The memories of my childhood days spent at Natchiar Koil village in
Thanjavur district of Tamil Nadu are still fresh in my mind. Such
memories led me to compare the existing situation in India, in general,
and in villages, in particular, with the past. An analysis left me sad
for the undesirable transformation which India has undergone over the
last few decades. Those were really golden days.
As children, we didn’t know that our village was famous for the
Mariamman temple, the Perumal (Vishnu) and Natchiar temple, for the
world famous brass lamp factories, for Nagaswaram vidwans like Raghavan
Pillai and for betal leaves. Our village, like any other village of
yesteryear in Tamil Nadu, had an Agraharam, where Brahmins lived, the
Muslim streets surrounding the mosque and the colony where the Scheduled
Castes lived. The Brahmin youth were working in offices, the Muslims
were landlords and traders and the Scheduled Castes mostly served the
other communities in various capacities. But we never witnessed communal
clashes or disputes. We lived in total harmony. Everyone treated the
other with dignity. All community leaders participated in the meetings
held to discuss village matters.
The Mariamman temple festival was celebrated for 10 days at a stretch.
It attracted crowds from all surrounding villages and towns. Small
traders from all over Thanjavur district participated in the shanty,
spreading their wares in the lanes around the temple. Children, and even
adults, used to crowd the shops for the whole day. Things which
attracted the women were vessels of all types, readymade clothes and
kitchenware. The children liked seeni mittai, a sweetmeat in different shapes and colours. Jav mittai
was an attraction as well. The vendor would sing songs to attract
children and pull out the colourful, sweet semi-liquid material which
was elastic enough to be moulded from the bamboo which was holding it
and out of which he would make birds, animals, watches, insects, etc.,
as per our demand and stick the design on our hands. Girls used to crowd
ribbon, bangle and wooden and papier-mâché doll shops and boys thronged
shops selling kites and tops. There were bioscopes through which we can
see “cinema bits” and the merry-go-rounds, and folk arts performances
provided us enough entertainment.
The best part of the festival was the display of religious tolerance.
All Muslim families wrote letters to their relatives living afar,
inviting them for the Mariamman festival. Every Muslim home used to have
so many guests during those days. The same way, people of different
faiths arrived for the three-day float festival of the Natchiar temple,
making it grand by their presence, participating in the festival
activities organised outside the temple. I still remember the regular
badminton practice given by my father to Brahmin boys on the mosque
ground in the evenings.
Hindu women used to bring their babies suffering from fever to the
mosques in the evening and would wait for the Mullahs to come out after
prayer and get them cured of illnesses. The Mullahs would recite Arabic
prayers, and bless the babies.
Muslim families always threw a separate vegetarian feast the day after
their family weddings for Hindu friends. On Pongal days, all
agricultural labourers used to bring fruits, flowers and hens for the
Muslim landlords and they, in turn, were given dresses, money and food.
They were allowed to decorate the cattle as they liked.
In short, everyone faithfully followed his/her religion and was tolerant
of other religions. They never talked of conversions. As children, we
never bothered to know about the classmates’ religion. We never heard of
untouchability during our school days. In the big bazaar of our
village, Hindu and Muslim traders conducted business without any clash
of interests or rivalry.
Our village had panchayat-run Tamil medium primary and secondary
schools. Private schools were unheard of. Students belonging to the
rich, middle and poor classes studied in the same school. Our teachers
never demanded but always commanded the respect of not only students but
also the village elders. The headmaster was always consulted by the
panchayat leaders in village matters. Out teachers inculcated in us the
values of religious tolerance, patriotism, secularism, respect for
elders and honesty. Independence and Republic days were celebrated with
patriotism. I still remember some Hindu teachers giving free tuition to
poor Muslim students and some Muslim landlords helping poor Brahmin boys
in their higher education.
Life was simple and stress-free. We spent our childhood playing out on
the dry riverbed, the open ground for the entire evenings. We played in
rainy and summer seasons. We played in mud and clay, but were never
discouraged from playing for a long time and we never felt sick because
of dust or pollution. We never had heavy homework. Going to school was
fun since we could meet all our friends and exchange our eatables. We
studied only for the examinations. English was introduced only from
Standard VI. Yet many of us could get higher educational qualifications
and a decent status in our life.
I can go on and on, with the memories of my village life. My heart
bleeds when I now hear news of loss of human lives, destruction of
business and property taking place, in the name of religion. It is
painful to see responsible political leaders making hate speeches about
different communities, owners refusing to rent out their homes to
particular communities, children in village schools suffering the
indignity of untouchability and neighbours in apartments in the cities
boycotting one another on the basis of religion. How backward have we
become in social harmony and religious tolerance? Our mindset has become
so rigid against peaceful co-existence. Such an ugly transformation is
not only confined to the cities but has spread to villages, which had
all along protected the rich Indian culture. Will India revert to the
golden days?
(rameezarasheed@ gmail.com)
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