Next to mutt is masjid, frowning at both is Periyar saying there’s no god, you fool. Recall this shining symbol when you talk Ayodhya
By the standards of the temples and religious establishments in the south, the Kanchi Kamakodi Peeth, better known as the Kanchi Mutt, is much too modest and understated. The entrance, flanked by the extension counters of two banks, ATMs and all, could be confused with that of an old haveli or dharamshala in the heart of the town. Since this is a mutt, the seat and abode of the presiding Shankaracharya, it does not even have the trappings of a temple. The Kamakshi Temple, or the temple of the love-eyed goddess, is the Kanchi Peeth’s spiritual home and is a five-minute walk away.
The same simplicity and restraint pervades the interiors of what has been one of the most important seats of Hindu spiritual authority and has only acquired greater importance in recent weeks. Members of the Central cabinet, leaders of the RSS and VHP, and dozens of mediamen have been visiting the mutt ever since its presiding seer, Pujyashri Jayendra Saraswati Swamigal, the 69th Shankaracharya in an order that began in 477 BC, launched his third effort at finding a mutually agreed solution on Ayodhya. And while, unlike the prime minister after the Srinagar initiative, he hasn’t yet declared that this will be the last time he would engage in this peacemaking, the odds are that if he fails this time the issue will be back in cold storage again, waiting for the court verdict.
Nobody who visits the mutt can miss the sizeable and ornately decorated mosque situated next door to it. The Jumma Masjid was built by the Nawab of Arcot more than 300 years ago. In three centuries, nobody has any recollection of any unpleasantness of any sort, leave alone riots or property — or propriety — disputes of any kind between the mutt and the mosque. The story goes that the 68th Shankaracharya, a very illustrious soul with formidable moral authority in the south, even started the tradition of the mutt observing silence during the namaz at the mosque. Not only is this tradition followed even now, this Shankaracharya is also known to encourage his Muslim visitors to interrupt conversation with him if the call of namaz beckons and make a quick visit to the mosque. It is also well-recorded history that many Muslim rulers in the south have been devotees of the mutt and have even made grants of land to it. In 1710, the Qutabshahi sultan of Golconda, Abul Hasan Tana Shah, granted land revenues to the mutt towards the worship of Shiva as Sri Chanramauliswara. He also issued tamara patras extolling its virtues and powers. These are now among the most widely displayed pieces of history in the mutt’s archives.
Hinduism and Islam co-existing in such close proximity may not be an ordinary occurrence. But in a country with such a complex history of over nearly 800 years of Muslim rule on an overwhelming Hindu majority, this situation is found in several places — though nowhere else does that allow for such harmonious co-existence as here. But if you want to see how this small piece of real estate is so special, besides packing more spirituality than almost any five acres of land anywhere, look across the road from the Kanchi Mutt main gate.
A bust of Periyar looks grimly and disapprovingly at both the mutt and the mosque. An elaborate Tamil inscription tells you it was installed in 1980 to honour the memory of the man who inspired the anti-religion (some would call it god-less) Dravida Movement. The operative part of the inscription has been translated into English, not once, but twice. It reads:
There is no God
There is no God
There is no God at all
The inventor of God is a fool
The propagator of God is a scoundrel
The worshipper of God is a barbarian.
This happens only in India, you might say. You can go around the world. You will find places where shrines belonging to warring faiths existing together. But where else would you find them sharing their sacred space with a high priest of godlessness? You can find synagogues, churches and mosques existing cheek-by-jowl in the old city of Jerusalem, on and around the temple Mount. But you won’t find a bust of Karl Marx anywhere there.
This is the way one great nation has evolved and matured. This uniqueness is so much part of the DNA that defines a nation state that it is like no other. It is secular and yet so deeply religious. But even more than the Constitution that is after all only 53 years old, it is our tradition and ethos, the history of our socio-cultural evolution, that enables not just politically and spiritually conflicting faiths to exist together but also allows atheism to have its say on the same stage. You can laugh or cry, but my suggestion is, celebrate this tolerance and diversity. Even the official literature of the mutt, its slickly produced brochures, extol the philosophy of the “secular Hindu ideal”. The Shankaracharya routinely blesses Muslim devotees and accepts tributes from them. He does not even complain that Periyar’s granite visage spoils his mood or day when he steps out.
Chances are this peculiar interplay of such diverse and conflicting spiritual thought would make no impact on the hearts and minds of the luminaries who have been walking in and out of the mutt seeking the simple seer’s good offices in resolving an issue as complex as Ayodhya. It’s a bit unfair to pitchfork the Shankaracharya into a mess that politics has only complicated and courts and judicial inquiries have shown no resolve to take head on. The seer wouldn’t tell you yet what his formula — to be unveiled on July 6 — contains. But most speculation has it that it would entail the construction of a temple near the old spot and a new mosque some distance away, a formula sweetened with explicitly Hindu guarantees for the future. If these speculations are correct, however, it would be a bit disappointing. Besides the fact that you do not really see the Muslims ceding the right to rebuild the mosque even within a 14-km radius, when more than a hundred other mosques, dargahs and graveyards already exist there. It would be disappointing also if the entire political system, now helped along by the personal, moral weight of the Shankaracharya and his blessings, is not able to replicate the beautiful picture of tolerance that you see in his very own neighbourhood.