ASI's Revelations on Gyanvapi Mosque:  Expose Historical Realities

Gyanvapi mosque, gyanvapi masjid
ASI's Revelations on Gyanvapi Mosque: Expose Historical Realities


In an unexpected turn of events, a casual conversation with my young Bihari driver in Kolkata shed light on the complexities surrounding the Gyanvapi mosque in Varanasi. Initially discussing Ayodhya, he expressed surprise upon learning about the Mughal-era mosque replaced by the new grand Ram Mandir. This led to a broader exploration of the history behind the Ram Janmabhoomi movement, revealing a fascinating narrative.


Unlike the Ayodhya temple, the Gyanvapi mosque's historical layers are shrouded in controversy. For years, a minority of historians attempted to downplay the mosque's origins, dismissing evidence from Maasir-i-Alamgiri that Aurangzeb ordered the destruction of the Vishwanath temple. The recent Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) report, however, has brought forth undeniable evidence, challenging the narratives that sought to obscure the truth.


Aurangzeb's deliberate decision to retain a portion of the Kashi temple's western wall in the mosque's design exposes a calculated strategy. This act aimed to perpetuate the pain of demolition for generations, a stark departure from the destruction of temples in Ayodhya. The temple's tumultuous history, facing demolitions by various rulers, culminated in Aurangzeb's zealous decree in 1669, setting the stage for the Gyanvapi mosque.


The ASI report unveils a trove of evidence, including 34 inscriptions on spolia commissioned by Aurangzeb, mentioning Hindu deities like Rudra and Uměśvara. The discovery of sculptures and architectural members buried under the soil within the compound further reinforces the existence of a Hindu temple predating the mosque. These findings dismantle any claims denying the temple's presence and the subsequent demolition.


The implications are profound, not only for understanding the historical context but also for challenging assertions about the South's disconnectedness from the North. South Indian epigraphs in Devanagari, Grantha, Telugu, and Kannada scripts suggest a broader cultural connection, debunking prevailing notions.


Aurangzeb's arrogance, choosing to flaunt his actions in Varanasi, aimed at suppressing the majority community. The Gyanvapi mosque, with its retained temple wall, stands today as a testament to Aurangzeb's belief in the enduring subjugation of the majority. However, his shortsightedness becomes apparent as the tide of public opinion begins to turn, fueled by undeniable archaeological evidence.


The Places of Worship (Special Provisions) Act, 1991 freezes the status of religious places as of August 15, 1947. Still, the mountain of evidence pointing to deliberate temple destruction demands open discussion rather than denial. Rebuilding inter-community relationships requires acknowledging historical realities and fostering a dialogue that transcends mere legal frameworks.


As a new generation explores the grand Ram Mandir in Ayodhya, awareness of the Gyanvapi mosque's history becomes inevitable. The role of courts in deciding emotive issues will be contested, reminiscent of the Ayodhya judgment. Yet, the sentiments of the majority can no longer be overlooked, ridiculed, or derailed, paving the way for a more nuanced understanding of India's intricate historical tapestry.