Civilisation as a unifier

Civilisation as a unifier
Saeed Naqvi

President Abdurrahman Wahid of Indonesia was passing through one of his frequent crises in Parliament. I was on my way to East Timor for some TV coverage when a meeting with Swami Agnivesh in Jakarta opened up the possibility of a meeting with the embattled President. Let me explain.

During his visit to New Delhi in February, President Wahid had told me about his friendship with Swami Agnivesh. The two have been part of organisations that have worked consistently for interfaith dialogue as a means to global harmony. On this interfaith seminar circuit they have traveled far and wide, lived together, on most occasions sharing the same room. This association has lasted for over 25 years, imparting to it the sort of informality common among schoolboys who have shared the same dormitory.

Since Wahid is a man of substance, his elevation to the office of President of the world's largest Muslim country has not made him indifferent to old friends. The pair makes for an extraordinary composition. One a blind cleric, head of a spiritual Muslim organisation with a solid membership of 30 million, almost with a saintly halo for a section of Indonesians, the other a handsome sanyasi, with an abiding commitment to social causes. And now that the saintly cleric has become the President of Indonesia, Swami Agnivesh's meeting with him held an unusual interest for me.

It is almost a law of nature that the chief executive in any modern state will have the civil service throw an impenetrable cordon around him. "The President is busy" Swami Agnivesh was told. But the Swami was certain that this cannot possibly be Wahid's style. And he was right.

In spite of the fact that Wahid was facing the most crucial test in Parliament that day, he somehow prevailed on his bureaucracy to squeeze in time. So, at the appointed hour the saffron robed figure of Swami Agnivesh (with yours truly in tow) floated into the Presidential palace.

Initially the meeting seemed an anti climax. I did not see Wahid leap with joy. But it soon dawned on me that this singular lack of expression on his face upon Swami Agnivesh's entry was actually a function of his blindness. As soon as he shook hands and embraced the Swami, his face lit up. And soon he was all wrapped in nostalgia, remembering common friends and of course that anecdote about his early shock at seeing Swami Agnivesh standing on his head in a yogic pose. This was when they shared a room in Bangkok.

What struck me about the decor of the palace is something that has always fascinated me about Indonesia. First, there is a giant size Garuda (Vishnu's vahan) sculpted outside the palace. But even more striking is the massive, wooden panel, stretching across the wall from one end of the drawing room to the other. It is an exquisite depiction of scenes from the Mahabharat.

"How do you explain this?" I asked Wahid. "This is, after all, the world's largest Muslim country."

"It is very simple" Wahid replied in a matter of fact way. "Muslims in Indonesia have learnt to integrate Islam into the local culture."

He continued "and since our local culture in the past was made up of or greatly influenced by Hinduism or by India, so it is unavoidable Indonesia's Islamic culture is influenced by it too."

Then quite effortlessly, he glided into the nuances of meaning in the ancient Hindu epics. "According to the Mahabharat, the fight between the Kauravas and the Pandavas should be understood in the right way. It is not about the good guy, the cowboy and the bandit. No, not at all. Simply put as far as I understand -- the Kauravas are yet to attain the perfectness which the Pandavas have attained."

Wahid saw parallels with Sufi thought in Islam -- a sort of allegorical consistency with the thought in Mahabharat.

At this stage Swami Agnivesh asked him whether globalisation posed any danger to societies like India and Indonesia. Wahid's response was sharp.

"Globalisation will affect different societies differently. You in India may worry about, say, cottage industries being adversely affected. We in Indonesia are in a different phase of economic growth. We must be clear. Commerce brings technology, capital, market network. Cottage industry without being enlarged by capital, technology and market network will not develop."

India and Indonesia, according to him, were natural partners for civilisational as well as economic reasons. That is why he had suggested that the leaderships of the two counties, at the highest levels, must meet at least once every year. There are hints that Prime Minister Vajpayee may be visiting Indonesia later in the year.

If he does, he must visit Yogajakarta as well. He will witness something that would humble most middle class Indians. Every Indian in the metropolitan centres knows that Agatha Christie's Mouse Trap has played on London's West End for three decades. But does any Indian know that the Ramayana ballet has been performed every day, without a break, for the past 24 years in the shadow of the Prambanan temple by a troupe of over 100 artistes, all devout Muslims but unabashedly deferential to their civilisational past.

"Muslims in Indonesia have learnt to integrate Islam into the local culture."