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By:

Pulind Samant

29 November 2025 at 1:07:15 pm

Bali: Dharma’s Last Fortress

From protecting Java’s fleeing Hindu-Buddhists to resisting pressures to abandon its own faith, Bali’s story is one of civilisation’s most remarkable acts of endurance. The last article in this column discussed how a tiny-dot-on-the-map Bali rose to the occasion by rescuing the endangered Javanese lives and over a millennium old Hindu-Buddhist heritage of theirs, and how it accommodated both in the manner of protecting and upholding the Dharma. While all that happened in the 16th century, it...

Bali: Dharma’s Last Fortress

From protecting Java’s fleeing Hindu-Buddhists to resisting pressures to abandon its own faith, Bali’s story is one of civilisation’s most remarkable acts of endurance. The last article in this column discussed how a tiny-dot-on-the-map Bali rose to the occasion by rescuing the endangered Javanese lives and over a millennium old Hindu-Buddhist heritage of theirs, and how it accommodated both in the manner of protecting and upholding the Dharma. While all that happened in the 16th century, it must have been beyond Bali’s imagination that it was destined to face itself a similar kind of struggle around 400 years later. It all happened very dramatically in the 20th century, post Indonesia’s independence in 1949. The first and foremost virtue from among the Pancasila (Sanskrit Pancha-Sheela, meaning ‘five virtues’) philosophy adopted by Indonesia as the foundation of its state policy, pertained to religion; its interpretation prescribed faith in one God, and its implementation on ground meant accepting only the ‘internationally recognized’ religions established by a prophet and a holy scripture. This perfectly suited Islam and Christianity who believed in a monotheistic creed propagated by one prophet, namely Muhammad and Jesus respectively. Last Bastion Bali was the only Hindu majority island with a sizeable Hindu population concentrated in one place, though there were a few small Hindu community pockets scattered throughout Java as well as Sumatra. Although Hindu religion was not unknown in Indonesia, due to the country’s Hindu majority history of over a millennium as well as the fact of the Hindu background of not only the mighty Majapahit kings but also other famous kings of smaller kingdoms elsewhere who are remembered and lauded even today, the Balinese found themselves in a tight spot, having to defend their heritage against many odds. In the opinion of the government’s Ministry of Religion officials, the Balinese community rituals were actually localized polytheistic and ‘animistic’ practices, and not Hindu, and therefore they could not be identified as Hindu. One of the arguments was that the Balinese model did not match with the Indian model, which could be recognized as properly Hindu. This was a shock of their life for the Balinese, whose ancestors had strived hard to protect their religion within increasingly Islamizing Indonesia for previous half a millennium, the spirit of which was carried forward by respectably accommodating the fleeing Javanese Hindu-Buddhists within their fold. The Ministry of Religion opinion was obviously coloured; it was possibly motivated by an unspoken Islamist fervour lurking within especially the junior bureaucracy of the state, combined with an overall sense of frustration over having failed in the attempt at declaring Indonesia an ‘Islamic State’ post-independence filled in certain sections of the polity. The objective was to identify as many non-Muslim and non-Christian Indonesians as ‘animists’ as may be possible, and then branding them ‘religion-less’ as per Pancasila’s working guidelines, thereby making them available as potential targets for proselytization by the craving missionaries – both Islamic and Christian – where the competitive strength of the former’s resourcefulness and success rate was unmatched. And steps were taken exactly in that predictable manner – in the early 1950s, the Ministry of Religion empowered its local branches, manned mainly by outsiders, to encourage Muslim and Christian missionaries to convert and thus ‘help’ the ‘religion-less’ people to get a religion, so as to fit them perfectly Indonesian citizens, as was interpreted as mandatory under the first ‘Sila’ out of the Pancasila philosophy. If this design had succeeded in its execution, the Balinese would have lost everything that they were proud of as their own – the religion as handed down by their ancestors, the unique culture that their secluded island had cultivated since antiquity, and thus their identity itself. The Hindu-Buddhist Javanese of the 16th century had succeeded in saving their lives, religion and culture by fleeing to Bali, though the hardest part was about severing ties with their ancestral land under duress. Now, in the 20th century, the Balinese were pressed against the wall in a bid to make them abandon their identity, though they would continue to live in their ancestral land. So, even if there was a contextual contradiction involved in the matter, and a change among the players, the theme of the game somehow happened to be the same – an assault on a specific cultural identity of a section of the population. Battle for Survival At that point, the great battle for survival put up by the Balinese resilience began. Some of them, especially the youth, sensing the upcoming trouble early, had turned to India, seeking Government of India scholarships and thus gaining entry in Indian universities and society, building their networks and seeking support for their cause of survival. However, in the meantime and as if godsent, an Indian Arya Samaj monk called Narendra Dev Shastri had arrived in Bali in 1949. While he settled eventually in Bali for the rest of his life, marrying a local Balinese woman, he became an inseparable part of the local community movement, which he actually led by redefining and reshaping the local Hindu belief system with all its paraphernalia, so as to make it fit well within the legally prescribed framework of religion, which was acceptable to the state of Indonesia. The fact that this battle for the Balinese identity was going on for around a decade and a quarter, ending with the official nod of ‘recognition’ from the Ministry of Religion in 1963, speaks volumes about the Balinese steadfast determination, Indian ingenuity applied by Narendra Dev Shastri and a great collaboration between the two. (The writer is a Ph.D. researcher in international relations. Views personal.)

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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