Kerala is often praised and criticized for its so-called “communal harmony.” To some, it is a secular utopia where faiths walk hand in hand beneath the coconut groves. To others, it is a terrifying aberration, a ticking clock of cultural erasure. But Kerala’s pluralism is neither accident nor anomaly—and certainly not a free-for-all. It is not born from sameness or affection, but from balance, tradition, memory, and a shared grammar of difference. Like the music between the strings, it arises not from the notes themselves, but from the space between them, filled with historical, spiritual, intellectual, and political dimensions. To understand it is to confront several false images: the utopian Kerala of outsiders, the dystopian Kerala of ideologues, the rootless Kerala of postmodernists, the derivative Kerala of its neighbours, and the indifferent Kerala of the average Malayali. Tracing this deep architecture behind Kerala’s pluralism reveals a story not set in stone, but one improvised with time. The necessary context to understand this narrative, however, can only be found through a passionate leap into the depths of its history.
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| A Vishnumoorthi Theyyam visiting a Mosque, Kasaragod, Kerala Source: Reporter |
So let's go back a few centuries, or if necessary, just over two millennia, and imagine a coastline, lush and fragrant, where the very air hummed with the promise of distant lands. This was Kerala, the Malabar Coast, not a secluded paradise, but a bustling crossroads of ancient maritime trade routes, a vital artery connecting the East and West. The "Keralaputhras", as the Ashokan inscriptions called them, were the Westernmost limb of the Sangam Triad. Here, ships laden with spices and precious stones brought more than just wealth; they carried whispers of new worlds, new ideas, new languages, and, crucially, new faiths. This wasn't merely trade; it was a grand, unfolding intermixture, a foundational precedent for a society that would learn to embrace difference.
But how did major world religions like Christianity and Islam, although nascent at the time, find their footing in this ancient land? Not through the thunder of conquest, but through the gentle currents of commerce and human connection. Saint Thomas the Apostle, legend has it (a pretty tall one at that), arrived in Muziris (Kodungallur) in 52 AD, sowing the seeds of Christianity among Jewish families already settled there. A few centuries later, Islam, unlike it spread in many other parts of the world, arrived peacefully with Arab merchants, its principles of brotherhood and equality offering a compelling alternative to the rigid social structures of the time. For those at the margins of Hindu society, Islam offered "deliverance" from the disabilities associated with the outcastes. And here's the crucial note: Early Jewish, Christian, and Muslim communities weren't just tolerated; they received the active patronage and assistance of orthodox Hindu chieftains and kings, who offered security and land. This was a deliberate, top-down endorsement that embedded pluralism into the very fabric of governance from the earliest days.
Now let's look at how this new reality was confronted by the pre-existing society of Kerala.
M.G.S. Narayanan, in his seminal work, doesn't speak of a "synthesis" or "fusion" of cultures in Kerala, but a "symbiosis". What does that mean? It means a relationship of "mutual advantage", where distinct identities were largely retained, not dissolved. Outsiders were treated as "paying guests," a pragmatic arrangement that underscored a functional, mutually beneficial tolerance rather than a utopian blurring of lines. The massive organism of Hindu society in Kerala, far from being fragile, demonstrated a remarkable capacity for hospitality, silently absorbing non-Indian elements—which extended from Chinese pottery to Arab horses. This wasn't cultural erosion; it was cultural enrichment, a testament to a deep-seated adaptability that defied fears of "erasure." And in turn, minority groups underwent a process of "Keralisation", adapting to the local ethos while retaining their unique spiritual core. This was the first movement in Kerala's symphony of coexistence: a harmony born not of sameness, but of a dynamic, evolving negotiation of difference.
This deep cultural exchange also birthed an interesting linguistic phenomena. Over centuries, distinct dialects and writing systems emerged, reflecting the profound intermingling of communities. Judeo-Malayalam, the traditional language of the Cochin Jews, is a testament to this, incorporating Hebrew loanwords and archaic Malayalam features, yet remaining grammatically similar to other Malayalam dialects. Similarly, Arabic Malayalam (Arabi-Malayalam) arose as a new writing system, facilitating a vernacular Islamic textual tradition blending local Malayalam with Arabic script and vocabulary. Suriyani Malayalam, or Karshoni, was another such development, a dialect of Malayalam written in a variant of the Syriac alphabet, popular among Saint Thomas Christians until the 19th century, using Malayalam grammar with East Syriac vocabulary and special orthographic features. These linguistic innovations are not mere curiosities; they are archives of Kerala's historical pluralism, where diverse communities adapted and enriched the local cultural landscape.
