Know Thyself...

The root of the word 'Jihad' is the Arabic word 'Juhd', which means to strive, to struggle. Furthermore, words for 'effort', 'labour' and 'fatigue' are also derived from the same root. This shows that Jihad has an element of struggle built into it, and hence it's more of a striving spirit than anything connected to an offensive or warring attitude. Quran uses the word Jihad as a way of defence, a check against oppressors and not meant to be a 'Holy War' in any sense of the word. In fact, the word that the Quran uses for war is 'Qital' and it has been wrongly misinterpreted to translate into Jihad in today's world. Essentially, Jihad is an effort to practice religion in the face of oppression and persecution, may it be a rebellion inside one's own heart or to stand up against an external agent of abuse or maltreatment.
 

Jihad is striving in the way of God as one would strive in the way of oneself. A person engaged in the path of Jihad is a Mujahid (pl. Mujahideen) and this is an important religious duty for all Muslims. It's sometimes considered as close as being a pillar of Islam itself. The primary focus of Jihadi message in the Quran, where it is supposed to be mentioned about 41 times, is to enable a purificatory process of the believer from within, to enable his soul to relentlessly struggle to achieve its original state of purity against the evil temptations of sin, and only analogically is it supposed to mean a struggle against outer forces. It is a means of spiritual struggle to achieve harmonious and righteous living.

Accordingly, there are two main kinds of Jihad that Muslims believe in:
 

The Sunni sect believes in a four-fold Jihad (ways of struggling in the cause of God):
 

The reason why the outer struggle also assumed significance was in the very specific context of history where Islam was established. It was a new religion propounded by Muhammad (pbuh) based on the commandment of God himself (through his arch-angel Jibrail) and he was putting forward thoughts and beliefs that were in opposition to the prevailing mindsets at the time. The 6th Century C.E. was a world of fervent paganism on one side and an inspired Christianity on the other. To make matters complicated, Muhammad (pbuh) was in the midst of warring tribes of Arabia that hungered for each other's blood. In such a world, a message of peace needs to come protected with defensive power of its own, lest it be shattered to ruins, lost in the noise and mayhem of battle forces.
 

The outer struggle, which was the only perspective in which the Quran sanctioned an external Jihad,  was to defend and protect oneself in the path of religious movement towards God. Quran never encouraged unprovoked aggression – embarking on pro-active hostilities, or harming the innocent or violating the rights of others.

 

As described earlier, the word for War is 'Qital' and Jihad was never meant to be equated with war at all. This was only a gimmick prompted by fundamentalist and political motives. The bulk of the masses gets easily swayed by the voice of the influential and it is the responsibility of authoritative forces in society to ensure a prompt and earnest interpretation of our sacred and holy scriptures. The believers put their heart and soul into a religion- it defines their lives, they try to find meaning and solution to all their fundamental questions of life and the message of religion plays an important role for them. This is not a failure of religion or its scriptures, rather it is a failure on the part of authority and society at large that lets fundamentalist forces run amok. It is a failure of the leaders that the masses entrust their faith in, to lead with honour and trust, and the same leaders in turn misuse the innocence and gullibility of the masses and mislead them to achieve their own selfish, short-sighted ends.

Islam is a religion with no absolute authority, except for the Quran. The religion has no institutional hierarchy like Christianity and that makes it a diluted global force where local leaders can concentrate power in their hands, and in the name of religion, maintain a strangle-hold on the thoughts and beliefs of the believers. Karl Marx said, “Religion is the opium of the people”, and this authority of religion over the people gives such conspiring local leaders immense power of control over their believing masses.

Jihad is today, mostly, projected as a means to eradicate the 'indifferent' nonbelievers (i.e. people who live their own faith without interfering with muslims) and to fight for the cause of establishing a global 'Umma' under an appropriate Caliph or 'Emir'. Before accepting such versions of Jihad that one reads and hears, one needs to look at it from the perspective of being pure God's message itself, and not the interpretation as 'men of authority' would do it. When God, who created the entire world and for whom all human being are equal, sends down a message of struggle and striving for humanity, why would he want an attitude of war and hatred to simmer between his own children. Would God, as a loving parent, suggest means and methods for one child to fight and kill the other? If yes, then would such a God be a loving God at all?

In this respect, I dare say belief in Jihad as a 'Holy War' is not just an affront to the holy message of Quran, it is rather a blasphemy on God himself.

In his celebrated novel - The Prophet - Kahlil Gibran says we tend to speak when we are not at peace with our thoughts. I would agree with him, but only on the point of speaking, as I feel that when I am at ease with my thoughts, I encounter an overwhelming desire to write, an inexorable urge to convert the song of the heart into a dance of pen on paper. It was exactly such a serenity I found under the blessed arches of my institute, Dharmaram Vidya Kshetram, and as this peace settles onto the eaves of my heart, like fresh dew, it breaks the light of my thoughts into a rainbow of unforgettable experiences. I narrate here my journey, of blossoming in the beautiful garden of virtues.

