Continuity

A shrine at the Teknaf Buddhist Temple.

When the garden’s silence meets the quiet of dawn, U Nanda Loka, 50, begins his prayer of meditation and whispers. At 5.30 a.m. for half an hour he will seek blessings for all the people of the world, just as he has done every day for the past twelve months since he first took up the post of sole monk at the roughly 200-year-old Teknaf Buddhist temple.

While the temple grounds are largish the congregation is small. There are only 14 Rakhine families remaining in Teknaf town, joined by the handful of other Buddhists who have moved there for work.

“There should be at least one monk,” says 19-year-old Mong Swui Thing, a Marma teenager from Ramu sent by his father, a farmer, to take advantage of the temple’s tranquillity in preparing for school exams. He aspires to a government job eventually.

Buddha's footprint at the Teknaf temple.

Due to the small size of the community adjustments have been made. Where in a larger location it is customary for monks to walk through morning markets carrying pots into which people place food, all that the monks will eat for that day, in Teknaf the fourteen families organise to supply the provisions for the monk and temple staff on a rotation basis.

“The issue is continuity,” says temple visitor Aung Kyaw Tha, “Temple goers are few but it doesn’t matter; we want our religion to stay.”

Gautama Buddha said if there is a quiet place it has its own happiness, explains Tha. “Alone or with people, in town or village, no matter where, one has to keep Buddha’s teachings in mind in order to live peacefully.”

A smaller temple in the garden complex. Note the distinctive Rakhine style roof.

The temple complex which consists of a main building raised on stilts in Rakhine tradition, together with a smaller temple to one side and a golden stupa featuring a footprint of Buddha towards the back, is tucked away from the road, barely visible.

Once its grounds were larger still but roadside portions were progressively sold as many of Teknaf’s Rakhines moved to Myanmar in the 1990s.

Tea shop talk says the then-majority Rakhine community was favoured in the British era. There are tales of how the few Bengalis in earlier times used to take off their sandals to carry them underarm while passing a Rakhine shop in the bazaar, as a sign of respect. It was considered improper for a Bengali to wear a wristwatch or open an umbrella in front of a Rakhine house, people say.

The temple was undoubtedly busier then.

U Nanda Loka, the sole monk at the Teknaf temple.

Such talk of political history stands in contrast to the views of the monk. When asked to speak of other religious communities he says, “Of Hinduism, Christianity and Islam I have no knowledge. I don’t understand. I only do what Buddhism says.”

Mong Swui Thing, a Marma youth sent to the temple by his father to study.

Central to his beliefs is the importance of avoiding any form of envy or jealousy; one reason why it cannot be fruitful to consider how others practice religion. This tenet does not mean, however, neglecting concern for non-Buddhists. “Everyone in the world I will bless,” says the monk.

Similarly when I was foolish enough to ask the monk his favourite food he struggled to answer. When the goal is to seek enlightenment away from one’s physical being and the physical world, the question makes no sense. “What is given, I like,” he says, “My preference is nothing.”

By tradition monks eat only one plate of rice, without looking up to see what others are eating while they complete a meal. A second serving is to risk gluttony; to see what others eat risks envy. Moreover at Teknaf Buddhist temple the monk will eat nothing after lunch at midday, until the next morning’s breakfast.

The stupa at Teknaf Buddhist Temple complex.

U Nanda Loka says he first became a monk after his parents died when he was 16 years old. “I didn’t like regular life anymore,” he says. With his two sisters married he moved to the temple.

Secondary temple at Teknaf complex.

Being a monk is not inherently a permanent position but one that lasts “as many days as it makes you happy,” though most commonly it is for life.

In describing Buddhism, the monk refers to five principal tenets: don’t kill because life is sacred; don’t take what isn’t yours; treat women respectfully; don’t lie and; don’t use alcohol or drugs, including stimulants such as betel leaf. “To explain more than these basic beliefs,” says the monk, “is to embark upon an ocean of knowledge.”

The latter part of each morning is spent reading texts, completing bath and lunch and retiring for half an hour’s rest. In the afternoon is more prayer while it is common in the evenings for people to arrive at the temple to seek the monk’s advice.

The pattern of each day is simplicity repeated right up until it meets once more the quiet of dawn. These are traditions followed in temples around the world, right back to the 4^th – 6^th century BCE, the time of Gautama Buddha. The Teknaf Buddhist temple is but a footnote in a far greater story of continuity.

