats with different governments in Europe. Did the Church really succeed in influencing public life? It was called the Age ofConcordats; agreements between Rome and a government, including the redesigning of dioceses, the admission that the Church had endowments and freedom, the contrary admission that the State had controls; Concordat with Austria attempted but failing, Concordat with France attempted and agreed but at last failing, Concordat with Bavaria 1817.-Concordat with Naples 1818, Concordat with Hanover attempted but failing, Concordat (though not so called) with Prussia in 1821. Though this is called the Age of the Concordats, few Concordats were actually agreed; the reorganization mostly went on by piecemeal agreements. Whether the agreements were enshrined in a general Concordat or a series of smaller measures, they marked a general increase of State control (Chadwick 1981 : 539).
In the end, it must be said that the Christian establishment too easily believed that an ordered exercise of power by Church and State would ensure a world in which progress in the spiritual and material spheres would obtain. In fact, both churchmen and statesmen succumbed to the ordinary temptations brought about by political power, aggrandizement, chauvinist attitudes, and a sense of superiority over the other. The Catholic Church mistakenly assumed that the objectives of the State coincided totally with its own and therefore desisted from exercising a prophetic influence in the workings of the State.
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HISTORICAL CONSCIOUSNESS
The problems occasioned by exercising authority in the name of religion are not new. Religious officials claim authority not from a democratic vote but from divine sanction. Such a sanction is difficult to prove unless one has faith. Even in recent times, Christian officials still advocated a monarchical style of functioning. They had become used to proclaiming legislation and diktats in the name of God without prior consultation and dialogue. Such patterns of proclamation tend t~ be one-sided and lack a sense of history. A classic case of such a pattern is found in the nineteenth century Church during the pontificate of Pius IX (1846-78) when he could not countenanc.e Italian nationalism that decided on Rome as the capital of a united Italy. It took many years for the Church to come to tenns with the nationalists and it was only in 1929 that matters were resolved through the Lateran Treaty. 10 The articulations of religious truth effected during a particular time, in a specific context and through the culture of a particular people may cease to be meaningful in a changed time, context, and culture. With Vatican Council II (1962-5), the Church began to be 'historically conscious' . It had been widely assumed that Christian texts could be articulated once and for all. A deeper understanding of language has taught us that concepts are historically conditioned and need to be re-interpreted if their authentic meaning is to be grasped. Christian articulations need to be reinterpreted precisely to convey the authentic meaning of Jesus's message. Historical consciousness means that the Christian tradition cannot merely repeat the past. Only if it dialogues with the present can it come alive with meaning and relevance for people today. Historical consciousness reminds finite human persons that they grasp the ultimate truth gradually. It makes the Church aware that it does not possess all the answers to life's problems and that a healthy dialogue with different (secular) constituencies will contribute to finding satisfactory answers. Having considered three moments of the Christian tradition where embarrassing consequences followed, we shall now suggest how a critical understanding of the Christian tradition enables it to be authentically interpreted. IO The Lateran Treaty was an 'agreement signed on February
11 , 1929, between
the Holy See (the Roman Church) and the Italian government settling the "Roman Question," which had resulted from the fall of the city of Rome as the last territory of the Papal States .. .' (McBrien 1995: 753).
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The Need to Develop a Critical Understanding of a Religious Tradition A BALANCE BETWEEN FAITH ANO REASON
If religion supposes humankind's search for truth, then it must also be understood that this search takes place through faith and reason. Each religion understands its faith's traditions in the context of a particular world view. However, an attitude of faith cannot be the outcome of a syllogistic pattern of reasoning. It would be true to say positively that faith is a 'disposition of believers towards commitment and toward acceptance of religious claims' (Bowker 1997: 334). At the same time, given the human situation, extravagant claims are often made in the name of religious traditions. Such claims need to be scrutinized by reasonable criteria so that true humanization takes place in believers. 11 In the Christian experience of religion, faith and reason should not be seen as two areas, or levels that are unrelated. While the religious faith is the possession of the believer, he/she must also discern and discover how such faith can become meaningful in his/her life. If faith is seen as a constitutive element of religion, no less must reason be seen as accounting for that faith in the actual life of an individual, or community. In fact, it is this understanding that is reflected in the classic phrases derived from Anselm of Canterbury (c. AD 1033- 1109): 'faith seeking understanding' and ' I believe in order that I may understand' (Bowker 1997: 73). 12 In contrast to rationalism, reason takes into account intelligible sources that inform a person's intellect. These include the following: universal human experience, the need to make ethical judgements, the ability to offer respect and reverence to another, and to become aware of one's own finitude. Reason also understands the meaningfulness of the sourcessome of these are religious traditions- in relation to a person's quest for the truth since it is a faculty possessed by a person and remains at his/ her disposal to investigate the truth of all reality affecting persons. The practice of religion does not automatically destroy the urge to satisfy one's own interests or manipulate religion to serve unholy ends. Official policies and dictates are often formulated so that the interests of 11
I use the term humanization 10 contrast it with humanism. By humanization I mean the ability to commit oneself in freedom that fulfils a person and creates a society in which justice, freedom, and fellowship for all are assured. 12 Refer also to St. Anselm 1954.
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an elite may be protected. Such dictates-from whatever source;religious or secular-must be termed strategic, since they are subordinated to human and material interests under the cloak of religion! Often enough, such strategy manifests class or caste interests that need to be scrutinized. FUNDAMENTALISM
Religious fundamentalism begins with a movement to_counter a perceived threat against a particular religion (Christian tradition). The th.real could be real and .hence the need to overcome it could be acknowledged. However, the method of overcoming the threat' is easily short-circuited. Instead of using one's reason to identify the factors causing the threat and then countering them, blind recourse is had to some beliefs- to the exclusion of others-to overcome the threat. However, the chosen beliefs-in Catholic .fundamentalism-have little to do with scicial concerns, the authentic spirit qf religion, and the true function of ritual. Instead, such beliefs favour an elite group that sets about protecting its particular economic, social, political, and religious interests. With the excuse of protecting and preserving religious faith, it ignores the human rights of others and demonizes those who do not agree with its interests and policies. A characteristic feature of fundamentalists is that they absolutize their own understanding of religion and show intolerance towards all others. PLURALISM OF RELIGIONS
Religious pluralism is a fact of human experience. In the first contact with the other, there is anxiety and even fear of what the other will inflict on oneself; there may even be visible hostility exchanged between both parties. Then follows a cold-war period that gives way to grudging appreciation. and finally dialogue. Dialogue is the stage that one reaches when one experiences that the other has hopes and fears like oneself as well as hopes and expectations that are very similar to one's own. The point of departure of dialogue with the other .is the awareness that the other cannot be neatly fitted into a system that one has constructed. If Christianity has felt at home for many centuries with an Aristotelian system modified by Thomas Aquinas, it need not expect that other religions adopt that system. In fact, such systems are man-made and suggest world views that are culturally conditioned and limited in scope. R~ligious pluralism refuses to confine the mystery of the transcendent to a category that negates other approaches to the same transcendence.
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To claim that one particular religion alone holds the truth suggests an attitude of exclusivity. Pluralism in the world is a fact that must be appreciated, not deprecated. Pluralism exists because of the different experiences of the transcendent among peoples and cultures. It characterizes the present human situation and witnesses to the rich variety of religious experiences in the world. Religious pluralism is something that Catholicism is beginning to understand and appreciate.
References Achtemeier, Paul J. (ed.). 1985. Harper's Biblt! Dictionary. San Francisco: Harper and Row. Bowker, John (ed.). 1997. Tht! Oxford Dictionary of World Rt!ligions. Oxford: Oxford University Press. . Chadwick, Owen. 1981. Tht! Po~s and Euro~an Rt!volution. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Cochrane, Charles Norris. 1944. Christianity and Classical Culturt!: A Study of Thoughl and Action from Augustus to Augustine. London: Oxford University Press. Congar, Yves M-J. 1959. A/tt!r Nine Hundred Years: Tht! Background of tM Schism Between the Eastt!m and Western Churches. New York: Fordham University Press. - - - . 1966. Tradition and Traditions: An Historical and a Theological Essay. London: Bums & Oates. Cross, F. L. and E. A. Livingstone (eds). 1997. The Oxford Dictionary of tM Christian Church. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ehler, Sidney Z. and John B. Morrall (trs and eds). 1954. Church and Stale through the Centurit!s: A Collt!ction of Historic Documents with Commentaries. London: Bums and Oates. Grant, Michael. 1985. The Roman Emperors: A Biographical Guidt! to the Rulers of lm~rial Rome, 31 sc- 110 476. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. Grant, Robert M. 1970. Augustus to Constantine: The Rise and Triumph of Christianity in the Roman World. New York: Harper and Row. McBrien, Richard (ed.). 1995. The Harpt!rCollins Encyclo~dia ofCatholicism. New York: HarperCollins. St. Anselm. 1954. Proslogium; Monologium; An Ap~ndix in Behalf of the Fool by Gaunilon; And Cur Deus Homo (tr. S. N. Deane). La Salle, Illinois: The Open Coun Publishing Company.
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13 Faith, Reason, and Religious Tradition Celebrating Gandhi's Synthesis RUDOLF
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HEREDIA
This presentation is made in two parts. The first discusses the dilemma between ' faith ' and ' reason' in the context of religious tradition, and concludes to a dialectical, not a contradictory relationship between them. The second part attempts to illustrate this with Gandhi's religious understanding as a radical and relevant interpretation going beyond conventional orthodoxies.