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| A few (of many) Syriac loan words in spoken Malayalam Source: Wikipedia |
The architectural heritage of Kerala further exemplifies this amalgamation. Ancient and Mediaeval mosques and churches often showcase an inclination towards the indigenous. Many of those structures, largely preserved through the efforts of the State Archeological Department and the religious patrons, still maintain the unique "Kerala Style" with their slanted/tiled roofs and wooden interiors.
But this material and linguistic mosaic is not the only aspect of importance here.
Before the Vedic migration, Kerala's social landscape is now understood to have been largely egalitarian, with women holding prominent roles in agrarian communities. This wasn't particularly unique to Kerala, since the tribal societies all across India shared similar characteristics. But then came the Brahmanical influx, allegedly with divine instruction, introducing a hierarchical caste system that justified land colonization and male inheritance. These Brahmins (later Namboothiris) became powerful landowners, counselors, and wielders of high ritual and economic status. This wasn't an inherent "Indian" characteristic; it was an imposed structure, and its rigidity would define centuries of struggle.
Thus, Kerala's caste system, in many ways, evolved into an extreme symphony of oppression. It wasn't just a predatory entity, a perpetual Pac Man that consumed everything that entered the society even a millennia later, but also a defence mechanism. This is often attributed to the counter-defining character of wider Hinduism in general, which, according to Manu S. Pillai, is what helped it survive the waves of spiritual oppression and triumph as the majority religious complex in India. This was also seen in Kerala, but in its evilest avatar. Kerala notably lacked an established four-fold Varna division but enforced severe "pollution rules" that extended beyond mere touch to "un-approachability" and even "un-seeability". Lower castes, like the Pulayas, were bought and sold like cattle, forbidden even from consuming the rice they cultivated. What Kerala showcased wasn't a regional variant of institutionalised discrimination, but a thriving Slave market, according to M. G. S Narayanan. This transcended even the religious boundaries. Jains, who initially migrated to this region during Chandragupta Maurya's time, were later amalgamated into the Nair caste, while Buddhists, who recieved exceptional patronage during the reign of the Ay Kings and the Chera Perumals, arguably amalgamated into the Ezhava/Thiyya fold (who themselves were seafaring migrants from another Island, possibly Sri Lanka). It was this stark reality that led Swami Vivekananda to famously label Kerala a "lunatic asylum" due to its caste orthodoxy.
Yet, here's a curious counterpoint: Although the Abrahamic faiths weren't spared, the pollution by approaching a Muslim, Christian, or Jew was not observed in general. Their touch was still considered polluting, but their tolerance was a matter of existence to the regional Kings, even in the eventful middle ages of India. This wasn't universal harmony; it was a pragmatic, selective accommodation of economically vital trading communities, while maintaining severe internal social control. These "Outsiders" were primarily traders who connected the Mediterranean to Malabar, and it was this maritime trade that allowed Kerala to flourish, while its territorial ambitions were capped by the magnanimity of the Western Ghats, a geographical barrier that offered protection along with isolation. Not only were the Abrahamic communities tolerated, there were even instances of certain Kings actively promoting lower caste conversion into these faiths, as the upper castes were opposed to crossing the Seas because it heralded the so-called process of Jāthi Bhrasht (Being an Outcast). Interestingly, these trade networks merited the traders as much as their Kings, and the settlements soon turned into pockets of affluent and permanent Non-Brahmanic presence in Kerala. The multicultural reality, and the need to protect it, settled in even faster. We have instances of multiple grants being made to Mar Sapir Iso, founder of the Church of Tarsa, during the rule of Sthanu Ravi (9th century), as mentioned in the Kottayam Syrian Copper Plates. Even a century later, in Mushika Vamsha Kavya, the earliest known Sanskrit dynastic genealogy (predating Rajatarangini by a few decades), Atula mentions that different creeds peacefully coexisted in King Srikantha's dominion like wild animals around an Asrama.
