When they hate your God

Sedition: noun /sɪˈdɪʃn/ [uncountable](formal) The use of words or actions that are intended to encourage people to oppose a government

Source: Oxford English dictionary

The reason why I have started with a definition sourced from the Oxford dictionary is to showcase the symbolism of the source itself. The University of Oxford is believed to be established around the year 1096 and is understood to be one of the oldest surviving universities in the English-speaking world and I have aspired to be a part of it at one point in life. That dream is still not dead. Even when the student left of the institution is alleged to be institutionally antisemitic as per news reports [Source: The guardian].  It is an institution older than the archaic section 124 A (sedition) of the Indian Penal Code which is still mischievously providing ammo to issues that are hollow as an empty barrel; fueling fires that need not be stoked. Apparently, the word “Sedition” does not occur in Section 124-A of the Indian Penal Code or in the Defense of India Rule. It is only found as a marginal note to Section 124-A, and is not an operative part of the section but merely provides the name by which the crime defined in the section will be known. [Source: Dr Ram Manohar Lohiya National Law University, Lucknow] 

I am a proud Indian despite all that angers me about this nation. It angers me that after surviving on the same piece of land for 69 years, despite our differing cultural preferences, religious inclinations and ideologies, we can show no respect or tolerance to a thought that does not match ours. Thoughts change. Beliefs change. Change is the fuel that helps evolve a nation instead of intolerance and rising insecurity. Indisputably, open fearless dialogue should steer this change… but so should respect and tolerance. The confidence in thoughts and ideologies is imperative in debate for conviction, provided it doesn’t turn into arrogance. I doubt my nation’s knowledge and awareness on the multitude of cultures, traditions or even religions which have thrived and died in this country (beyond what is officially recognized) and I don’t blame them for that. The officially recognized religions and cultures in India form a rigid knowledge spectrum that limits a citizen’s awareness of anything that exists beyond it.  We still have citizens who can’t differentiate between Tamil Nadu and Kerala, leave alone the cultural difference between the two states. The North East is still a mystery, in terms of its myriad cultures and tribes, to a lion's share of the nation. A niggling few might be aware of the struggles of civilians in Pakistan occupied Kashmir, while governments try to distract the nation, neck below. They can still not be blamed for their lack of awareness. However, curiosity is a far better reaction to areas beyond our comprehension, than medieval resistance and rigidity. Witch burning never killed evils, just gave birth to more.

India’s culture is not homogeneously distributed but it is not our Achilles’ heel. We are not weak enough to get incited by mere chants of inanity. Then how is this insecurity getting triggered? My brain sometimes starts spinning conspiracy theories around a greater agenda on the ruling party’s mind to probably deviate us from bigger issues. But when I look at the reckless handling of raging issues, I can only see insecurity and the helplessness at curbing a turmoil. What follows is desperation at proving your side and defending your stand.

Kanhaiya and Rohith are just talk points in the larger picture. They are vehicles for ideas and thoughts that can exist within India and can drive evolution in thought. These cases are not targeted at a particular government, but the society that eventually forms the four pillars of a democracy. These cases are opportunities for society to realize flaws in its thought process, direction and foundation. Kanhaiya and Rohith are citizens of India and were entitled to every right that an Indian citizen is entitled to. When defenders and facilitators of justice resort to blatant physical and vocal violence with an intensity which is garbed in patriotism for defence, it raises some grave questions. A society bound by words and laws defining a feeling shall never learn of it. A country trying to define patriotism shall never experience it. The debate needs to rise higher than religion and casteism. The dialogue should make every citizen of the country question their love for the country and how one defines himself/herself to belong to a country. Do we even want to belong to one country in the age of global citizenship? Because… honestly, it makes me sick; all this injustice in the name of nationalism.

In the end, quoting Charles de Gaulle to capture what could be a better debate in the country at the moment.  

“Patriotism is when love of your own people comes first; nationalism, when hate for people other than your own comes first.” 

Let's be Grown Ups

Being adult about things in life can open a chapter of perceptions. People change. Situations change. There are highs and then the terrible lows. The lows that kick you in the shins and point and laugh at you. For some, being adult could mean sucking it up, making a few reforms and marching ahead with a remodeled brain. For some others, it could mean submitting and accepting a side that they were unaware of. For the other brilliant ones, it’s just a billing period for the fabulous high right before they touched the point of no return (or so they would think).

Being mature probably means not placing trust without a bargain. It probably means how to weigh your words before speaking your heart out. It could also mean having a new secret compartment in your cupboard for your favourite stuffed toy that’s too old to sleep next to you in your bed now. So, how does one really “grow up”? Who does that to you? What makes it the most crucial part of your survival? When did it hit you like a million rocks tightly packed in a jute bag across your pretty face? Did you bleed (no pun intended!)? Did it hurt like a thousand sharp swords skewering your ribcage slicing the guts and choking the life out of you? And was it all worth it? The pain is almost physical and out comes a neatly laundered ‘You’. Ironed and dry till you face some more dirt. After that begins another laundering process and then another and so on… till you wear out.

It’s a brilliant place to be. Being Adult. You finally know it all. You are so sure. Nothing can dupe you into believing anymore. You’re not a cynic. You just don’t give in that easily. You wear your wounds on your sleeve and flaunt your worry lines. The frequent cackling laughter has been replaced by an occasional smirk and wandering eyes. Your towering confidence is reeking of insecurities. And the face now wears a brilliant porcelain mask painted with wisdom. You always have a lot to offer to the 'still innocent' with a disclaimer, “You’ll know with time”. There is a published book of theories you hold in your hands with definitions written across a hundred pages. The pride you take in the pain. The pleasure you take in the tears you shed. You love it! The sweet masochistic pleasure. If that’s not called being grown up, then I don’t know what is.