Category india

Adolf Hitler’s views on Hindu cremation rituals in Benares – Roshni Chakrabarty

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Adolf Hitler's Table Talk

Adolf Hitler’s views on cremation rituals in Benares reveals cultural arrogance and a deep colonial prejudice. We examine what his comment tells us about Nazi ideology and how a partisan power viewed non-European societies. – Roshni Chakrabarty

In the middle of World War II, while Europe was burning and Nazi Germany was deep into its campaign of genocide, Adolf Hitler spent many evenings talking.

These were not public speeches or radio broadcasts, but private monologues—rambling conversations over dinner with close aides, secretaries, and senior officials.

Decades later, some of these conversations would be published under the title Hitler’s Table Talk. And buried in those pages is an interesting passage about India, specifically about the cremation of bodies at Benares, now Varanasi, on the banks of the Ganges.

The quote is jarring, offensive, and revealing. But before treating it as a historical curiosity or viral fact, it needs to be understood properly: who recorded it, how reliable it is, and what it actually tells us.

Quote comes from Hitler’s Table Talk (Tischgespräche im Fhrerhauptquartier), a collection of notes on what Hitler allegedly said, taken between 1941 and 1944.

About Hitler’s Table Talk

The text quoted above comes from Hitler’s Table Talk (Tischgespräche im Fhrerhauptquartier), a collection of notes on what Hitler allegedly said, taken between 1941 and 1944.

These notes were recorded by several people in Hitler’s inner circle, most notably Heinrich Heim and Henry Picker, and later edited and published after the war.

The English edition was prepared by British historian Hugh Trevor-Roper in the 1950s. It presented the conversations as near-verbatim records of Hitler’s private views on politics, race, religion, culture, colonialism, and war.

However, historians have long debated the accuracy and reliability of Table Talk. It remains one of the most controversial historical sources of World War II—cited cautiously, debated fiercely, and used mainly to study ideology rather than facts.

The cited conversations were not tape-recorded. They were written down from memory or shorthand notes, sometimes hours later, then translated and edited across languages.

As a result, scholars generally treat the book as a valuable but imperfect historical source—useful for understanding Hitler’s mindset, but not always precise in wording.

The passage about Benares appears in this context: Hitler reacting to accounts he had read about Hindu cremation practices along the Ganges.

What the quotation actually says and why it matters

In the passage, Hitler expresses disgust at the idea of partially cremated bodies being placed in the river, mocks the notion of ritual purity, and claims that Western “hygiene experts” would have imposed harsh controls if they ruled India.

He contrasts this with British colonial rule, which he claims merely banned sati (widow immolation), and ends by suggesting Indians were “lucky” not to be ruled by Germany.

This is not an offhand comment but reflects several deeper ideas central to Nazi ideology.

First, it depicts racial and cultural hierarchy. Nazi thinking placed European civilisation, especially a mythologised German one, at the top, while non-European cultures were seen as primitive, irrational, or unhygienic.

Second, it shows colonial arrogance. Although Nazi Germany criticised British imperialism in public, Hitler admired the idea of ruthless colonial control. His comment imagines an even harsher regime than British rule, enforced through surveillance, punishment, and state power.

Third, it shows Hitler’s pseudo-scientific obsession with “hygiene”. The language of cleanliness, contamination, and disease runs through Nazi ideology. The same mindset that framed Jewish people as a “biological threat” is visible here in how religious practices are reduced to sanitation problems.

Benares, cremation and the colonial gaze

For centuries, Varanasi has been one of Hinduism’s holiest cities. Cremation along the Ganges is not merely a method of disposing of the dead; it is a sacred ritual tied to beliefs about moksha, the release of the soul from the cycle of rebirth.

Colonial officials often misunderstood or deliberately misrepresented these practices. British administrators and missionaries frequently described them using the language of filth, superstition, and moral decay, while ignoring their religious meaning.

Hitler’s remark fits squarely into this colonial gaze, even though Germany never ruled India.

What makes the quote striking is not that it criticises a cultural practice, since many outsiders also did the same, but that it reveals how easily “hygiene” became a justification for authoritarian control.

How historians read this quotation today

Most historians do not cite Hitler’s Table Talk to learn about India. They cite it to understand Hitler himself.

