Authority and Meaning in Indian Religions

Hinduism and the Case of Valmiki

Julia Leslie

• Publisher: Taylor & Francis
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781138708709
• eBook ISBN: 9781351772983
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

This title was first published in 2003. Can a text be used either to validate or to invalidate contemporary understandings? Texts may be deemed 'sacred', but sacred to whom? Do conflicting understandings matter? Is it appropriate to try to offer a resolution? For Hindus and non-Hindus, in India and beyond, Valmiki is the poet-saint who composed the epic Rà mà yaõa. Yet for a vocal community of dalits (once called 'untouchables'), within and outside India, Valmiki is God. How then does one explain the popular story that he started out as an ignorant and violent bandit, attacking and killing travellers for material gain? And what happens when these two accounts, Valmiki as God and Valmiki as villain, are held simultaneously by two different religious groups, both contemporary, and both vocal? This situation came to a head with controversial demonstrations by the Valmiki community in Britain in 2000, giving rise to some searching questions which Julia Leslie now seeks to address.

Chapter 1
Situating the Problem

1. Introduction

On Monday, 21 February 2000, Central Air Radio Limited (Birmingham, UK), trading as ‘Radio XL’, broadcast as usual on 1296 medium wave. At 13.45 pm, Vikram Gill was presenting the Panjabi phone-in programme, ‘Eck Swal’ (ek svāl, ‘One Question’). Responding to a letter from a listener, Gill referred obliquely to the widely believed story that the great saint Vālmīki was once a ‘dacoit’. The Panjabi term he used was ḍākū, denoting a ‘robber’, ‘thief or ‘brigand’.¹ While the allocation of this term to Vālmīki is of little consequence to most Panjabis, or indeed to most Hindus, there is a sizeable community in Britain for whom ‘Bhagwan Valmik’ is God.² These are the self-styled ‘Valmikis’. The shock wave felt throughout the British Valmiki community was tangible. Representatives made a formal protest to the radio station. They demanded an apology for the disrespect shown to them as worshippers of Valmik, and a public retraction of the dacoit legend in relation to their God. As far as the Valmikis are concerned, the legend is both demeaning and unfounded. This book is an attempt to unravel the complexities of this dispute.

There are four critical issues at the heart of this study. The first is sociological and relates to the implications of caste identity. The distress and anger expressed by the Valmikis throughout the dispute was (and still is) fuelled by a lingering resentment of their so-called ‘untouchable’ past. Today, in both Britain and India, brahmins (especially men of the older generation) often present themselves as more authoritative than younger, lower-caste men and women. In some ways, the situation in Britain lags behind that in India: visitors from India are frequently struck by the old-fashioned caste-consciousness they find in Hindu and Sikh communities in the UK. In this context, there are some important questions to consider. How much longer must supposedly ‘low-caste’ communities put up with an identity constructed for them by others? When will their longstanding resistance to such constructions be recorded, let alone taken seriously? When will their truth be heard?

The second issue relates to text-historical research, and the complex relationship between sacred text and religious meaning. Is it possible to determine whether or not Vālmīki was a dacoit? As an academic scholar, I certainly believe that one kind of answer lies in the study of early Sanskrit texts. But can texts be used to validate or invalidate contemporary beliefs? Which texts might be deemed to count? Some are perceived to be ‘sacred’, but sacred to whom? Do conflicting understandings matter? Is it appropriate to try to offer a resolution and, if so, who has the right to contribute to the discussion? Is it in fact possible to bridge the gap between textual research and contemporary meaning? Clearly, I believe we should try.

The third issue concerns freedom of speech, what Americans refer to as ‘the first amendment’.³ More precisely, how do we balance the competing freedoms of religion and expression? Regardless of the religion concerned, this is a recurring problem. In relation to Islam, for example, Iran’s Ayatollah Khomeini proclaimed a fatwa on Salman Rushdie, the author of The Satanic Verses (1988). Soon afterwards, Rushdie was persuaded by the British authorities to make a public apology.⁴ In my view, Rushdie’s capitulation to political pressure was understandable but unfortunate. A Christian example is provided by Martin Scorsese’s film, The Last Temptation of Christ.⁵ Although the film outraged even the Vatican, Scorsese quite rightly refused to apologise. In the Birmingham dispute, the Valmikis demanded both an apology and a retraction of the dacoit legend. Clearly, the apology was important for the self-esteem of the Valmiki community; in the context of their troubled history (see chapter 2), this cannot be ignored. A far more effective response, however, is to provide the evidence necessary for an alternative understanding. That is the purpose of this book.⁶