Introducing the Problematic Perceiving faith and reason as binary opposites rather than as two alternate ways in our quest for truth is more typical of Western thought, where this readily leads to an impassable divide, as between fideism and rationalism. 'What has Athens got to do with Jerusalem?', asked Tertullian at the beginning of the Christian era when confronted with Greek philosophy! But if believers would privilege faith, rationalists would reverse the hierarchy, and never the twain would meet! The resulting dualism between faith and reason would seem to leave each in an independent domain of human experience and knowledge, compartmentalizing our lives and impoverishing them into the bargain, even as philosophers and theologians attempted to accommodate each other across the divide. However, our contention here, as with Eastern thought more generally, is that faith and reason are complementary, not contradictory, ways of seeking the truth, since in fact truth itself, satya, as ontological reality even more than just epistemological truth, cannot be contradictory, otherwise
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reality itself would be absurd. What is needed is to include both in a more comprehensive understanding, which in fact would thereby be the more human for being the more inclusive and holistic. However, we must first refine our understanding of what we mean by 'faith' and 'reason' so as to explore more incisively the dialectic between the two. To say that the relationship between faith and reason is dialectic, does not directly address the problematic between the two, unless one further explores how this dialectic in actuality operates. For if a 'dialectic relationship' implies that one pole must be read against the other and vice versa, then we must still ask: what does being 'reasonable ' mean to faith, and again what does the being 'faithful' to reason require? For though ours is an age, which at the global level may be characterized by secularism, there are as yet strong pockets of religious resistance, at times even provoked by this very challenge of globalization (Beyer 1994). There is an increasing religious revivalism and fundamentalism that seems to be spreading like ink-blots on the global map across countries and even continents. Then again the age of reason once seemed to have undermined our faith with its rationalism, but now with the end of the Enlightenment, this very critique of reason has turned on itself and undermined our confidence in the older rationalist optimism. Today a postmodern age is putting to question all the grand narratives that once seemed to epitomize the cutting edge of our evolving rationality.
Towards a Phenomenology of Faith More conventionally faith is understood as giving one' s assent to a truth on the testimony of another. This is what makes belief credible, that is, worthy of being believed. Thus understood faith is a matter of belief that focusses on the content and its credibility. Insofar as this testimony is external to the believing person, its trustworthiness would rest on the credibility of the one giving the testimony, and not only on the content of the belief itself. Hence what we believe depends on wham we trust. Thus if I believe you, it is not just because I accept what you say as true, but more so because I believe. in you, that is, I believe you are a trustworthy and truthful person. This opens up the interpersonal dimension of faith that focusses not on our relationship to things as to objects, but to persons as subjects, an I-thou, not I- it relationship. This is the faith that gives me access to the other person as a self-disclosing subject. An empiricist world view constrained by a reductionist methodology cannot but discredit such 'knowledge'.
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It is then the authority of the testimony, moral or formal, that legitimates the belief. However, as this testimony gets institutionalized in a tradition, it can get even more distant from the original founding experiences and events themselves. Thus oftentimes claims of divine inspiration for the authority of religious testimony made by such institutional traditious, or at times the author of this testimony, the testifier, is seen to have claimed divinity itself. This would seem to put such testimony beyond human scrutiny. However, any communication, and most certainly a revelation of the divine to the human, must inevitably involve filters. Indeed, even the immediacy of a mystical experience, in its very first and necessary articulation to oneself, and in its later communication to others, necessarily involves the mediation of thought and language. This already implies an inescapable distancing from the original experience itself and the inevitable need for a hermeneutic understanding if the experience is to be relevant and reasonable. In sum then: To believe is, formally, to know reality through the knowledge which another person has of it and which he communicates by his testimony; between faith and reality there intervenes the person of the witness, who communicates his knowledge so that the believer may share in it and thereby attain to the reality itself (Alfaro I%8: 316).
Articulating a Critique. of Reason The term 'reason' derives from the Latin 'ratio' and its more restricted sense absorbs the meanings of 'giving an account' , 'ordering things' or 'laying things or ideas out in a comprehensive way'. Other terms it may be contrasted with are mu.thos ('tale' or 'story'), aisthesis ('perception'),phantasia ('imagination'), mimesis ('imitation'), and doxa ('belief) (Finch 1987: 223).
Logic, deductive and inductive, the experimental method, are among the various ways that have been proposed to systematize the use of such reason. Thus ascent to truth here is 'reasoned', not dependent on testimony, but on evidence that can be verified, and which leads to conclusions that can be tested. This then is a rational method of investigation that leads not to 'belier but to 'knowledge' . The acceptance of such knowledge is based on intrinsic criteria, and not on any extrinsic testimony or authority.
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So far the focus is very much on the method of rational knowledge, not on its content. In practice, much of what we accept as reasoned knowledge, scientific or otherwise, is not something that we have tested or verified for ourselves using any kind of rational investigation. Often it is merely on the authority of someone who 'knows better'. In other words, on the authority of wiser, more learned, more knowledgeable persons, or sometimes it seems simply because of the formal position the person holds. For every bit of information in our lives cannot be traced to a source and verified before being accepted. It is not just a practical impossibility, theoretically it would lead to an infinite regress, because the very methodology of any rational knowledge rests on basic premises, like the reality and intelligibility of the world we live in, which cannot be logically proven. They are experienced existentially. 'Rational knowledge' then has an element of 'faith', which is often neglected. But once again this refers to its content. What needs to be examined is the methodology by which such knowledge is arrived at. For even when such knowledge is accepted in 'faith', in principle at least, it can be tested and verified. However, even while acknowledging the limitations of a methodology, one must also accept its validity where this applies. For a rational metholodogy transgressing its inherent limitations can never yield 'right reasoned knowledge'. In this context Karl Popper's distinction in his Open Society and Its Enemies, between classical rationalism and critical rationalism is peninent here (Popper 1972). The first seeks secure knowledge from axiomatic premises, the second accepts given knowledge as 'hypothetical' and through critical testing seeks to funher refine and extend it. Thus Euclidean geometry is completely rational within the constraints of its own premises, but the non-Euclidian starts from different assumptions and has extended geometric applications substantially. A critical examination of the methodology involved in these rationalisms would arrive at cenain limitations that are often neglected and even violated by their proponents for reasons that are external to the methodology itself. This is precisely what the sociology of knowledge has drawn attention to and has convincingly demonstrated, how the underlying presumptions, which inevitably are socially derived, prejudice our presumed rational and impanial objectivity. These presumptions and pre-judgements are beyond the investigative methodology of such reasoning itself. How then do we critique such presumptions and prejudices? For if the ideal of the Enlightenment, of an unbiased, autonomous subject, must be abandoned, how does this become a positive constituent of any interpretation,
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and not a limiting one? It is precisely here once again that the dialectic of faith and reason must come to bear. Thus we have the Kantian a priori that are accepted as methodological imperatives if such empiricaUexperimental knowledge is to be possible at all. However, there are pre-judgements and presumptions that must ground any rationality, as the hermeneutic tradition would insist. Moreover, when non-empirical/non-experimental sources of knowing are involved, other methods of ascertaining truth are required. Dilthey's understanding of an interpretive discipline and Weber's verstehen, empathetic understanding (Weber 1946: 56), do offer such viable methodologies, while hermeneutics and deconstruction have today demonstrated the limits of the old Enlightenment rationalism and have offered alternative analytic approaches. In fact, seminal breakthroughs in science, in the paradigm shifts in our thought, are the result of intuitive leaps of the imagination as Thomas Kuhn has established (1970: 92-110). It is only later that staid scientific methods are used to verify the theories thus proposed. In making, then, this distinction between the content and method of reasoned knowledge, we discover not just the limitations of the empirical-experimental methodology, but we once again uncover the 'faith' element that is more often than not decisive in the content being accepted. For the pre-judgements and prejudices that hermeneutics and the sociology of knowledge emphasize are not.subject to reason so much as to the interests and status, the 'unconscious ideologies', and fundamental options of those involved. For Hans-Georg Gadamer (1997), the present situation of the interpreter is not something negative, but 'already constitutively involved in any process of understanding' (Linge, 1977: xiv). We can never be entirely rid of our prejudices, or more literally our 'prejudgements', or in communication terminology our 'filters'. For 'the historicity of our existence entails that prejudices, in the literal sense of the word, constitute the initial directedness of our whole rbility to experience' (Linge 1977: 9). Hence it follows there can be no presupposition-less interpretation, since there is no pre-judgement-less experience! In other words, where we position ourselves influences how we reason. To conclude then: There has been a marked decline in the prestige of reason in the twentieth century, due to a changing awareness of the conventionality of what passes for reason. But the present age does not suffer so much from a want 'of rationality as from a too narrow conception of what constitutes rationality. To some present-day critic·s, rationality has been purchased at the cost of human meaning and human understanding (Finch 1987: 224).
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Faith as Constitutive of the Human We need now to make a similar distinction with regard to faith. Too much attention has been focussed on faith as content, that is, 'belier. We need to examine the act of faith, and precisely what makes such belief possible. Why in fact do we accept the testimony of others? Once again the capacity to make this act of faith is cenainly an a priori condition for the necessarily interdependent lives we live. Moreover, if we grant that we are not the ground of our own being, then this 'faith' must transcend and reach beyond the horizons of the human. But if all truth is to be restricted to the empirical and all knowledge to be derived from inductive, or deductive, logic, then clearly in such an empirical-rationalist frame of reference, there is no room for faith, or as Paul Tillich says, for 'what ultimate concerns mean' (1958: 2). Hence whetMr we believe depends on our own se/funderstanding. In this sense, Panikkar rightly insists that faith becomes a 'constitutive element of human existence'. And it is precisely as such, that we must test any content of faith. For a content of faith that does not fulfil the human dimension, that is, to make the believer more human, cannot be 'good faith'. In other words, if to believe is human, then what we believe must make us more human not less! So too rational knowledge that is the result of a methodology that has not been sensitive to its inherent limitations, can never be 'rightly reasoned' (Panikkar 1971 : 223-54: 1983: 188-229). The test of good faith then would be whether the act of faith gives assent to a content that is in fact humanizing. And this is precisely what an experiential self-reflective rationality can do. This is where and how we must seek the reasonableness of our faith. So too with blind faith; here the act of faith becomes compulsive rather than free, and catches on a content that promises security and perhaps even grandiosity. rather than one that expresses trust and dependency. In other words, if faith is not humanizing, then it cannot be good faith. But only when we accept that faith is a constitutive dimension of human life, do we have a framework for making such an investigation.