The Benares passage is valuable because it shows how Nazi leaders viewed non-European societies, how colonial thinking influenced even regimes that opposed British power, and how cultural difference was reframed as a problem needing coercive “solutions”.

It is also a reminder that racism does not need direct rule to exist. Even without colonies, Nazi ideology imagined domination, control, and “correction” of other societies.

Why this quote still cirtculates

The passage on what Hitler said about Benaras often resurfaces on social media today for several reasons. It shocks, provokes outrage, and unsettles comfortable narratives that frame Hitler as interested only in Europe.

But stripped of context, it can also mislead. The quote does not describe Indian society accurately. It describes European prejudice, filtered through one of history’s most violent ideologies.

This is not a quote about India, but rather about how power talks about culture.

From colonial administrators to totalitarian regimes, history shows a repeated pattern: sacred practices are labelled “backward”, science is weaponised as morality, and control is justified in the name of order.

The Benares passage in Hitler’s Table Talk is a stark example of that mindset — one that helps explain not just Nazi thinking, but the broader dangers of cultural arrogance dressed up as rationality. – India Today, 9 January 2026

› Roshni Chakrabarty writes columns on education, environment, science and the  changemakers in history.

Manikarnika Ghat

When the RSS is indifferent to its media image – Koenraad Elst

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RSS Sarsanghchalak Mohan Bhagwat

This article was first published in Pragyata in 2017 and some of its observations are dated. However, the subject matter is still of interest to Hindus and the article is reposted here – Editor

On Friday  Nov. 3, 2017, the Flemish broadcaster VRT Canvas, in its programme Terzake (“To the point”), presented a Dutch documentary from the series De Westerlingen (“The Westerners”), in which young Dutchmen meet youngsters in countries across the world to explore the differences in culture. In the past, the impression was that all cultural differences were on the way out because the non-Westerners were simply westernising. Now, it has become clear that some differences are here to stay, and that even in non-Muslim countries, there is a tough resistance against too much westernisation.

This time around, we were taken to India where a Dutch youngster called Nicolaas was meeting young Hindu nationalists. According to the announcement on the TV station’s website: “In India extremist associations acquire ever more influence. Nicolaas Veul meets activist young Hindu nationalists in the holy city of Allahabad. He goes around with Divya, Ritesh and Vikrant. They fight for a Hindu India, and against influences from outside.”

Hindu-baiting

At the outset, in the car on the way to an event of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangha (National Volunteer Corps, RSS), he was quickly briefed by an Indian secularist about the Hindu nationalists. These were said to be “increasingly powerful”, to be issuing for use in schools “textbooks rewritten in a pro-Hindu sense”, and to be “openly linked with the Nazis”.

This was a nice summary of the power equation in the reporting on India worldwide and in all the different segments of the media: all press correspondents in and “experts” on India look at Indian society and especially the communal conflict through the glasses that a handful of secularists have put on their noses, reproducing the latter’s anti-Hindu bias and disinformation. For the average viewer, every topic in the ensuing meetings came under the cloud of these initial “revelations”, even though nothing in the RSS performance, effectively filmed, confirmed or illustrated any of them.

Since the 1980s, I have never heard the term “Hindu nationalists” without the addition that they are “emerging” or “increasingly powerful”. They should have been all-powerful by now. The only (partial) exception was the few years after the 2009 elections when the BJP had been defeated even worse than in 2004, so that supporters of the socialist-casteist parties, including partisan experts like Christophe Jaffrelot, concluded that Hindu nationalism was on the way out. However, instead of building on the existing power equation to push Hindutva deeper into oblivion, the secularist Congress wasted its chance because it got too wrapped up in driving corruption to unprecedented levels, too much for the electorate to stomach. Once the next electoral campaign got underway, even the secularists soon conceded that a BJP victory was becoming inevitable.

However, contrary to what the observers all think or say, the present BJP government under Narendra Modi, while numerically strong, is ideologically extremely weak. It is not in any way Hinduising or “saffronising” the polity or the education system. It is continuing the Congressite-Leftist anti-Hindu policies mandated by the Constitution, or at best looking the other way but not changing the Constitution to put a definitive stop to such policies. Thus, subsidised schools can be Christian or Muslim, but not Hindu: in the latter case, either they get taken over by the state and secularised, or at best, they have to do without subsidies. Temples are nationalised and their income channelled to non-Hindu purposes, a treatment against which the law protects churches and mosques. And this is no less the case in BJP-ruled states, where the Government could have chosen not to avail of the opportunities given to it by the Constitution.

