Since knowledge was karma in the golden age of Hinduism, its radiance was available for the select few in society. The ruling class was taught statecraft and warfare. Priests were trained in rituals of emancipation and rites of purification. Householders were allowed to learn alphabets and numbers. All the rest had to beg, borrow, or steal the light of education from the blessed ones in order to find their independent paths in life.
In the Mahabharata, perhaps the greatest of all Hindu epics, Parashuram invokes a curse upon Karna for lying about his caste, knowing fully well that had the ostensibly lowborn warrior told the truth, he would have never been accepted as a disciple in the first place. Dronacharya not only demands but also gets the thumb of Eklavya in lieu of education fees even though the brave archer had been denied admission to the warfare school of the guru of the Kauravas and the Pandavas. The tribal bowman had perfected the art through complete devotion to his aspirations and constant practice.
Perhaps it has something to do with the concept of education as a privilege that makes the learned in our societies so pompous. Rather than humility, education inculcates pretentiousness. By the time a Brahmin—whether of birth or of educational attainment—steps out of university ramparts, he is fully convinced that there is only one truth in his area of specialization, and that it has already been revealed to him. The choice of gender is intentional: Lord Macaulay’s education policy in British India, which Nepal copied from the Indians, was designed to transform everyone into man-slaves of the invisible but omnipresent Empire. Of course, this observation is a gross generalization, but exceptions to this rule are few and far between.
The “historical inevitability” theory of Marxism is eerily similar to fatalism, a likeness that prompted Jawaharlal Nehru to observe rather resignedly: “It is an attempt at reducing human history, past, present and future, to a rigid logical system with something of the inevitability of fate or kismet about it.”
Nehru was himself a Kashmiri Pundit and had received the best possible imperial education. Yet he was somewhat skeptical about the efficacy of the rage of his age: Dialectic Materialism. However, his aside about the real strength of Marxism has turned out to be closer to the truth of learned analyses of great scholars. Even today, Marxism is more popular among Brahmins of birth or attainment than among the masses and the downtrodden.
There may not be a connection between the caste of Pushpalal and his being declared a “traitor” at one time, but the enthusiasm with which CPN (UML) put Manmohan Adhikari and Madan Bhandari at par with the Father of Communist Movement in Nepal creates grounds for belief that the entrepreneurs of proletarian politics in Nepal are partial towards fellow Brahmans. The surname of Keshar Jung Rayamajhi is perhaps incidental to his becoming a “renegade,” but there is a suspicion that had he been from the priestly caste, he would have probably received a better treatment from his fellow travelers.
It is true that Nepali Communists often champion the agenda of the marginalized and the downtrodden, but it is mostly a political strategy of organizing their resentment against the establishment rather than a matter of political conviction. For Communists, all forms of exploitation will end the day socialist utopia—under the dependable stewardship of proletarian vanguard made up of pundits and priests—is established.
Recent rumbles in the Maoist leadership have proven that the Karnas of our age and Eklavyas of our times are no longer resigned to their fate. On the surface, the tussle between Mohan Baidya, Pushpa Kamal Dahal, and Baburam Bhattarai was for the division of spoils between middle-aged males of the same caste: Responsibilities in the party organization, share in the distribution of ministerial portfolios, and positions in the party hierarchy are merely pelf and privileges that have little or no relation to political beliefs. However, underlying their newfound positions over principles, perhaps there was unease over the near “Priest-King” status of the party chairperson.
Baidya has been Dahal’s mentor, and Bhattarai a trusted lieutenant and apologist of the Maoist Supremo. However, Baidya could no longer ignore that the solidarity of the trenches developed among combatants could not be counted upon to maintain the loyalty of the marginalized groups of society for the party. Bhattarai was perhaps impressed upon by his loyal constituency—many of them from Madheshis, Newars, and the community of urban bourgeoisie—that he could not take their support for granted if he failed to stand up to his chairperson this time around. The struggle was a contest between the educated elite of the same caste on the surface, but beneath it lay caste and community equations that had transformed Dahal into an icon of Hope of Brahmans. No wonder, Nepali Congress and CPN (UML) have dropped Bhattarai, their old favorite, and now want Dahal to be the new premier.
Caste of birth, fears and hopes of distrustful communities, and cultural predictions were necessary but not sufficient explanations for the way controversies arose and subsided in the ranks of Maoist leadership. Perhaps ambitions of various faction leaders in the Maoist party have also something to do with their family backgrounds, education and personal ambitions. Narayan Kaji Shrestha and Ram Bahadur Thapa were not born in Brahman families, but they have acquired the Brahmanic belief, which holds that earthly achievements in life are prizes of heavenly karma. From there, the leap of faith required to be a maker of history is not
very long.
The entire lineup of Maoist leaders fear that they may get relegated to the footnotes of history if their Supremo secured his space as a legendary peacemaker. Now, who can blame Bhattarai for wanting to be the Premier when the first draft of the history is being produced, or fault Baidya for advocating pristine principles of the proletarian party amidst fears of “bourgeoisfication” corrupting the ascetic vanguard? None of them can help being what they are: Learned men with inherent promises and pitfalls of higher education.
Writer Khagendra Sangraula wears his Leftist inclinations with pride, but is perceptive enough to realize that an obsession with “objective reality” has transformed Marxist scholars into pedants who often miss the woods for the trees. Ground realities are conditions; the propelling forces of history are human emotions. Aims, ambitions, hopes, fears, frustrations, and disappointment are often drives that make leaders take momentous decisions.
A passion with political correctness is yet another byproduct of education. But Sangraula has overcome his learning over many years of writing for the masses, and loves to prick prejudices and puncture pride with his acerbic prose. He does not believe in dignifying bullshit with cow-dung appellation. He has yet another advantage: He can call Maoist leaders names without the fear of being labeled a renegade. And he does so often from public platforms.
So, is Bhattarai going to be the next Prime Minister? Theoretical Marxism would perhaps ridicule such a question: Despite all that hype over collective leadership, the “Headquarters” in Communist terminology is a singular noun. Nevertheless, apart from being an overwhelmingly Marxist country, the society in Nepal continues to be deeply Brahmanic. A fact that Dahal recognized early on and Bhattarai has begun to learn. Dahal worshipped a buffalo to appease Shani, Bhattarai needs to wear yellow and placate the Vedic deity Brihaspati.
Related story
Nepali Army says Gen Z protest response were guided by objectiv...