Teknaf Buddhist temple, said to be over two hundred years old. The main building.

This article is published in The Daily Star, here: A Prayer for Continuity

Many Words for Water

Across the Naf River is Myanmar.

Bank of the Naf.

North of Teknaf town, afternoon has reached sleepy Hnila’s Old Bazar, a few hundred metres west of the Naf River. There’s not much activity: most people are probably taking a rest after completing lunch.

Sitting at the temple.

We’re sitting in a perennial building site that’s half-flooded. It has planks of wood to balance across to venture inside. It’s here the local Hindu community worship and a good number of them are gathered in the front of the building just beyond the gate. They’ve arranged plastic stools from somewhere to sit on. A fruit platter is being passed around.

“This is the southernmost Kali temple in Bangladesh,” says community leader Bipul Pal. “It’s the only Kali temple south of Cox’s Bazar.”

Hnila countryside.

The Naf River is narrower in Hnila. On its far bank the periodic watchtowers of Myanmar are clearly visible, about the only evidence of habitation along an otherwise wild bank. The common view of Myanmar to be heard in Teknaf’s tea shops seems to ring true here: “Myanmar has lots of land,” people say, “but little development.”

The southernmost Kali Temple in Bangladesh, Hnila, Teknaf.

Touring Hnila with local Hindu leaders.

The river wasn’t always the border it is today. In the British period then Burma was like Bengal under British administration; and the Teknaf Peninsula was primarily inhabited by Buddhist Rakhines. Bengalis by all accounts were rare. Hindus were rarer.

Canal. Looking towards the Teknaf Range.

“We are fifteen families,” concludes Pal after a moment’s mental count. “Hindu families in Hnila run simple businesses like dairies and tailoring shops.” At least one fulfils an administrative role with an NGO. “None of us is rich.”

The Kali protima in Hnila Old Bazar.

The financial condition of the small community means that completing the refurbishment of the temple, in brick and on a grander scale than the original structure founded in 1833, will take time. Progress is slow.

Altar at the Radha-Krishna Temple.

Proud of their town, before evening there will be a tour of  a handful of other temples, tin shed and dilapidated village constructions dedicated to other incarnations of God. At the Krishna temple there lives a solitary monk who teaches meditation and yoga. The temple keeps a cow and he offers fresh milk to visitors.

Hindu monk. 'There are many words for water.'

“What is important is what is in the heart,” he says, “Islam says ‘don’t steal,’ Buddhism says ‘don’t steal’ and Hinduism says the same. If there is love for mankind in the heart it doesn’t matter if you go to a temple, a church or a mosque. Some say paani, some say jol… There are many words for water.”

As can be anticipated Hnila’s Hindus revere all of the local temples but the historic Kali Temple is the community’s focal point. “We don’t know when we’ll be able to finish its reconstruction,” says Pal.

Members of the small Hnila Hindu community at the forever ongoing reconstruction site of the historic Kali Temple.

Sree Jamlal's Book

Sree Jamlal's book is treasured by him and his family.

Village police officer and secretary of the local indigenous association in Dinajpur’s Ghoraghat, Sree Jamlal Robidas, 60, is proud to show a copy of a manuscript he has. The simple book which is not grander than a basic exercise book, has well-decorated but worn and faded pages. Nonetheless, in his modest family home, it’s treasured. It’s a religious text.

He says the Robidas community in Bangladesh, whose ancestors inhabited a stretch of territory from Bhojpur in India’s Bihar to Gorakhpur in Uttar Pradesh, speak Nagri language. “We Robidas can be found in many districts. Around 200 families live in Ghoraghat.”

Nagri or Nagari is a term used to describe an ancient writing script of northern India and collectively its descendant languages and scripts, which include Bengali. The historical script of Sylheti is called Syloti-Nagri.

But the term Nagri is also a commonly used synonym for the Devanagari script of Hindi; and it is Hindi or perhaps Bhojpuri, another Devanagari-script-based language native to the region of Sree Jamlal’s ancestors, which would appear to adorn the tired pages. He suggests both Hindi and Bhojpuri are alternative names for their language.

While the Devanagari script may be common in South Asia, the religion that is the subject of Sree Jamlal’s book is more unique. 

Sree Jamlal with his family at their home in Ghoraghat.

“We are not Hindu,” says Baduram Robidas, the 47-year-old religious secretary of the national Robidas Development Association. “We don’t believe in protima (the religious statues common to Hindu temples) and we don’t observe their pujas. We have two gurus, Sheo Narayan Swami and Ravidas.”

