The former has built a new Ram temple. What does the latter prefer?
Arvind Sharma Arvind Sharma | 12 Jan, 2024
(Illustration: Saurabh Singh)
SEVERAL YEARS AGO, a horrific case of rape occurred in Delhi involving a young woman identified by the honorific Nirbhaya, which ultimately took her life. At that time, Mohan Bhagwat, head of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), was much criticised for saying: “Rapes occur in India, not in Bharat.” Perhaps what he had in mind was the fact that, just at the time this incident occurred in Delhi, the Kumbh Mela was taking place in Prayag, also known as Allahabad. This event lasted for several months and was attended by more than 120 million pilgrims. Not a single case of rape, or even misbehaviour, was reported from this event.
If, therefore, Bhagwat’s statement is to be taken seriously, then what he was perhaps implying is that there is a certain mindset associated with the word India, and a certain mindset also associated with the word Bharat. And that, in terms of this mindset, events like rape were more likely to be committed by people with one mindset, than those with the other frame of mind.
All this, then, by way of saying that the debate about whether our country should be called India or Bharat may have a serious dimension to it. For instance, when we write a history of India, we usually write a history of India in terms of the foreign invasions to which it has been subjected, and in terms of the accounts available from foreign sources. When, however, we write a history of Bharat, we are more focused on the resistance offered to these foreign invasions, and we prioritise an account of India based on its own sources. This is not to imply that a history of India is wrong, and that a history of Bharat is right. Both the insider and the outsider may see the truth, and true understanding may arise at the point of intersection between the two.
The implications of the distinction between India and Bharat are not just historical, but also psychological in nature. When we think of our country as India, and write about its encounter with other cultures—such as the Greek, the Islamic, and the British—we tend to write about how these encounters may have contributed to making India the nation it is today. There is, however, a perspective implicit in this approach, that the solution to India’s problems is to be found not in India’s indigenous resources, but rather in the perspectives introduced by such cultures. For instance, if one thinks of democracy then one thinks of Western models of democracy, such as the British or American. The implication is that our own culture may not be able to provide us with the resources for solving our problems. When we talk of India as Bharat, however, we then seem to possess more confidence in the ability of India’s own cultural traditions to provide us with the answers to our questions. For instance, India too had its own form of democracy. Historians know that 16 major republics existed in India in the sixth century BCE, before the rise of the Magadha Empire. In fact, the Buddha himself came from one such republic. We know from Greek sources that Alexander had to defeat a number of republics in Afghanistan before he could march into India. Our knowledge of how these republics functioned would then be considered as useful a source for giving shape to democracy in India as the Western models. When we talk of India as Bharat, we have less hesitation in drawing upon India’s own early experience of democracy, and even of self-government, of which the evidence from Uttara Merur is a well-known example.
When we write a history of India, we usually write a history of India in terms of the foreign invasions to which it has been subjected. When, however, we write a history of Bharat, we are more focused on the resistance offered to these foreign invasions
This debate also has important implications for the relationship between the state and religion. Those who choose to refer to the country as India would tend to opt for the model of secularism as found in the West, as a solution to religious strife in India. However, to do so would be to overlook the fact that secularism in the West evolved as a solution to the problem of intersectarian strife among the various Christian sects. Those who would prefer to call India Bharat, however, might prefer to argue that the problem India faces is not so much intersectarian, as interreligious in nature. And the problem of reconciling the existence of several major religions within a country may be qualitatively different from reconciling the conflict between different sects, all of which subscribe to the same religion. The proper means to resolve differences in such a situation may not be represented by the word secularism, but by the word pluralism. There is a key difference between the two. Secularism tries to avoid the public sphere from being dominated by any one religion or ideology, by distancing the state from any religion or ideology. Pluralism tries to achieve the same effect by giving an equal place to all religions and ideologies in the public sphere.
Surprisingly, whether we choose to consider our country Bharat, rather than India, could have serious implications for our relations with other countries. For instance, Pandit Nehru chose to write The Discovery of India (1946), rather than of Bharat. For him then, India emerged in the modern world, in which a secular India confronted a communist China. Nehru handed over Tibet to China on a platter, as the prime minister of such an India. A prime minister of Bharat, however, would have been more aware of the deep spiritual significance of the Mansarovar Lake to Bharat, of the Buddhism of Tibet being derived from Bharat and not China, and the word ‘Tibet’ itself being related to the Sanskrit trivistipa. A prime minister of India could hand over Tibet to China. It is difficult to imagine a prime minister of Bharat doing so.
Nehru handed over Tibet to China as the prime minister of India. A prime minister of Bharat, however, would have been more aware of the deep spiritual significance of the Mansarovar lake to Bharat, of the Buddhism of Tibet being derived from Bharat
It is also worth noting, in conclusion, that the term India is perhaps subliminally associated with modernity, and Bharat with tradition. But this could be simplistic. On the one hand, students of Indology have learned to speak of the “modernity of tradition”. On the other, students of history have also identified the “tradition of modernity”. What one means by that is that the modern world has now been in existence for centuries, and may have developed its own traditions, and even dogmas. For instance, modern history tells us that when countries modernise, they tend to become imperialistic. Europe modernised and became an imperial power. Japan modernised and created its own empire. China is modernising and seems keen on reviving some kind of Han empire. This raises the question: Will India also become imperialistic once it modernises? Perhaps if we chose to refer to our country as Bharat rather than India, it may be able to resist this temptation. India tries to modernise Hinduism; Bharat Hinduises modernity.
Small wonder then that Bharat will rebuild a temple at the birthplace of Lord Rama in Ayodhya; India would prefer to let the Babri mosque stand.
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