Nagas in History and Myth: Ambedkarite Buddhist Uses of the Past in Contemporary Central India

My presentation centers on contemporary Ambedkarite Buddhist understandings of nagas, which grow out of the self-consciously speculative historiography of B.R. Ambedkar, as he attempted to explain the origins of so-called Untouchable people in India. In his book The Untouchables: Who Were They and Why They Became Untouchables, published in 1948, Ambedkar noted that no persuasive theory had yet been developed to explain the origins of the people groups in India that were stigmatized irrevocably from birth as untouchable. In the absence of clear historical evidence about their origins (which Ambedkar opined was to its destruction and selective history-writing by upper-caste ancient authors), Ambedkar stated his goal of using “imagination and intuition to bridge the gaps left in the chain of facts by links not yet discovered and to propound a working hypothesis.” Drawing on available scholarship on ancient India published by western authors, Ambedkar attempted to reconstruct the missing links between a historical short-lived dynasty of rulers whose names included the appellation “nāga,” mythic stories about nāgas as protectors of the Buddha, the name of the Nag River that gave the city of Nagpur its name, and the large local Dalit community of Mahars who regularly added the suffix -nak to their names. Ambedkar argued that today’s Mahars were the descendants of the Naga rulers who were Buddhist that were conquered by later Hindu rulers who then condemned them to lives of untouchability. Although originally actually human, the Buddhist Naga kingdom became mythologized over time into mythic serpent-like creatures and their historical roots were either forgotten or intentionally obscured by victorious brahmanical authors who controlled the writing of history.  These speculations of Ambedkar about the Buddhist origins of Dalits coincided with the development of practical plans to convert to Buddhism himself, which he did with over 550,000 followers in Nagpur in 1956.

My recent ethnographic and field research in central India among Ambedkarite Buddhists has shown how Ambedkarites today have picked up on this argument and linked it to archeological finds in the region after Ambedkar’s death. Some of these locations, such as at Pauni, Adam, and Mansar are well-established by archeological methods to have undeniable Buddhist significance. Others, such as the Nagarjuna Hill near Ramtek, rely more on oral tradition and folklore for claims about its Buddhist past (such as the 2nd-century philosopher Nagarjuna supposedly conducting chemistry experiments at the nearby lake that imbued it with healing properties). Ambedkarites increasingly make claims about the ubiquity of Buddhist material culture and geography in central India, often insisting that Hindu temples were built on earlier Buddhist sites. Although some of these claims appear dubious by the standards of secular historiography, they effectively function on the ground for Ambedkarites as counter-memory or counter-mythology, pushing back against widespread (also historically dubious) Hindu nationalist visions of a golden Hindu past. The Hindu nationalist organization, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), is also based in Nagpur, and Ambedkarites and RSS votaries quietly (so far) compete for influence and property control. In the struggle to win hearts, minds, and political power, Ambedkarites’ grand claims about Buddhist history are more legible and effective than professional, secular historical accounts could be. Hindu nationalists have little regard for most Indian historians anyway.

In my ongoing research among Ambedkarite groups in Nagpur and their compatriots who have settled abroad, I am especially observing how Ambedkarites interact with Japanese Buddhists on building projects in Kamptee, Mansar, and Ramtek, in which Japanese views of nagas also come into play. Both sides strategically manage their interactions—somewhat aware of their different views of Buddhism but not discussing them so much that it risks blocking their collaborations. Despite articulating them with vastly different cultural vocabularies, Ambedkarite and Japanese share nāgas as a common point of reference. Whereas Ambedkarites refer to Ambedkar’s speculative history (which they no longer regard as speculative but simply history) to understand nāgas, some of their Japanese interlocutors and collaborators hearken to the Lotus Sutra stories and Shingon/tantric legends of Nagarjuna opening an iron tower (nanten tetto) to retrieve foundational tantric texts. Nagas are thus viewed through lenses that are sometimes historical, sometimes mythic, and often something in between. For the most part, these concerns about nagas are less attuned to the past itself than what memories of the past can facilitate in their lives now, especially in producing claims and discourse that resonates transnationally and across sects to generate solidarity.

In short, exploring the various understandings of nāgas and Nagarjuna is a useful way of appreciating the diversity of transnational Buddhist engagements in Vidarbha and the practical ways in which Buddhists there relate to each other. Focusing on transnational dimensions and the contemporary uses of the past that blend history and myth enables my presentation to helpfully complement this panel’s broader focus on nagas as fluid beings that cross boundaries.