From Mosque to Ram’s Birthplace: The Political History of the Babri Masjid Demolition in Ayodhya, India
It was on August 5, 2020, during one of the deadliest pandemics, that the Indian Prime Minister laid a foundation stone to help bury a distinctive period in global history. Narendra Modi had travelled to Ayodhya, a city long identified by Hindus with one of their most beloved gods. Lord Rama — avatar of Vishnu and hero of the Sanskrit epic, the Ramayana — was said to have ruled within its walls as the very model of those who uphold truth and justice.
Like Camelot, Abraham, Moses, or the various other gods in Greek mythology, or like the mythical city of Troy, the court of Rama glimmers tantalizingly in the imaginings of those who fall beneath its spell — a nostalgic yearning for a vanished golden age that never truly existed, yet harboring the hope that it might come back again.
In the early sixteenth century, shortly after the Moghul conquest of the lands that once, so Hindus believed, had constituted the Ram Rajya, the ‘realm of Rama’, a mosque was built in Ayodhya. By the twentieth century, large numbers of Hindus had come to believe without any concrete evidence, but rather based on hearsay and myths, that this same mosque, the Babri Masjid, stood directly on the site of the “Ram Janmabhoomi,” or the birthplace of Rama. In the 1980s, the BJP — the party to which Modi belongs — began a campaign to demolish it. In 1992 a mob duly tore it down. Communal riots exploded. Thousands died.
But amidst the lingering scars of that tragedy, a forgotten gem that shines a stark light on the path to that fateful day —a film that remains as relevant today as the day it was made.
Despite fading from memory, Anand Patwardhan’s “In the Name of God,” a National Award-winning documentary, explores the escalating events in the years leading up to the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya.
The film follows the journey of BJP leader L.K Advani’s Rath Yatra from Somnath to Ayodhya. The focal point of the film is the aforesaid destruction of the mosque in Ayodhya to construct a temple in its place, claiming it to be Lord Ram’s birthplace. Beyond the main issue, the documentary explores the roots of communalism, the politicization of religion, and classism.
The film is not based on opinions but rather reflects the sentiments of the people at that time. Patwardhan interviews various individuals, ranging from fervent members of the procession to temple priests, local residents, and even government officials. The documentary offers a thought-provoking perspective for today’s audience, serving as evidence of how communal feelings and attitudes began to take shape due to Hindutva politics. The title itself suggests how individuals justify their actions ‘in the name of God,’ even when those actions may not align with their Lord’s command.
The Babri Mosque, constructed by Babar in 1527, supposedly replaced a Hindu temple. During British colonial occupation, seeds of communal discord were sown to disrupt Hindu-Muslim unity. However, both communities continued to pray to their respective gods in close proximity for years.
According to the BJP and Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) narrative, on December 22, 1949, Lord Ram appeared in a priest’s dream in Ayodhya, inspiring the installation of Ram’s idol in the mosque. The District Magistrate of Ayodha, K.K Nayar, supported this operation. The film questions the logic of these events and calls for an inquiry into the ‘organizers’ behind the operation.
A clip in the film discuss K.K Nayar’s educational qualifications questions the logic behind his actions, proving the notion that higher education doesn’t always leads to higher morality and secular views.
The BJP initiated their Rath Yatra (chariot ride, to resemble the chariot of Rama) from Somnath, aiming to conclude in Ayodhya on October 30, 1990. L.K Advani led the campaign on a Toyota adorned to resemble a religious chariot with a BJP logo. The film extensively covers this campaign, illustrating how individuals and their actions can be influenced by blind faith. The Rath Yatra aimed to attract volunteers or Kar sewaks.
A crucial part of the film lies in the fact that in all of its interviews and clips, no historical claim has ever been backed by evidence. L.K Advani claims in his speeches that Ram’s exact birthplace is the existing site of the mosque. The grand new Ram temple, thus, must be built over it.
However, there are hundreds of Ram temples in Ayodhya claiming the same. A Left leader in the film questions, “Which part of Ayodhya isn’t sacred with Ram’s divinity?” Seen in this light, if asked when was Ram born, most supporters of the cause are unable to answer. “Only someone who has immersed themselves in ‘history’ can answer this,” says a Law student-turned kar sewak in the film.