Language as Distinctive of the Human But if faith is a constitutive dimension of human existence, cenainly we must say the same of reason. After all the classic definition of man that we have come to accept from Aristotle as a 'rational animal'. does not
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quite integrate the elements of faith and reason together. It is a one-sided definition that stresses only a single dimension, which certainly might help to identify humans, as opposed to animals but it does very little to help to a more comprehensive and inclusive understanding of what is distinctively human. In fact, the original Greek word used by Aristotle was 'logicon'. which in its more restricted sense means 'word'. Hence, Panikkar insists, Aristotle's definition would more correctly be translated as man is a 'verbal animal·, or in other words, it is language that becomes the distinctive and defining characteristic of human beings (Panikkar 1995: 88). This, of course, implies reason but much more ihan that as well. Anthropologically this makes sound sense. And it is precisely because language implies intercommunication and interrelationship, that it expresses so well the interdependence of humans, for there is no such thing as a private language. It is only such a comprehensive understanding of the human that would give us a framework in which faith and reason can be included, as distinct but complementary dimensions of the human. Often reason is used to investigate, challenge, and even bring down the content of faith, by applying a rational-empirical methodology. But this is precisely to misunderstand the language of faith, which is not at the level of rational-empirical discourse. What is needed rather is an interrogation that derives more from a hermeneutic investigation that contextualizes content, and to interpret the content at the various levels of meaning that are often present therein, from the literal and the direct, to the symbolic and the metaphoric. For when it comes to the act of faith, an experimental methodology with its objective emphasis, is quite inadequate to such a subjective act. What we need is a more self-reflexive and experiential methodology. which while being subjective is neither arbitrary nor irrational, but one which focusses on meaning and 'meaningfulness' . rather than just on measuring quantities and determining cause and effect. Besides inductive and deductive logic, there are many kinds of rationality as Max Weber has emphasized, and in fact as he has demonstrated in his sociology of religion. If with him we understand rationality as the application of reason or conceptual thought to the understanding, or ordering of human life, then insofar as there can be many understandings and orderings of human life and society, there must correspondingly be many kinds of rationality as well. Instrumental and value rationality are just two classic examples of this, but there are other complex ways in which reason can impinge on human life as when it rationalizes or orders it on the basis of law. bureaucracy. tradition, or charisma.
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Dilemmas and Dialectics In making a distinction between the content and the act of faith, we realize that the content may vary across various cultural and religious traditions. However, the act of faith insofar as it is constitutively human, will necessarily have a great similarity across cultures and religions because at this level we begin to touch on the most fundamental aspects of the human. Here again it is our faith, both as act and content that can help us discern the human authenticity of these pre-judgements and presumptions. Institutionalization of religion involves fundamental dilemmas that must be lived in tension since they cannot be resolved or wished away. For as Thomas O' Dea so insightfully points out: 'religious experience needs most yet suffers most from institutionalisation' ( 1969: I l 6f). Precisely because such experience is so fragile and impermanent it needs institutions to preserve and communicate it across generations; and yet it is so ephemeral and ineffable that it cannot but be distorted and alienated by this very institutional process. In Max Weber's phrase, the 'routinization of charisma', is both necessary and subvening. There is a correspondence here between the charisma-experience and routinization-institutionalization dilemma, and the faith and reason dialectic discussed earlier. Each needs the complementarity and critique of the other: experience to vitalize institutions, and vice versa, institutions to preserve experience. For even as new experiences precipitate new understandings, they can alter our consciousness in radical ways, which then demands a renewed faith. For 'on the one hand, there is an interpretation of the faith conditioned by one's view of reality and on the other there is a view of reality nurtured by one' s interpretation of revelation' (Libano 1982: 15). In other words, while it is true that faith does not 'create' reality, it does make for a 'definition of the situation' that is real in its effects. And vice versa, our experience of reality affects our faith-understanding. Religious traditions that have stressed 'orthodoxy' (right belief) tend to focus more on the content of faith, whether this be the intellectual content of the belief, or the moral one of the commitment. The first focusses on intellectual truth, the second on moral goodness. However, such orthodoxies tend to neglect the act of faith, which as a constitutive dimension of our life represents precisely an internal critique, an intrinsic guarantor of a content of faith, which ought to fulfil our deepest human desires and hopes. For this a religious tradition must emphasize an 'orthopraxis' (right practice), where the focus is on the act of faith. For here the crucial
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emphasis is neither on belief in the true nor the good, but rather a commitment to authentic human living, an existential engagement with, and a critical reflection on living. It is at this fundamental existential level that the reasonableness of faith must be sought. For it is at this level of living praxis, that truth must have meaning and value become meaningful. And it is precisely here we suspect that the dialectic between faith and reason can be very fruitful, in testing and discerning the authenticity of one's faith, not so much ih terms of its content, but rather in terms of its humanizing our life. Hence the constant search for an ever deeper and more relevant 'orthopraxis' and 'orthodoxy', rather than an uncritical faith in a tradition, as also the continuing quest for a more adequate and pertinent 'rationality' beyond the rationalism of the Enlightenment. Our hermeneutic suspicions can now become the points of departure for us· to initiate and continue this dialogue across the apparent divide between faith and reason. But we must first be clear with regard to the horizons of understandings in which it takes place. Only then can there be a 'fusion of horizons', which can give the dialogue 'the buoyancy, of 31game, in which the players are absorbed' (Linge 1977: xix) as Wittgenstein had observed. And it will happen as in 'every conversation that through it something different has come to ~e· (Linge 1977: xxii).
Gandhi's Faith and Reason Here it is our contention that it is precisely such a dialectic that Gandhi sets up between faith and reason, in the context of a religious tradition, to make a genuinely new and creative synthesis for his religious belief and practice, even as he develops a powerful critique of rationalism. For Gandhi is indeed the epitome of a person who would want his faith to be reasonable in terms of making his humanity authentic, just as he would demand that his reason be truly faithful to this humanity as well. Much has been made of Gandhi's religious sense and sensitivity. But not enough has been said by way of examining the rational basis for this. Certainly we can see that Gandhi's 'inner voice', to which he gave such great importance-in discerning and authenticating his life, was very much an experiential self-reflective reasoning. But then again he refuses to be overwhelmed by reason, simply because he is only too aware of its limitations. Perhaps what rationalists have never examined is their own faith in rationality, and how this easily becomes another politically committed social ideology. This is what Gandhi explicitly challenges modem rationalists to do even as he interrogates the traditional and popular faith
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o f his people. But for both it will be human authenticity that will be the measure for this critique.
A Radical Reinterpretation Precisely because Gandhi's attempted reform is based on his radical reinterpretation, a rejection of one must lead to the rejection of the other, as in fact we see happening today. Gandhi locates himself as an insider to mainstream Hinduism, the sanathan dharma that he claimed to follow. In fac t, the radicality of his reinterpretation goes unnoticed precisely because o f this. Gandhi does not reject, he simply affirms what he considers to be authentic, and allows the inauthentic to be sloughed off. For him Hinduism was ultimately reduced to a few fundamental beliefs: the supreme reality of God, the ultimate unity of all life, and the value of love (ahimsa) as a means of realizing God. His profound redefinition of Hinduism gave it a radically novel orientation. Bhikhu Parekh sums this up thus: For him religion culminated but was not exhausted in social service and it had a spiritual meaning and significance only when inspired by the search for moksha. Gandhi's Hindu ism had a secularised content but a spiritual form and was at once both secular and non-secular (Parekh 1995: 109). Thus, for example, one of the most remarkable and yet unremarked reinterpretations of Hinduis m that Gandhi effected was that of the Gita. Here was a text intended to persuade a reluctant warrior on the legitimacy and even the necessity of joining the battle. Gandhi reworks its nish-kamak/Jnna to become the basis of his ahimsa and satyagraha! Of course, there is always a possibility that such a two-way dialec tic between faith and reason need not necessarily be a constructive or creative one! Thus V . D. Savarlcar's Hindutva is a reinterpretatio!M>f Hinduism in an inexorably opposed direction to that of Gandhi's sanathan dharma. Savarkar reduces Hinduism to a political ideology of cultural nationalism, that has awkward parallels with 'national socialism' elsewhere. His appeal was to upper castes and religious 61ites to mobilize people on the basis of a homogenous communal identity. This negates the legitimacy of diversity 'and difference of other communities. Gandhi, on the other hand, strove for a mass-based mobilizatio n across caste and religious communities to establis h puma swaraj for all, es pec ially the least and the last Thus there can be no reconciliation between Savarkar who wanted to ' Hinduise politics' and 'militarize Hinduism', and Gandhi whose declared agenda was to politicize spirituality and to spiritualize politics!
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In the end, this is why he is vehemently opposed by the traditional Hindu elite, who finally recognized and felt threatened by the challenge he posed. Ashis Nandy's piercing analysis implicates us all. He points out that, Savarkar's faithful disciple, 'Godse not only represented the traditional Indian stratarchy which Gandhi was trying to break' (Nandy 1980: 86), in a sense his 'hand was forced by the real killers of Gandhi: the anxiety-ridden , insecure traditional elite concentrated in the urbanised, educated, partly westernised, tertiary sector whose meaning of life Gandhian politics was taking away' (Nandy 1980: 87). But then again precisely because Gandhi presented himself as a Hindu in his interpretation of Indian culture, he was seen as too inclusive by traditional Hindus, and at the same time as not ecumenical enough by contemporary non-Hindus. Hence his appeals for Hindu-Muslim unity were rejected, by Muslims as being too Hindu, and questioned by Hindus for not being Hindu enough. Yet for Gandhi, the unity of humankind was premised on the oneness of the cosmos, which was a philosophical principle that was ontologically prior to diversity. This is precisely what an advaitin would hold. Hence for him, unity in diversity was the integrating axis not just of Hindu, but of Indian culture, and indeed of all viable civilizations as well. Thus the legitimacy of religious diversity was rooted in the fundamental Jaina principle of anekantavada, the many-sidedness of truth. Once this is conceded as foundational, then religious tolerance is a necessary consequence. But this was not to be a negative tolerance of distance al)d coexistence, but rather one of communication and enrichment. Indeed, Gandhi would ground the dialogue between East and West in their religious traditions, since for him religious rootedness was precisely the basis for mutual learning. In cultural matters, however, he was an assimilationist, not in the sense that he would want other cultures to be .assimilated to his own, but rather want all cultures to be enriched by each other without losing their identity. Gandhi's cultural assimilation, then was opposed to political revivalists and religious nationalists, to Tilak and M. M. Malaviya, as also to Dayanand Saraswati and Savarkar. For Gandhi, an open and understanding dialogue must precede, not follow a free and adaptive integration. The basis for such a dialogic encounter would have to be a 'pluralist epistemology'. But already in his Hind Swaraj he was convinced that it would only bear real fruit when it was 'sunk in a religious soil' . Thus an enriched diversity would then contribute to a more invigorated pluralism and an enhanced unity. This was precisely Gandhi's
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understanding of Indian culture and civilization, and he had, indeed, grasped its fundamental strength and the secret of its survival. No one in the twentieth century has done more to affinn Indian culture than Gandhi. Yet even as he apparently idealized our ancient traditions, he was radically reinterpreting and refonning them, an unfinished task to which he can still inspire us. That precisely is his relevance for us today.
