Why the Rama Mandir Matters to Me
As the arguments come to a close and a judgment is given, I
cannot but marvel how defeatist I feel about the entire subject of the Rama
Janmabhoomi dispute. That the word dispute is attached to something that
archaeological and historical references prove beyond doubt is beyond my
comprehension. Even with mountains of evidence, I have to prove that my deity,
my Bhagavana was born there, at that very spot, where a building was
repurposed to use the liberal and Marxist historian lexicography, to become a
symbol of power, of slavery, which continued to rankle people even after coming
down.
I do not have anything new to say, I guess, to add to the
importance of the Rama Mandir. It is NOT (emphasis added) a political issue for
the likes of me. It is a civilizational issue, one that literally goes to
define who I am. Whatever may be the geography internally, that temple is a
mark of my identity as a Hindu, whose ethos has long been lost somewhere.
Fightbacks and heroics of the battle hardened ancestors of our land are
innumerable; yet, the fact that we tried unsuccessfully to get back what we
really had has always had a demotivating effect. Much like the ‘nothing can
change’ attitude that many of us carry, despite learning (or not learning) from
our own history and Dharma how one should never give up, whatever be the
circumstances faced. Karmanye vadhikaraste, Sri Krishna, Rama in another
birth, had directed Arjuna in the Kurukshetra, and yet, in this Kurukshetra, we
felt cheated, humiliated, defeated all the time – sometimes by our own, other
times by the unknown.
There is nothing new when I say that Rama is a matter of
faith for many like me. He is that paragon of virtue who never lost his way on
the path of Dharma, come what may. No, I cannot be Rama, for I do not have the
ability to find out opportunity in adversity for fulfilling the uddeshya
of my life. But it cannot be emphasized enough that his life is not just a kavya
for me; it is a guide, a darsana on behaving in line with Dharma. He
looks over us, as we consider him our very own, a figure that protects us all,
even in the darkest of times. Guiding us through the turbulence and the muck of
stagnation, he has been a beacon, of oneness, of hope for those who had nearly
forgotten what it means to have an identity that is not cloaked in shame and is
not drowning in the filth of depression, of chaos, of depravity. He is a symbol
of that ideal society that we want – where no one has a reason to complain, and
where everyone is committed to the path of Dharma.
Rama for us is that name which, as Hanuman had shown, is
bigger than Rama itself, guiding us through this world and into the afterlife,
towards mukti, freeing us from our Karmic connections. Rama is that son
that we can never be, who for his mother’s happiness gave up all without
batting an eyelid. He is the ruler we all want, who kept his own subjects way
above him, and ensured that there was never a reason for suspicion, for worry
and for doubting. Rama for us is that warrior who did not hesitate to take on
evil, however mighty and daunting it may seem, and see to its just end. Rama
for us is that scion of a lineage which starts with Ikshvaku, and has the likes
of Shibi and Bhagiratha, who teach us what sacrifice and perseverance for
Dharma are all about, and in whose footsteps a worthy descendant came.
Rama Mandir for us is a symbol of an idea of Bharat that is
India. A civilization that had lost its path somewhere by rediscovering a
powerful lost symbol has tried to understand its place in the pantheon of
civilizations. Rama Mandir is proof that Bharat that is India is not a dead,
ancient and forgotten civilization for academics to study; rather, it is a
powerful entity that exists, and exemplifies its survival with pride. There
were turbulences of Sri Rama’s life, and as if on cue, the civilization of
Dharma also saw turbulence. But it withstood each onslaught, each bruise, each
ram and battery to defiantly tell the others in the world that Bharat cannot be
subdued, for it is in each of the Dharmiks that it survives and thrives. Its
vivid memories live in its songs, dances and stories; its impressions survive
in its art and sculpture, which express divinity in beauty beyond compare when
taken to the zenith of excellence. It is a rally point for all Dharmiks –
Hindus, Jains, Buddhists, Sikhs and others – that we are all tied through our
understanding of the story of Rama, with their varying hues, to this land, to
its civilization and to its faith, and that remains with us irrespective of
wherever we go. The power of the moment that could or could not dawn upon us
today is vindication of the centuries of absence of memory, the absence of
identity that was thrust upon nearly a billion people, who knew not what it
meant to be someone.
The name that inspired a thousand bhajans, a thousand
prayers, a thousand kavyas and mahakavyas, a thousand kritis, a thousand plays,
a thousand grandmother stories, a thousand Dussehra lilas, a thousand Diwalis
for many – that name is Rama. Rama is not just a name in fact, it is a
summation of this civilization and all that it encompasses. The impact on our
lives of that single name is perhaps reason enough to mention why the Rama
Mandir matters.
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