Good article, specially appreciated since I have a more than casual understanding of the Indian Jews history and situation.
Roland. Toronto. > On Jul 7, 2021, at 3:19 AM, V M <[email protected]> wrote: > > https://scroll.in/article/999497/reading-the-complex-reality-of-indias-jewish-communities-tiny-but-still-expanding > > In her aching, confessional *Book of Esther*, the author Esther David (her > original family name was Dandekar) describes attempting to “make aliyah” > via the Law of Return, which gives Jewish people from any part of the > world the right to migrate to Israel. > > She was “running away from India” and her Bene Israeli community, which > maintains the tradition that they are descended from 14 Jewish men and > women from across the Arabian Sea who were shipwrecked on the Konkan > coastline over 2,000 years ago. That is why David says she “tried to uproot > myself from my surrogate motherland, and replant myself in the home of my > ancestors”. Her intention was to move “like a pilgrimage. It would wipe out > my past. Give me a new life.” She tried to learn Hebrew, sang Israeli folk > songs, and learned to dance the Hora (an originally Eastern European > practice that has become intrinsic to contemporary Jewish culture). But the > alienation never lifted: “What a heavy price one had to pay to be a Jew!” > > At one point, the new migrant was offered an appealing home, where “the > courtyard was covered with mosaic tiles in green, blue and white. There was > an orange tree in the centre, laden with ripe fruit. I felt I had walked > into a house from the Arabian Nights.” There were no strings attached, and > her social worker insisted “I take it without a second thought. The > finances would be worked out later.” But when she was told the premises > originally belonged to Palestinians who “left”, David refused, earning an > earful: “You are stupid. Too sentimental. If you want to stay here, get > used to the life here.” > > David realised, “If I wanted to live like a Jew, I could live anywhere. I > did not have to live in Israel to feel more Jewish than I felt in India. > For me, Israel was a discoloured mosaic floor, stained by images of > violence, fire, blood, ambulances, Israel unnerved me. I was terrified of > terrorist attacks, the right to kill for survival, and the constant > tension.” She yearned for Ahmedabad, and “felt relieved as I made > preparations to return”. > > *Book of Esther *was published in 2002, at the same time as *India’s Jewish > Heritage: Ritual, Art and Life-Cycle*, edited by Shalva Weil of the Hebrew > University of Jerusalem, who has gone on to produce an entire shelf on the > Jewish presence in India, including – in 2019 alone: *The Baghdadi Jews in > India: Maintaining Communities, Negotiating Identities and Creating > Super-Diversity* and *The Jews of Goa.* > > Though it was less than two decades ago, there was very little reliable > information on Jewish India back then. That’s why Weil’s compilation (an > Indian edition was published in 2009 by Marg) was gratefully received for > its solid historiography on the subcontinent’s three distinct Jewish > communities: Esther David’s Bene Israelis, the “Black” and “White” Cochini > of Kerala, and the highly globalised Baghdadis, who rode economic, > political and social winds in and out of British India, Singapore and China > while transitioning fast from “Orientals to Imagined Britons”. > > Considering all three communities made aliyah en bloc in the late 1940s and > early 1950s, you might assume the lengthy annals of Jewish Indian history > verge on extinguishment. But as Esther David’s new *Bene Appétit: The > Cuisine of Indian Jews* demonstrates, that’s not the case. Three separate > chapters dwell on communities that effectively didn’t exist even as > recently as 2002, which illuminates an astonishing truth: there are many > more Jewish Indians today than any point in the past 50 years, and their > numbers are still expanding. > > Check the evidence in *Bene Appétit*, where David surveys (via visits to > each location) the relatively familiar cultural landscape of Cochin, Bene > Israeli coastal Maharashtra, and Baghdadi Jewish Kolkata, then wings off to > visit the “Bene Ephraim Jews of Andhra Pradesh”, the “Bnei Menashe Jews of > Manipur” and “Bnei Menashe Jews of Mizoram”. All these are freshly minted > Indian Jewish communities that are in the process of “rediscovering” – > under strict rabbinical supervision – an orthodox Jewish identity, complete > with intricate Biblical genealogical underpinnings. > > Every time another batch pursues the years-long process until fruition, > they petition to make aliyah, and an extensive network of agencies helps > them move to Israel. In this way, thousands have gone, and many more are in > line. By the mytho-historical Biblical calculus used to support their case > for “Jewish origins” it’s theoretically possible – albeit highly unlikely – > the entire Kuki, Mizo and Chin peoples, comprising several million > individuals living along India’s border with Burma, could eventually > qualify as Jewish Indians, along