Beyond Orthodoxy Gandhi is a critical traditionalist whose critique does speak to critical modernity today. There is much in 'modem civilization' that he rejects, but not the liberative contribution of modernity: civil liberties, equality, poverty alleviation, religious tolerance. Rather his effort can be interpreted as an attempt to integrate these positive elements with a liberative reinterpretation of tradition. In his unique way he sets up a creative encounter for this integration, even though some see him as radical and others as reactionary. With his critique from within the tradition, Gandhi becomes the great synthesizer of contraries if not of contradictions, within and across traditions. His puma swaraj would harmonize rights and duties, head and heart, individual and community, faith and reason, economic development and spiritual progress, religious commitment and religious pluralism, selfrealization and political action. He brings together philosophical discourse and popular culture in enlightened renewal and social refonn. Not since the time of the Buddha, some have argued, has such a synergy between the philosophic and the popular in our traditions been experienced. Thus Gandhi integrates ideas from the Upanishads and from Tulsi Ramayan in his religious synthesis. When it comes to bridges across traditions, Gandhi brings the Gita together with the 'Sennon on the Mount' and reads one into the other. In fact, if he has Christianized Hinduism he has cenainly also presented us with a Hinduized Christian spirituality. Precisely as a reinterpretation from within, Gandhi can so much more effectively and authentically integrate into his synthesis elements from without. For as Nandy writes, 'Gandhi was neither a conservative nor a progressive. And though he had internal contradictions, he was not a fragmented self-alienated man driven by the need to compulsively conserve the past or protect the new' and thus 'effortlessly transcending the dichotomy of orthodoxy and iconoclasm' (Nandy 1980: 71), he reconciles meaningful faith and reasonable modernity. In the best traditions of this land he combined both faith and reason. Fr faith and reason are implicated
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in each other. Blind faith, or a fundamentalist, revivalist version of religion was totally unacceptable for Gandhi. He would constantly critique faith to ascertain whether it was meaningful and reasonable in terms of basic human value commitments, and he would demand of reason the same fidelity to these values as well. Moreover, he does this with a practical praxis, or rather an orthopraxis, which we have described earlier as an existential engagement with and a critical reflection on life. His Experiments with Truth were not so much experiments in a rationalist sense, they were his critical reflections on his real life experiences, an experimental, self-reflexive method, which is what praxis is all about.
Renunciation and Celebration However, the ascetic dimension of Gandhi's integration at times loses the aesthetic one. A criticism of Gandhi' s ashrams was that these grew only vegetables not flowers! Growing vegetables represented more than the Gandhian preoccupation with vegetarianism and bread-labour. But that his ashram did not grow any flowers, would indicate a certain distancing from the aesthetic. He once asked: 'Why can' t you see the beauty of colour in vegetables?' Indeed, Gandhi surprised and shocked Tagore when he claimed he could hardly enjoy the glory and the beauty of a sunset when so many of his brothers and sisters were too burdened by their lives to welcome the sunrise! But in rightly emphasizing the need for renunciation, certainly a message that our consumerist and self-indulgent world needs more than ever today, the Gandhian ashram seemed to miss out on the need for celebration, which our tired and alienated, dispirited and pessimistic world needs almost as much. We do need the self-renunciation Gandhi espoused, as well as his affirmation of selflessness. He urges on us the injunction of the lshopanishad: tena tyaktena bhunjithah (Enjoy the things of the earth by renouncing them). But we also need to celebrate the other and the enrichment that comes from this encounter, to celebrate our world as conscious creatures who can wonder at its ineffable mystery and praise its surpassing beauty!
Continuing the Critique A reinterpretation of the Gandhian synthesis would precisely allow such a celebration if only we can realize that, for him, the ultimate other is the
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'utterly Other' who is the final quest of our self-realir.ation in moksha, and yet realized only in our encounters with each other. ·for while Gandhi· s understanding of moksha as service is a seminal breakthrough. even this can be enriched by affirming not negating the other dimensions of life. For it is only thus that we will be able to bring some wholeness to the 'broken totality', in Iris Murdoch's unforgettable phrase, of our modem world. It is certainly not our intention to idealize Gandhi into a new 'ism', neither a post- nor neo-Gandhi-ism. Being blind to his limitations and insensitive to the context in which he lived, cannot be constructive, or creative. We need an open-ended critique of Gandhi, not a close-ended 'ism', as seems to have happened with some of the official Gandhians. For Gandhi is, indeed, greater than their 'Gandhi-isms', and he will be more relevant than those of any others as well. Renan with Gaelic irony is supposed to have once said, that when fate could not destroy a great man, it sent him disciples in revenge! Perhaps we may need to save Gandhi from such a fate.
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Contributors AJAY DANDEKAR teaches rural development at Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Rural Campus. He did his PhD from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, on pastoralism in Deccan in the early medieval context. His recent work focuses ·on tribal cultures and on rural development. His major works include a series on Oral Narra1ives, Warlis ( 1997); Dhangar, Uiman and Ramoshi (2003), Bhili Mahabharat (2003); on Sources of Indian History (in Hindi, 2001, junior author with Professor S. F. Ratnagar); and on Denotified Communities of Maharashtra. ANANYA VAJPEYI is a Visiting Fellow 2005 at the Centre for the Study of Law and Governance, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi and a Scholar of Peace 2004-5 with WISCOMP: Women in Security, Conflict Management and Peace, New Delhi. She was educated at the University of Delhi, Jawaharlal Nehru University and the University of Oxford, where she was a Rhodes Scholar. Vajpeyi received a PhD from the department of South Asian Languages and Civilizations at the University of Chicago. She has taught at the University of Chicago and at the National Law School of India University, Bangalore. AN1No1TA MuKHOPADHYAY teaches at the University of Hyderabad, History Department. She completed her Masters (1987) and her MPhil (1989) from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi and her PhD ( 1996) from the School of Oriental and African Studies, London. She has published in Studies in History, Indian Economic and Social History Review, and Seminar. She has also contributed to S. Viswanathan and H. Sethi (ed.), Four Play (1999), l. B. Gupta and S. Settar (ed.), Pangs of Partitition (2002), and Indian History Congress Centenary Volume (2002). ANITA RAINA THAPAN has a doctorate in History and has been a Research Fellow at Centre for Integrative and Development Studies, University of the Philippines, where she worked on comparative religion and diaspora studies. Her current interests include the study of modem
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Indian faiths/movements and their impact on school education and healthcare. Her recent publications include Understanding Ganapati (1997), Sindhi Diaspora in Manila, Jakilrta and Hongkong (2001 ), apart from several papers. C . R uDOLF HEREDIA received his PhD in sociology from the University of Chicago in 1979. He was Founder Director of the Social Science Centre, St. Xavier's College, Mumbai 1980-2004, except between 1992-4 when he was director, Department of Research, Indian Social Institute, New Delhi. He Is presently at the same institute, writing on religious conversions in dieir contemporary context, and editing· Social Action, .the journal of the Institute. His publications include several studies: Voluntary Action and Development (1998), Urban Housing and Voluntary Agencies (1989), Tribal Education for Community Development (1992), and Tribal Identity and Minority Status (1994), besides numerous articles in scholarly journals. GRE.OORv D . Au ES is Professor of Religious Studies at McDaniel College, Westminster, USA, was a Fulbright scholar in India between 1988-9. His publications include The Iliad, the Ramayana, and the Work of Religion ( 1994). His current interests centre on the history of the study of religions in its social and political contexts, and in economic and cognitive approaches to the s tudy of religions. He is currently President of the North American Association for the Study of Religion. D'LIMA ~bes symbolism .and hermeneutics in the area of theology at..1' z"ia4>eepa Vidyapeeth, Pune. His special interests include historical and contextual study of religion especially in relation to religious pluralism. His recent publications include The Church in lndia ·in Search of a New Identity (1997, co-editor); What Does Jesus Christ Mean? The Meaningfulness ofJesus Amidst Religious Pluralism in India (1998, co-editor); and Church in the Service of Asia's Peoples (2003, co-editor). ERROL
IAYA MENON teaches at Aligarh Muslim University. Her interests lie in the field of ancient technology and the organization of craft production. She has written numerous articles in Man & Environment and Indian Historical Review. KuMKUM Rov teaches at Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. She has worked on early political institutions in north India, and on histories of gender relations. Her publications include The Emergence of Monarchy in North India ( 1994) and an edited anthology on Women in Early Indian Societies (1999).