On the other hand, the conversion of the last Chera Perumal (possibly in 11th or 12th century) to Islam is talked about in both the Muslim and Hindu legends from the region. Not to mention the early medieval, revolutionary mythic tale of a Parayi (lower caste) women married to a Brahmin (Vararuchi), who gave birth to twelve children, all abandoned and later adopted (except two) by their parents from different Castes. Interestingly, one of those children, Uppukoottan, was brought up as a Muslim. Although we don't know who the author was or why this famous story was compiled, it was undeniably the product of a society that not only recognised the plurality within, but also chose to confront it with confidence.
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A statue of Naranath Bhranthan, the "lunatic" (prophet) son of Parayi who challenged the innate hypocrisies of his society |
But the presence of diverse religious communities wasn't just a side note. It was a powerful counter-melody. Islam, in the absence of armed conquests as seen elsewhere in India, offered a guilt-less path to "deliverance" and social mobility for low-caste individuals seeking to escape the oppressive Hindu system. Later, during the Colonial era, Christian missionaries also played a crucial role, raising awareness of injustice, providing egalitarian ideology and offering access to education in mission schools, prompting many lower castes to convert. This wasn't just about faith; it was about dignity, and a concrete avenue for social mobility that actively challenged the rigid Hindu caste hierarchy. However, the conflicts weren't a thing of the past, as we had already discussed in another post. It is also important to note that Christianity, although extremely influential and financially affluent in Kerala even back then, never really spawned any important Royal dynasties, unlike the powerful Muslim families in North Malabar.
It was against this backdrop of rigid caste divisions and religio-political tug of war, a powerful chorus of reformers emerged in early 20th-century Kerala. These social reform movements were not merely social phenomena but profound political interventions. Working in tandem with the larger independence movement in India, through civil disobedience and mass mobilization, they directly challenged entrenched power structures, forcing a renegotiation of social norms and paving the way for a more inclusive public sphere. This demonstrates a clear cause-and-effect. These movements actively created the conditions for broader political pluralism by dismantling traditional, divisive hierarchies.
For example, Sree Narayana Guru's philosophy, "One God, one religion, one caste for all humankind," directly challenged Brahminical monopolies and fostered solidarity among untouchable castes, leading to the formation of the Sree Narayana Dharma Paripalana Yogam (SNDP). Ayyankali, a leader from the Pulaya caste, led protests for the right to use public roads and access schools. His agrarian strike (1913-1914) successfully linked caste issues with land rights and secured higher wages, demonstrating the intertwining of social and economic justice. These efforts addressed both religious and socio-economic injustices, contributing to a more holistic and robust foundation for communal harmony. The Vaikom Satyagraha (1924-25) was a pivotal movement that integrated India's broader civil disobedience strategy with the specific struggle for lower-caste rights, bringing the issue of untouchability to national prominence and laying the groundwork for the Temple Entry Proclamation a decade later. Vakkom Moulavi, a prominent Muslim social reformer, championed political accountability, public education (especially for Muslim women), and actively engaged across different communities and faiths, advocating for Islamic reform while embracing democratic ideals. The expansion of print media in Kerala, facilitated by high literacy rates, played a crucial role in disseminating these reformist ideas and critiques of untouchability. Rewind a few decades, and we see that it was the Christian figures like Kuriakose Elias Chavara AKA lovingly Chavara Achan, who lit the fire of what would later be holistically called "Kerala Navodhana Prasthanam" (Kerala Reform Movement), by establishing the first Sanskrit school in Kerala, dedicated primarily to the lower castes.
