It troubles me to see the hate spewed indiscriminately on all Jews everywhere. The targeted attacks on them painfully bring back memories of the Pahalgam massacre. I have never supported Hamas, which the Palestinians have kept in power since 2007, and fully collude with, as we saw on October 7. I was horrified by the widely reported views of a senior founding member of Hamas, Mahmoud al-Zahar, in 2023, that “Israel is only the first target. The entire planet will be under our law.” He meant that the goal of Hamas was that Islam would rule the world, crushing other faiths. As an Indian, I cannot support those who hold such views. So, please understand, I am not against Muslims en masse, but against this stated goal of Hamas.
My experience with Jewish people has always been pleasant, right from childhood. My school in Bombay was run by a dashing Jewish lady, Sophie Kelly, and I recall seeing the palm hut for the Sukkot festival put up each year on her big balcony. I had Jewish classmates when I lived in Kochi, and my mother had Jewish friends. I was invited to Passover Seder in Delhi. I grew up admiring Jewish people for their brilliance and work ethic.
Despite endless persecution, they excelled in medicine, agriculture and technology, won more Nobels than most for advancing human knowledge and produced some of the most uplifting music the world has ever heard. Scholar David Shulman of Hebrew University, Jerusalem, pulled off a civilisational coup in 2016 with his book, Tamil: A Biography.
I greatly respect Jews for holding on to their faith through the most discouraging circumstances. Their god may seem stern to some, while I may have “too many graven images”, as Roy, a Jewish doctor in London, half-seriously told me in 1997 over lunch. However, we both knew that three Jewish communities found a safe haven amid Hindu statuary, and the perception of India among Jews changed over time.
The first Jewish-Hindu summit was held in India in 2007. The second was in Jerusalem in 2008, resulting in a joint declaration by the Chief Rabbinate of Israel, led by the Chief Rabbi, Shear Yeshuv Cohen and the Hindu Dharmacharya Sabha led by Swami Dayanand Saraswati: “The participants reaffirmed their commitment to deepening this bilateral relationship predicated on the recognition of One Supreme Being, Creator and Guide of the Cosmos; shared values and similar historical experiences”.
Further, they “recognised that the One Supreme Being, both in its formless and manifest aspects, has been worshipped by Hindus over the millennia. This does not mean that Hindus worship ‘gods’ and ‘idols’. The Hindu relates to only the One Supreme Being when he/she prays to a particular manifestation.”
They noted, “The Swastika is an ancient and greatly auspicious symbol of the Hindu tradition. It is inscribed on Hindu temples, ritual altars, entrances and even account books. A distorted version of this sacred symbol was misappropriated by the Third Reich in Germany and abused as an emblem under which heinous crimes were perpetrated against humanity, particularly the Jewish people. The participants recognise that this symbol is, and has been sacred to Hindus for millennia, long before its misappropriation.”
This changed perception came home to me when on a diplomatic assignment in Bangkok in 2009. The apartment across the landing from mine was leased to the Israeli embassy, then occupied by a young couple.
Our friendship began over the swastika. I had a painted clay one from a Delhi roadside potter that I wanted to hang outside my door. Then it struck me I had Jewish neighbours. Given the evil history of the distorted Nazi swastika, what would they feel each time they opened their door? What terrible pain about the Holocaust would come back? What if their own relatives had perished in it back then?
So, I rang their bell that evening, swastika in hand, and introduced myself as their new neighbour. They promptly invited me in, and I showed them the swastika. “It’s an auspicious symbol for me since I’m Hindu, but I wanted to know if you’d mind,” I said. “If you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t hang it outside.” But they were perfectly sweet about it. “We know the real swastika. We’ll tell our visitors, too,” they assured me.
“I was posted in Delhi,” disclosed the husband. “We enjoyed Indian food there,” smiled the wife. “My favourite was raj kachori,” added the husband, which set me laughing because it’s as particular a North Indian snack as it can get. They insisted I stay for tea, and the next day, my little swastika hung cheerily outside my front door, a welcoming symbol of home. It gladdened my heart every day when I came back.
And so, we became good neighbours. They kindly invited me to dinner. Another time, their two small children, a girl and a boy, held my hands and took me
on a tour of each floor in our building to see Halloween decorations. I was invited to events by the Israeli embassy and had a good time in bright, genial company.
When Diwali arrived, I was surprised to find a small parcel outside my door. It turned out to be Israeli halvah, a creamy log tasting of sesame. There was a card with it that said ‘Happy Diwali’. I was touched that strangers from another faith had done this. They moved away, and we lost contact. But I hope and pray they are alive and well. There are times I loathe all religion for the misery it causes.
Renuka Narayanan | FAITHLINE | Senior journalist
(Views are personal)
(shebaba09@gmail.com)