A Simple Lesson From A Complicated Hindu-Muslim Love Story
In a country that’s rapidly being divided into us and them, Mansiya VP is a mascot of Indian syncretism, writes Priya Ramani.
When she was a baby, Mansiya VP’s mother, a Muslim from Mallapuram in Kerala, saw a classical dance performance on television. She was so enthralled by the art form, she decided her daughters should learn it. By age three, Mansiya was dancing. The two sisters became professional Bharatnatyam dancers.
When she was in seventh grade, Mansiya’s mother passed away and the local mahallu (mosque) committee denied the family funeral rights. Why? Because her daughters were practitioners of a Hindu classical dance form. The family had to take the body to her mother’s village, where she was laid to rest under her brother’s watch.
“At that moment I decided I won't follow any religion. I respect all religions and believe in a higher power but I don't practise any religion,” Mansiya tells me over the phone.
Dance gave Mansiya tremendous joy and at 18 she decided it would be her profession. But Hindu-Muslim love is increasingly frowned upon in India and this Muslim woman’s love for a Hindu art form has now pushed her into the eye of a storm.
Njan Hindu Aan. I am Hindu. These three little words in Malayalam are at the heart of a controversy at a prestigious temple festival in Kerala.
When the Koodalmanikyam Temple in Thrissur, Kerala, said (after the event brochure was printed and shared) that Mansiya could not perform because she was Muslim, it triggered a reaction you don't see often in India these days. Hindus lined up in solidarity.
The event brochure for the annual festival at the Koodalmanikyam Temple. (Image courtesy: Anju Aravind.)
Temple authorities asked all performers to hand in an undertaking in their own handwriting saying they were Hindu. “We all felt awkward. As an artist I have to express solidarity,” says Karthik Manikandan, 23, who refused to perform.
These may seem like simple statements but they are extraordinary acts of empathy in troubled times when Muslim vendors are being boycotted from temple festivals across Karnataka—a state neighbouring Kerala, with a rich syncretic past and one where Hindus even observe Muharram. The Indian Muslim’s way of living from dress to food habits is under attack.
Aravind says that in addition to the Mansiya issue, politics and a slew of organisational issues—‘use only live music not recorded’, ‘pay for your own accompanists’, ‘don't share your accompanists with other performers’—caused at least half a dozen performers to opt out of the festival. All expressed solidarity with Mansiya, who has practised this traditional Hindu art form for two decades, performing at least 50 temple festivals, mostly unhindered.
Anju Aravind. (Image courtesy: Wive weddings)
“I've performed at many temple utsavs. They have happily invited me and watched my performance all these years, there has been no discrimination,” says Mansiya. “I’ve encountered so many devotees who fully accepted me for my art and that has made me so happy.”
There was one other incident in 2019 when she was set was all set to perform at the Melpathur auditorium—coincidentally the venue of her arangetram (first public performance)—as part of the Guruvayur temple festival. Temple authorities called her and apologised profusely citing opposition to allowing a Muslim performer. “They explained so beautifully, I accepted it,” she says.
She’s married to a Hindu violinist whom she met when he played for her performances. “It was an arranged marriage. His family came to my home," she says. “Our marriage is based on mutual respect for each other’s art.”
These days Mansiya—her name means leader in Arabic—is watching two decade-old interviews of Kalamandalam Hyderali, Kerala’s most famous Muslim Kathakali singer on loop. Hyderali suffered similar humiliation at the hands of temple authorities.
The story goes that in the 1970s, the organisers of one temple festival pulled down part of a compound wall and extended the stage for Hyderali to perform so he wouldn't be within the temple premises. “All these years later, not much has changed," says Mansiya. Recently a Malayalam filmmaker made a biopic on Hyderali.
In India, every story has multiple layers, though the moral of this one is simple and has been repeatedly emphasised by dancers who supported Mansiya: art should have no religion.
Priya Ramani is a Bengaluru-based journalist and is on the editorial board of Article-14.com.
The views expressed here are those of the author, and do not necessarily represent the views of BloombergQuint or its editorial team.