Before putting the responsibility at the doorstep of the backwardness of mindsets, why does not the state at least look after its own institutions,
As for culture, it is much better to harness it rather than curse it. and that process would begin with humility and understanding. If people don’t want toilets that badly, there must be a good reason. And it certainly isn’t because of blind faith in temples.
The attitude of the Federal Territories minister to a sacred Hindu spot hit a raw nerve among other politicians and the head of the Malaysia Hindu Sangam, who responded strongly today.
They questioned if Tengku Adnan knew enough about Hinduism to make comments on what is a shrine or a temple and on the Sri Muneswarar Kaliyaman Temple, in particular.
As is his wont Datuk Seri Tengku Adnan Tengku Mansor has sparked off a debate by saying something provocative. His statement about there being more temples than toilets in the country has sparked off a controversy, the best and perhaps only way to get conversation about any subject going in MalaysiaThe protests come from the ,The Malaysia Hindu Sangam, that sees in his statement, an attack on faith, and its more extreme and uninhibited partners the MIC youth chief, an Indian opposition politician and a lawyer took the minister to task. which rail against the marking out of temples as against mosques and churches, claiming religious discrimination.
“This is a ridiculous statement by the minister. We are the victims here. We are not the trouble-causers,” Mohan responded.
“I have written a letter to Tengku Adnan on this matter and I am hoping for a speedy response,”
So we do have some conversation around the important subject of sanitation and public hygiene, but not surprisingly, it is the wrong one. The issue is not one of respect for all religions as Datuk Seri Tengku Adnan ’s hurried statement indicates, but the need for setting priorities correctly in terms of progress. The use of temples specifically to make this point comes from a demographic rather than political perspective; it merely reflects the fact that there are many more temples because there are many more Hindus inMalaysia. if anything, it serves to conflate the majority community with the nation, something that happens quite routinely in the way we begin any public function with a Saraswati vandana or with the lighting of a puja lamp for instance. At that time, there are no complaints of discrimination, are there?
Datuk Seri Tengku Adnan Tengku Mansor stepped into a minefield when he “downgraded” a century-old Hindu temple into a shrine and then pointedly asked why the authorities “always had problems with temples and not churches, mosques or Chinese temples”
Tengku Adnan told reporters today that the Hindu temple in Kuala Lumpur’s Golden Triangle in Jalan P. Ramlee has always been a shrine and not a temple.
“I know what a temple and shrine is all about. I am also a pious man. I pray. I would not want to break something which people pray to,” he had said.
The temple sits on reserve land meant for roads or walkways and the Kuala Lumpur City Hall had wanted to claim back some eight feet of land.
This was resisted by scores of worshippers who rushed to protect the temple, raising the temperature in Malaysia’s religious landscape and pitting the ruling Barisan Nasional government against politicians from its own coalition.
Tengku Adnan said the ministry will be upgrading the temple into a tourist attraction and look into gazetting the land where the “shrine” sits.
He had also said the temple, which he insisted be called a “shrine” from now on, will not be given the entire land on which it is currently situated.
“The allocation will be only for the size of a shrine as we would need the rest of the space… the whole land belongs to us and we need to build a drainage system and carry out other necessary construction work.”
Observing a recent religious ritual, one was struck by how much of the prayer had to do with individual desire. One didn’t know what exactly the shlokas being recited by the priest meant in Sanskrit, but going by the translation offered, it seemed as if the prayer was nothing but a laundry list of petulant and very specific demands. For health, wealth, success in business ventures, opportunities to travel abroad, the demand for male children and the fervent hope that one’s enemies and ill wishers meet with a variety of inauspicious and altogether unhappy accidents. In short, under the garb of holiness and piety, what was being transacted was a shoddy deal between man and God, with one’s belief in the divine being bartered for some material goodies.
This seems to tie in with the beatific halo of commercialism that seems to hang over the serene countenance of religion these days. Television channels are full of products claiming to be divine ‘yantras’ that offer a variety of precise interventions in our lives, and come with the hallowed testimony of several has-been film and television stars. And the commercial angle does not stop at hawking products that matter-of-factly drain out the milk of human blindness. Over the last couple of years, some Hindi news channel have brought to us several exposes involving many religious gurus, the latest one being the reports on Nirmal Baba. In most of these, the picture painted of the leaders in question is deeply unspiritual, with allegations ranging from fraudulently exploiting religious sentiment for personal material gain, enabling money laundering to sexual misconduct. The themes of material exploitation, sexually predatory behaviour and narrow minded chauvinism resulting in hate crimes of all hues, ranging from selective violence to acts of mass murder and terrorism recur across geography and different religions. Of course, this is hardly the whole picture when it comes to religion, but it is a sufficiently prominent aspect of it for us to take notice.