However, it wasn't the byproducts of cross-religious interactions and learned tolerance alone that led to the development of this Neo-Kerala. By the 1920s, there was a sudden, albeit unsurprising, wave of Leftist Symphony that rushed into Kerala post the formation of the Soviet Union. Kerala's distinctive political culture was significantly shaped by strong anti-caste and anti-landlord movements, which provided fertile ground for the rise of leftist forces. The Congress Socialist Party (CSP) in Kerala strategically shifted the political discourse from caste oppression to class struggle, emphasizing the antagonism between workers and capitalists, cultivators and landlords. This explicit strategy of the Left to reframe caste and religious differences into a class struggle represents a profound intellectual and political intervention. By emphasizing shared economic grievances, the Left provided a common identity ("worker") that actively transcended traditional religious and caste divisions, thereby reducing the salience of communal identities in the political sphere and contributing to harmony through a shared materialist goal. Key leaders of the Communist movement actively promoted a new identity, urging people to transcend religious and caste differences and identify primarily as "agricultural worker" or "mill worker". This reframing effectively blurred traditional caste and religious distinctions, fostering a new culture of working people's solidarity. This ideological shift contributed to the Communist Party's ascendancy, leading to its control of regional Congress bodies and, famously, the election of one of the world's first democratically elected communist government in Kerala in 1957. The Communist Party's sustained success is attributed to its deep engagement with Kerala's social milieu, despite its fragmented social structure. However, this engagement was often pragmatic; the party sometimes adapted to existing hierarchies for political profit while simultaneously claiming to challenge them. By the 2000s, the class-based politics of the 1960s and 1970s was dead, with capitalism helping communism through investments in health and education, indicating an evolution of the Left's approach. This was, however, unintentionally pegged to the evolving political and economic realities in the Republic of India. This, Kerala's unique development model and its associated harmony are not solely attributable to radical leftist policies, but are a product of a more complex interplay between state intervention, market forces, and historical endowments.
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| Communist hammer & sickle symbol on a banner that indicates alliance of two parties. Location: Quilon, India Date taken: March 1954 Photographer: James Burke |
Another facet Kerala is widely recognized for is its exceptionally high literacy rates, a direct result of early and sustained investment in education, coupled with comprehensive educational policies. A landmark achievement was the Land Reforms Ordinance, introduced by the first communist government in 1957 and fully implemented by 1970. This legislation effectively abolished feudalism, redistributed land from a few landlords to tenants and hut dwellers, and drastically transformed the state's political, economic, and social landscape. These land reforms and education policies were not merely economic or social programs; they were deliberate acts of state-led social engineering that fundamentally reshaped power relations. By dismantling feudal structures and providing universal access to education regardless of caste or religion, the state actively leveled the playing field, reducing socio-economic disparities that often fuel communal tensions. The Kerala Education Bill of 1957 (ironically opposed by the very same "reformed" religious bodies, leading to the dissolution of the government) ensured state payment of salaries for teachers in "aided" schools and regulated their working conditions, making education free in government and aided institutions. Consistent high spending on education and health, dating back to the 19th century and significantly boosted by the first elected government, led to impressive human development indicators, comparable to many European countries. Crucially, these policies were implemented without regard for class, caste, or religious backgrounds, setting the stage for a momentous social transformation and fostering interfaith dialogue and mutual respect within the educational system.
Why is this important?
Education proved to be a critical mechanism for inculcating secular values and promoting inter-community understanding from a young age, contributing to a shared civic identity that transcends religious lines. The consistent high spending on social sectors distinguishes Kerala's development path, creating a society with higher literacy and better health outcomes and most of the time topping all the lists concerning Human Development, which in turn empowered marginalized communities and reduced the socio-economic drivers of conflict. This "Kerala Model" is a complex interplay of political ideology, historical context, and policy choices that directly underpins its unique communal relations. This inculcate understanding of one's society and its underlying defining characteristics is crucial in the maintenance of both the Past and the Present. It transformed Kerala's pluralism into a living, breathing reality, woven into the tapestry of daily life. It manifests in shared community spaces and cultural expressions, a striking feature being the active participation of people from different communities in each other's religious festivals and rituals. Temples and churches hosting Iftar parties during Ramzan and receptions for Nabi Dinam rallies, with the blending of the azaan with temple bells. Muslim festivals like Malabar Uroos, commemorating Sufi saints, draw attendees from all faiths, featuring communal prayers, processions, and food fairs. The cultural blending extends to Kerala's cuisine to its architectural heritage, showcasing a blend of indigenous and foreign styles in its temples, mosques, and churches. Art forms such as Kathakali and Mohiniyattam (rooted in Hindu traditions), and Duffmuttu and Oppana (Islamic forms), along with Margam Kali and Chavittu Nadakam (Christian performances), are widely appreciated and performed across religious communities. A vibrant contemporary example of this lived pluralism is the Kerala State School Kalolsavam, an annual arts festival that stands as one of Asia's largest cultural gatherings. This event is a microcosm of Kerala's multicultural, multilingual, and multireligious identity, featuring a wide array of art competitions for students from high school and higher secondary levels. It includes categories for folk arts, literary arts, music, verbal arts (with poetry and speech competitions in Arabic, English, Hindi, Malayalam, Sanskrit, Tamil, and Urdu), visual arts, and theatre arts. The festival even dedicates specific events to students from Arabic and Sanskrit medium schools, and in 2025, it notably included tribal art forms, marking a significant step in promoting and preserving the cultural heritage of Kerala's indigenous communities. This grand celebration of diverse talents underscores how cultural expression becomes a unifying force, transcending religious and linguistic boundaries.
