Hinduism
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After death
Rebirth, not a judgement day
Devdutt Pattanaik, July 10, 2021: The Times of India
Qayamat is an important concept in Islam. On this day, after death, humans will be judged. The good who followed Allah’s laws (halal) will go to heaven (Jannat) and the rest who broke Allah’s law (haram) will go to hell (Jahannum). This idea is painted by Michelangelo on the walls of the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Jesus, as son of God, oversees the rise of the good to Heaven and the fall of the bad to Hell. Such images are not found in Hindu mythology or on Hindu temples. The celestial realms and the dark realms of hell are all seen as limbs of the Hindu deity – Vishwapurusha, who embodies the whole world. The many heavens are in the upper half of his body and the many hells are in the lower half of his body. Whether in Heaven or in Hell, as per Hindu mythology or theology, we are inside the body of God. Yes, in Garuda Puran, and many popular works of art, there are images of demon-like creatures boiling, roasting, impaling, quartering, torturing the dead in hell (Naraka) but this is Yama-loka, the realm of the god of dead, and this not equated with Judgement Day. In fact, in Hinduism, there is no Judgement Day.
This is because Hinduism is based on the idea of rebirth (punar-janma) while Judgement Day is found in cultures that believe in a single life, followed by an eternal afterlife. The ancient Egyptians believed in one life, and so their tombs are filled with all kinds of chants and goods to enable successful transition to the afterlife. The ancient Greeks also believed in one life. Their myths refer to three judges who decide the fate of the dead. The Persians also believed in one life, but unlike the Greeks and Egyptians, also believed in one God. They believed that when you die, you have to walk on a bridge which narrows if you are bad and widens if you are good. Thus, one can say Judgement Day was an idea meant to force humans to be good while they are alive. It was a lynchpin for social morality.
In a rebirth culture, the kind of deeds we do in this life, determine our fortunes in the next life. So those who are fortunate in this life were beneficiaries of good deeds performed in their past life (punya karma). And those who do bad deeds in this life (paap karma) are said to suffer in their next life. The karma machine takes care of morality; there is no need for judges and Judgement Day. But Manu, while writing Manusmriti, realised that was not deterrent enough and so introduced the idea of many hells for crimes committed in this life, in addition to the karmic system. And so the hells of Yama became a recurring theme in Hindu scriptures, reaching detailed form in the Garuda Purana. Yama, then becomes the judge, and his scribe, Chitragupta, the accountant of paap and punya. But Yama’s judgement can be bypassed in two ways: By giving gifts to Brahmins (Manu was clearly favouring his own community) and by surrendering to the grace of Vishnu or Shiva (the writers were clearly marketing the Bhakti philosophy).
The Christian/Islamic worldview holds that everyone is equal before God and so everyone has to follow the same set of rules (Commandments/Gospels/Quran/Hadith/Sharia). But the Hindu world was based on karma and so diverse, and grouped into categories (varna), that there were different rules for different communities. Everyone was judged by different yardsticks: The Shudra was expected to follow the Shudra code of conduct, and a Kshatriya, a Kshatriya code of conduct. So there was no standard or uniform rule book.
Additionally, the Indian worldview did not segregate action as good/bad (halal/haram) but as debt-creating (paap) or debt-clearing (punya). Debts bind us to the wheel of rebirths. If we clear our obligations to society, to family, to nature and to culture, we are free (moksha). So the binary is not Heaven or Hell but the Entrapment or Liberation. The Indian worldview is thus very different from the Christian/Islamic worldview.
The modern Indian nation-state with its Constitution, is based on the Christian/Islamic model of one rule for all citizens enforced through judges. A traditional Hindu model would have focussed less on legal equality and more on economic diversity – how the rich and the privileged and the elite have more debts to repay society. Yama, after all, is the god of accountants.
Conversations, two-way, instead of sermons
Devdutt Pattanaik, May 22, 2021: The Times of India
Hinduism prefers two-way conversations over one-way instructions from the powerful to the powerless
Buddhism speaks of the discourses given by the Buddha to thousands of monks, nuns and lay people at Jetavana. Jainism speaks of samavasaran, when the Tirthankara reveals Jain wisdom to all creatures, earthly and heavenly, who sit around him in a circle. Jewish folk speak of Moses speaking from atop Mount Sinai. Christians speak of Jesus delivering the sermon on the mount. Muslims speak of Muhammad giving his final farewell sermon after his first Haj pilgrimage after the conquest of Mecca. But Hindus? Do Hindu gurus give sermons? Yes, in the 21st century. Following the Buddhist and Christian model, Hindu sermons on Advaita philosophy are popular, as attempts are made to homogenise Hinduism. But does Vishnu give a sermon? Does Shiva, or Ganesha, give a sermon? Is sermon a theme in the Puranas?
In Tamil temple art, we find images of Shiva as Dakshinamurti, seated atop a hill, under a banyan tree, facing the south, and giving lectures decoding the Vedas and Tantras. Shiva’s ‘south-facing’ discourse is not a sermon on how to live life, but a commentary that transforms mysterious Veda (Nigama) into tangible accessible Tantra (Agama). We are told all sages travel north to hear him speak; to restore balance to the world, Shiva tells Agastya to travel south. This story grants legitimacy to Agastya-muni, the legendary sage who spread Vedic ideas to the south. No such sermon is given by pre-Agastyan gods of Tamil literature: Ceyon (Murugan), Mayon (Krishna/Vishnu), Vendon (Indra), Kadalon (Varuna) and Kotravai (Durga), who are linked to different landscapes (mountains, forests, fields, seashores, and dry lands) and different moods of love (union, waiting, quarrelling, pining, and anxiety).
