A Hindu Blasphemy Law

THE NEED FOR A SOCIAL BLASPHEMY LAW

Madhu Kishwar’s article “Not Just a Matter of Freedom of Speech” posted in the Times of India Blog sometime back [on March 11, 2013], brought to mind an incident that occurred in Kumbakonam, in Tamil Nadu. An event had been organized to commemorate the birth anniversary of the town’s most famous son, the mathematical prodigy, Srinivasa Ramanujan. After several Tamil mathematicians had spoken obscurely and at length about several mathematical discoveries, Professor Ramaswamy Sastri rose to give his concluding presidential remarks. The great man was dressed as ever in a crisp white dhoti and a silk angavastram that covered his shoulders. A vaishnavite namam covered almost all of his high shaven forehead while a long tuft of grey hair was knotted neatly at the back. Wooden foot-boards adorned his feet.

After briefly praising the previous speakers, without failing to point out the errors in their presentation, the great man looked around at his audience and heaved a great sigh.

‘We are here to remember and praise a great mathematician, who was the greatest amongst us,’ he said, ‘but we all continue to do his memory a great wrong!’

People gasped in disbelief and looked sternly at each other.

Professor Sastri continued. ‘You still do not realize the harm we do to his memory, do you? Recollect. All his photographs show him dressed in Western clothes – in a suit! We follow the Westerners in denying his Indian, his Tamil, his Brahmin heritage! What? Did he go to bed here in Kumbakonam in a Western suit?’

There was a roar of anger, and a few shouts of ‘Shame!’

Young Prasad Kumar, the secretary of the local mathematical association, stood up in agitation. ‘But – but – Sir, these are the pictures we have…’he started.

‘Burn them!’ said Professor Sastri grandly. ‘Every time I see our revered Ramanujan dressed like that it hurts my sentiments as a Tamil Brahmin mathematician. Not only should we destroy such photos, we should file a case in the Supreme Court against all who will publish such pictures!’

A murmur of assent ran through the hall.

‘Our friends in Pakistan have a blasphemy law,’ continued the professor. ‘They have one or two mathematicians in that country who can write a half-decent paper. We should emulate their example and bring in a Social Blasphemy Law under which it would be a crime to portray the great Ramanujan wearing Western clothes.’

Vigorous clapping followed this pronouncement. Nilakantan, a young lecturer who wished to make his mark with the high dignitaries of his discipline, stood up stern and proud.

‘The Supreme Court should award such malefactors a minimum of seven years hard labour,’ he said.

Professor Sastri smiled indulgently at him but shook his head. ‘What is seven years for such rascals who wish to defame our culture? They will continue to write from jail. No, they must get the maximum punishment possible.’

A loud gasp rent the air. ‘Capital punishment,’ someone whispered in the silence that followed. Professor Sastri beamed. ‘Summary execution,’ said someone else emboldened. ‘Summary justice,’ said Professor Sastri softly.

Maulana Imtiaz Hussain rose slowly to his feet. He was much respected in the community for supporting the government on all occasions. The younger members of the audience were hopeful that some ingenious methods of torture might be suggested, but they were to be disappointed

‘Mahatma Gandhiji’s example should be followed,’ said the Maulana, while those around looked glumly at their feet. ‘Gandhiji followed mauna vrat, he would not speak, on certain days. The Trappist monks, our Christian brothers of the book, also take a vow of silence, and I believe the Tibetan Buddhist Lamas also practice limiting speech to the minimum. Why, Hindu rishis,’ went on the Maulana warming to his theme, ‘left home and town and went away to the Himalayas so that they may not have to speak to anyone.’

‘How many days shall we practice mauna vrat, Maulana Saheb?’ asked Father Emmanuel, interested.

‘There is no need for any of us to speak at all,’ said the Maulana softly.

A pregnant silence followed this statement. Then loud applause broke out, only to peter away in doubt whether applause was the right action to take.

‘Silence may be followed by applause,’ approved Professor Sastri.

After this happy resolution of any lingering doubt, the group melted away without wishing each other good night.

This piece of fiction could easily become factual reportage very soon in this blessed country.