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| Crowd at the closing ceremony of Kerala School Kalolsavam, 2024 Source: Manorama |
Even traditional ritualistic art forms like Theyyam, deeply rooted in North Malabar, demonstrate this unique coexistence. Theyyam involves the appearance of deities and heroes, often associated with Mother Goddesses. A remarkable instance of this interfaith harmony is the "Mappila Theyyam". What does a Muslim character have to do in an occultic Hindu practice? Why would a Theyyam visit a nearby Mosque, hold the hands of the Muslims within, close its eyes and enjoy the melody of the Azaan? Nobody have a clear answer, just like how the ordained visit to the Vavar Mosque during the Sabarimala pilgrimage is shrouded in legends and myths, but never a concrete base in history.
And then there's Onam, Kerala's iconic harvest festival and the official State festival, a celebration that transcends religious boundaries, uniting the entire state through boat races, floral carpets, and traditional feasts. The yearly event that tells the story of a misunderstood "Asura" King whose mythical rule in ancient Kerala symbolises peace, harmony and prosperity.
"Maveli Naadu vaanidum kaalam
Manushyarellarum onnu pole...."
The folk song goes, asserting that all men were equal in Maveli's Kerala.
Onam reinforces the idea of what it means to be a Malayali, or, at the very least, what Kerala is "expected" to keep pursuing.
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| Maveli visiting the High Court of Kerala, 2019 Source: Times of India |
So what exactly is the true nature of this complicated strip of land?
As we have discussed, the image of Kerala as a secular utopia, where faiths effortlessly intertwine, is a beautiful but ultimately simplistic melody. While the state has indeed achieved remarkable communal harmony, this isn't a passive, idyllic condition; it's a dynamic, often contested balance. But even in this celebrated harmony, discordant notes emerge, and not just in the unsavoury memory of a feudal Malabar filled with Khilafat politics. Occasional communal tensions, often fueled by external influences and political agendas, can and does disrupt the peace even today. The rise of conservative ideologies and the politicization of religious identities, as seen in debates around "Love Jihad" or attempts to create a "Hindu atmosphere" by certain organizations, pose real threats to the intermingling of traditions. Rapid urbanization and migration also sometimes strain traditional communal bonds, introducing new dynamics and potential friction. Furthermore, academic critiques often highlight that the state's achievements aren't solely due to political ideology, but a complex interplay of historical global engagement, natural resources, and literate workers. The very existence of occult practices alongside its rational image challenges a purely modern, awakened perception. So, the "utopian" image must be tempered with the understanding of ongoing struggles, negotiations, and inherent complexities that characterize Kerala's lived harmony.
