Every summer, I visit my family home in West Bengal. Summer is the worst time to visit as it is unbearably hot in eastern India. This summer, however, feels different. The Lok Sabha election results are out, a new government has been sworn in at the Centre, and the West Bengal I have returned to is deeply polarised.
Political consciousness was part of our upbringing. Animated political discussions were the norm at home. I saw my father regularly disagree with my grandfather. They voted for different parties. My grandfather would taunt my father before going to vote. These discussions were issue- and ideology-based. The criticism was primarily based upon the performance of a candidate or the party she represented. Religion never featured in these discussions. We didn’t even know that religion could be an election issue, a site for contestation of the kind we saw in this election.
I don’t want to get into evocations of the ‘intellectual, progressive Bengali’. Having grown up here and then lived away, I have come to realise that a certain kind of conservatism was always part of the social fabric of the State. Some of the literature, music, films and art of West Bengal helped counter that conservatism and aided in the creation of a distinct cultural identity.
The closest that Bengal got to experiencing religious fervour was during the Durga Puja festivities. More than religiosity, it was a social occasion for friends and families to meet. Muslim friends and neighbours did not stay away from the celebrations either. Categories such as ‘them’ and ‘us’ didn’t exist. Ram Navami and Hanuman Jayanti didn’t feature in the religious calendar of the State until a few years ago.
Today, I see ‘them’ and ‘us’ as the new narrative of the State. From tea shops to bazaars to metro stations, everybody seems to be talking about how a certain community is being appeased by the current political dispensation in the State, succumbing to vote-bank politics. The majority feel threatened because their wishes have been ignored. Their religious identity is apparently endangered.
Somebody recently took to social media to complain that two recently elected women parliamentarians posing in front of Parliament wearing western outfits were not dressed appropriately, that their behaviour was not fitting of Bengalis. The Bengal that I knew and grew up in was inclusive and did not tell people what to wear or eat or how to behave in public. It is that Bengal we ought to restore and preserve.
The writer teaches literary and cultural studies at FLAME University, Pune
