It is often said that Indian civilisation has no sense of history. This is true, only if we understand history as a particular method of recording events of the past, invented by Herodotus in Ancient Greece. (Let us ignore for the moment that historical facts recorded by the Ancient Greeks include descriptions of giant gold digging ants and humans with ears so large that they can wrap their entire bodies in them, to stay warm at night.)
History as a method of recording facts about the past, however, is and always has been a flawed endeavour. There are two problems: first, our inability to transcend the limits of time and space – no matter what the historian claims one cannot look into the past; no matter how authentic a source seems, an observer cannot see beyond his immediate surroundings. The second problem is equally human: we are all prone to bias.
So, what does it really mean to have a sense of history? A seemingly sensible method for recording dubious facts. Or, an understanding of why things happen. One we cannot do, the other only a few of us can. As inheritors of the Indian civilisational heritage we are lucky to have quite a few of these remarkable people in our past.
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One of the most contentious historical debates in our public sphere is about the Mughal era. This debate is so intense, at times so acrimonious that it seems to be tearing us apart. I would say this is because of the way we are looking at the Mughal era. We are looking at individuals, instances and actions. This is a very, very narrow frame for understanding history. Rather than individual character analysis – which is bound to turn up flawed individuals because all human being are, in essence, flawed – let us look at what it meant for Indian civilisation.
For this let us turn to one of the greatest visionaries of Indian civilisation, Baba Nanak. Most of us would know that Guru Nanak was a contemporary of Babur, few would know that he was witness to the destruction caused by Babur’s invasions. In the deeply moving hymn known as the Baburvaani, Guru Nanak hearkens to God – asking him how He, the all powerful, could allow the Mughal, messenger of death to destroy Khurasan (Afghanistan) and Hindustan, about why a powerful man could at whim destroy the weaker around him, and the Master (God) do nothing to protect them. The Baburvaani seems almost like an admonition to God, until Nanak exclaims – ‘You yourself unite, You yourself separate; I gaze upon Your Glorious Greatness.’
What is the relevance of the Baburvaani to our discussion? The interpretation of the hymn guides us towards understanding, making sense of the darkest, most difficult periods in history. In theological terms, the moving force of history is the will (hukam) of God, so whatever happens in history is an unfolding of divine will. In scientific terms, we might understand this as a serial multitude of causes and effects, beyond human control.
An ‘invasion’ is almost like a natural force, whom do you blame for it? Leo Tolstoy reached a similar conclusion about Napoleon’s invasions across Europe. Napoleon was not some ‘great soul’ who remade history, as the German philosopher Georg W. Hegel saw him, he was the consequence of a churn from below, a figurehead who was created by the collective energies of the people who lived in the age.
So, this is a vision for understanding history that comes from our past. Rather than looking at the characters of people, of individuals who were, in the end inconsequential, what does an era of invasions actually mean, in a deeper sense. Why does death and destruction happen – because in the words of the Baburvaani it is a ‘separation’, that makes possible a new ‘unity’.
Again, do not look at individuals. Look at the forces from below. The greatest symbol of the unity that came from the Mughal era was Guru Nanak himself. In Baba Nanak, the Bhakti and Sufi traditions that were creating a churn in Indian society reached their apogee – the emergence of a new path, recognisable even to the simplest minds, but altogether new, even perhaps radical.
The two ‘oceans’ of Ancient Indian thought and spiritual Islam, as Dara Shukhoh put it, were uniting in the Mughal Empire. But, in fact, it was not two oceans, but hundreds of seas, hundreds of traditions, that began to merge, create new philosophies, cultures and identities. The philosophy of Guru Nanak emerged as a ‘vessel’ to cut across these churning waters. A new path, a Panth that offered a different way to reach the divine – the ‘land’ across the waters of maya.
The churning of philosophies is a process that continues, especially as we grapple with the much wider world of globalised modernity, and to understand that, we must understand our past. Like I said, these are the questions we must come to terms with to rebuild what might seem to broken. But the breaking, is only the beginning of the remaking
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In the previous section, I attempted a discussion of a philosophy of history by referring to Guru Nanak’s Baburvani. I wrote that in my understanding the Baburvani seems almost like an admonition to God, a complaint.
This until, Nanak exclaims – ‘You yourself unite, You yourself separate; I gaze upon Your Glorious Greatness.’
From this, we can derive an understanding of history. Of why, as in a classic theological question, bad things happen to good people. And what can we do about it.
In this section I will explore how this simple statement from Guru Nanak forms a ‘bedrock’ on which later Sikh society – the Sangat – and even the idea of the Sikh polity – the Khalsa – develops.
Now, in the face of the unfolding of brutal history, what can a ‘normal’ powerless human being do? God, who is ‘nirbhau/nirvair’ – beyond human values and one who does not take sides – in a sense, ‘allows’ history to happen, because He will not intervene in human affairs. At least, that is what the Baburvaani initially implies. But if we look closer, He has intervened, and He has done so through Guru Nanak.
The mere fact that Guru Nanak expresses this nature of God, is a Revelation that has two consequences.
One, we must not expect someone to come and save us. Two, we must do so ourselves. And the way, the passage through this churn, will be shown to us, only if we know whom to ask. (The Guru.)
From here, the basic elements of Sikh society begin to develop. In the face of historical forces, to protect ourselves against it, we must look within, for faith to understand our predicament, and we must look outside, at our neighbours who are all facing the same consequences. So, through faith and through association with neighbours, the Sangat (community) begins to develop. And the one is no longer alone to face the wrath of history.
In Sikh theology, the ten gurus and then the Adi Granth, form a continuing line of revelation (light). This idea of the Sangat that looks after its members, faces up to the forces of history, develops in time, into the Khalsa – which not only protects against the tides of destruction, but has the power to reverse them.