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MADHu TRIVEDI teaches in the Department of History, School of Open Leaming, University of Delhi. She has worked on the cultural history of Awadh (late eighteenth century to early nineteenth century) making use of Persian, Urdu, Sanskrit, Brajbhasha, and Awadhi sources. Her current interests include the history of musical arts in medieval north India. She has published several papers on medieval art and culture. R. CHAMPAKALAKSHMI taught at University of Madras and Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi and has worked in the fields of religion and society, urbanization and the state in south India. Her current interests include religion and society in south India, the historical geography of south India, and south Indian temples. Her recent publications include Vaisnava Iconography in the Tamil Country (1981), Trade, Ideology and Urbanization: South India 300 BC-AD I 300 (1996), Tradition, Dissent and Ideology (co-edited 1996), The Hindu Temple (2001), and Stale and Society in Pre-modem South India (co-edited 2002). . SATISH SABERWAL taught sociology at Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He has conducted fieldwork in central Kenya (1963~) and in an industrial town in Punjab (1969, 1989). His current interests include the social backdrop to the Partition of the Indian subcontinent in 1947, and pre-modem China. His recent publications include Wages of Segmentation: Comparative Historical Studies on Europe and India ( 1995), Roots of Crisis: Interpreting Contemporary Indian Society (1996), Social Conflict (co-edited 1996), and Rules, Laws, Constitutions (co-edited 1998). SuPRIYA VARMA teaches at Central University, Hyderabad. She has worked on the changing settlement patterns in Kathiawad from the Chalcolithic to the Early Historic period. Her current interests include the archaeological landscape of early Punjab and the historical development of archaeology as a discipline in the Indian subcontinent. Her publications include several articles in Studies in History and the Indian Historical Review. UMA CHAKRAVARTI taught history at Miranda House, Delhi University, Delhi. She writes on issues of gender, caste, and labour. She has been associated with the women's movement and the movement for democratic rights and has published works on Buddhism and nineteenthcentury Maharashtra. Her current interests include the relationship between caste and gender and the formation of patriarchy in ancient India.
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Index Abbott. J ., 206n2 Abdullah Qutub Shah, 130 abhi~eko, 16, 24S, 2S I. See also Shivaji Abida Parveen, 220 Abul Kalam Azad, Maulana, 288-9, 291 acara, 63 acculturation, 180 Adi Granth, IS, 213, 214, 216, 218, 221, 222, 22S Adi Saiva Brihmar;ias, 179, 181 Advaita, 184, 199, 201 Advani, Mira Govind, 207n4 Afsurdah, 138 Aga Khan, 208n5 Ahalya, 68, 70 ahimsa, 179, 322 Ahmad, M., 291 Ahmed, R., 276, 291 Aitken, Robert, ISi, 160 Akbar, 278 Alam, Muzaffar, 290 alha, 141, 14ln8 Ali Adil Shah Sani Shahi, 130 Ali Muhammad Khan Burhanpuri, 130 Allchin, 8 ., 28n4 Allchin, F. R., 2S Alles, Greg, 13 Alvar poetry, I 7S Ambrose, Bishop, 306
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American Buddhism, authority to women in, I S8; and tbe issue of choice, 163--4 American Indian Movement, 155 Americanization, IS8 Amir Luclcilawi, 144 aMkantavada, 323 Anselm, St., 310 Appar, 177-84 passim, 193, 194 Aquinas, Thomas, 311 Arabic, 276, 289 Arghun Namah, 207n3 Aristotle, 318, 319 artha, 54. S7 Arthasastra, 10, S3,SS, SS-70 passim ' Arujnanti Sivllclrya, I 8S, 199 Arya Samaj, 216, 281, 284, 28S, 293 Aryanization, 174, 2SSn29 Ashraf, 129 Ashur-Khana, 133 Asvaghosha, 7606 Atharvaveda, 62. 63 Aurangabadi, 131 Aurangzeb, 248, 251 Awadhi, 129
Badrinath, Chaturvedi, 120, 121 Bahudantiputra, 57 Baideva Rana, 23S Baiqara, Sultan Mirza, 128 Baker, Richard, 151, IS7
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Blilljl Avlijl ChiJnis, 242n I Balin, Kuroda, I 5 I BaJlp, 237-8, 261-2, 263, 264, 266, 267 Banda Bahadur, 214, 223 'bar of separation', 17, 273, 279, 285-93 Bayley, S., 276 Beat movement, I 57 Becket, Thomas, 6-7n7 Bedil 211 Beglar Namah, 207n3 Bekas, 211 Bengal Puranas, 104 Bhagavad Gita, 107, 108, 21 ln8, 213, 221, 222nl3, 322, 324 Bhagavata Purana, 184 Bhai Govindram, 211 bhakti, 12, 14, 43nl7, 104n3, 112, 116, 120, 121, 123; AJ.vlir, 176; centres, 188, 189, 194; and dissent, 176; evolution of, 175, 176; hymns, 14, 175-82 passim, 192; ideal, 182; 199; movement, 105, 107n8, 108, 188, 238; Niyaniir, 176; and opposition to Buddhism and Jainism, 178, 182, 194; and Puranic religion, 175; saints, 179, 188, 192, 198n31; Tamil, 184; tradition, 117; vernacular, 187 Bharadvaja, 56, 57, 66 Bhattacharya, Ashutosh, l 23n20 Bhattacharya, Santwana, 87nl0 Bhosa!es, 15, 16, 237, 240, 249, 253; Khelojl, 262, 263, 264, 267; Mlilojl, 238, 249, 262, 263; Rijiirim, 238, 250n 17, 262, 263; Sambhijl, 238, 262, 263; Shlihji, 237, 238, 250, 262, 263 Bible, 162, 300n2, 301, 302-3n8, 303 Bon, 159
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Bonaparte, Napoleon, 308 Boucher, Sandy, IS6, 163, 166 Brahmadeva Rana, 23S bralunadeya, 14, 178, 179, 183, 186, 187, 194 Brlih~ism, protest against Vedic, 178; Purinic, 173; revival of, 173, 183; Vedic, 173 Brahmanization, 25Sn29 Brahmo Samaj, 216 Braj-bbasha, 129, 133, 13S, 137, 144 bride price, 7S, 76, 95 Buddha, 2, ISi, IS3, 324 Buddha' s Universal Church, 156 Buddhism, 9, 54, 104, 173, 174, 182, 183, 208; American, 13, 149-67; Chinese American, 1S3; 'engaged', 160, 166; gender bias in, 156; Mahayana, 104; male dominance in, IS7; Nichiren, 1S2; 'Presbyterian', l 59; and psychotherapy, 160, 166; Sabajiya, IOS; Shin, 1S8, 159, 160; in symbiosis with other religions, 1S9; Til>etan, lSI, IS9, 160; Zen, ISi, 159, 160 Buddhist Catechism, I 57 Buddhist Churches of America (BCA), 158, IS9 Buddhist Mission to North America (BMNA), IS8. Budick, S., ISSnS, 161- 2, 165 Bu.Ike, Father Kami!, 87nl0 Burton, Richard L., 206n2 Caitanya, 1OS, I 08 Callinicos, A. , l 13nl3 caivin, John, 303 Cambridge Buddhist Association, 151, 158 Campantar, 177, 181, 183, 184, 192, 193, 194 Candidasa, I OS, I 08 CankJmla NirrJkaratµUn, 200
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canon, meaning of, 191 n25 Cantisa, 181 caryageeti, I 04, I 05 caste system, 5, 189, 208, 238, 241 - 5 passim, 274-86 passim; as a tradition, 77, 85-6 Catholicism, 149, 300, 303, 312 Cekk~/ilr Purlb:lam, 201 C~kkillir, 182, 195, 197 Ceramiin Perumal, 181 Chachnamah, 206-7n3 Chakrabarti, Kuna!, 120 Chakravarti, Uma, 11 Champakalakshmi, R., 13-14, I I 3n 12 Chandler, Stuart, 153 Chattapadhyaya, B. D., 254 Chelidonius, Bishop, 307 Chhunnu Lal Dilgir, 140, 142 Chodron, Pema, 158, 160 Choudhary. Ashutosh, 113 Christendom, 305 Christianity, 9, 17, 157, 159, 180fn7, 226, 299, 301, 303, 306; and the attack on Hinduism. 279; and the attack on Islam, 279, 283; and its bureaucratic authority, 18; Eastern, 304-5; Hellenistic phase in, 302; institutionalization of, 301-5; Jewish, 302; · 'Latinization'of, 305; Oriental, 304; and relationship between Church and State, 305-41; Western, 304-5 Cidambara MahiJtmya, 200, 202 Cilappatikaram, 192 Clare Sangha, 161 Clark, D. L., 27n2 Coburn, Thomas, 87nl0 Code of Justinian, 307 Coleman, J. W., 152, 153, 158, 163, 165, 167 colonialism, 7, 307 Confucianism, I 59 Congar, Y. M. J., 301n4