with another seven million members of the > Madiga caste community from Andhra Pradesh, Telangana and Karnataka. > > Of course, none of this is actually in the altogether pleasant *Bene > Appétit*. Ever since *Book of Esther* close to 20 years ago, I’ve been an > enthusiastic fan of Esther David’s enviably light touch, and eye for > detail. Now aged 76, she’s still got it, as in this description of Fort > Kochi: “The entire evening had a magical feeling, as seagulls and other > birds circled above while the fish got caught in the Chinese nets. Hidden > amidst the trees, along the seashore, there were birds like coppersmith > barbets and green bee-eaters. We watched in amazement as the vibrant blue > of a kingfisher’s wing stood out against the evening sky, amidst the cargo > ships anchored along the coastline with the sound of their horns and > flickering lights.” > > Despite the lovely atmospherics and many excellent recipes (I am rather > keen to try her “family favourite” tiljur potatoes), however, another > element of David’s book caught me by surprise. She does such a good job > explaining the tangled background of her own Bene Israelis: they were first > identified as Jewish only in the 18th century, and despite extensive > “re-Judaisation” over generations that their identity was again denied in > Israel (where they had to undergo ritual reconversion). But when it comes > to the Bene Ephraim and Bnei Menashe, *Bene Appétit* gives us zero context. > We’re simply told, “the Jewish population of this area continue to practice > Judaism, as their ancestors did”. > > Can that be the case? Does it make sense? Are we really supposed to believe > the ancestors of scattered Kukis, Mizos and Chins, and their newly attested > “co-religionists” in and around Andhra Pradesh, ever practised Judaism in > any form whatsoever? How is it even remotely plausible that an unknown > diaspora from “the Holy Land” traversed thousands of miles into the far > reaches of the subcontinent, then stayed hidden for further thousands of > years until an opportunity occurred to “reclaim” Hebrew and the Hora? > > Here, the far better question to ask is, who are we to judge? It cannot be > denied that every peoples across the history of the world has told itself > “noble lies” that cannot bear up to scientific scrutiny. Examine any modern > nation’s polity, and you will find lurking mythopoeic fantasies. These are > matters of faith alone, such as – for some obvious examples – the absurd > American credo about “the greatest country in the world” or the prevalent > belief in both India and China that they’re civilisational states built on > coherent, unbroken, age-old cultural strands. > > Still, even if we agree that identity, in all its multi-faceted dimensions, > is constructed and can always be reconstructed, there are particularly > consequential implications when it comes to Jewishness. Part of the reason > is Zionism in Israel, which has been explicitly formulated on an > encompassing raft of Bible-derived claims that Palestine is the divinely > ordained Jewish homeland. > > Much more significant, however, is the omnipresent spectre of > anti-Semitism, especially the hateful “blood libel” that has pursued all > Jewish communities over many centuries of Christian ascendance. Again and > again, for close to 2,000 years, they have faced existential and genocidal > threats, and been forced to flee to hide in remote parts of the world. It > is an unquestionably extraordinary dispersal: just one fascinating case is > of the Lemba tribe in Zimbabwe and South Africa, where DNA testing has > proven direct Jewish ancestry. > > Does it matter that no such evidence exists for the 21st century Jewish > Indians of Manipur, Mizoram and Andhra Pradesh? Israeli law doesn’t care, > and has always allowed conversion to Judaism as precursor to citizenship, > although it approves only one “halachic process” overseen by > ultra-conservative Orthodox rabbis. How does that sit with “traditional” > Jewish communities, who faced down generations of oppression while > safeguarding their religious identity? What do they think of our burgeoning > cohort of Jewish Indians? > > To find out more, I reached out to my friend Ben Judah, the brilliant > 33-year-old New York-based British journalist and writer, whose moving > engagement with his Baghdadi Jewish Indian roots has captivated my interest > since we first met in Bangladesh (and then Goa) in 2017. > > Judah walked me step by step through the early history of Judaism, when > basically anyone could join “the covenant” by following the rules God is > said to have communicated to Abraham (who is considered the original > patriarch in Islam and Christianity as well). Even after the Roman emperor > Constantine converted to Christianity in the fourth century, and the > Theodosian Code enshrined harsh rules against conversion to Judaism, the > door wasn’t exactly barred. > > Starting in the 14th century, however, an era of traumatic disruptions > permanently affected the nature of Jewish identity, as the large > communities in Spain and Portugal (aka Sephardim) were targeted by > extremist Catholicism-sanctioned violence. Huge numbers (reliable estimates > range up to 300,000) were murdered, and hundreds of thousands more coerced > into conversion. Those who survived, as well as “crypto-Jewish” Marranos > poured out of Iberia to seek refuge across North Africa, the Levant, and > more distant points on the compass. Some made it all the way to India, > including the great Garcia da Orta. > > In our conversation, Ben Judah traced a direct line from the contemporary > “rediscovery” of “lost tribes” back to the agonising Sephardic experience > of persecution, flight, constant mortal threat of being exposed, and an > existential requirement for motivation to persevere. He used the compelling > metaphor of “dream time” to describe the history of rabbis exhorting their > flock to keep the faith: “There are more of us. Hang in there. Help is on > its way.” > > These are powerful messages, with an inherent capacity to ignite the soul. > Judah – who speaks Russian, and has written a superb book about Putin, > described what he called an “epiphenomenon” that has showed up in Russian > history, where isolated groups of Christians, perhaps besieged, started to > imagine themselves into the story of the Bible. He urged me to look up the > Subbotniks, and there’s no doubt there are several marked similarities > between those relatively recent entrants into Judaism and our own 21st > century Indian Jewish communities, including the considerable back and > forth that took place in Israel about whether they qualify to make aliyah. > > As it happens, the most interesting paper written on 21st century Jewish > Indians is by Anton Zykov, a Russian linguist (he specialises in Parsi > dialects, whose 2018 *Bnei Ephraim Community: Judaisation, Social Hierarchy > and Caste Reservation* is packed with fascinating insights about the > interlocked gears of aspiration and identity in India and Israel. > > Zykov situates the assiduous Bene (in this usage, the word is synonymous > with “Bnei”) Ephraim pursuit of Jewish identity against the backdrop of > Ambedkarite neo-Buddhism, by which “conversion to another religion became > one of the traditional ways for untouchables in contemporary India to leap > out of the confines of the caste discrimination”, > > He says the game-changing event occurred in 2005, when the “chief Sephardic > Rabbi of Israel, Shlomo Amar took a decision to accept the claim of Indian > group Bnei Menashe for their Jewish descent, which opened their way to make > aliyah to Israel. The Indian government resisted this move and restricted > Bnei Menashe’s migration for seven years, but eventually acknowledged their > claim for Jewishness and allowed their departure to Israel in 2012. The > example of successful claims for Jewishness by Bnei Menashe gave > inspiration to Bnei Ephraim, the community of untouchables in Guntur > district of Andhra Pradesh.” > > All this has fraught socio-political repercussions, that are further > complicated by rapidly advancing ties between India and Israel that are > forged upon billions of dollars of weapons purchases. The steadily > expanding population of Jewish Indians potentially furnishes yet another > level to the bilateral co-operation. Yet, as Zykov notes, “the Indian > authorities’ de facto recognition of Bnei Menashe as Jews created a paradox > in country’s caste politics, since the Mizo, Kuki and Chin tribal group, as > members of the ‘scheduled tribes’ de jure considered as adivasis, continue > to be entitled for the reservation, but at the same time acquire a right of > immigration to Israel acknowledged by the Indian government with regard to > ‘traditional’ Jewish groups in the country”. > > It is likely, says the Russian scholar, that the “acknowledgement of Bnei > Ephraim, who are covered by reservations as members of the Madiga dalit > caste, as Jews, will lead to even larger controversy in the nation’s caste > politics, since unlike ‘scheduled tribes’ the ‘scheduled caste’ category’s > definition is legally linked to Hinduism, making untouchability a ‘Hindu > phenomenon’”. > > Impressed by Zykov’s analysis, I hunted for his email address, and managed > to schedule a late-night video call to his home in Moscow. The young > academic (he’s also 33) told me that he believes the Bene Ephraim story – > at this point, at least – is much less about Jewishness and Israel, and > instead “tells us about social hierarchies in India itself and how > different communities quest for change”. > > When I asked about the Bene Ephraim’s hunt for Biblical rationale, Zykov > reminded me that Zionism originally wasn’t fixated on Palestine, and > “Israel’s founders were en masse non-religious Ashkenazi Jews (hence, the > famous Uganda project or even the Crimea one”. It is only later, that “the > version of the Zionist idea that they eventually accepted has been > inevitably based on Biblical claims. This continues to be so today if you > look at, for instance, the annexation plan for the West Bank (which is > equated to the Biblical Judea and Samaria)”. > > Even so, said