Nowhere in this documentary would you pick up any hint to the main communal reality in India: the anti-majority discrimination. It is admittedly hard to explain to outsiders, and therefore easy to conceal or deny, but Hindus are indeed second-class citizens in their native country. I am aware that right now, many non-Indian readers will refuse to believe me, but it is really like that. Anywhere is the world you can download the text of the Indian Constitution, so please verify for yourself, starting with Article 25-30.

So, what did you get to see? Many people in the city were on the streets converging on an open ground where a meeting of a local RSS unit (shakha, branch) with physical and ideological training was about to take place. They were wearing (or in the case of newcomers, buying) the RSS outfit with white shirt and black cap and brown trousers. It was the new uniform, for till recently the brown trousers would have been khaki shorts, even more a colonial style. Their military style was highlighted, though everyone could see for himself that all the “weapons training” they did was with sticks, rather harmless in the age of the Kalashnikov. Naturally, there was no hint that an endless series of murders of RSS men has been committed by Kerala Communists, Khalistanis in Panjab, and others. The RSS youngsters also did not bring it up, or if they did, that part was not shown. The persistent suggestion was that they were the perpetrators of violence, not its victims, though no such violence was actually shown.

When interviewing these RSS activists, Nicolaas repeatedly remarked that this or that guy was actually impeccably friendly and quite nice. Not at all how we would picture the fascists announced initially by the secularist. Then what was wrong with them?

St. Valentine’s Day

The real topic of this documentary series was the culture clash and the native resistance against westernization. And indeed, these young people refused to absorb the flood of westernising influences. One example of a pernicious influence was Valentine’s Day, taken straight from the existing western commercial pop culture. More ideologised people denounce it also as a “Christian” holiday. Valentine was a Roman Catholic priest who performed tabooed weddings, and when martyred and sainted, the Church gave him a day in the Saints’ Calendar, 14 February, coinciding with the pre-Christian fertility feast presided over by the goddess Juno Februata (“clean, purifying”) of 13-15 February. It took a thousand years, to the age of the troubadours and courtly love, before he graduated to patron-saint of romanticism.

As such, commerce catapulted him to the fore, and made the saint’s day into an occasion pious Christians would frown upon: the feast of sentimentalism and getting carried away with infatuation. Since the late 18th century, there is a whole literature, and later movies, about youngsters following their hearts and overcoming the resistance of their unfeeling narrow-minded parents. This is now re-enacted in India, where commerce and the secularist-promoted fondness of all things western is spreading the highly artificial celebration of Valentine’s Day. This has become the symbol of western decadence, in which the pursuit of emotional kicks takes precedence over long-term institution building, marriage, and the resulting children’s well-being. Nicolaas’s Indian interlocutor wants to spare his country the breakdown of family life that has come to characterise the modern West.

But in the documentary, in the interview with the RSS activist, we only see a humourless spoil-sport’s jaundiced rant against a day of innocent fun. The Dutch lad just doesn’t see that there is another side to it, and that the Hindu critique of Valentine has its legitimacy. This RSS fellow was voicing a very positive viewpoint, one in favour of the precious fabric of traditional social values, of the time-tested mos maiorum (ancestral custom), which is being undermined by modernist influences symbolised by Valentine’s Day. Possibly it is not good enough to overrule modernisation, but that remains to be seen, and the traditionalist view deserves a proper hearing.

In the streets, the Dutch newcomer to India saw westernisation all over the place. Western fashion, neon lights, shopping malls, Kentucky Fried Chicken, young couples kissing in public. Even an RSS spokesman admitted he sometimes goes to the McDonald’s. So, the final impression that the viewers will take home is that, in India at least, westernisation is unstoppable. It is not uncontested, true, but the nativists, though not convincingly put down as “fascists” anymore, are not very competent and are at any rate unable to stop it.

Communication

But then, come to think of it, the RSS fellow didn’t have the required communication skills to overturn an anti-Hindu bias instilled in the western public for decades. And by “anti-Hindu”, I do not mean the kind of grim animus seen in the missionaries or the secularists, but a background conditioning: Nicolaas has no quarrel with the Hindus as such, and he is probably not even aware of his implicit anti-Hindu bias, but like most Westerners with an interest in India, he has innocently absorbed the partisan view of India fostered by the really hostile people.

