Hijabs in Udupi

 It is amazing how news of a certain type suddenly blows up.  

A couple of weeks ago, in a hot, humid coastal South Indian town called Udupi, schools finally reopened after the long Covid break. Most students and teachers seemed relieved to be back - except at Government Pre-University College, Kundapura. 

Out of over 590 students studying at this school, about six muslim girls out of 75 decided that they would not adhere to the normal school uniform, and instead wear the hijab. The school objected and stopped these students from entering its premises, and within a few days this became national and international news!

Suddenly everybody seemed to be hyperventilating about the constitutional rights of minorities, and alleged oppression by the Hindu Right. Prominent 'thought leaders' on the social media claimed that 'traditional dress', fundamental rights and cultural identifies were being trampled. 

I have had numerous muslim classmates in Hyderabad and Thiruvananthapuram, and I never saw them in school wearing hijabs. Coming to think of it, I was not even sure of the various grades of this outfit - the hijab, chador, niqab and burka -  until a few weeks ago. And now it turns out that the students who are insisting on wearing a hijab are actually wearing a much more conservative (and regressive) covering - the niqab.

Having travelled widely in that area since the 1980s I can vouch for the fact that the hijab was rarely seen in the southern states until very recently. The traditional dress worn by girls of all religions here has been the ones that are suitable for the local climate - long skirts/pavada and blouse, or light cotton sarees. 

Why has it suddenly become necessary for a small section of people to demand an exemption for long-standing rules? Was this a deliberate attempt to provoke a reaction? 

Amongst all the discussion and debates I have come across so far, this one from "India This Week" seemed closest to ground realities.  

Unlike the shrill debates you see on the TV channels, often dominated by extremists of all hues, this one offers the unique perspective of educated muslim women who have themselves been working for years to increase the literacy levels amongst the poorest sections of the society. 

It is a pity that sane voices like these are getting drowned out. 

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LINKS & REFERENCES

* Islamic Dress Post - https://vintageindianclothing.com/2015/04/20/the-islamic-dress-post/

* Muslim Style in South India - https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/2786886.pdf

* 900 Cannot Suffer Because of Six Students - https://www.indiatoday.in/india/story/hijab-row-udupi-govt-school-students-urge-management-to-start-classes-as-exams-near-1912725-2022-02-14

* Indian Girls are Fighting to Wear Hijab in College - https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-60079770

Apasmara and the Loss of Recollection

Representation of Siva as Nataraja, or the 'God of Dance', is supposed to be the acme of classical Indian sculpture. 

Having seen it hundreds of times, in temples, museums, and even government offices (there is fine specimen in the North Block), I have always been drawn to  its face. Composed and serene while engaged in callisthenics within a ring of fire, he seems rather cool about a little guy getting squashed underfoot. 

As children we had always been told that this was the demon of ignorance being trampled, and that the dance itself represented the three cyclic states of the cosmos - creation (srishti), preservation (sthithi) and destruction (samhara). All this highbrow symbolism has been beyond my comprehension, and I could only marvel at the sheer dedication, effort and patience that had gone into making each of these amazing Chola bronzes.

Today, my own veil of ignorance was lifted a bit - thanks to a tweet from @ARaganathan72 that let me to a remarkable article in the Swarajya magazine - "Nataraja and Epilepsy: An Interpretation of the Cosmic Dancer".

The author, Anand Venkatraman is a neuro-surgeon, no less, at the Harvard University. His focus is on the little man getting trampled by the Cosmic Dancer and who goes by names such as Apasmara and Muyalaka. AV goes into the etymology of 'Apasmara', translates it from Sanskrit as "Loss of Recollection". Apasmara is also the term for epilepsy which is one among the  eight 'Mahagada' or dreadful diseases in Ayurveda texts.

Pointing to the fact that the Aztecs and the ancient Greeks considered epilepsy a sacred disease, AV highlights the link between epilepsy and memory:

"Memory is what links our existence from second to second. Memory provides us with a sense of continuity, a perception of an enduring self, and gives meaning to what would otherwise be seemingly random events."

Inside our brains, epileptic fits emerge from the Temporal Lobes where memories are encoded, and the Hippocampus which is "ground zero for the intersection of mind and brain, of the environment and the organism, as memories are etched into its structure like a DVD". 

So the Nataraja reminds us to overcome our epileptic fits of forgetfulness, to reach out to the inner conciousness that unites us with the whole cosmos.

