Sindhu

A very long time ago atop a snow covered mountain in Tibet, a tiny drop of water broke out. That tiny drop was followed by another. Then another. Then another. It took thousands of years for the trickle of drops to become a stream. But that’s just a heartbeat on the geological time scale. The gentle stream changed its course over the millennia, slowly finding its path into the Arabian Sea. It went through an excelsis duo of topography and landscape to finally find its way into the ocean at the other end of the subcontinent.

Five thousand years ago when civilization was still an experiment, agriculture was just starting to begin, when man had no love for land, had no concept of property, and had not hierarchized himself by the rich and the poor, some tribe found this rapid stream and decided to rest. Humans arrived in this part of the world braving through dense forests of Africa and arid deserts of Arabia and finally laid the foundations of modern society. Maybe they felt attracted to it. Maybe they were unable to build a bridge. Maybe the leader drank a bit of the water and proclaimed it as the mother. We cannot be too specific about history. Sure there were other rivers further on. More hospitable ones. Ones that flowed through plains rather than the treacherous mountains. But it would take some centuries for man to venture that far ahead. For now, he was content with this dank river valley. And he held some of the water up in his palm and let it flow in the gentle breeze naming it for the first time – “Sindhu”.

For centuries to come, people from all over the world would come and as is with the case with long history, a number of stories would be written on the banks of this river. Stories of love and loss and birth and death and joy and sorrow and war and peace. Every new accent would name the river, its people, and its lands in a new way. Sindhu would be names as Hendu (Iranians), Sinda (Assyrians), Ab-e-sind (Persians), Indos (Greeks), Indus (Romans), Abasind (Afghans), Al-Sind (Arabs), Sintow (Chinese), and Santri (Javanese). The lands on the other side of this river and its people would be named for the river – Indians from the other side of the Indus. It was on the banks of this river that every story about this great subcontinent, flanked by the ocean and the mountains on either side, would be written. It is somewhat ironic that the beginning of India was laid in what later came to be Pakistan. Ironic, because the foundation of Pakistan was laid in India.

But I don’t think we ever identified ourselves as “Indians” or “Hindustaanis”. You only name yourself when you wish to be separated from what is not you. India was given its name by those who were not Indians. First the Mughals gave the land on the other side of the Hendu as Hindustaan and then the British with their funny accents would call us Indians.

I have often argued that Hinduism lacks the basic characteristics of a religion. Hinduism is not a religion per say but a common culture shared by the residents of the Indian sub-continent over thousands of years of existence. In effect, it is more of a Geological concept than a theological one. It was not until the struggle for independence in the mid-19^th century that the common culture was unified with common symbols to fight a common enemy that “Hinduism” emerged as a united culture of the people. But if Hinduism was ever to have a starting point in history, it would be on the banks of the river from which it derives its name.

Language, culture, history, music, economics, astronomy, legends of mighty Gods, were first created on the banks of this river. In the beginning, man gave no form or feature to his Gods. Gods were not divine beings who took human form to undertake the tasks like fighting wars and cleansing evil from society. Gods were more approachable and not subject to calls from learned priests who knew special chants and hymns to summon them. Gods were found in nature and provided nourishment. The ancients found their Gods in thunder and soil and fire and air. But the first Gods my people had come to revere was their river. “Mother” they used to call it. Maata. Sindhu Maata. The nourishing force of life which allowed them to settle and organize themselves. Which brought them to salvation from the desert and gave them crops and fruits and bounty to build homes. Sindhu allowed my ancestors to leave the nomadic lives and caves and tame their environment and move to higher goals of life. Sindhu allowed us to take a step forward in exploration and survival and thus was born the Indus Valley Civilization. From there we see temples and symbols of worship to their mother river. The timeless religion. Over the course of the centuries the symbols would give way to complex texts and rituals. And we would try to control and dirty the mother river and her sisters further along the plains. But for then, for the first time, Indians had found home – India.

In the 21^st century, my people have the utmost reverence for Ganga. It is the river laying the boundary of India at the north and flowing through the country irrigating much of the fertile lands. However, I have largely been unable to see the Ganga as the mother river. No matter which part of the country I visited it, it felt murk and dirty. The more revered the place, the more people pollute the Ganga with symbols of their devotion. On 1^st October 2017, I had the opportunity to visit the Indus, still quite far from the where it is born in the mountains. But close enough for it to be not polluted by the needs of the modern society it helped shape. I walked up to the shores and picked up the water in my palm. Then with the breeze, I slowly let it go. With it, slowed the ages of stories that had been shaped by it. For man has forgotten his past in the flow of time and everything keeps flowing without care of the past. But every now and then, we must look back and see if we show our past enough respect. Maybe they are the glaciers that keeps us flowing. And maybe before it’s too late, our time will melt away. Maybe Indus has too many responsibilities for man to think if his mother has been overworked now. But in that moment on that cold Kashmiri day, in my palm I remembered what my ancestors had revered for ages – Sindhu Maata.