Zykov, “whether Bene Ephraim are Jews on not depends on whose > opinion you take, and there are many approaches both religious (from > Orthodox to Conservative and Liberal) and secular (by the modern State of > Israel, which has changed its criteria several times, or other countries > and communities that use their own legal or social definitions).” But in > the end, “what matters is their self-definition and how it adjusts to this > or that perception of Jewishness. An important role is played here by US > and Israeli organisations and individuals who can influence or even shape > this self-definition.” > > That last point is crucial, because Jewish Indians – not just at home, but > also after making aliyah – are confronted by terrific pressures to conform > to the reductionist Eurocentric model of Jewishness that is derived > nigh-exclusively from Ashkenazi customs, traditions and experiences. It is > true now for the Bnei Menashe of Manipur and Mizoram – who, despite their > openhearted zealotry – nonetheless find themselves slurred in their new > homeland as “Bnei Menake” (The word for “cleaner” in Hebrew is Menake; so > the Bnei Menashe, children of Menasseh, becomes Bnei Menake, children of a > cleaner). And the same thing happened with Bene Israelis two generations > earlier. > > “My family has become outwardly Israeli, but inside they were totally > Indian,” said Oshrit Birvadker, yet another 33-year-old, who is an ardent > advocate in Israel for the Bene Israeli community (to which she belongs) > and an impressive force for better understanding between her two homelands. > In 2017, her comments to Narendra Modi’s official delegation to Israel > precipitated changes in Overseas Citizenship of India regulations that > could allow Israelis (who are required to do military service) to get OCI > status. > > Birvadker’s contacts were forwarded to me by Solomon Souza, grandson of the > great Indian modernist painter FN Souza, who is proudly and simultaneously > Jewish, Israeli and Goan (he is now applying for OCI status). On an > animated Zoom call, she told me, “For many years I knew I was Indian but > the outside has been divided dichotomously, the Mizrahis against the > Ashkenazis, immigrants from Europe versus immigrants from Arab and North > African countries, the generation of the country’s founders versus a > generation of immigrants.” > > Initially, says Birvadker, “I felt that my place was among those Mizrahis. > As a first-generation migrant to Israel, I felt we shared the same history. > But all the way through I felt I haven’t found my place. The government may > indeed see us under the same category, but the truth is that we share a > different world that is unique to the culture of the subcontinent. That is > when I started focusing my attention on my community, and the people > directly around me.” > > When just out of her teens, Birvadker participated in one of the very first > Know India Programmes run out of New Delhi. She says it sparked “a great > love story that gets better over the years. In India, I felt at home. The > power of having so much in common with one billion people hit me. I came > back and I decided India will guide my career.” After returning, she > steadily forged herself into an expert on India’s foreign and defence > policy, as “this is my way to be an Israeli”. > > Despite its small population (roughly 9 million) in territory half the size > of Kerala, Israel’s disparate Indian diaspora has never cohered. “The Bene > Israel, The Cochin Jews, the Baghdadi Jews, the Bnei Menashe, and Bene > Ephraim may be defined as Indians, but the distance between the various > communities is large,” Birvadker said. “For many years I was furious at > this division. I thought that if we only worked together it would improve > our status, but as I grew older I understood it’s impossible to talk about > one community just as it is impossible to talk about one India. These are > individual choices.” > > Thinking hard about Birvadker’s perceptive takes about identity – both > Indian and Israeli – inevitably brought Hune Margulies to mind. The > 63-year-old philosopher and poet (and founder-director of the Martin Buber > Institute for Dialogical Ecology) is a cherished member of the Goa Writers > group, to which I also belong. He was born in Argentina to Polish and > Romanian refugees, made aliyah as a teenager, then moved to New York in his > 20s (his doctorate is from Columbia University) before leaping to my own > ancient ancestral homeland: the locality of Malar on the island of Divar in > the Mandovi river. > > As far as Margulies is concerned, he is now “a full ethnic Malarkar writer” > where “none of my neighbours see me as an ‘other’.” How and why? “It is so > because ethnicity is not primordial, but largely a construction of > historical interests and manipulative mythologies,” he said. “I am a human, > and as such every human culture is mine by birthright. All ethnicities are > a mixture of different cultures forged in history through historic events, > some internal, some external. Geography places us all in Malar