While much work has
been done on exploring and exposing communalism in India, relatively little
attempt has been made to understand its conjoined twin, secularism. Is it
because communal forces outweigh secular ones? Or, is it because
communally-charged narratives make more compelling reading than the gentler
milder cameos that are seen as picturesque and quaint rather than hard-hitting
and gritty? Or, is it because, cynical and jaded as we are, we find it
difficult to expect words like syncretism, pluralism, tolerance, inter-faith
dialogue, to mean anything much as a lived reality?
Saba Naqvi, Political Editor
of Outlook, makes a valiant attempt
to hold on to her idealism and, in the process, pick clean the tangled skeins
of religion, politics and culture. Despite the nature of her work (she has been
covering the major political parties) which inevitably breeds cynicism, she
explains why it is important for her to believe in an India that is ‘tolerant
and safe for all communities, an India that synthesises identities instead of
atomising us all into a Hindu atom here, a Muslim particle there, a Christian
molecule some distance way, a Sikh on the periphery.’ Giving a glimpse into her
own mixed background – with a Shia Muslim father, a Protestant Christian mother
and her former husband a Hindu from Bengal – she writes:
‘This
is my offering in an age when Hindu majoritarianism is always raising its ugly
head, when Islamic puritanism is on the rise across the globe, and when issues
of identity still determine our politics.’
The product of several
years of journeying into the distant corners of India, In Good Faith brings together the many ‘little cultures’ that have
survived – sometimes on the margins of and sometimes cheek by jowl with – the
dominant ‘big tradition’. We are familiar with some that pop up as tokens of
ethnic chic in cultural festivals and melas: such as the Baul singers and the
qawwals, the Manganiyars and Chitrakars. But others are new and startling in
their combination of contraries: such as Bonbibi, a Muslim goddess in the
Sundarbans or the Sufi saint in the temple town of Trichy.
In Urdu literature,
there has always been a tradition of studding
abundant and vivid descriptions of composite culture into larger narratives. Many
Urdu writers have presented composite culture – referred to commonly as ganga-jamuni tehzeeb -- as an antidote
for communalism and other forms of sectarian strife. Naqvi takes us into obscure
nooks and crannies to show how widespread this tradition is, how many people have
created a space for themselves in the face of an orthodoxy that demands
exclusivity and unitarianism. What is more, these essays also show the
importance of culture in the daily lived lives of the Indian Muslims and, in
the practice of a myriad different rituals and mores, how far removed Indian
Islam is from the homogenous monolith of popular imagination.
In picking out the
secular thread in the fabric of modern India, Naqvi reminds us of the futility
of viewing religion and politics as adversaries. By drawing our attention to
those communities and traditions that have successfully countered
majoritarianism, she shows us that there is hope, yet. Like a candle in the
wind, her book tells us that a belief in pluralism and composite culture is
intrinsic to the Indian Muslim ethos. It is challenged day by day, yes, but is
not hopelessly eroded yet. The horrific communal violence of the partition, the
continuing communal clashes in the decades thereafter, the sense of besiegement
and alienation that came in its wake, events triggered by Assam and Kashmir or Ayodhya
and Gujarat challenge and occasionally weaken it. Its pattern – sometimes
muted, sometimes vibrant – can nevertheless be traced in the many little
cultural pockets that survive in the face of all odds. The warp of
religious-cultural pluralism and the woof of secularism weave a tapestry that
is as richly textured as it is sturdy. In compelling prose, Naqvi plucks these
little local pictures from the threat of obscurity and places them for a larger
viewership.