If 'Apasmara' has such a deep meaning, I now wonder what 'Muyalaka' means...also, why is the little demon doggedly holding on to a little snake?? 

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LINKS:
- Swaraj Article - "Nataraja and Epilepsy: An Interpretation of the Cosmic Dancer" - https://swarajyamag.com/ideas/the-nataraja-and-epilepsy-an-interpretation-of-the-cosmic-dancer
- On Apasmara / Muyalaka - https://www.yogapedia.com/definition/9098/apasmara

Wacziarg

How does one pronounce the name "Wacziarg"?

Three days ago, I noticed this name for the first time in an obituary. Francis Wacziarg was a French national who came to India in 1970. He, along with a friend, Aman Nath, were researching on wall frescoes for a book called The Painted Frescoes of Shekhavati when then chanced upon the Neemrana fort, on the outskirts of Delhi.

Over a period of two decades, this abandoned fort was transformed into a showpiece on how Indian heritage ought to be preserved and made profitable at the same time. It also became the flagship brand for a number of heritage hotels that followed.

Apart from Wacziarg's eye for detail, what set him apart from the usual property developers was his genuine interest in the locals. He was closely involved in honing their skills and developing their communities.

This is a pattern that is central to another foreigner's success story in India - John & William Bissel of FabIndia. A venture that started in 1960 now has 1,000-odd employees and 16 community-owned (aka supplier region companies - SRCs), employing over 86,000 artisans.

One day I hope to learn how to pronounce Wacziarg. Along the way, I also hope to learn why foreigners seem to be more successful when it comes to bringing out the best in our own arts and traditions...

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LINKS

- Sinha, Nidhi (2014): 'MORE INDIAN THAN ANY INDIAN', IE, 21 Feb, 2014, p29

- http://articles.economictimes.indiatimes.com/2012-11-02/news/34876181_1_fabindia-director-william-bissell-social-enterprise

A Doraemon Ektara

An Ektara is a single-sting intrument that has numerous variations in India. One that is commonly seen in rural North India is fashioned out of bamboo-sticks , a clay pot and some paper and is played like a violin.

One of the proponents of this Ektara, has been a permanent fixture at Dilli Haat for the past eight years, filling shopping arcades with melodies from the latest Indi-pop, and selling his wares out of a wicker basket. Yesterday, for the first time, I got a chance to listen to the man and the efforts of his family to make a living out of street-music.

Ram Bhaj Singh comes from a family of musicians from rural Panipat in Haryana. It was his uncle, an elderly gentleman frequently seen in a white turban and kurta-pyjama, who first ventured towards Dilli Haat and positioned himself outside the gates, amongst the vendors who cannot afford to pay a 'tax' to the local authorities. According to Singh, it was one of officials within Dilli Haat, a manager named Sridhar, who first gave him the opportunity to step within the gated complex.

The deal was simple and straightforward. For a payment of Rs.150 per day, he could sell his wares to the tourists and foodies who stepped into the Haat all day. Since he free to set differential pricing for foreign tourists and Indian customers, the word soon got around that he was making a killing. The sale of just one ektara to a foreigner was enough to pay the day's rent. The entire community of musicians then turned up at the Singh household in Panipat to negotiate a division of spoils.

A deal was negotiated. Eight musicians from the community would take turns to sell their wares throughout the day for the same daily rent. It continued to be an excellent arrangement for many years until 2010 when there was a change of guard at Dilli Haat and Sridhar's replacement decided to maximize revenue by increasing the rent from roving musicians from Rs.150 to Rs.350 per day.

Unwilling to shell out nearly Rs.50 per head, the community first stayed off the Haat for two months. When the new manager refused to relent, the entire community turned up at the residence of Shiela Dixit, the Chief Minister of Delhi. About twenty of them would wait for days with their ektara baskets until the CM's office relented and a telephone call went out to the Haat office. The old daily rent was to continue but, in exchange, the Singhs agreed to forego the differencial pricing strategy. Prices were fixed- Rs.50 for the small ektara and Rs. 100 for a bigger one.

So as to make up for the loss of foreign-tourist revenue, the Singhs now try to increase the sale-volumes by bringing in better designs; pitching in bits of of English and by brining in more contemporary designs aimed at the kids.

Topping this list of new designs was the current favorite on children's TV, Doraemon, and tune that topped the charts - Kolaveri Di.