or Argentina > or Poland, but it is our poetic imaginations that define whether we are > Malarkars, Argentinians or Polish.” > > Margulies elaborated, “As a son of Holocaust survivors, I am committed to > the project of Jewish self-determination and Jewish self-defence. However, > on a theoretical basis, I do not subscribe to the idea of ethnic or > religious or racial nationalisms. As a diasporic people, the Jews that > gathered in Israel were as diverse as total strangers. They spoke different > languages, they ate different foods, they dressed differently, their > accents, their folkloric music and dance, their familial relationships, > were all different from each other.” > > However, “given the historic facts of anti-Semitism, every practitioner of > the Jewish religion experienced a similar historic reality of oppression, > discrimination and genocide. Those historic facts maintained the Jewish > identity as one, despite the internal contrasting ethnicities. The present > day Jewish ethnic identity is a construct that owes its continuity to both > religious discrimination and religious choice, and in that sense, Zionism > is an historically proper response. The one problem is that Zionism should > not have come at the expense of the rights of the Arab population that > lived in the land.” > > When that happened, said Margulies, “the wars that ensued resulted in > refugees and other forms of displacements that were not inevitable. Martin > Buber advocated the establishment of a bi-national united democratic and > secular republic of Jews and Arabs, not a separate Jewish state. I > subscribe to this project.” > > Some time ago, when the Indian edition of Shalva Weil’s *The Jews of Goa *(its > cover art is by Solomon Souza) was released, Margulies and I avidly shared > a copy. It has several excellent scholarly essays: I particularly > appreciated *Jews of Goa and the Trading World of the Indian Ocean, > 1000-1650* by Pius Malekandathil of Jawaharlal Nehru University, and *All > Roads Lead to Goa: Messengers, Interpreters, Jewish and New Christian > Informants in the Indian Ocean in the Sixteenth Century* by the Paris-based > Portuguese historian Dejanirah Couto. But Weil’s own, *The Enigma of the > Jews of Goa* was unsettling, and I found it oddly insinuating. > > This is because, after tracking the established facts of historical Jewish > presence on the west coast of India, Weil makes the startling – and > unsupported – claim that “until the 20th century, it appears that > concentrations of people who used to be Jews still resided in [Old Goa] > bearing Jewish names and with vague memories of Jewish descent”. She says > that when she first visited Panjim “there were houses with names of Iberian > and Spanish Jewish families like Pereira and Cardozo (which are still > there, but have no connection to Judaism because they belong to Goan > families who converted to Catholicism in the 16th and 17th centuries.” > > Weil walks through the very same old Latinate neighbourhoods my family has > known intimately well from the time they were built, and where I myself > stroll constantly, and somehow finds Jewishness: “I spoke to people, who > freely admitted they had been conversos, secretly hiding their Jewish > religion for generations.” She concludes, “In other former Portuguese > colonies, such as Brazil, Macao and Nagasaki, Cape Verde and the Guinea > coast, Mozambique, and elsewhere, people are reclaiming their Jewish > identity. I envisage that this trend will also occur in Goa in the > not-too-distant future.” > > When I asked Hune Margulies what he thought about this prospect, he said, > “Indian communities that identify as Jewish have a full right to do so. > Whether they possess a Jewish gene is as relevant as the inexplicable > Sephardic rejection of pastrami on rye.” The only problem, as such, is that > “the state of Israel provides the Orthodox establishment with the sole > authority to define Jewishness, and these communities are required to > undergo some form of ritual conversion before being fully accepted as Jews. > For those of us who reject Orthodox primacy, these communities’ ascription > to themselves of a Jewish identity is a right no one else has the right to > deny.” > > Those rights that go both ways, and in all directions, of course, because > just as the 21st century Jewish Indian communities are busily transplanting > themselves in what they consider their “Holy Land”, my friend is doing > exactly the same in mine. He says (and I love every bit of it), “Malar is > my home not only because there is a house in Malar where I live. I am not a > part of the Hindu or Portuguese historical experiences. I am not a > Christian. I am a student of Zen Buddhism, (which is also a hybrid with > Indian roots). Garcia de Orta is, and isn’t, part of my own Goan > self-definition. But if I need to dig deeper into my belonging here, let my > local lineage be that involuntarily-nomadic and legally precarious communal > past. That’s good enough for me, for those attributes are of the essence to > any loving definition of Jewish identity.”