What has changed is the nature of religious practice rather than belief in religion for it continues to enjoy a pre-eminent position in the life of most people in the world. In India, the coming of economic reform and relative affluence has strengthened religion rather than weaken it, and the evidence is all around us. Television channels devoted to building the brands of individual gurus, religious festivals have become the site of legitimised consumption, and even the Janlok Pal movement needed their support to mobilise numbers. In a more everyday sense too, religious rituals continue to be an integral part of our lives, with temples being full, particularly at exam time.
It is not as if personal prayer that seeks divine blessings for one’s well being is a product of today alone, for have grown up on stories of various devotees who perform impossible feats of penance in order to win vardaans which they then use to wreak havoc on the humankind. In a more everyday sense, prayer has been an instrument of improbable hope, as human beings try to reverse the unequal relationship they have with arbitrary circumstance with a concentration of hope and a spectacle of surrender. Prayer is simultaneously a peremptory demand and a submissive entreaty, full of narcissistic magnification as well as servile diminution. Traditionally, the two parts of prayer were kept apart, at least on the surface. One was expected to surrender unquestioningly and become part of a larger collective before the right to ask for anything in return was granted. Increasingly, now the submission is put into the background by the demand; the prayer itself is contingent on results. Prayer is now a transcated vector, pointing unambiguously in the direction of desire, undeterred by its scale and improbability. One interesting site in which this shift can be seen is in the frequency and tenor of the Hindi film bhajan. The lyrics of the devotional songs have strikingly moved from being selfless paeans to a larger nameless God (Allah Tero Naam, Tu Pyaar Ka Saagar Hai, Ham ko man ki shakti dena, Tora Man Darpan kehlaye and many others) that had larger collective goals in to highly specific demands being made of individual deities in the later films. If in earlier times, the emphasis was on self-improvement and unconditional surrender, we see a more demanding relationship in evidence today. Of course, the larger reality is that the filmi bhajan is rarely seen on screens nowadays; it is not that easy to shoot it on a beach against the backdrop of slithering thighs. Even in everyday life, particularly in the north, the filmi bhajan one hears at the local jagran is likely to be set to the tune of Munni Badnaam Hui rather than a more traditional melody. The idea that the religious intent expressed loosely makes its content irrelevant seems to be the dominant one on display. The gap between professed religiosity and practised humanity seems to be growing wider.
As a result, the social utility of religion has diminished significantly. Religion is seen instead as a personal technology of progress that has all the trappings of a good deal, a remote control that can be pointed anywhere at any time. The power of religion to unite diverse groups under its umbrella and to make human beings rise above themselves has been an important aspect of religious practice. Today, we rarely see concerted efforts to mobilise groups around larger social causes without the effort descending into some sort of commercial enterprise. The business of religion is lucrative in part because what is being sought from religion is changing. We want our gods in our pocket, ready to be brandished whenever opportunity strikes.
The reason for what appear to be a warped set of priorities is easy to attribute to faith. According to this worldview, the backward are responsible for their own backwardness as they choose to enmesh themselves in superstition and faith. They refuse to uncoil themselves from their misery because of ignorance; only education, discipline and the robust application of technology can improve their lot. The temple becomes the implicit polar opposite of progress; the reason why the poor are not repelled by their own poverty. The ‘dirtiness’ of rural life causes offence at a visceral level; a primitive distaste that is presented as an objective prescription of the modern; a campaign that progressive forces carry out against the dark forces of irrationality and blind faith.
Looked at from the perspective of the village dweller, this very rationality might throw up a different outcome. If rationality were to translate into allocating incremental resources behind incremental utility, then it is clear that a mobile phone changes one’s life dramatically by offering utility of a transformative and unsubstitutable kind whereas a toilet merely upgrades an existing practice. The long-term benefits are neither visible nor immediately palpable. Given that the larger state of hygiene is no better, not only in their immediate surroundings, but even in the institutions of the state that they have access to, not even in government offices or clinics, the perceived cost of not building a toilet is not significant. From an urban perspective, utility is calculated by the loss of hygiene and convenience which is both tangible and significant, which is why it evokes a sense of horror.