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Coningham, R. A. E., 26 Constantine the Great, 303, 306 Corpus Juris Civills, 307 Cousens, H., 261n38 cult centres. 15, 176, 230-8 passim, 261 Cuntarar, 177, 181, 183, 193-6 D'Lima, Errol, 17-18 Dada Jashan, 225 Dada Ratanchand, 218, 220, 225 Dandekar, Ajay, IS, 16 Danielou, A., 54n2 Daoism. 159 Dargah Quli Khan Dargah, 130, 131, 132, 133 Daryapanthis, 227 Das, Kashiram, 107 Dasavatar, 208 Dasgupta, Madhusraba, 81n7 Daud, Mulla, 129 De Certeau, M., 102-3 de Man, Paul, 161 Deccani, 128, 131 Decree of Milan, 306 Deglurkar, G. 8., 261n39 Deh Majlis, 130 See also Rauzatus-Shohda de-individualization, 120 Deobandi sect. 276, 283, 284, 285, 287. 293 Deshpande, P., 250n 17 Devagaram, 192 Dhakal, Lasu Bapu, 118 dharma, 53-4, 63, 86. 93, 245; k~atriya, 81-2, 96; male, 85, 87; pativrata, 98; patnivrata, 98; patriarchal, 99; raja, 84, 96; transmission, 151, 152, 161; varnlisrama, 85, 243, 244, 268; wifely, 81 dharmashastras, 53, 54n2, 54-5, 120-1, 174, 178, 180, 243, 245, ·251, 253n25. 257-8
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Dhere, R. C., 16, 237, 238. 260. 262-4, 265. 266, 267 Dinakarabhatta, 257n34 Dinakarodyota. 257n34 Dirgha Carayana, 66 Divyaprabandham, 177 Donation of Constantine. 303-4 Doniger, W., 54n2 Dumont, L .• 287 Eck, D. L., 34 Eisenstadt, S. N., 150n2 Enlightenment, 299, 306, 314, 316, 317 Erdosy, G.• 27n2, 28. 32-3. 36 Eromiya-Lasalle, Hugo, 161 Experiments with Trwh, 325 Fairservis, W. A., 24 faith, 17, 18, 150, 314-15; content of, 318, 319, 320; and rational knowledge, 316; and reason, 18, 31 (}-24 passim; and science, 18 Fas ih, 142 Fatima Ali, I 28n I Fazat Ali Fazli, 134 Feldhaus, A., 261 n38, 262 Fields, Rick. 152 Firdausi, 127-8 First Testament, 302 · Foucault, Michel, 165 Fussman, G., 31 n5 Gaborieau, M., 288 Gada, 138 Gadamer, Hans-Georg, 317 Gadhiya, 66 Gagabhana. 242-9 passim, 253n25, 255, 257 Gampo Abbey, 158 Gan(larlditya, 18 1 Gandhi, M.K. , 2, 12, 18, 20, 119, 121-2, 313; cultural assimilation of, 323; and idealization of
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ancient traditions, 324; and the issue of faith and reason, 321-2, 324-5 Ganga Jagtiani, 220 Gautama, 68 Gelasius, Pope, 308 Ghamin, 133 ghafika, 186 Ghavasi, 130 Ghotamukha, 66 Ghulmi. 130 Giddens, A.. 1n I Gita Govinda, 105 Glassman, Bernard, 151. 156, 161 globalization. 314 Gnosticism, 30 I n3 Godse, Nathuram, 323 Goody. Jack. 109 Gordon, S ., 244n5 Graham, Dom Aelred, 161 Gratian, Emperor, 306 Great Traditions. 25, 28, 40, 174, 175, 274, 275, 277 Gross, Rita, 157. 166 Gupta, D., 113 Gurmukhi, 223 Guru Gobind Singh, 214, 223 Guru Granth Sahib, 212, 214nl0, 218, 221, 222nl3, 223, 224, 226 Gurvitch Georges, 3 Habib, I. , 251, 266 Haideri Begum, 139 Hanh, Thich Nhat, 160, 166 Hardy, P., 247 Han. G. L., 180n5 Hasan Maududi, Khwaja, 138 Hasan, Mir Darvesh, 132 Hasan, Mushirul, 292 Hashim Ali, 130 Hatim, 136. 137 Hazin, 133 Hazrat Ali, I 28n 1, 132 Heesterman, J.C.• 2, 245n7, 248nl3
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Heredia, Rudolf, 18. 19 hero-stones, 232, 236-7, 238 Hilary of Aries, 307. Hind Swaraj, 323 Hindavi, 129, 136 Hindu Mahasabha, 291 Hindu sufis, 212-20 passim Hinduism, 159, 172. 208, 211, 212, 221, 228, 25 I. 279, 322: pan-Indian. 223 Hinduization, 255, 255n29 Hindus, 16, 149, 216, 219; disempowennent in colonial period of, 279; and relationship with Muslims, 16-17, 272-8; and support within jatis, 281 Hindutva, 322 Hiranandani, P.. 207n4 Hiro Mahtani, 218 Hobsbawm, E.. I 50n2 humanization, 310 Hunter, Louise, I 58 Huntington, Samuel, 165 Husaini Brahmans, 144 lbn Batuta, 114 ideas, 2, 3, 4, 5, 18; attraction of, 165; and experience, 6; religious, 12 identity. alternate, 16; caste, 293. See also vama; Christian, 302; communal, 322; fonnation, 245; flux, 267; group, 254; integrative, 285; Islamic, 289; local, 16, 275; Mari\Jhii, 240, 252n23, 266; Mus lim, 283-4, 291; preferred, 289; and problems with immigration, 165; Rlljput, 16, 251, 253, 256, 258-9; religion responding to crises of, 165; religious, 16, 273, 276, 277, 279, 280, 285, 289, 290, 291, 293; Sindhi, 222, 226; social, 27; vama, 268; Yadava, 238 ideology, dominant, 104n3. 176, 182,
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186, 268; pastoral, 15; religious, 16; through bhakti, 176. See also bhakti Imam Hasan, 144 Imam Husain, 112, 28, 128nl, 129, I 39n7, 142, 144 Imam Qasim. 142 Imami, 130 lnden, Ronald, 245n7, 246 Indian National Congress, 289 individual, and the capacity for selftransfonnation, 12, 120, 123; and kannic theory, 121; oppositional models within the, 120: value placed on the, I 04 individualism, bhakti induced by, 121 ; and popular theism. 121 'lndo Gangetic Tradition', 27 'lndo-Gangetic Cultural Tradition', 10, 25~. 28, 29 Indus Valley Tradition, 27, 44 Insha, 138 Insight Meditation Society (IMS), 160, 163, 166 institutionalization, 299; of religion, 320. See also Christianity, Buddhism; and routinization, 320: through sacred texts, 275 institutions, 3, 4; Brahmanical, 186; evolution of, 5; of the khalsa, 214; mathas as, 197, 198, 199; monastic, 166; of mushaira, 137; patriarchal, 78-9. 99; persistance of, 4-5; of ritual singing, 192, 193-4, 197; of sadavrit, 225; Sikh religious, 207; Sindhi religious, 207; of Sufi pirs , 209; Theravada, 153, 156; tradition as a complex of ideas and, 2, 3, 8 Islam, 15, 206. 209, 212-19 passim, 273, 274n2, 279, 283, 293n8, 299: Sunni, 208 lslamization, 13, 282, 289 Ismaili movement, 208, 210
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Jainism, 54, 104, 173, 174, 182, 183 Jalaluddin, 106 Jamiat-i Ulama-i Hind, 293n8 Jansen, M., ~I . 43 Jasimuddin Moudud, H., I 05n3 Javed Ali Khan, 133 Jayadeva, I 05, I 08 Jayananda, 108 Jayasi, 129 Jesus Christ, 17, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303. 304. 309 Jhule Lal, 209, 213, 226, 227, 228 Jivakacintiimal)i, 195 Jizya, 208 Joshi, J. P., 42 Judaism, 149, 159, 299; American, 155 Julian, Emperor, 306 Kabat-Zinn, Jon, 160 Kabir, 292n7 Kalamukhas, 196, 197, 198; mathas, 198n31 Kale, D. V., 244n4 kama, 54, 61 Kamaliikarabha!IJI. 243n3, 257 Kamasutra, 10, 11, 53, 55, 58, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 66, 67,68, 69, 70 Kane, P. V., 54n2 Kal)l)appa, 181 Kapleau, Philip, 151- 2 Kiiraikkiil Ammaiyiir, 181 Karbal-Katha, 134 Karuviir Tevar, 181 Karve, I., 81 n7 Kashafi, Husain Waiz, 128 Kashani, Muhatshin, 128 kathakata, 107 Katyayana, 66 Kaunapadanta, 57 Kautilya, 54n2, 56, 58, 61, 65 Keluskar, K. A., 244n4 Kennedy, Roben E., 161 Kennett, Jiyu, 158
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Kenoyer, J.M., 27, 28, 44 Khalji, Balthtiyar, 106 Khan, Bismillah, 139 Khan, Mir Lutf Ali, 132-3 Khan, Sir Sayyid Ahmed, 282, 283 Khilafat movement, 289 kingship, patriarchal nonns of, 76 Kinjalka, 66 Kippenberg, Hans, 150 knowledge, 18, 314; method of, 315, 316 Koocenkan, 181 Kornfield, Jack, 160, 166, 167 Kosambi, D. D., 263 K6yil Pum,am, 200 Krishna, Bal, 250n 16 14atriyaization, 255n29 ~etra malultmyas, 264 Kubera, 66 Kuhn, Thomas, 317 Kulaccirai, 181 Kulke, H., 255n29 Kulottunga n, 195 Kulottunga Ill, 197 Kuiicillngristava, 200 Kwong, Jakusho, 151 Lakshmana Sena, I 06 Lal, 8. B., 25, 28n4, 37 Lal, M., 36 Lambrick, H. T., 206n2 Lateran Treaty, 309 Layman, Emma, 156, 159, 160 Lea, Dayna, 163, 164 Leach, Edmund, 109 Leo I, Pope, 307 Levi-Strauss, C., 104n2, 109 Lichtenstein, D. A., 24, 25, 'J.7, 29, 32 Lindholm, C., 292 Little Traditions, 25, 40, 174, 175, 274-5 Lord, A. B., l 13nl 3 Los Angeles Zen Centre, 157 Luther, Martin, 2, 17, 303
