I have been enthralled by those Hindi and Buddhist adherents who would be aghast at killing even a cockroach.
When I was on posting in Delhi, whenever the High Commission got too crazy with multitudinous political problems, I would take a three-wheeler down to the old city. I would wander the back streets of Chandni Chowk, and the alleyways that encircle the Red Fort. Early in my posting, during one of these rambles, I looked into a small Hindu temple, nestled in the very shadow of the Red Fort.
In the main sanctum, before a small alter composed of images of gods and avatars (Hanuman, Shiva, Khrishna, Deva, and others I did not recognise) stood a beautiful bull, quietly chewing his cud. The Sishya (resident disciple of a Guru) greeted me in Hindi, and I responded in English. Through gestures, he invited me into his quarters, a single room behind the sanctum proper.
The furniture consisted of a small cot, hot plate, and fan. Several pictures of his Guru adorned the sand-coloured walls. An older woman appeared to make strong milky coffee for us. This she served with powdered cardamom sprinkled on top. About a dozen men were seated on the floor, smoking pungent Indian cigarettes, and occasionally passing around a chillum (funnel-shaped clay pipe) filled with a mixture of tobacco and charas, a form of hashish (which I later learned came from the mountainous area around Hrishikesh).
A sidenote at this point: it appears that the temple was dedicated to, and the Sishya an adherent of, Shaivism (in which, simple put, Shiva (Siva) is the main deity). Many devotees of Shaivism use hashish to enhance their religious experience, and, supposedly, to see more clearly their path through this incarnation. This was the heyday of the American War on Drugs, but I refused to take the view that these gentlemen were drug addicts, intent on getting stoned and dangerous.
Some of the Sishya's backroom guests fortunately spoke English, and I was able, over the next three years, to learn much about their religion, and practices. Crossing the floor was a column of large black ants, with massive mandibles. They were about 3 cm long, and looked extremely aggressive. I asked a man next to me why they didn't get rid of the ants. He laughed, and spoke at length to the Sishya, who also laughed. The man then explained to me, as to a child, that the ants, as well as Sahib, our Canadian guest, has reason to seek the refuge of Shiva's temple, and may well be atoning for evils accumulated in a previous existence. Hence, he continued, we do not kill our brothers.
Works for me, although mosquitoes and blackflies have sinned far too much in previous lives, so I hurry them on to their next incarnation with much glee.
Peace, and namaste
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