Rajesh Singh
Sanjeev Sanyal is no historian, and thank god for that. The history that we are made to learn while growing up, and the historical narratives which most of us come across, have remained largely within the parameters meticulously established by the ideological framework of the tellers of such history. In India, it meant an over-concentration of ‘liberal’ and ‘secular’ paradigms, where every incident and historical personality was judged — and thereafter presented to the readers — on biased benchmarks.
The narrative which got etched in the collective national subconsciousness was a doctored one in most instances. It was bound to be challenged sooner or later. Over the years, this effort has gained momentum and there is, which we can call for want of a better expression, an ‘alternate’ discourse. This is especially so in the narrative of political history — ancient, medieval or modern.
This is why, thank god for that, Sanjeev Sanyal is no such historian. He is not blinkered, does not carry ideological baggages and is willing to explore new avenues that established academicians of history have traditionally ignored. This made it possible for him to give us refreshing perspectives in his wonderful book, The Ocean of Churn: How the Indian Ocean Shaped Human History.
But apart from that, there is the history of culture and civilisation, and this is more relevant in the Indian context, which boasts of a more than 5,500-year-old recorded history, and more if one considers what is dismissed as ‘mythology’ as opposed to true. The sad part is that even the recorded history that contextualises India’s cultural and civilisational linkages has rarely, if at all, found its way in mainstream historical narrative.
This is why, thank god for that, Sanjeev Sanyal is no such historian. He is not blinkered, does not carry ideological baggages and is willing to explore new avenues that established academicians of history have traditionally ignored. This made it possible for him to give us refreshing perspectives in his wonderful book, The Ocean of Churn: How the Indian Ocean Shaped Human History.
Those of us who are familiar with his earlier book, The Land of Seven Rivers: A Brief History of India’s Geography, would not be surprised by his latest, imaginative approach. He had, through this book, indicated not just a willingness but also a high level of intellectual competence to understand who, we Indians, are, and where we come from. He established the need for a sense of pride about our heritage drawn from various geographical developments, how that shaped our present, and why it will remain relevant in the future.
At an event in Delhi recently to mark the release of Sanyal’s latest book, Union Minister Nirmala Sitharaman remarked that The Ocean of Churn is a must-read for Indians, especially the young, interested in their past. This may have appeared as a polite gesture to an author seated next to her, but the compliment was genuine. Indeed, it’s a must-read.
While the book is about several developments around the Indian Ocean rim — economic, political, social — the most interesting takeaway is the breath-taking connection the author draws between peoples of India and the near and distant places, that happened many, many centuries ago, and which continues to reflect in one way or the other to this day.
For instance, he is clear that there was no Aryan invasion. He says that the deep linkages between the ancient Iranians and those in the Vedic times — the oldest religious texts of ancient Persia are composed in a language very similar to Vedic Sanskrit; rituals and customs relating to fire and the sacred thread are common features — could possibly be due to the fact that Iranians and north Indians were part of the same continuum until the Bronze Age.
Sanyal also offers another tantalising link: Those between Vedic India and the Mitanni tribe of West Asia. The Mitanni people migrated from the region to Iraq in the middle of the second millennium BC. “In 1380 BC, they entered into an agreement with the Hittites. The agreement was solemnised in the name of Vedic gods Indira, Varna, Mitra and Nasatya.” The author wonders if the Mitanni people were related to warrior tribes that, according to Indian ancient texts, had wandered off and became ‘mlechas’.
Then there is the fascinating story of a band of Indians who ventured as far off to as Australia more than 4,000 years ago and passed on their DNA to the aborigines. They also took along dogs. Sanyal says, “This is possibly why the dingo looks suspiciously like the stray dogs one sees all over India.”
Sanyal speaks of the migration into India of the Austro-Asians in the post-Ice Age period. The migrants brought with them a matrilineal custom. This, as the author points out, remains dominant even today in the North-East, where the settlers came to live. He offers the interesting instance of sindoor being first applied to a newly-wedded woman, not by the husband as is the practice across the rest of India, but by the mother-in-law.
He tells a story located in the Mekong delta, where the first Indianised kingdom, called Hunan by the Chinese, was established around the first century BC. it goes like this: An Indian merchant ship in the region was attacked by a bunch of pirates led by Soma, the daughter of a local Naga clan chieftain. The Indians led by a Brahmin, Kaundinya, fought back. Impressed by the valour, and perhaps the Brahmin’s good looks, Soma fell in love with him. The two got married. It’s from here, though Sanyal is not sure if the story has merit, that it certainly had a cultural impact in the centuries to come. Inscriptions of the Chams of Vietnam and the Khmers of Cambodia refer to the story. The serpent came to be an important symbol in royalty during the Khmer regime. He notes, “More than a thousand years later, the mystical union between the king and a ‘serpent’ princess remained an important part of the court ceremonials at Angkor.”
The serpent story played out elsewhere too. The Pallava dynasty had been marrying repeatedly into the Naga clan. The king Nandi Varman II, was the son of a Naga princess. Sanyal notes that in the compound of the Vaikuntha Perumal temple in Tamil Nadu, there stands a shrine dedicated to snake spirits. That the temple is dedicated to the deity Vishnu and not Shiva, merely illustrates the synergy in Hindu faith.
Here comes another twist to the earlier tale: Kaundinya is the name of a gotra of Brahmins who still live along the Tamil Nadu-Andhra Pradesh-Odisha coastline. Thus, we have a fascinating family linkage between this part of coastal India and the Khmers and the Chams!
And finally, let us not forget the symbolism of the book’s title. It’s a samudra manthan of a different kind.
(The writer is editorial director of nationalistonline.com, English)