The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin

Title: The Courtesan, the Mahatma and the Italian Brahmin - Tales from Indian History

Author: Manu S Pillai

Publisher: Context Westland, 2019 (First)

ISBN: 9789388689786

Pages: 384

This book is an amorphous mixture of stories from the pre-British and British periods of Indian history. It strings together 25 chapters from India's early and medieval periods and 35 chapters from the British era. Each chapter is totally independent of the others and there is no inconvenience if you started reading them from the end of the book first. These were a series of articles that appeared in the 'Mint Lounge'' publication. These materials are the leftovers from the author’s research for his books ‘The Ivory Throne’ and ‘The Rebel Sultans’. It is also coloured with political overtones as the author aligns with the ultra-liberal gang of former leftist scholars, taking up cudgels against the rising tide of nationalism enveloping the country. He wastes no chances to peer into the lives of nationalist icons like Swami Vivekananda or Rani Lakshmi Bai and manages to come up with some little known facts or legends that would put them in a bad light. Readers can clearly discern his sly smile at the end of such a chapter on account of the vicious job satisfaction he is deriving from making a slur on that great leader’s credibility in the popular mind. Manu S Pillai is an acolyte of Shashi Tharoor and writes in newspapers.

Pillai argues that the religious divide between Hinduism and Islam is not clearly defined that can be grouped into mutually exclusive niches. As he says, black and white were not the colours through which these voices perceived their world. There was an elite visualisation of 'Turks' and there was another of ‘Hindus’, but boundaries between the two were not rigid. He identifies the crystallization to have taken place, at least in the south of India, by the early seventeenth century, in the aftermath of the destruction of the Vijayanagara Empire by the unified onslaught of the Deccan’s Muslim sultanates. Rayavacakamu, a panegyric composed in Madurai in this period shows the consolidation among Hindus of a sense of common identity in competition with Muslims. However, he points out a few mercenaries of the other religion who fought in the armies of Vijayanagara and the Sultanates to vainly ascribe notions of the modern concept of secularism to this medieval battle that was driven on by communal sentiments of the sultanates. Besides, Rayavacakamu is not a reflection of reality, but only an articulation of elite political preoccupations, with one or two agendas. Luckily for the readers, the author does not find any anticipation of the twenty-first century rise of Hindutva in this medieval work of fiction.

The Hindu community is a conglomeration of numerous castes and sects. It is a wonder that this diverse mass somehow manages to stay afloat under a common identity that transcends all the differences. There are upper castes and there are lower castes and it is well known that the upper castes persecuted the lower ones in the past. It is also true that in some parts of the country where the light of emancipation has still not spread adequately, the oppression still lingers on. But what makes this woeful practice in the contemporary society different from the age-old custom is that legal and social recourses are now open for the downtrodden. But scholars like Pillai find it expedient for their divisive philosophy to enhance the dichotomy to the breaking point. They always try to make a split. This book excavates stories from the fourteenth century where Dalits of extreme piety are harassed by the Brahmin elite. He even suggests that to the Brahmin on the street, the ‘Turk’ was not more alien than the untouchable (p.66). It is also suggested that a Malayali is traditionally more strongly linked with Arabia than northern India (p.342)! No references from authentic sources are given in the book to validate this wild hypothesis. It also rules out the principle of purity in the past. Pillai argues that certain sections of people today immerse in a quest to find the ‘true’ essence or purest version of the past. The irony is that such a past does not exist and what exists is not pure, but rich and layered and marvelously complex. The author also gives frequent references to Brahmins and other Hindus in Muslim administrations as proof of the alleged happy state of affairs. However, on that point, the British Raj was beyond reproach as it was practically run by Indians but we still find it alien.

The Mappila riots of 1921 took place in Malabar, Kerala. The riot began in response to Gandhi's call to oppose the British who dispossessed the Ottoman sultan of Turkey from power after the First World War. This incident has no direct relationship to Indian politics, but Gandhi found this ideal to extract support from Muslims, who were indifferent, if not outright hostile, to the freedom struggle. Since the sultan also happened to be the religious leader of Muslims as the caliph, his defeat was cleverly portrayed as an affront to Islam. Muslims in Malabar violently rose up against the British but after receiving some harsh military defeats early on, turned against the Hindus because they were easy targets. Thousands were killed, raped and forcibly converted to Islam. However, leftist historians still show extreme hesitancy to stare the truth in the face. Their favourite line is that the communal riot was a peasant rebellion when in fact it was nothing but ethnic cleansing on the largest scale Kerala has ever seen. Strangely, Pillai concedes that it was indeed communal (p.130). He also admits that unprecedented savagery was unleashed. Hindu and Christian homes were targeted by Mappilas, cows were slaughtered in temples, with assailants putting their entrails on the holy image and hanging on the walls and the roof (p.130). At the same time, he exonerates bigotry in Malabar in the various jihads in the nineteenth century by labeling them as response to provocations. In 1851, he says, a Nair landlord was killed after he forced a Mappila to replace the call to prayer with ‘a summons to eat swine’s flesh’ (p.128). No references are cited for this outrageous assertion.

The author seems to be so turned off by the appearance of national unity in India that he sets out to malign its heroes. He comes up with a few obscure quotes of Swami Vivekananda to ‘prove’ that he thought on caste lines on some occasions. He also accuses that ‘consistency is not Vivekananda’s strong point’ (p.309). The spiritual leader’s real name was Narendranath and Pillai even stoops to comment that he chose the name ‘Vivekananda’ because ‘it rolls easily off the tongue’. Similarly, he churns through some sources to claim that Rani Lakshmibai of Jhansi was in fact in league with the British and she turned against them reluctantly. Juxtaposed with this deep calumny against the national heroes, the eulogy of Angami Zapu Phiso is conspicuous by contrast. He was a stout anti-Indian leader of Nagaland who left the country to Britain to fight for Naga independence. Pillai is full of praise for this seditious politician. Readers can't help wondering at the amount of venom these ‘liberal’ intellectuals are spreading. Probably in some future editions of this book, he might even find space for Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale too.

This book is not for serious reading. Probably it would function well in a long train journey. The author has relied on too few sources to accord any semblance of authenticity to the arguments. The only saving grace is the illustrations by Priya Kuriyan. She has made some really nice portraits.

The book is recommended for simple reading.

Rating: 2 Star