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INDEX Madan, T. N., 28~. 287 Mlidhava, 20 I, 202 Maewmi, Taizan, ISi, 157, 161 Mahabharata, 64. 65. 67, 74, 7Sfn5, 81n7, 107, 108, 260 mahiinubhiivija varimaya, 264 Mahendravannan I, 183 Ma.ijhan, 129 Malaviya. M. M., 323 Malkani, K. R., 207n4 man, 14 1, 14ln8 Manava Dhannasastra, 55 See also Manusmrti Mandapala, 67 Mandell, Jacqueline, 163 Mangalkavyas, I 07, l 08 Mal)ikkavlicakar, 177, 181 Manu, 56, 61, 66 Manusmrti, 10, 53, 58, 59, 60, 61 , 62. 63. 64, 69, 70 MaJaijiiiina Sambandar, 201 Marasi-i Rekhta, 131, 133 Marshall, I .. 37, 38, 41, 42 marsiya, 12- 13; at Awadh, 12, 137-44; early compositions in Hindavi, 129; emphasis on bravery and chivalry in, 135; meaning of, 127; multiple sources of inspiration for, 127; and Muharram observances, 12, 128, 131. 139-40; and origins in India, 12, 128-30; Persianization of Deccani, 130; spread to North India, 131 marsiya-waliyan, 139 Masud, Iqbal, 91 Mathurakavi, 178 Mawawyah, Yazeed ibn-i, 128nl McQuaide, Rosalie, 161 Mehrban Singh, 223 MeikkalJ!iir. 185. 199. 200 Menon, Jaya, 9, 10 Merton, Thomas, 161 Metcalf, Barbara, 209, 283, 287, 291
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337 Mines. Mattison, 291 Mir Abdullah, 133 Mir Anis, 143-4 Mir Dard, Khwaja, 137 Mir Hasan, 131 Mir Khafiq, 140-2 Mir Khurshid Ali Lucknawi, 144 Mir Nafis, 144 Mir Taqi Mir, 136, 137, 138 Mir Zamir, 140-1, 142 Mirchandani, B. D., 207n4 Mirza Bijapuri, 130 Mina Dabir, 143, 144 Mirza Ibrahim, 132 Mirza Mazhar Jan-i Janan, 136 Mirza Rafi Sauda, 134, 135. 137, 138 Miskeen, 133, 134, 135 Miyan Shori. 138 Miyan Sikandar, 134 moksha, 54, 326 Montanism, 301 Mughal, M. R., 34n I 0 Muhammad Nadim, 132, 133 Muhammad Salah, Mir, 130, 131 Muhammad Shah, 134 Muhammad Shibli Numani, 283 Muhammad, Prophet, 2, 128n I, 299 Muhammadi Begum, 139 Mukhopadhyay, Anindita, 11- 12 Munir Shikohabadi, 144 Muraqqa-i Dehli, 131, 137 Murdoch, Iris, 326 Murthy, M. L. K., 113nl2 Musahfi, 138, 141 mushaira, 137 Muslims, 16, 149, 216, 219; disaggregation among, 282; disempowennent in colonial period, 279-80, 283; and relationship with Hindus, 16-17. 272-8 myths, function of, 104; as merging with social reality, I04
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Nadir Shah, 136 Nagaswamy. R.. 181 Nahusa, 66 Namadeva, 108 Nambi Andar Nambi, 182. 188, 197 Nammli).vlir, 178 Nilnacampantar, 196 Nanak, Guru, 2, 209-1 0, 212-26 passim, 292n7 Nanakpanthis, 213, 216. 223. 226; Sindhi, 21S Nandy, Ashis, 323, 324 Nanhi Begum, 139 Naropa Institute, 1S7 Nasikh, 144 Nathism, 211 Nattier, Jan, 152 Nausirhar, 129 navalakh.as, 180 Nilvukkaracar, 196 Nazim Lucknawi, 138 Nazrul Islam, Kazi, 291, 292 New Testament, 17, 162 Nicholas, Pope, 306-7 Nimano Fakir, 212, 212n9, 213, 219, 220-1 Nimi, 66 niyoga, 67 Nizam ud-din Auliya, Shaikh, 113, 114 Numrich, Paul, 153 Nur Sai, 217 Nuri Granth, 221. 225 Nuri, 130 Nusarati, 130 O'Dea, Thomas, 320 O'Flaherty, W.. 108n9 objectivity, 316 Ogui, Sensei Koshin, 1S3 Ojha, Krittivasa, 11, 12, 106-9, 112, 117, 118 Olcott, H., 157 Ong, W.A., 109, 113nl3
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opposition, dyadic structure of good and bad, 117, 120; murual, 16, 273, 274, 275, 278 oral traditions, flei1ibility of, 109, 113; integration if tex!Ual aild, 103; moral and philosophical elements in, 102; as reflecting values of the present. 109; social demands on, 113 Pandey, G. C., I 99n33 Panikkar, R., 18, 318, 319, 326 Parasara, 56, 57 Parilntaka I, 183, 187. 194, 195 Parekh, Bhikhu, 322 Paripdfal, 175 Partition, 15, 17, 207, 212n9, 215, 216, 218. 221, 222, 223, 272, 273, 276, 293 Pasupata, 197, 198 patriarchy, 11, 63, 73, 76, 84n9, 99 Paul, 17, 300n2, 302 Pausluua Bh4$JO, 200 P~riyaPuratUUn, 181, 195, 197 Persian, 13, 127. 128, 130, 131 , 133, 135. 136, 137. 226, 251. · 276, 289, 292n7 'Persianization', 130, 137 phalasru1i, 192 Phillips, P., 23 Phule, Jotiba, 266 pilgrimage, 178, 193, 210, 287; centres, 281 Piran de Pir Datta Dastagir Badshah, 218 Pisuna, 56, 57,65, 66 Pius IX, 309 Polloclc, Sheldon, 74n2, 75, 76n6 polygamy, 75, 95 Popper, Karl, 316 Possehl, G. L., 25, 35n 11 Prebish, Charles, S., 158, 159 primogeniture, 74-5, 76, 78 Protestantism, 149, 157, 301
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339
INDEX
Prthu,66 Puranas, 107, 108, 221 puma swaraj, 322, 324 purusarthas, 54 Pushp, P. N., 87nl0 Qais, 130 Qalandar Hazrat Sai Qutab Ali Shah, Sufi, 211, 212 Qasim, 130 Qazim. 130 Queen, Christopher S., 160 Qulli Qutub Shah, 129 Qureshi, I. H. , 282ns 3, 4, 288 Qutban, 129 Rag Darpan, 131 Raghavan, V., 72n I Rajadhiraja II, 197 Rajaraja I, 181, 182, 188, 190, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196 Rijasimha, 183, 186, 190 Rijendra I, 188, 195 Rajputization, 254, 255n29, 257, 265 Ramacaritamanasa, 97, 99 Ramakrishna Mission, 281 Ramanama, 109, Ill, 112, 119, 121, 122; kirtan, 108 Ramananda, 108 Ramanuja, 184, 188, 195, 199, 201 Ramanujan, A. K., 87n I 0 Ramayana, 11-12, 64, 65, 222nl3; Adhyatma, 105, 108, 109; Adikanda, 108; Ayodhyal«inda, 75, 76, 77; Balal«inda, 77; Bengali, 106; Jain, 87; Sagar, 72, 73, 89-100; Saptal«inda, 106; Tulasi, 94, 324; Uttaral«inda, 79, 83, 85, 88, 89, 96, 98; Vahniki, 72, 73-89. 95, 97 Ramcandradeva Yadava, 234, 235 Rangarajan, L. R. , 54n2 Ranjit Singh, Maharaja, 215
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Rao, Velucheri Narayana, 87nl0 Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), 279, 291 raso, 141, 141n8 Ratnagar. S., 29, 37, 39, 43 Rauzatus-Shohda, 128, 130, 131, 132 Rawlinson, A., 151 reason, 18, 19, 310, 319. 320; and fundamentalism, 311; meaning of, 315 Reddy, Snehlata, 92 Redfield, Robert, 25 Reformation, 30 I , 303 Rekhta, 133, 136, 137 Renaissance, 303 Richardson, Janet, 161 Richman, P., 72n I Rinpoche, Chogyam Trungpa, 157 Rochaldas, Dr, 211-12, 218, 220 Rochester Zen Centre, 151 root-paradigms, 113, 116, 118, 188 Roy, Kumkum, 10, 75n3 Roy, M. N., 291 Roy, T. N., 43 Saberwal, Satish, 16-17 Sachal Sarmast, 211 Sadhu Vaswani Mission, 225 Sadi, 127-8 Sadruddin, Pir, 208 Sagar, Ramanand, 11, 73, 89, 90, 92-100 passim. See also ' Ramayana Sahidulla, Maulavi, 114 Sai Nasir Fakir, 211, 217 Sai Roshan Ali Shah, 212 Saiva Jogis, 209, 210 salal«i-purusas, 181 SQ//'ISlciiras, 246, 253n25 San Francisco Zen Centre, 151 , 157 sanathan dhanna, 322 Sangari, Kumkum, 75ns3,4, 84n9 , Sankara, 184, 199, 201, 202; mathas, 199, 201
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340 Sanskrit, 182, 185, 199,,226, 242, 244, 255, 267 Sanskritization, 104, 174, 255n29, 289; second, 199 sanr sahirya, 264 sanr, meaning of, 103 Saptavifan/ca sthaJas, 181 Saraswati, Dayanand, 323 Sarkar, J., 244n4, 251 Sarraut, Nathalie, 162 Sarvadarsana Sangraha, 201. 202 sastra, 55, 67 Satakami Satavahana, 68 Sataratna Sangraha, 200 sarsang, 15 sarya, 18. See also truth satyagraha, 322 Savarkar, V. D., 322, 323 Siyana, 202 Schalanger, S. H., 31 n7 Seager, Richard, 152 Seal, Anil, 282 sedentarization, 265, 267 Sen, D. C., 114 Sen, M.akhan Lal, 74n2 Sen, Nabaneeta Dev, 87nl0 Sen, S ., 105n6, 106n7, 107n8 Settar, S., 262n41 Seva Bijapuri, 130 Shaffer, J. G., 2~. 25-9, 32, 34-6 Shah Abdul Latif, 211 Shah Jahin, 251 Shah Quli Khan Shahi, 130, 131 Sh.ahab Sarmadee, I 38n6 Shanna, A. K., 41 Shasta Abbey, 158 Sheikh Farid, 114-15 Sherrill, M., l 57n6 Shi'ism, 128 Shils. E., l , 23, I 50n2, 205-6, 214, 227 Shinto, 159 Shivaji, abhiselca of, 16, 240--52 passim, 258, 259, 260, 268; and
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legitimacy, 15, 237, 238, 247-52, 267-8; origins of, 16, 237-8, 240, 260-6; rise of, 237 shuddhi campaign, 284 Siddh.arlha Gautama, 153 See Buddha Sikhism, 9, 15, 205, 210, 213, 214-16, 219. 221, 223, 225, 227, 279 Singh, K. S., 254 Singhana I, 237, 261 Sinha, N., 253n26, 254 Sirajuddin Ali Khan Ar7l00, 136, 138 Si(Qyana, 11, 81-9, 90, 100 Skilton, A., 105n5 Smirta Brt.hrna1.1as, 179 Smith, 8 . K., 54n2 Smith, David, I 80n6, 200n34, 20 I smrti, 63, 66, 173, l74n3 socialization, primary, 287, 289-90; secondary, 289 Soen, Nakagawa, 151 Soka Gakkai, 152 Soka Gakkai International (SOI), 166 Somiskanda, 190; concept of, 187 Sonoma Mountain Zen Centre, 151 Sontheimer, G., 263 Sorley, H. T ., 206n2 Soto, 160 Soz Khwani, 138-9, 140 space, shared, 16, 273, 274, 275-6, 278, 280, 285. 292. 293 Spirit rock Centre, 160 Srinivas, M. N., 2S5n29 Srisivariijiibhisii/caprayoga, 244 ' Stivai~r;iavism, 184, 200, 202 sruti, 62, 63, 173; 184 Stein, 8 ., 254n28 stereotyping, 286, 287-9, 291, 292 Sthala Mahatmyas, 202 s thala purd!µJs, 264 structure, 6, 27, 44 Stuart, Maureen. 151, 158 Sudas, 66