Hinduism

I have long prided myself on being an “atheist Hindu” without ever going into the details of what that means. Hinduism, with 1.15 billion adherents is the 3^rd major belief system in the world after Christianity and Islam. However, the unique feature of Hinduism lies in the lack of a central prophet figure. In essence, Hinduism has never been a “religion” per say. A religion is defined as “the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God or gods.” Hinduism has refused to identify that superhuman controlling power. The varieties of Hinduism might be as numerous as the adherent themselves. It is possible to find two Hindus who will not agree on anything pertaining to their common religion. Yet both will identify themselves as Hindus. What gave rise to such a conundrum?

Hinduism has existed since ancient times when humanity was not divided by the invisible lines of religion. Unlike the Abrahamic religions, Hindus never viewed themselves as anything separate from another race. Mainly because the exposure to other races was limited to trade. Hindus fought few wars and living with outsiders was unheard of until the Mughal invasion in the 16^th century. In fact, Hindus had never identified themselves as “Hindus”. It was the outsiders who named us. And unlike other religions, Hinduism derives its etymology from the Indus River the Persians had to cross to reach India for the spice trade. Hindus were simply people living on the other side of Sindhu, as the Indus was known back then. Hinduism has been more of a geographical notion than a theological one.

It was not until the Indian independence movement in the 19^th century that the concept of Hinduism as a religion would emerge. To fight the British there was a need of a national identity. And few things would unite the people as a common religion. So the freedom fighters of that time carefully carved out the common practices amongst the vast multitudes of people on the mainland and told them that they came from a common history and were to have a common goal. Evolution of a religion needed religious symbology. Something which all the people could agree upon and identify with. And thus the concept of cow worship was born. The cow was the central figure that would unite India and give it its image in the coming centuries. The cow seemed like an appropriate choice. The white skin gave an impression of purity. The cow was a provider of both food and milk. It tilled the soil, and had a general motherly feeling attached to it. But till now, I had not been convinced that Hinduism had any relevance left in the modern era apart from being a cultural relic of a time when traders had to cross a river and Britishers had to be swayed away. In the 21^st century, the mantras and rituals did not make sense to me. What is the point of Hinduism? Or so I thought till I took a visit outside India.

Only when I ventured out of the homeland, I realized that the rituals that have come up as a part of the Hindu traditions made a lot of sense in different aspects of Indian life. Somehow we mingled the unique topology of the country with human needs and the result was certain practices which naturally came to be a part of Hinduism. In that sense, Hinduism has been a very absorbing religion. While other religions have set out their laws and commandments and sought to convert those who disagreed; Hinduism has done quite the opposite. Given the nature of its creation, Hinduism sought to absorb the various cultures it came in contact with. While it changed no one, people of India came to identify themselves as Hindus simply because they weren’t required to change anything. In fact, the religion incorporated their practices.

To give you an example of this, in 2013 I visited the Sheshan Observatory in Shanghai. Now Shanghai city is next to the East China Sea and as observatories go, Sheshan is at the top of a hill. Needless to say, it was a long and enduring climb. Born and brought up in a Hindu household, and having visited Vaishnoevi temple thrice in my life, I found it hard to resist shouting out “Jai Maata Di” while on those Chinese steps. It was not just a way of growing up. It was about giving yourself the strength to climb. It’s about knowing that you’re not alone on the climb. Of course most people on the Vaishno Devi trek make those chants without any such thoughts. They just look to praise the Goddess. But they do not realize that it is these prayers which gives them the strength to make the climb. Perhaps that is what happened in ancient India. People in the Indus Valley would go through mountains together in search of food or shelter. And while traversing through a particularly difficult mountain pass they’d shout out in the name of their Gods. And everyone would join them. And this would make the climb easier. The landscape manifested itself to a practice, the practice became a cultural norm, which eventually became a religious symbol.

Another thing I noticed in China was a fondness for incense sticks. They don’t use it for worshiping, though they might have in the past. They just like to incense smell. On the other hand, incense sticks are a big part of Hindu prayer rituals. And it was strange for me to see them being used in a non-religious setting. But perhaps that’s how it started. Hindus discovered this amazing stick which gave off a pleasant smell as it burnt slowly, and decided to put it in their homes. The appropriate place to put it seemed to be close to their idols. It didn’t matter where you put it really, the smell would spread through the house. But over the centuries incense became a religious symbol rather than decorative art. They were no longer utility tools but pious offerings. And they continue to be.

The practices of Hinduism might have come from ancient times too obscure for our generation. But they come from practical applications of the needs of the people of this land. Of course some practices are too obscure and need to be abolished. And it is extremely difficult when such changes are to be implemented. But they become all the more easy if we remember that Hinduism has been more of a practice of reason than religion. Our symbols emerged from a need of common goals. We need not divide ourselves to keep up the symbology. Hinduism is a living religion and is subject to change. Whenever such change is necessary and restricted, conflicts will arise. And I hope we shall be able to take those challenges with the central idea of Hinduism – we are all in this together.