Try GOLD - Free
'The Lord Does Not Exist'
Outlook
|January 08, 2018
The angry Brahminical god has tried to dominate the aboriginal, ambiguous deities. Then came the poet-saints, who transformed worship into an act of deep, silent personal love.
THE line of the title of this piece does not come from an atheist. Akappey Cittar, the Tamil Siddha from around the fifteenth century who wrote it, is marking his distance from orthodoxy by proclaiming ‘pure nothingness’. Not just the Lord, but for him, he himself does not exist, nor does the Self or the preceptor. Much of the world of appearances does not exist either. Only ‘pure void’ exists. But his is a minority voice, overwhelmed and overpowered by a strong binary that Chapter 1343(15) of the Raja Dharma Parva of the Mahabharata proposes.
Without fear of punishment and of violence, says the Mahabharata, neither fame nor prosperity can be attained on this earth. Gods who had killed (Rudra, Skanda, Agni, Varuna, Yama, Surya, Vayu, Kubera, the Vasus, the Maruts, the Sadhyas, the Vishvadevas) have greater respect and veneration than those gods prone to peace, self-control and restraint (Brahma, Dhata, Pushan). Depending on the context, people in India have chosen to portray their gods as angry, violent and punishing; or as benign, compassionate and loving. The story of god/gods in one of the religious traditions in India, then, is the story between two impulses: the retributive and the compassionate. Put differently, the contest is between reassertion of a Sanskritic and Brahminical universe upon forces of marginality, ambiguity, liminality, transformation and non-transcendence. In other words, the avarna, folk, aboriginal and rural battle against a dominant monochromatic view that seeks to impose itself.
This story is from the January 08, 2018 edition of Outlook.
Subscribe to Magzter GOLD to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 10,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
MORE STORIES FROM Outlook
Outlook
Goapocalypse
THE mortal remains of an arterial road skims my home on its way to downtown Anjuna, once a quiet beach village 'discovered' by the hippies, explored by backpackers, only to be jackbooted by mass tourism and finally consumed by real estate sharks.
2 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
A Country Penned by Writers
TO enter the country of writers, one does not need any visa or passport; one can cross the borders anywhere at any time to land themselves in the country of writers.
8 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
Visualising Fictional Landscapes
The moment is suspended in the silence before the first mark is made.
1 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
Only the Upper, No Lower Caste in MALGUDI
EVERY English teacher would recognise the pleasures, the guilt and the conflict that is the world of teaching literature in a university.
5 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
The Labour of Historical Fiction
I don’t know if I can pinpoint when the idea to write fiction took root in my mind, but five years into working as an oral historian of the 1947 Partition, the landscape of what would become my first novel had grown too insistent to ignore.
6 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
Conjuring a Landscape
A novel rarely begins with a plot.
6 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
The City that Remembered Us...
IN the After-Nation, the greatest crime was remembering.
1 min
January 21, 2026
Outlook
Imagined Spaces
I was talking with the Kudiyattam artist Kapila Venu recently about the magic of eyes.
5 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
Known and Unknown
IN an era where the gaze upon landscape has commodified into picture postcards with pristine beauty—rolling hills, serene rivers, untouched forests—the true essence of the earth demands a radical shift.
2 mins
January 21, 2026
Outlook
A Dot in Soot
A splinter in the mouth. Like a dream. A forgotten dream.
2 mins
January 21, 2026
Translate
Change font size