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341
INDEX
Sadradharmodyota, 258 Sadrakamaldlwra, 257
Sufism, 15, 105, 209-13, 217-21. 225, 227; importance of the dargah in, 209; khalifas in, 211-12; Naqshbandi order in, 209; as part of the shared space, 275, 276; Qadri order in, 209; Suhrawari order in, 209, 211 Sultan, Shaikh, 132, 133 sutra, 55 Suzuki, D. T., 156 Suzuki, Hoichi, 151 Suzuki, Shunryu, 151, 157 Swadeshi movement, 288 Syed Mir Ali, 138, 140 Tagore, Rabindranath, 12, 117-18, 119, 123, 325 Tahmasp. Shah, 128 Tanaka, Kenneth, 158 tantra, 63 Tarikh Maasumi, 206-7n3 Tarkhan Namah, 207n3 Taungpulu Kaba Aye Monastery, 156 Taylor, Mark, 165 Tendzin, Ozel, 157 Tertullian, 313 Tevaram, 177, 187-200 passim Thaira Singh, Sant Baba, 215, 222, 223 Thakran, R. C., 36 Thakur, U. T., 207 Thapan, Anita Raina, 13, 14-15 Thapar. R., 7, 250nl8, 254, 260n37 Theodosius I, 306 Theodosius n, 307 Tilak, 8. G., 323 Tillich, Paul, 318 Tirumankai, 181 Tirumantiram, 182 Tirilmular, 182, 200 Tirumurai, 191, 192, 193, 195-6 Tirumurai lw1.11a purlit.tam, 196, 20 I
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TirumuruklJ.rruppafai, 175
Tirunijaipp{lvlir, 181 Tirunlivukkaracar, 178 See Appar Tiruppanalvar, 178 Tiruppatiyam, 195 Tiruttontar Tiruvantati, 181 Tirut101.11a110/wi, 181, 195 Tollwppiyam, 177 Tontaratippoti, 178 Topaz Relocation Centre, 158 tradition, aesthetic, 19; Agamic, 172, 190; and agency of participants, 2, 6-8, 12, 16, 23; alternative, I 00; anonymous, IO; appeals to, 8, 54, 56-70; arc~aeological, 9, 23; artistic, 161; authenticity of, 17-18, 300, 301, 303-4, 305, 309; as authority, 13, 154-5, 156, 161, 163; of azadari, 144; . benefits of, 164-65; bardic, 141 ; bhakti, 117, 185, 188, 198, 201; Brahmanical, 15, 172, 173, 175, 281, 284; break in, 139; as . burden, 13, 154, 155, 156-8, 161, 163; canonical, 198, 305; Catholic, 300-4, 305; choices within, 8, 13, 163-4, 166-7, 284; Christian, 17, 299-312; coalescing, 15, 180; configuration of, 8; contesting of, I0, 61, 300; context of, 66; as continuity, 23, 24, 26-8, 34, 45, 304; courtesanal, 59; craft, 28; creation of, I; cultural, 24, 25, 26-7, 27n2, 281, 304, 320; and culture, 150, 154; 'cumulative', 150; custodians of, 8; defiance of; 7n8; defining, 23, 149, 150n2, 153, 161, 163-4, 166, 167; dictatorial tendencies of, 163, 165; and discontinuity. 304: dominant, I00, 158-9, 175; duration of, 30; epic, 58, 66, 68, 187; evolution of, 13-14; as
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INDEX
fleii:ible. 2, 13. 191; folk, I OS, 106. 109, 134. 137, 172. 190, 264; gender bias in, IS6; Harappan. 2S, 29; hegemonic. I S4; hermeneutic, 317; as heterogeneous. 9, I I. 24, 4S; high, 72. 73; Hindu, 18, 172; historicity of, 7; hymnal. I 4, I 88, 200; and ideas, 2, 3. 8; and importance of temporal processes, I S4; and institutions, 2, 3, 8; of integration, 27S; interactions of, 2. 8, IS3. 211-14. 218, 219-20, 224. 225-6. 227, 234, 284; invented, I SOn2; involvement of the State with, 234-6; Iranian, 12, 127; Iranian poetic, 13, 129; Islamic, 127, 283, 291; katha, 134; literary. 107, 131, 161; living, 28n4, 112, 119; local, 104, 17S, 190, 20S, 260, 262; maintenance of, 30; mixing, ISS, 160; and modernity, 18, ISS, 161, 163; multiple, 8, 13, 73, 89, 100, 122, 127, IS3, IS4, ISS; multiple sources of, 303-4; Nath, 214nl0, 226; nature of, I, 2-4; non-Brahmanical, S4; non-sastric, 69; as opportunity, 13, IS4, IS9--01, 163; Or.ii, 12, 16, 29, 93, 102-9 passim, 113, 117, 118, 127, 134, 141. 193, 2 IS, 23 I, 232, 238; pan-Sindhi, 210; pastoral, 230, 231-2; patriarchal, IS8; patrilineal, 77; philosophical, 188; pluralism of, 13. 172, 300, 311-12 See multiple; and political intervention, 30; popular, 99; pre-Christian, 30 I; as a precondition for freedom, 161, 162, 163-4, 167; as problem, 13, 15'4, ISS. IS8-9, 161, 163; Protestant. 303; Puranic, 6S, 67,
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68, 173, 174, 187; Ra~yana, 72. 76, lOS; of rebellious poell)', IOS; received, 9, 176; reconstitution of, SS; recorded, 44; recycling of, 12; redefining, 2, 8, 11; reinforcing of, 30; religious, 4, 9, 12, 13-17, 18, 19, 20, 103, 149, 17S, 180, 201, 202, 219, 22S, 227, 259, 274, 276, 283. 28S, 290, 292n7, 299, 300, 301, 302, 304, 310-11, 320, 321, 323; revealed, 62; reworking of, 9. 10. 30, 166. 191. 324; Rinzai, lSl, 160; Riti, 144; ritual, 77, 177; Sakta, 108, 117; Sanskrit. 177, 184; 'sant', 121; Sastric, S6. 6 I; scriptural, 28 I; sectarian, 198; Shin, 1S3; Siddhantic, 172; Sindhi, 217; social, 9, 29, 43; Sita, 72; Smarta, 174, 182, 185, I99; and social groups_. I 54; and social order, 30; as source, 4S; and stability, 30; stable, 77; Sufi, 12, 106, 113, I 16, 209-13, 21721, 225-8; Tamil Saiva, 13-14, 177. 182, 18S, 188, 200. 202; Tantric. 108; teii:tual. 10, 44, 103, 174, 180n7, 188, 191-9, 238, 284; theorizing. I SO, I S3-4; Ther.lvada, 156, 163; transmission of. I. 2, 3, 2S, 30, ISOn2, IS3, IS4, 206, 299, 301; unbroken, 9, 23, 28, 34; uncontested, 81; uniting, 44; Upanisadic, S8; Vaisnavite, 12, 108; Vedantic, I 72; Vedic, 62, 63, I 73. I 74, 182, I 84, I 8S; vernacular, 263, 266; vipassana, I S9, 160; Virasaiva, 202; Western, 282; woman-centred view of, 90; written, 16, IOS; Zen, 153; traditionalism, militant, I SS trivarga, S4
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INDEX
truth, 18, 266, 310. 314, 318. 321; search for, 313; self-evident. 290; and testimony, 315 Tuhfat-al Hind, 131 Tulasidasa, 95, 96. 97, 99, 108 Turner, Victor, 6n7 Tweed, Thomas. 157 Tworlcov, Helen, 151, 156 Ubhaya Vedanta, 184 Umapati Sivacarya. 185, 199, 200. 201 Upa Purlii:ias. 173 upakatha, 12, I 02-23 upanayana, 242, 244, 245, 246, 249, 253n25, 268 Urdu-i mu'alla, 131, 133, 282, 283, 289, 291; favouring of Hindi over, 283 Unama Cii!a. 188, 195 Uzlat, 130 Vaidya, C. V., 244n4 Vaisnavism. Gaudiya, I 08 Vajahi, 130 Vajpeyi, Ananya, 15, 16 Valentinian m, 307 Valmiki, 11, 12, 65, 72, 73, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 86, 87, 93, 95, 96. 105, 106, 108-9, 111, 112, 117 values, 19, 321; Christian, 307; tradition as supporting, 300 van der Veer, P., 7 Vanna, Supriya, 9, 10 vama system, 10, 178, 179, 257, 267. See also van;aasramadhanna, caste system van_liisramadhanna, 243, 244, 268 Vasistha, 67, 93
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Vaswani, Sadhu, 221. 225 Vatavyadhi, 57 Vatsyayana. 56, 59. 61 Van Buddhikaruna, 156 Vaudeville, Charlotte, I 03 Vellaivaranan, K., 181. 182nl2 Vellori, Vali, 130 Vena, 66, 67 violence, patriarchal, 80 Visalaksa, 56, 57 Visis.!(idvaita, 184, 201 Vi~1:1udharmottarapur4i;w. 243 Visvamitra, 66, 70 Visvesvarabhana. 242. See Gagabhatta vivliha, 242, 246, 253n25. 268 Wahshi, 133 Wajid Ali Shah. King, 139 Waliullah, 283 Wat Thai, 153, 156 Wans. Alan, 156 Weber, M., Int, 317, 319, 320 Wheeler, M., 41-2 White Plum Sangha, 151n3, 161 Willey, G. R., 23 Wittgenstein, L., 32 I Yadavaization, 234, 237, 238 yaduvarriJi, 260 Yajur Veda, 185 Yamada, Koun, 15 I Yasutani, Haku'un, 151, 152 Yusufuddin, Pir. 209 'Zen Catholicism', 16-6 I Zen Shin Sangha, 153 Zwingli, Ulrich, 303
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