Gurus like Matsyendranath and Gorakhnath do not give sermons, though they travel around with hundreds of their disciples, shouting ‘Alakh Niranjan’ (salutations to the formless god), performing austerities and magic, helping and humbling people in the countryside. The Puranas refer to a gathering of rishis in Naimisha woods on the banks of the river Gomti, where they listen to stories of gods and goddesses through which Vedic wisdom is communicated. Stories, not sermons. Amar Chitra Katha and televisions serials have created the image of a rishi talking under a tree with students listening to him, in hermitages. But that is Brahmin children chanting the Vedic hymns by rote, without actually bothering to analyse it. No sermonising there either. Just memorising.
Hindu gods do not have messages for humanity. By contrast, the Christian God Yahweh has prophets, and Allah, in Islam, has 1,24,000 messengers (paigambar) communicating over human history. Religion is about following the message. Hinduism is not a religion as there is no ‘message from God’ or ‘sermon of Ram’ or ‘sermon of Krishna’. Modern, 21st century gurus do tend to make the Bhagavad Gita a sermon; but it is a private conversation between a warrior in crisis (Arjuna) and his wise charioteer (Krishna). It is not a message for humanity -- unless we assume all humans are in crisis wondering on the ethics of killing relatives for property.
In art, we often see Ram and Sita talking to Hanuman, and decoding the Vedas for him, as Shiva did for the siddha-rishis. The decoding is often private. We hear stories of how Shiva wants to decode the Vedas for Parvati in private but is overheard by fish, serpents and birds who are then cursed. They turn into sages: The fish-sage Matsyendrath, the snake-sage Naganath or Karkotaka, and the bird-sage, or Kakabhusandi. They share fragments of divine wisdom with humanity. These are the Upanishads, conversations between two people, like Janaka and Ashtavakra. These are two-way conversations between equals, not a one-way communication from the powerful to the powerless. The Hindu gods never do a ‘mann ki baat’.
In Hinduism, the divine is within (jiva-atma) and can germinate to appreciate the truth of the world and life (param-atma). Conversations about people sharing (sam-vaad) different experiences of truth, thus expanding our mind with new ideas and thoughts. It’s not about getting people to align to one single way. For the divine seed germinates differently in different contexts, takes different paths, like no two trees have the same branches or roots. This appreciation of diversity, and uniqueness of every individual, is at the heart of Hinduism. There is no tribe in the spiritual realm. All people are not the same, and no one is a passive powerless recipient. There is no room for monologues, or sermons. Only dialogues, as in a good relationship. Give and receive, as in a yagna.
Devdutt Pattanaik writes a fortnightly column that filters the voices on all sides
Hatred in Hinduism
If You Are Truly Hindu, You Can’t Hate
Devdutt Pattanaik/ If You Are Truly Hindu, You Can’t Hat/ The Times of India/ 20 Jul. 24
In Hinduism’s foundational principles, concepts like chosen ones, villains, victims and oppressors don’t exist. So, hating someone or some group is fundamentally un-Hindu
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In modern retellings of Hindu tales, asuras and rakshasas are presented as villains and monsters, who need to be killed by gods. Durga impales Mahisha with her trident. Narasimha disembowels Hiranakashipu with his sharp claws. Ram brings down Ravan with a volley of arrows. However, when we delve deeper, and actually observe the ritual performances, and temple ceremonies, we notice that the masks and images of Mahisha, Hiranakashipu, and Ravan are always worshipped. These ‘demons’ are not vilified. They are venerated.
The lower gods (devas) may seek ‘destruction’ of the asuras and the rakshasas, but the higher gods (Shiva, Vishnu, Devi) ‘uplift’ them. The violence becomes a metaphor either to establish the rhythm of nature, or to end ignorance. In subaltern spaces, the violence is a fertility ritual: the annual harvesting and the threshing of grain that brings food to the table. In intellectual circles, the violence unknots the human mind. At no point are Mahisha, Hiranakashipu or Ravan called evil. In fact, there is no Sanskrit synonym for the word ‘evil’.
Concepts like oppression, evil, villain, and victim are part of mythologies that presuppose one life…. In mythologies that presuppose rebirth, life is endless, without triumph or tragedy. No one enters this world with an empty balance sheet. No one leaves with an empty balance sheet. Those who consume are in debt. Those who are consumed are in credit.
Mahisha is being slaughtered so that he does not consume the gods, but is instead consumed by the gods. This is the annual fertility cycle of food production and food consumption. Hiranakashipu is in debt – he is liberated by Narasimha. Ravan is blinded by his fortunes, his credits. In the wise eyes of Hanuman and Ram, he is no more than a petulant immature child. There is no hate in these stories.
But when these stories are retold on television or cinema, screenplay writers distort the mythic narrative to the demands of modern storytelling. They need heroes, villains, victims. So, they turn Durga, Narasimha and Ram into superheroes fighting supervillains. Effectively, the Hindu story becomes a Biblical tale – where the messiah comes to the rescue!
Politicians who tell Hindus to hate are spinning a rather un-Hindu yarn of injustice and inequality. Social media propagates the discourse that Hindus are victims of injustice; that Hindus have to fight back.
The Veda states the timeless truth (sanatan dharma) that in nature there is always the predator and the prey. One is not a villain; the other is not a victim. That which eats eventually has to repay its debt by being eaten. Humans want to eat but do not wish to be eaten. So, they create culture. Here debts are repaid by feeding. If we do not repay, we will continue to be reborn. So, the point of life is to feed, rather than eat. Hatred makes us eat rather than feed. It puts us in debt. Traps us in the endless cycle of samsara.