This brings me to the fourth issue: the role of the scholar and, by extension, his or her relationship to the religious community involved. If academic research can indeed determine whether or not Vālmīki was a dacoit, how would the ‘truth’ of this assertion matter, and to whom? In different ways and at different levels, many people took part in the dispute in Birmingham. What will they make of this book? Is there some way to grant my right to write the book and, at the same time, their right to object to it? Jeffrey Kripal’s scholarly study of the Bengali saint Ramakrishna, Kālīs Child (1995), is a sobering case in point. When Kripal wrote of the saint’s ‘homoerotic’ impulses, he was drawing attention to what he perceived to be the truth; and he has been pilloried by Ramakrishna devotees ever since. Was he wrong to write that book? What are the politics of scholarship in the study of religions?⁷ My position is simple. The scholar’s job is to research the evidence, to lay it out in public view as clearly as possible,⁸ and to formulate the kinds of arguments that may reasonably be based upon it. Once that job is done and both evidence and arguments are in the public domain, the constructions that are placed upon them by others are beyond the scholar’s control. We do the best we can.⁹

These are serious matters. I have chosen to engage with them by exploring one particular situation: the conflict in understandings as they relate to the individual revered in Sanskrit texts as ‘Vālmīki’. Before I proceed, however, I must explain my choice of terminology. This choice demonstrates both my stance and my method. Following the conventions of Indological research, the transliterated form using diacritical marks denotes the poet-saint of Sanskrit texts: ‘Vālmīki’. Following the conventions of many anthropologists and sociologists of Indian religion, the form without diacritical marks denotes the individuals and communities now known both within and outside India by a range of related names: Valmiki, Valmik, Balmiki, Balmik. My choice here is in line with the preference conveyed to me by my contacts within the communities in Britain: ‘Valmiki’. Diacritical marks are also absent from the form used to denote the God who is worshipped by the Valmikis: ‘Bhagwan Valmik’. The anglicized title ‘Bhagwan’ (derived from the Sanskrit term, bhagavan, meaning ‘Lord’) reflects the pronunciation of the prevailing vernacular language, Panjabi. The spelling ‘Valmik’ is used on the plaques outside all seven places of worship in the UK: ‘Bhagwan Valmik Ashram’ in Icknield Street, Birmingham; ‘Bhagwan Valmik Mandir’ in Muswell Road, Bedford, and in Southall; ‘Bhagwan Valmik Temple’ in Wolverhampton; ‘Jagat Guru Valmik Ji Maharaj Mandir Gian Ashram UK’ in Booth Street, Birmingham; ‘Jagat Guru Valmik Ji Maharaj Temple’ in Coventry; and ‘Lord Valmik Ji Nirankar Holy Temple Gian Ashram Bhavnashan’ in Ampthill Road, Bedford. The question at issue becomes clear with the terminology. What is the link, if any, between the ‘Vālmīki’ of ancient sacred texts and ‘Bhagwan Valmik’ as he is worshipped by the ‘Valmikis’ in Britain today? The juxtaposition of Sanskrit diacritics and vernacular usage here is deliberate. It reflects an important tension within the community: the Valmikis quite rightly want access to the sacred language associated with the higher castes, and to the religious truths it might convey; yet they are justifiably wary of seeming to fall in line with the caste prejudice implied by linguistic hierarchy.¹⁰

Regardless of one’s caste origin, Vālmīki is widely celebrated as the poet who composed the Sanskrit epic, the Rāmāyaṇa. Despite his importance for the Indian tradition, however, surprisingly little academic attention has been paid to him as an individual. For example, there is no full-length work on Vālmīki in a European language. The articles that do exist are brief and widely spaced across the decades, including the English-language studies of Bulcke (1958, 1959, 1960), Goldman (1976), Bhargava (1984), Sahdev (1986) and Sahai (1993–4).¹¹ For most scholars in the broad field of Indian studies, Valmiki’s significance lies not in himself but rather in the work attributed to him. Why waste time speculating on the legends of pre-history when we have the treasure-house of his text? This was my own position until the dispute in Birmingham made me reconsider.

Shortly after the offending radio programme was broadcast, the ‘Bhagavan Valmiki Action Committee’ was formed. A public protest was held outside the offices of Radio XL in the course of which banners were waved, slogans were yelled and missiles were thrown. The Bhagavan Valmiki Action Committee submitted to the Radio Authority a detailed report on the issue in support of its formal complaint against the programme.¹² In the subsequent dispute, academics were brought in on both sides. In response to the Valmikis’ allegations of insensitivity and misrepresentation, the Radio Authority commissioned a report from a colleague of mine (Mandair 2000). The Bhagavan Valmiki Action Committee commissioned their own report from me. At this point, I discovered that the Committee was led by Lekh Raj Manjdadria, one of my MA students at that time. His questions to me on behalf of the Committee were deceptively simple: What do the earliest Sanskrit texts tell us about Vālmīki? And what is the validity of the dacoit legend? I agreed to produce an independent and impartial account of the text-historical evidence for the character of Vālmīki and the relevance of this evidence to the Birmingham dispute (Leslie 2000).¹³ The Committee’s complaint against Radio XL was eventually upheld by the Radio Authority.¹⁴ While I was conducting the research for my report, I became aware of a wealth of unexamined material. Although I was able to reach a provisional conclusion of which I was fairly confident, I was intrigued by the lack of clarity on some of the key points. The significance, even urgency, of the issue for some British Indians sparked my interest further. I was still uncertain about the relevance of text-historical research to a contemporary socio-religious dispute, let alone the appropriateness of an academic wading in with an ‘answer’. Since I had been invited to do so, however, I hoped that I might make some useful contribution to the problem. This book constitutes an attempt to bring some of the more significant issues raised in my report into the academic arena of the study of religions.