It is unrealistic to expect this one fleeting television conversation to change a bias built up over decades. Still, the RSS spokesman could have defended his position better. On the other hand, his peaceful and civilised but weak argumentation was a logical illustration of a deliberate policy pursued since the 1920s. It was in line with the old RSS’s boy-scout mentality of disdain for all communication (“do well and don’t look back”). Founder K.B. Hedgewar, who had started out as a member of a revolutionary wing of the Freedom Movement, with secretive and purely oral communication to avoid discovery by the police, installed in his new organisation a hostility to any concern for outside approval, and to the media and their narrative. A consequence today is that RSS spokesmen are gravely lacking in communication skills. On average, they have a far better case than their clumsy performance in interviews and TV debates would suggest.

Twice the RSS refused a media presence. I was somewhat surprised to see this. In the early nineties, when I went around to RSS/BJP centres to interview Hindu nationalist leaders, there was still plenty of distrust for outsiders, and communication was largely excluded. I knew then that I was exceptionally privileged to be allowed access, as a result of my lone pro-Hindu conclusions in my book on the Ayodhya temple/mosque conflict. But then private TV stations conquered India, gaining entry in the remotest villages, and finally the internet made communication unavoidable, even for the RSS. I had thought that this seclusion had by now become a thing of the past, but the RSS appears to have retained some of it.

The result is that RSS spokesmen, while not at all the “fascists” of secularist mythology, come across as village bumpkins. In this case, an interviewed RSS man suffered from a lack of serious historical knowledge, or of a chauvinist type of gullibility. He explained that India has invented plastic surgery and, as proven by the Ramayana, the air plane. This story has two related drawbacks: as far as evidence can tell, it is not true; and it is bad publicity, for while it may make a handful of gullible folk admire Hindu culture, it turns Hinduism into a superstitious laughing-stock for many more. When the Dutchman brought up homosexuality, the RSS man said: “That doesn’t exist in our country.” Just like it didn’t exist in the Soviet Union—“a symptom of bourgeois decadence”—nor in Africa according to Robert Mugabe—“they may be gay in America, but they will be sad people in Zimbabwe”. Again, even those Westerners who condemn odd sexual behaviour will laugh at these clumsy attempts to make it stop at your country’s border. This way the RSS tendency is particularly weak in the prime precondition for communication, viz. seeing things also through the eyes of your interlocutor.

Grim

Today, the image of Hinduism is less grim than when Hindu Nationalism realistically coveted power or for the first time came to power in the 1990s. One reason is reality: all the grim doomsday predictions about the Hindu nationalists “throwing all Muslims into the Indian Ocean” and “turning the clock back regarding Dalit emancipation”, failed to come true. Recently, Narendra Modi has conducted a very successful foreign policy, and the Western powers can only dream of the economic growth figures India takes for granted. Less importantly but tellingly, the Hindu parents are making progress in the California textbook affair, where some negative portrayals of Hindu culture will be amended, contrasting with the total defeat inflicted on the Hindus in 2006. The anti-Hindu lobby in American academe, largely consisting of NRIs and Indologists, has lost considerable steam.

Postscript

The same impression could be had from Sona Datta‘s documentary about Hindu art and temple architecture, broadcast a few days later. Over-all quite informative as well as full of awe for Hindu brilliance, it nonetheless started out with familiar secularist lies about pluralist Moghuls who “built their magnificent mosques next to Hindu temples” and presided over a peaceful and tolerant empire “when Europe was ravaged by wars of religion”. But unlike in the recent past, this propaganda was not that obtrusive. – Pragyata, 15 November 2017

› Dr. Koenraad Elst is a Belgium author, linguist and historian.

Hindus protest celebration of St. Valentines's Day.

What Mahmud of Ghazni did must not be forgotten – Reshmi Dasgupta

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Somnath temple converted to mosque ca 1931.