Baduram similarly estimates that about 200 Robidas families, whose men by custom take the name Robidas while the title Robi is included in many women’s names, live in his home town of Gaibandha.

Their principle guru Ravidas was a radical mystic of the fourteenth (or fifteenth) century who challenged the caste system and idea of untouchability. Born into the dalit Chamar caste in a village near Varanasi, Ravidas taught that one is not distinguished by caste but personal action.

“If you have an honest heart you have no need to go to the holy Ganges,” Baduram quotes of Ravidas, “The water in your little pot: that will be your Ganges water.”

“If you are born a Brahmin but don’t have the true spirit or knowledge then Ravidas says you are not Brahmin,” he explains. “If you are born a Robidas and your heart is good it does not matter.”

Ravidas believed everybody had a right to read sacred texts and worship God, in contrast to traditional Brahminical belief. He also emphasised the value of honest labour – another challenge to the established hierarchy. He was something of a rebel theologian.

According to Baduram, the motto of Ravidas’s teachings is shohong sotho nomo, which means “To live with truth.”

Early morning in Ghoraghat.

Ravidas is also followed by Sikhs, with 41 verses of his poetry included in the Sikh holy book, the Guru Granth Sahib. “Even Guru Nanak studied Ravidas,” says Baduram with pride.

However, theological differences in Punjab over whether Ravidas was a guru, although he was born before the first Sikh guru, or merely a holy man, brought about a schism resulting in the Ravidassia religion. Punjab’s Ravidassias call their house of worship a bhawan or gurughar.

Though in essence the same religion, how much this subsequent Punjabi history is reflected in the localised traditions of the Robidas in Bangladesh is uncertain, especially given Baduram’s inclusion of the second guru, Sheo Narayan Swami.

More commonly known as Swaminarayan, this later guru born in 1781 founded the Swaminarayan Hindu sect in Gujarat – but he was born in Chhapaiya village near Ayodhya in Uttar Pradesh, about 170 kilometres from Gorakhpur. The proximity of his birthplace to the ancestral home of the Robidas may explain, in part, his influence.

However, according to Baduram there is another reason for venerating Swaminarayan, a guru who had followers from several religions. “Sheo Narayan Swami observed the position of dalits and how Brahmins mistreated them. He saw how easily a Chamar could be killed and that their bodies were left in the street to be eaten by dogs and foxes,” Baduram says, “Sheo Narayan Swami named the religion of Ravidas as the true religion.”

Swaminarayan is indeed famous for considering and helping the poor and vulnerable, but while some say he worked towards ending the caste system he was not entirely against it like Ravidas. A bigger difference might be that while Swaminarayan protested animal sacrifice and preached lacto vegetarianism, Ravidas’s family were tanners, an occupation often associated with Chamars.

The Robidas of Bangladesh, like the family of their guru Ravidas, traditionally work with leather. “Leather and shoe-making are our custom,” says Sree Jamlal, whose yard features a pile of drying goatskins. “But most Robidas are poor, living hand-to-mouth, and they take day labour or rickshaw driving jobs.” He estimates only 2% of Ghoraghat’s Robidas families are solvent and that the literacy rate is “almost zero.”

His own son studied up to class 8. “It’s difficult for our children to complete their education,” says Sree Jamlal, “due to our financial condition.”

Goatskins in Sree Jamlal's yard.

Similarly, Baduram’s father was a cobbler, and from adolescence he used to help with the family trade. But Baduram was more fortunate, being able to complete his BA. Subsequently, he landed a job with famous footwear manufacturer Bata, where he still works as the Lab and Quality Assurance Officer at their Savar factory.

In his spare time Baduram hopes to contribute to his community, which is not officially recognised as either an ethnic or religious minority in Bangladesh. Baduram’s primary concern, however, is that knowledge of their unique religious traditions is being lost.

“The new generation has mostly been converted to Hinduism,” he laments, “because they can’t read the script of Nagri.” Baduram is writing a book to address the issue. His book, “Guru Grontha” – “The Book of the Guru” – written in Bangla, aims to make accessible to a Bangla-reading Robidas youth their true religious heritage.

It can be that before too many days have gone by there’ll be a volume of new pages at Sree Jamlal’s house – a new book that is equally treasured but this time written in everyday, familiar, Bangla letters. 





This article is published in Star Magazine, here: Sree Jamlal's Book