 

It was a lucky break that propelled me, one Friday evening, out of the monotony of running a rat race; a luck that was inspired by the hands of my most revered Father. Kurian Kachappilly. He had replied to my e-mail inquiry and had invited me to visit the department. When I met him at the reception, he had the most peaceful demeanour, a meditative look that had an instant attraction to it. I had arrived at the opportune moment of admissions; a brief chat with Fr. Kurian was motivating enough to push me into a loop with our ever-approachable dean Father. Saju Chackalackal, who with his compulsive interlocution mixed with endearing humour created a magic on me and in no time, I was in the class of M.A. Philosophy as full-time student. The flood gates had opened for me...

 

            When I enrolled for my philosophy course, I was swimming against the tide. I had left behind a professional life that I had gotten used to. I had taken a course where no lucrative career options were visible. I had taken a step ignoring the advice of my own family and friends. All of this made me very nervous on the first day, and just when I was yearning for a shot of inspiration, came our most beloved Fr. Saju with the blessed candle in his hand. He had conceived this illustration to show us all the responsibility that philosophers have in society. With his lighted candle, he lit the raw candles that was in the hands of us students and then spoke the memorable words, “As teachers, we will provide you the spark, but each of you, being the candle, should take this spark and be a light for the rest of the world.” It was an unforgettable demonstration that had sealed the deal, for me at least, and I have never looked back since then.

 

 

            It was right on the first day of my class that a ‘never-before’ experience dawned upon me. I knew I had enrolled in an ecclesiastical institute, but never expected to be the “only lay person” in a class of 66 students, where everyone else came from a priestly background. My heart had an initial rattle of insecurity, “Will I not have a friend’s circle to discuss and debate with?” I had always shied away from attention, but the way I stood out from the rest of the class here, firstly by coming from an engineering background, then having left behind a lucrative I. T. profession, then having a non-Catholic singularity, all this soaked me into a limelight that I had never asked for. Nevertheless, it had an advantage of its own. What was a momentary discomfort in the beginning, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Had it not been for the slightly-excessive attention of my professors and mates, I would have probably withdrawn into a shell and relegated myself to an island of self-study. What was standing out as an embarrassment in the beginning, turned out to be an outstanding advantage later on.

 

 

            I am a product of Bangalore, and through my own eyes, I have seen this city evolve. From being a warm, silent town, decked in greenery and known for its hospitable culture, it has, today, burgeoned into a noisy metropolis, that fills the lungs with dark smoke and hungers for opportunities unmindful of the greed that is eroding its humanitarian foundations. Dharmaram sits right in the heart of this city, yet its environs speak a silent language that reminds me of the yesteryears Bangalore. Every single day, as I enter its campus, its gentle green winds touch my heart and soothe it; its history stands tall in memory of the great city that it is so proudly a part of. I never fail to convey my heartfelt gratitude to the ‘garden of virtues’ for saving, so lovingly, the last surviving figments of a once garden city.

 

            The staff and students of DVK have an all-embracing vision, and this was apparent right from my first day here. I was heartily invited to be a part of their family and I have savoured every moment of it. Right from the camaraderie of the classroom, to the kind-hearted support staff at the office and the library, they uphold virtues of universal love in their every interaction. Just like their syllabus, their approach towards life too is secularly universalistic. Every time I address a classmate as ‘brother’, a current of universal brother-hood flows through my veins. I would love to have more religious diversity in the classroom, which I guess is just a matter of time. The philosophy department flung open its gates to the outside world barely three years back and the word has just started spreading.

            Having spent time in the close quarters of religious folks has imparted a precious insight to my life. A degree in philosophy is mandatory requirement for their religious ordination, yet they respect the subject for its own standing. They take studies as conscientiously as their other religious duties. Their disciplined lifestyle, giving equal importance to work, play and pray along with studies, is something my careless lifestyle should learn from. Their practice of a morning prayer before the classes adds so much of sanity to the rest of my day. Even their small act of bowing before entering the class makes me realize that I am part of a sacred tradition, in a sanctified place.

Finally, their aspect of taking up a religious life, of putting the service to society ahead of their own personal ambitions, has touched my heart somewhere and inspired me to be a far less selfish person than I naturally was.

 

 

I can clearly contrast this way of life with my own experience studying at an engineering institute. The students there had taken the course with their own choice, yet they felt compelled to study by force. The respect towards subjects was only with a view of building a career in it, and not for the love of the subject itself. The students constantly felt the pressure of competition and earning marks was more important than understanding the subject. Attending classes was considered a big drag, and most of the studying happened in coaching classes outside. All this had corrupted the idea of education in me, and it is finally at the doorsteps of Dharmaram that I found the real meaning of how an institute can be a temple of knowledge. I wish this attitude could magically travel into the other corners of this country and infuse a new lease of life into the dying tradition of real education.

DVK’s motto stresses on Devotion to God as the supreme form of wisdom. In my days spent here so far, I have seen God in the form of wisdom and my devotion towards education has supremely multiplied. Though I spent only a brief period of two years in the institute, yet it occupies a large share of memorable experience of my academic life. I am really proud of having been a part of this wonderful institution and I wish many more deserving people get to experience a similar uplifting in the days to come.