Of Coconuts and Jets: A Question of Worship and Secularism

All it took was a lemon, a coconut, and some vermillion – ah, and a bunch of French fighter jets too – and a political controversy was ready. On October 8, Indian Defense Minister Rajnath Singh caused a short-lived internet storm by performing a religious ritual while receiving the first batch of the Rafale jets that India had purchased from France.

Before embarking on the aircraft’s maiden sortie, Singh placed coconuts and flowers on one of the planes, wrote the sacred Hindu syllable Aum on its side with vermillion, and placed lemons under its wheels. The ritual is called shastra puja (or ayudha puja) or “weapon worship.” Contrary to a common misperception, Hinduism does not always advocate peace and pacifist means. A vast mosaic of various cults and traditions, Hinduism has room for ideas such as ahimsa (“nonviolence”), but also for the worship of gods who defeat demons in violent ways.

The minister’s ceremony was therefore not a made-up ritual invented for political reasons but part of a longer tradition. Weapon worship is usually performed during certain Hindu festivals: Vijayadashami/Dussehra or Navratri (although in the case of the Rafales, it was not). Not only arms may be worshipped on these days, but other devices as well, including musical instruments, cars, and other vehicles. Books may also be worshipped, reminding us that in Hinduism there is place for both shastra puja (weapon worship) and shaastra puja (worship of treatises; the difference between the word for a “weapon” and a “treatise” in Sanskrit is just in the length of one “a”).

The ritual is also tied to a wider net of Hindu customs and beliefs. The coconut that Singh placed on the French plane is often used in Hindu rituals as an offering, especially in ceremonies symbolizing the beginning of a new, significant initiative. The shooting of Indian movies, for instance, often traditionally begins on a muhurat (an auspicious time), during which a Hindu ritual is performed, and a coconut is broken. Lemon, flowers, and chili peppers are often placed by Hindus on new property, such as houses and cars; lemons and chili peppers are also often hung from vehicles to protect them. One of the explanations is that Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, has a sinister twin, Alakshmi (the goddess of misfortune) who is fond of these two items and is likely to take them and go away.

Yet one thing that Singh’s ritual was not able to ward off was a political controversy (albeit of no consequence). Many in India would point out the pointlessness or irony of performing auspicious and protective rituals while purchasing a high-tech fighter jet. “A jet to protect the country, a lemon to protect the jet,” ran one of the headlines. But this short storm should be placed in a context of a wider and more balanced debate on Indian secularism.

It needs to be first pointed out that religious rituals are often a part of public celebrations in India. These include the shastra puja. The Indian police at times conduct rituals worshipping the guns they use – the Mumbai police have. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi has performed a gun worshipping ritual as well, during a meeting with police functionaries on Vijayadashami. It could be argued here that with the current Indian government being run by Hindu nationalists (such as Modi and Singh), it is no surprise that religious customs are on display during public functions. But this has been a much longer tradition. The launching of Indian Navy ships is traditionally accompanied by Hindu rituals. We could call it “warship worship.”

It also should be noted here – before we jump on the “secular West, spiritual East” train of stereotypes – that religious customs are a part of public functions in the West as well, both in Europe and in the United States. The presidents of Poland, for instance, take part in Catholic masses in their official capacity.

This brings us to a wider question of how secularism is understood in India. The Indian Constitution is certainly very secular in its spirit (arguably even  in a Western way) and solutions pertaining to the conduct of public officials are true to this spirit, too. During their swearing in, for instance, public officials may choose between taking an oath in God’s name and uttering “I solemnly declare.” And yet it has been often pointed out that “secularism” is usually not interpreted the same way in India as it is in Europe or the United States. It is argued that in India secularism is not so much a concept of a separation between the state and religious institutions. It is, many say, rather the idea of equidistance, of the state treating all religions and religious communities in an equal way. 

To illustrate this with examples: A religious state would mandate a prayer or ritual of a chosen creed to be followed by public officials. A fully secular state, understood in the Western ideal, would not include any religious prayer or custom in a public function. In India, however, the attempt is often at making various ritual options available, depending on the believers. For instance, in 2016, when the indigenous Tejas fighter jets were being inducted to the Indian Air Force, a Hindu ritual was held (complete with the breaking of a coconut), but a multi-faith prayer was conducted as well.

In practice, however, Indian secularism does not represent a perfect equidistance but rather an attempt to balance the relations with (and between) various religious communities – balancing, as opposed to equidistance, must look for the right point to keep the uneven weightage of communities matched. With Hindus being in the numerical superiority, and with a Hindu nationalist party in power, it is no surprise that Hindu religious accents are more prominent in public functions than others.

In practice, politicians have to recognize (and often want to tap) the religious beliefs and sentiments of the people. Wearing religion on one’s sleeves is a common occurrence with Indian politicians, and this affects the conduct of public functions as well. Indian politicians often attend various religious events, especially when attempting to gather support from given communities (which, again, is reminiscent of what happens in other countries, such as with U.S. presidents or presidential candidates). It is common, for instance, for Hindu politicians to attend the Iftars held by prominent Muslims (or even arrange their own). Rajnath Singh’s ritual over the Rafale jet is obviously not an instance of a perfect balance between communities, but it represents a very common public custom.

The ultimate ideal of Indian secularism can’t be illustrated through a metaphor of divided houses (full secularism) or balanced scales (equidistance) but rather that of a mosaic – of each community being able to express its religious identity in its own way, as long as it does not affect other communities and citizens (and therein lies the biggest challenge). 

If one could look for a perfect – and thus uncommon – symbol of this ideal of a mosaic, it could be found in yet another instance of religious rituals performed on an instrument of war. In 2013, when the Indian aircraft carrier INS Vikrant was being launched, Elizabeth Antony, the wife of then-Defense Minister A.K. Antony, conducted the ceremony. “There was [a] garland, [a] coconut and every other requirements which we see normally for Hindu Pujas [rituals of offering gifts to gods],” she explained later. “The priest performed [the] puja and later asked me to apply kumkum [vermilion] to the carrier praying to the god I believed. Since I’m traditionally a Catholic Christian […] when they asked me to apply kumkum I drew a cross.”