Similarly, the film shows, Muslims are labeled as “tenants” in a Hindu land by a BJP MLA from Haryana and as “trespassers” by others. Patwardhan prompts viewers to contemplate why history plays a crucial role in cultural, political, or religious beliefs. The film aims to document the misrepresentation of certain religious beliefs to evoke a national ‘Hindu’ sentiment.
This documentary is a must watch, especially for the younger generation unfamiliar with older flashpoints, and who are devoted to unwavering allegiance to an emperor-like figure and a party steeped in fantasies.
The Selective Focus on Ayodhya
Now, to those who argue that the destruction of a historical monument is justifiable today because of religious reasons, I would ask them this simple question: How many Hindu temples were constructed above existing Buddhist and Jain temples? Consider the Jagannath Temple, Badrinath Temple, Khajuraho Temples, and the Martand Sun Temple — they all stand as examples of structures erected above their Buddhist predecessors.
Throughout human history, conquering rulers have consistently dismantled existing institutions and erected new buildings to suit their wishes, often driven more by the pursuit of wealth and power than religious motivations. Whether it be the Chinese and Greeks, the Romans and Persians, Indians and Arabs, or the conquering Mongolians who flattened Abbasid Persia, the reshaping of landscapes according to their whims was a pervasive theme. Such actions were far from uncommon in the ancient world.
Therefore, in the case of Ayodhya, it appears that attention is selectively directed towards the most recent incident remembered by the current generation of Indians. The question is; how far back does your historical knowledge extend beyond the destruction of a few temples?
Consider the ground beneath your feet — even the house you inhabit may be built upon the remains of a Hindu temple, a Buddhist or Jain shrine, a Christian or Zoroastrian church, or a site of historical significance, perhaps even under ancient skeletons. You could dig everywhere on this planet and under every house, only to discover them. Should we then abandon or demolish all of our homes to resurrect these structures every time we dig into the earth?
No, because if we begin constructing temples, mosques, and churches every time we dig, it’s not only going to be an impractical and endless task but also very foolish to do so. More importantly, today, we no longer live under any monarchy, so we should prioritize preserving historical sites for tourism and archaeological studies instead of tearing them down.
Further, it’s crucial to understand that Ram is a mythical character. Just as Moses, Abraham, and Santa Claus are figures of myth, the Ramayana holds a place in the realm of legendary epics rather than historical facts, much like the Iliad and the Odyssey in Greek myths. I can unequivocally demonstrate this to you.
Only by having the prerequisite knowledge of history can one reasonably conclude that the Ramayana never happened, for the simple reason that the place called Ayodhya never existed. The current Ayodhya was actually a city called Saket, which was renamed 1500 years ago. Yet, this knowledge doesn’t dissuade the likes of VHP, RSS, or BJP from capitalizing on these legendary tales to amass electoral support and sway public sentiments.
It’s tempting, especially in Northern India, to simplify societal issues by pointing to tall buildings and structures as symbols of oppression and injustice, conveniently overlooking the oppressions perpetrated by our own people and our own rulers to us, which are often romanticized as our culture and rituals. While the transgressions of outsiders are readily labeled as exploitations and oppression, one must question whether it was the Mughals who originated the caste system or all the other injustices already present in India when they arrived.
Or, should the Mughals bear entire responsibility for the condition of Indians who lived as ‘subjects’ under various past rulers, including Ashoka, Gupta, and others? Personally, I find it difficult to respect any ruler who enslaved or subjugated their people, regardless of their origin or era. However, it is sensible to contextualize such actions within the historical period in which they occurred. So, what matters most to me is whether people in the past lived as empowered “modern citizens” or as mere “subjects” deprived of the human rights we uphold today. If the latter holds true, as one can indeed expect, then none of the glorified Indian rulers, much like the outsiders, deserve any form of worship or respect.
Remember, understanding the complexities of our past is not about assigning blame, but about learning from history to build a better future and move beyond all superficial narratives.