To those who imagine Kerala as a "terrifying aberration," fearing the erasure of its "Bharatiya" (read: Hindu) nature due to unchecked amalgamation, history offers a resounding counter-narrative. This perspective often ignores the deep historical architecture of Kerala's pluralism, which demonstrates a long-standing capacity for absorption and adaptation, not dilution. The hierarchical caste system, often mistakenly equated with an inherent "Bharatiya" nature, was introduced to Kerala, replacing a previous social structure. This historical fact alone refutes the idea of a singular, unchanging "Hindu nature" of Kerala, and by extension, of India, being erased. Open patronization of devious artworks like the "Kerala Story", and that too by leading political figures in India, is often perceived as trivial within the State. Furthermore, the peaceful arrival and integration of other religions, often embraced by lower castes seeking social mobility and deliverance from the rigid caste system, demonstrates a historical pattern of religious diversity all across the world. The "Keralisation" of minority groups, where they adopted local customs and language while retaining distinct religious identities, illustrates a process of mutual influence rather than one-way erasure. The welcomed adoption of non-Indian elements further contradicts the fear of cultural purity being compromised. The historical record, therefore, paints a picture of a dynamic, evolving cultural landscape where diversity has historically enriched, rather than diminished, its core identity.
It's not right to view the entirety of Kerala through a Post-modern reflection either. There used to be a phase in the State's history where the rising and falling tensions usually ended up in the category of "What happens in Kerala, stays in Kerala". That status quo has now changed and the State is opening up to the outside world. But the outside world, atleast in the immediate vicinity, is extremely cultural and driven by a stage in identity politics that an anarchic Kerala won't fit in. Time and again, it's been forced to keep its foundations sound, and it has become more and more clear that Kerala can't function without its people anchoring themselves down to the very core of their "Malayalittham", while not falling prey to the linguistic and cultural locking of horns in the Deccan. This doesn't mean embracing regionalism, but it's not hard to confuse one for the other.
Of course, the Malayali does care. The notion that an average Malayali has "never cared, and couldn't care less about what others think about" Kerala's communal harmony is a simplification that misinterprets a pragmatic, localized identity. This perceived indifference is less about apathy and more about a deeply ingrained regional identity and a focus on local issues and achievements.
Malayalis often prioritize their unique dialects, cultures, festivals and even Cinema as unifying elements, leading to a strong association with Kerala itself as a "union of states" within India. This "hyperlocal regionalism" can be seen as a healthy pride in their distinct identity and achievements, rather than a disregard for external perceptions. The state's high literacy rates and political awareness contribute to an electorate that is very alert in choosing their representatives, often across traditional religious lines, indicating a focus on governance and local well-being. The emphasis on social justice, egalitarianism, and human development within Kerala's political discourse often takes precedence over external validation or nationalistic narratives.
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| Edakkal Cave, Wayanad, hosting prehistoric petroglyphs to late ancient Brahmi inscriptions on a single wall |
Furthermore, the Malayali experience of communal harmony is a lived reality, deeply embedded in shared daily practices. This internal experience may lead to a natural assumption of its normalcy, making external praise or criticism less impactful. The Muslim community in Kerala, for instance, has historically been characterized by its strong regional identity and a lack of fundamental differences with non-Muslims in social attitudes, stemming from a majority of its members being converts or their descendants. This deep-rooted, shared social fabric means that communal harmony is often taken for granted as a default mode of existence, rather than a constant point of reflection or external comparison. Therefore, the "indifference" is not a lack of care, but a reflection of a self-assured, locally-rooted identity where communal harmony is an organic, albeit negotiated, aspect of daily life.
Deconstructing such prevalent misconceptions reveals that Kerala's harmony is neither accidental nor anomalous. It is a pragmatic and continuously evolving social contract. This intricate tapestry of historical pragmatism, social adaptation, and deliberate political action underscores that Kerala's pluralism is a testament to a society that has learned to manage its differences, creating a resilient, but still imperfect, model of coexistence that continues to improvise with time.
Further reading:
1. A Political history of Modern Kerala; A. Sreedhara Menon
2. Missionaries and a Hindu State: Travancore 1858-1936; Koji Kawashima
3. A Survey of Kerala History; A. Sreedhara Menon
4. Gods, Guns and Missionaries; Manu S. Pillai
5. The Courtesan, The Mahatma and The Italian Brahmin; Manu S. Pillai
6. Cultural Symbiosis in Kerala; M. G. S Narayanan
7. Muslim Architecture of South India; Mehrdad Shokoohy
8. Social Mobility In Kerala: Modernity and Identity in Conflict; Filippo Osella, Caroline Osella
9. Kerala: Yenan of India, Rise of Communist Power (1937-1969); Victor M Fic
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