New republic of inclusive majoritarianism

India does not have a state religion. Not yet. Its Constitution remains unchanged. But its leaders no longer shy away from stating and practicing their faith in public. Let us not forget that Nehruvian secularism itself functioned as a sort of state religion.
Gathering during the consecration ceremony at the Ram Mandir in Ayodhya, Monday, Jan. 22, 2024.
Gathering during the consecration ceremony at the Ram Mandir in Ayodhya, Monday, Jan. 22, 2024. (File Photo | PTI)
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I was a witness and participant in the pran pratishtha or consecration, of the new Ram mandir in Ayodhya on January 22. Besides its spiritual and religious significance, the rededication of the nativity shrine of Lord Ram marks a turning point not only in the history of our republic, but also in our civilization. Prime Minister Narendra Modi—who was the principal, but not the only, yajman or performer of the ritual—himself said so in his speech after the sanctification of the temple. He called the return of Lord Ram to Ayodhya a transformative moment in the wheel of time: “January 22 is not just a date in the calendar. It marks the beginning of a new era.”

Does this mean that India is now a Hindu, rather than secular, country—a state with a stated religion? Frankly, this question did not strike me during the function on January 22. The occasion was too significant and solemn for such mistrust. Not an eye was dry as the murti, or representation of Shri Ram, was re-infused with the life-breath of millions of devotees and admirers all across India and many parts of the world.

Who could doubt that Ram was beyond the politics of faith, or the faith that is politics? The wheel of time turned when Mir Baqi, by an overwhelming consensus, is reported to have destroyed the temple. Now, the wheel of time has turned again with its restoration. Ram has not changed, nor is he affected by any of these changes. He remains unperturbed and peaceful, residing in the hearts of his followers as the antaratma, or inner being. His name, or Ram naam, is more potent than any physical shrine or form. His return to Ayodhya is precisely because his worshippers have understood and experienced Ram as a spiritual potency and force rather than a merely physical entity. Only Sanatanis, I feel, are capable of such patience and such faith. The others give up when the physical form is smashed or broken. We don’t.

The veneration of Ram is based on an unbroken chain of spiritual transmission and transformation that is believed to go back to the source of our planetary existence, the Sun, who is our presiding star. Raghuvamsha, or the lineage of Ram, is celebrated in the Ramayan and many other texts including Kalidasa’s great poem by that name. In historic times, from Shivaji’s Guru Samarth Ramdas to the father of our nation Mahatma Gandhi, Ram has been the ishta devata, the chosen ideal of hundreds of millions.

A small fraction of them had lined the streets of Ayodhya to welcome us, the first pilgrims to his rebuilt temple. The joyous and elevating shraddha or confidence, belief and adoration of Ram was so extraordinary that arguments among the sceptical elite in urban drawing rooms were rendered irrelevant. Whatever we may think, say or believe, Ram is a national hero whose adoration spills across every boundary or barrier. As our former Prime Minister P V Narasimha Rao, under whose watch the Babri Masjid was felled, reportedly said, “I can fight the BJP, but how can I fight Lord Ram?”

Indeed. I thought of Bapu, so maligned and disparaged today. What would he have felt? The Ram dhun that was played throughout the ceremony was an unmistakable tribute to him, because he had re-popularised it all over India. But it was clear that in today’s India, only the first line from mediaeval saint-poet Tulsi held: “Raghupati raghav Raja Ram, patita pawan Sita Ram.” Gandhi’s innovation—“Ishwar Allah tero naam, sab ko sanmati de bhagwan”—was seemingly eclipsed in the new republic.

Hindus would say, even to this day, “Ishwar Allah tero naam.” On the contrary, believing Muslims would have to swear by the fundamental article of their faith—“La ilaha ill’allah” or “there is no god but allah.” What of Ram, then? Or, for that matter, the thousands of other deities worshipped around the world? If Hindus and Muslims had sanmati or harmony, would there have been partition and the accompanying bloodletting? We must accept the facts. Gandhi’s project, idealistic and desirable though it was, failed.

Does this mean that Hindutva has triumphed instead? I’m not sure. It would be difficult to classify most of those participating in the pran pratishtha of the Ram mandir as Hindutvavadis. Rather, they represented the diversity of the multidenominational traditions that constitute Hinduism and India itself. Many of those who attended would not even consider themselves Hindus, except in the broadest cultural or civilizational sense. Not all of the 8,000 or so invitees from business, industry, commerce, arts, cinema, bureaucracy, armed forces, media, and the intelligentsia could be champions of or adherents of Hindutva. They were drawn from a broad spectrum of India’s civil society.

Yes, the Sangh Parivaar—the extended family of RSS institutions of which the ruling BJP party and the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, which organised the event, are part—spearheaded the Ram Janmabhoomi movement and brought the temple reconstruction to fruition. But this does not mean that they did not have popular support from across the country; nor that everyone who worships at the Ram mandir is an adherent of what has been termed ‘political Hinduism’.

What, then, has changed? India does not have a state religion. Not yet. Its Constitution remains unchanged. But its leaders—from the prime minister, who is the head of the government, to cabinet ministers, chief ministers and other state functionaries—no longer shy away from stating and practising their faith in public. Let us not forget that Nehruvian secularism itself functioned as a sort of state religion. Now it is political Hinduism that has taken its place. And what is more, the populace approves.

Even more importantly, Indian politics has shifted from negative and divisive minoritarianism to positive and inclusive majoritarianism. Even Ram, in this dark granite Krishnashila form, is the god of the downtrodden and marginalised— of Shabari, Guha and Jatayu, apart from the army of subaltern vanaras—as was amply made clear during the pran pratishtha. The very bahujan samaj that was sought to be pitted against the remaking of his temple.

Makarand R Paranjape

Professor of English, Jawaharlal Nehru University

Follow him on X @MakrandParanspe

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