We are one family, really?

Rohit Mahajan

The wonderful notion of inclusivity in the phrase ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ (‘the whole world is a family’) takes one’s breath away — the loftiness of the idea, the impossibility of achieving it!

Bharat wishes to spread this spirit of brotherhood across the world. It’s an ambition that must be praised. But if you’re even slightly interested in political events and discussions taking place around you — communal violence in Nuh, Manipur, the debate over Sanatan Dharma and India-Bharat, to name only a few of the burning issues — it would be clear that the we need to urgently implement ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ in our own country first. We’re not a family in India — we’re tribal people most comfortable in silos of religion, caste, sub-caste, ethnicity, language, culture, and more.

Scientists have demonstrated that prejudice has an evolutionary basis — animals in the wild tend to fear and suspect anything new, foreign. Unfamiliarity is considered a serious threat. Even within the same species, there is affiliation with in-group members, suspicion of out-group members. Human beings have inherited prejudice from their animal ancestors.

It’s clear that the ancient idea of ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ has not been enough to remove suspicions and end strife among different groups in our country. Indeed, the phrase would seem like an unseemly joke to many Indians; to, for instance, the four Dalit men who were recently bound and hung from a tree and beaten mercilessly in Ahmednagar, Maharashtra, because some upper caste men suspected them of stealing pigeons and goats.

The phrase ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ appears in the ancient text ‘Maha Upanishad’, but in the context and times we live, it could well be a desperate cry of help from a member of the underclass who has no privilege and is given few rights.

Sport can’t remain free of prejudice. It’s exacerbated by caste or religious affiliations of contestants — it’s a notion that’s abhorrent to lovers of sport, but it does exist. In July, disturbing news came from Rajasthan about a cricket league with teams named after castes or religion — Bairwa Strikers, Chauhan Knight Riders, Jai Bhim, Sanatani Boys, Khatri Blaster, Marwari Club, Team Saffron, Bhim Sena, Royal Ambedkar and Tondwal Cricket Club. The event was more a political enterprise than pure sport, and it was organised by a BJP MLA, and it certainly wasn’t ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ at work.

Prejudice often manifests itself in cricket. Three years ago, former star Yuvraj Singh — chatting online with Rohit Sharma — called Yuzvendra Chahal, the leg-spinner, a ‘bh**gi’ for the content of his TikTok videos. Sharma responded with laughter. Later, after a controversy erupted, Yuvraj expressed regret, but it was as far from an apology as could be: “I understand that while I was having a conversation with my friends, I was misunderstood, which was unwarranted. However, as a responsible Indian, I want to say that if I have unintentionally hurt anybody’s sentiments or feelings, I would like to express regret.”

For his comments, Yuvraj was arrested later, and he must not be hanged for making them, and it’s possible that he did not fully know the casteist hatred inherent in the term; but he represents the attitude of privileged city-dwellers who like to think that caste is a thing of the past, and who perhaps think that the teenaged boy who unclogs the drains in their houses made a conscious choice to get into the attractive profession of sewer-cleaning.

This reminds one of the story Sunil Gavaskar narrates of being switched with another baby at birth in a hospital. A relative had noticed that the real Gavaskar baby had a hole near the top of his left earlobe; the next day, the eagle-eyed relative picked up the baby from the crib and, to his horror, found that there was no hole in the left earlobe. Gavaskar was later found “sleeping blissfully beside a fisherwoman”. It is likely that if Gavaskar had been brought up by a fishing family, he would not have become a cricketer — indeed, despite the great democratisation of the sport over the last two decades, only four Dalits have played cricket for the country so far. In our highly stratified society, to whom you’re born is decisive in what you can be.

A few years ago, on Christmas eve in Shimla, a friend and I met a reveller in a new, ill-fitting two-piece suit — he was a new believer in Jesus Christ. ‘A ch**hra,” said my friend with a laugh. My atheistic view was that ‘if that’s how you think, he’s well rid of your religion’.

Can we have a bit of ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ in our own country, please?

Join Whatsapp Channel of The Tribune for latest updates.

#Bharat #G20 #Manipur #Nuh