::::::::::::::HELP! THE NAIRS ARE IN CRISIS:::::::::::: The Nair caste, which we are led to believe is the erstwhile warrior class of Kerala, is now rocking the state. The weapon of choice in this theatre of absurd, however, is that of sleaze, greed and outright corruption. With an opportunist politician left drooling for the chair of deputy chief minister, to the recent allegations that a convicted con-woman has been allegedly cosying up to the Chief Minister’s Office; the medieval mindset of the Nair community’s official ‘organisation;’ to the much-maligned spats against a former minister and his conniving dad, the Nairs have never had this bad. As is often said, to understand the present, one must know the past. But then again, as William Logan famously noted: “happy are the people who have no history.” Much like the history of the state, the story of Nairs is also steeped in legends, myths, huge historical silences, misinterpretations, convenient inferences, and what not. So at best we can have some fair assumptions as recorded in our history books. While Nairs take pride in being ‘warriors,’ the Brahminical caste profiling, however, has been hesitant to give the community any blanket seal of approval that they are indeed ‘Kshatriyas.’ That is one reason why the earlier descriptions of Nairs in Kerala feature an assortment of clans, with some even claiming Brahminical lineage, while there were others involved in activities that have been attributed by the Chaathur Varnya to Vysyas and Shudras. It is widely believed that the whole concept of Nairs, as a community, gains first reference somewhere around the 8th century. Citations abound about the people, who could also have been migrant Nagas of North India (Nairs are great snake worshippers with their ancient ancestral homes also preserving a sacrosanct plot of land for the serpents) to the Meenavars, Nayakans and Villavars from Tamil Nadu and beyond. F Fawcett, in his seminal book, ‘Nayars of Malabar,’ gives arguably the most profound insights into the history of the caste (replete with illustrations and even physical attributes of every sub-clan of Nairs), which has found its expression, as it suits the prejudices of the respective authors, in many a history book subsequently written in Malayalam. One of the first literary references to Nayars, as observed by Fawcett, is in Luis de Camoens’ epic poem, ‘The Lusaid.’ A soldier-poet who was despatched to the western coast of India in 1553, Camoens writes: “Polias the laboring lower clans are named/by the proud Nayres the noble rank is claimed…/… ever armed they stand/Around the king, a stern barbarian band.” At one stroke, it portrays Nairs as a bunch of sturdy, ruffian-like, warriors, who claim superiority over the toiling class and serve as protectors to the ruling family. But then again, if even more ancient peals of folklore are to be believed, the primary duty of Nairs was to upkeep dharma, a term that transcends the mere confines of one’s job responsibility to a higher realm of societal good. Swearing upon the ‘nagathare’ – the serpent gods – the Nairs of yore were duty-bound to uphold their dharma, which if fables and footnotes from history are to be believed transcended personal gains. Of course, it is easy to generalise now and give the community unwanted auras, while in truth Nairs like any other community would have had its breed of good, bad and ugly. As to this day. Once the proud upholders of a matrilineal tradition, Nair women had untold privileges that characterize perhaps the highest form of female empowerment. Being the so-called ‘forward community’ gaining more educational opportunities, greater patronage from the rulers and being powerful landlords, the earlier part of modern history sees Nairs assuming centrestage in every aspect of Kerala’s history. They were out there in politics, diplomacy, bureaucracy, literature, culture and what not! Perhaps, it could also be at this time that Nairs lost touch with what they are primarily meant to uphold – their very essence of dharma. That indeed has been the mandate of Mannath Padmanabhan, the founder of Nair Service Society (NSS) who unceremoniously dumped his Pillai surname. His reasoning was that if posing as a Nair gave you unwarranted pride, cut it out. A true leader, he didn’t seek to rally the Nair community as much as he wanted them to be societally responsible. He was at the forefront of the temple entry agitations; he fought untouchability and he revived karayogams, the village fulcrums around which societies functioned with order. His death in 1970 left a vacuum that is yet to be filled; the second best option – Kidangoor Gopalakrishna Pillai – was politically exiled to oblivion by K Karunakaran, in a strategic power-game. Even at the risk of having to jump into a generalisation, the decline of Nairs, who anyway form only about 15% of the state’s population, has been steady, starting with the land reforms under the first Communist ministry, continuing with the Gulf boom and persevering with the caste-based reservations. An average Nair Malayali watched his workers own their land; those who refused to take the train to Mumbai to become stenographers watched with self-defeating pride and mockery the influx of petrodollars into the neighbouring families push them into more relative poverty. And yes of course, there was the feudal hangover – that hesitation to let go. While the gains from land, tilled by others, fostered sloth in the past, the no-gains and disappointment that followed bred more indolence. The deep-rooted frustration of an economically deprived Nair has a far deeper societal context that best ascribes why today the community experiences a terrible vacuum. Politics for the average Nair was anathema, bureaucracy was the ultimate dream. The escape routes taken by Nairs might have taken them from their warrior past to an utterly self-seeking bunch of disjointed individuals. No Nair who found his escape route to the Gulf has ever waged his finger to uplift his village or large extended family. The Nair simply slogged in the offices, typed away at the keyboards, and minded his business. The general apathy of Nairs, the community’s total disregard to whatever their dharma was once, at the risk of generalisation again, is the root cause why the few Nairs embarrass the rest. Perhaps, Nairs must just shed the Nair tags – as Mannathu Padmanabhan once did. There is nothing to take pride in a community that has nothing to share with the world than tales of past glory.
Posted on: Tue, 18 Jun 2013 13:38:13 +0000
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