My goal is a critically nuanced, but essentially text-historical, study of the figure of Vālmīki. The primary sources for this enquiry are the Sanskrit texts that mention Vālmīki, including two which are attributed to him: the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa and the Yogavāsiṣṭha Rāmāyaṇa. In these two texts, according to the tradition of the Valmiki community, Vālmīki narrates his own story. The second level of the enquiry is more complicated but equally important: the identification and examination of the various strands of popular stories concerning Valmlki. In effect, my plan is to disentangle the earliest evidence for Vālmīki from the narrative threads of passing centuries, and to consider the often disturbing implications of that process. Perhaps this text-historical analysis will contribute in some way to our understanding of the interlocking beliefs of British South Asians and, by extension, to a greater awareness of the problematic relationship between the authority of sacred texts and the meaning of religious lives, hence the title of this book. Like all relationships, that between authority and meaning can never be finally determined: it is (and indeed must always be) one of constant, sometimes painful, renegotiation.

The structure of the book is as follows. Chapter 2 seeks to contextualize the Valmikis. In order to understand the issues of identity and self-representation experienced by this group, which Indian tradition has consistently portrayed as low-caste, it is necessary to draw on several different kinds of material: the terms and implications of untouchability in early Sanskrit texts, ethnographic studies of related castes in northern India, and sociological analyses of British South Asians. I hope to demonstrate that an investigation of the past and present situation, both in India and in the UK, throws significant light on our understanding of the dispute in Birmingham. First, there is no doubt that caste prejudice remains an important issue, even in Britain, even today. Second, even as they embark on the twenty-first century, British Valmikis continue to define themselves to a large extent in terms of their resistance to the ‘untouchable’ past that is still constructed for them by the higher castes. Third, there are signs that the Valmikis are increasingly able to negotiate a caste-free religious identity, if not so much for their parents, at least for their children.

Chapter 3 begins by considering the references to ‘Vālmīki’ in the earliest texts of the Sanskritic tradition. In particular, it re-examines Camille Bulcke’s assertion that the name refers to ‘three and very probably four’ different individuals (1959: 348). It then seeks to locate ‘our’ Vālmīki in three key Sanskrit sources: the Māhabhārata, the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa and the Yogāvasiṣṭha (the last two both sacred to the Valmikis). What do these three religious texts tell us about Vālmīki? What kind of evidence is provided by the epics? What can we learn from the qualitatively different Yogāvasiṣṭha Finally, in what way can these comparisons help us towards a better understanding of the relationship between sacred text and religious meaning? This is the text-historical conundrum referred to earlier.

Chapter 4 considers in turn each of the three motifs that have become associated over the centuries with the figure of Vālmīki: the ascetic in the termite mound, the dacoit turned devotee and the recitation of the marā-marā mantra. In each case, my primary sources are Sanskrit texts. My purpose is to demonstrate how the Vālmīki of the Rāmāyaṇa apparently becomes enmeshed in, or transformed by, this growing tangle of popular narrative threads. This chapter also considers briefly the significance of the ‘untouchable’ as the sinner par excellence. As will become clear, the textual sources considered contain some of the versions of the emerging dacoit legend that were current at the points in time, and in the particular socio-religious contexts, of their compilation.

Chapter 5 reflects upon the findings of previous chapters, first in relation to vernacular tellings of the dacoit legend, second in relation to the textual and iconographical evidence for his worship, both past and present. The final sections of the chapter address the most important issues of both the Birmingham incident and this book: the tension between caste and salvation and the shifting relationship between sacred text and religious meaning.

The rest of this introduction falls into three sections. Section 2 sketches the events of February 2000 in order to establish at the outset a fuller understanding of the dispute in question. Section 3 provides a brief account of the dacoit legend that lies at the heart of the controversy. Section 4 explores briefly some of the methodological issues that need to be discussed in a study of this kind.

2. The Dispute

The following account...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Dedication
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of Illustrations
• Acknowledgements
• 1. Situating the Problem
• 2. Contextualizing the Person
• 3. Identifying ‘Vālmīki’ in Early Sanskrit Texts
• 4. Tracing Motifs in Sanskrit and Vernacular Texts
• 5. Drawing Conclusions for Today
• Glossary
• Bibliography
• Index