So, the lament in the initial verses in the Baburvani is also answered by the realisation in the end. History is a force – that breaks society and social order, but it can also be tamed to create a new form of society, and new social orders that are just, founded on and empowered by Dharma.
In a deeper sense then, God is not completely absent in the face of human suffering. Suffering is a forge, to make the ‘weak’ and the ‘helpless’ who looks for help from the outside, strong enough, to find strength within.
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Applying theological concepts as frames of reference to politics is always fraught with the threat of confusing the reader. Most people have their own interpretations of their theologies, and writing about things that people hold dear can seem like an imposition. In extreme cases, even an assault on feelings, sensibilities.
So, when discussing such matters, it is best we proceed through a dialogue. In this section, I will engage with another one of Guru Nanak’s verses, on the nature of Kaliyuga, or the Indian conception of the Dark Ages. Unlike the European one, this Dark Age is ongoing. Or is it?
Nanak evokes:
“Kal kati raje kasai dharma pankh kar uddarya,
(In the Darkness, Kings are Butchers, Dharma/Righteousness has taken flight)
Kood amawas sach chandrama deese nahi keh chadya,
(In the rising darkness, the Moon of truth has not risen)
Hau bhal vikhuni hoyi, aadheer raah na koi,
(There seems to be no solution, no way out)
Vich haume kar dukh royi, kaho nanak kin bidh gat hoyi
(Ridden with Ego, we cry out in pain. O’ Nanak, how shall we be redeemed!)”
(SGGS,p145)
In two previous sections I discussed – one, how human suffering might actually be the unfolding of ‘divine will’ that destroys the current order to make way for a new world;and, two, how rather than expecting help from outside, Nanak lays out a path for humanity to find strength in itself, and change the course of history.
We see then, that there is a deep logic unfolding.
Kaliyuga, or the darkness, emerges from ‘false kings’, who rule society without adhering to ‘Dharam’ – or Righteousness. So, ‘a-Dharam’, or unrighteousness, flows from the top, i.e. the king, and causes suffering all the way down, i.e. to the lives of common people.
In this rising tide of a-Dharam, what common people can do, is create new communities, that do not pay obeisance to the a-Dharmic ‘false kings’, but only take command (hukam), from the true source of Dharma, i.e. God. It should be noted that ‘God’ in Sikhi is also referred to as ‘Saccha Padshah’ – the True King.
Now, if we look at the entire chain of thought, from the logic of history, to the falsity of earthly kings, to the idea that new communities should be founded that owe allegiance only to the ‘Saccha Padshah’ – we see a radical trend emerging. This trend reaches its logical conclusion in the Tenth Guru, Gobind Singh Singh – who in consolidating the Sangat of Nanak into the Khalsa (more on this later) actually proclaims that sovereign authority will now rest in the Khalsa, who will owe no allegiance to any earthly king but the One True King.
If we were to look at this from a Western lens, we could, logically, call this the beginning of Republicanism! And since the Khalsa is to make decisions on the basis of majority decision and consensus, we could even call this Democratic Republicanism. But that is again a superficial understanding – although not an insignificant one.
The Khalsa is a collective and and individual. Through the Agency of the Gurus – from the hapless individual of Babur’s age, the Khalsa is now transformed into one who adheres to Dharma in his personal life and endeavours (through right action, the pen, the sword or honest trade) to create a Sangat founded on Dharma. The decisions of such a one, taken as part of the collective, must ultimately reflect the will of the age. Just as a fallen age, in which falseness ruled, produced false Kings like Babur, a Sangat that owes allegiance to Saccha Padshah should produce more just leaders. It is worthy to keep in mind that the individual matters less, the collective will empowers even flawed individuals to produce right action.
(These ideas need to be tested by examining Sikh leadership through history. An exercise which must be conducted at another time.)
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The word Guru is often interpreted as ‘one who leads from Darkness to Light’. We see this in action, not just interpretation. Guru Nanak was referred to, by a Sikh intellectual, as ‘one who has come to vanquish darkness’.
satigur naanak pragaTiaa miTee dhu(n)dh jag chaanan hoaa|
With the emergence of the true Guru Nanak, the mist cleared and the light scattered all around.
jiau kar sooraj nikaliaa taare chhap a(n)dher paloaa|
As if the sun rose and the stars disappeared. The darkness was dispelled.
One could interpret this from a spiritual sense. But also, as I have been discussing, from a socio-political sense.
The true end of Kaliyuga will come with both the spiritual and the socio-political end of darkness, i.e. the consequences of being ruled by ‘false’, a-Dharmic leaders. We are still a long way to go, but we have a path to follow.
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This text has come to take the shape of a conversation, a collection of thoughts rather than a structured essay. I can still remember how deeply I was moved – still am – when I first heard a recital of Baburvaani. Beyond the beauty of the word (bani), or inspired by it, contemplation on meaning is a crucial part of Sikh practice and philosophy.
If we understand history as the unfolding of Hukam, it is perhaps incumbent upon as also to look at human history, in all its shame and glory, as something we are both subject to and moulders of. Responsibility of action – karma – is essential. But this also raises a question – to what extent does free will exist in a world that is ultimately governed by Hukam? This question demands an entire discussion – so I will leave this here for the reader to decide.
But I hope we can move forward from here. In the modern era, society demands a separation of the personal and the public sphere. Religion, especially in secular societies, is more or less a personal affair. Scholarly engagement with different scriptures, texts and traditions however offers us an opportunity to bring together themes from different aspects of our existence – and let them have a dialogue with each other in the silent, solitary chambers of the mind.
This is but one such attempt. I hope the reader finds something worth contemplating on in my words.
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Indeed, the piece is worth pause and contemplation. Nicely done!