What happened during this week 1,000 years ago was not a one-off assault by a greedy Central Asian despot who just incidentally happened to be Muslim. Mahmud’s destruction of Somnath set off a millennium-long assault on it by men who definitely had one thing in common apart from Islam: an animus towards the Jyotirlinga. – Reshmi Dasgupta

From January 6 to 9, 1026, the army of Mahmud of Ghazni lay siege to the wondrous temple of Somnath near the port city of Veraval. The defenders of the fortified shrine eventually could not repel the troops of the Central Asian invader and Somnath was captured. It was Mahmud’s 16th raid on India and loot was not the only target. Contemporary sources mention that Hindu merchants offered more money if he spared the idol; he refused and struck the first blow.

For that act, Mahmud earned the title “Butshikan” or idol-breaker, from an admiring Islamic world and his renown for the desecration of Somnath and other major Hindu temples in India persisted for centuries. Sultan Sikandar Shah earned the same Butshikan title in the 14th century for destroying temples in Kashmir in pursuance of the precepts of the Sufi preacher Mir Mohammad Hamadani. Even 600 years later, Aurangzeb appreciated Mahmud’s Islamic fervour.

It is inevitable that Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s commemoration of the 1000th anniversary of the first destruction (as opposed to the misleading word “sacking” commonly used for the violent actions of Mahmud of Ghazni) of the Somnath temple will be countered with supposed “proof” of either “Arab” heroism or Hindu perfidy or both. It is now almost an article of faith among certain sections in India and abroad that Mahmud was more maligned than malevolent.

As has been often pointed out in recent times, the assertions of the high priestess of the secular camp Romila Thapar on the destruction of Somnath lack basis in actual facts even if delivered with withering condescension in impeccable upper class accented English. But there are plenty of willing believers in Thapar’s argument that Mahmud was not communal—merely venal—and that his destruction of the magnificent Shiva lingam at Somnath was incidental.

Indeed, the PM calling the repeated rebuilding of Somnath after each brutal destruction and plunder a symbol of the “unbreakable courage of countless children of Bharat Mata who protected our culture and civilisation” will be met with predictable counters. First, that “Arabs”—mainly traders who had settled in the area and married local women—died protecting Somnath from Mahmud’s marauders. Second, that there were many Hindus in Mahmud’s army.

There were indeed Hindus in Mahmud’s army, including battalion commanders, and he used them with varying effectiveness in campaigns on the subcontinent and even further north in Central Asia. But the phenomenon of mercenaries—soldiers of fortune who fight for the best paymaster—is well known. The presence of Hindus in his army cannot be taken to mean Mahmud was “secular” or that his actions were not intended to attack and diminish India’s majority faith.

There is no dependable account of Arabs dying while defending Somnath, but they could well have been miffed by their co-religionists from Ghazni disturbing their livelihoods. Arabs had all been Islamised by then although earlier traders and sailors may have adhered to pre-Islamic faiths including Christianity. So, it would be a stretch to imagine they would risk irking Allah by actually fighting alongside local Hindus kafirs to save Somnath from his holy warriors.

The Veraval Inscriptions (so named for the ancient port town next to the Somnath, which had a bustling mercantile trading business) dated to about 250 years after Mahmud’s destruction of the great Shiva lingam, highlight the dynamic between the two communities in the last millennium. The bilingual inscriptions from the reign of the Vaghela king Arjundev, records an agreement for the financing of the upkeep of a mosque at Somnath Patan built by a resident of Hormuz.

Curiously, the longer Sanskrit inscription lists the Hindu king and hierarchy but mendaciously describes the lord of the mosque as Vishwanatha and Shunyarupa and even calls Prophet Mohammed a “prabodhak” or preceptor. The Muslim shipowner donor from Hormuz Nuruddin Firoz is called a “dharmabandhav” of Sri Chhada who seems to be the mosque’s chief administrator. But in the shorter Arabic notation, there is no attempt to Indianise Allah or his Prophet.

The twin inscriptions seem to indicate that Hindu rulers bore no lasting animus against all Muslims—especially the Arab and Persian merchants from the Gulf—for the depredations of the Turkic invader from Ghazni 200 years before, and allowed them to set up mosques near the temple. But one sentence of the Arabic inscription points to the thinking of the Muslims even if they attempted to couch their initial outreach to the Hindus with seemingly syncretic gestures.

The Arabic inscription expresses the hope that Somnath will one day become a city of Islam, and that infidels and idols will eventually be banished from it. Why did the officials of the Vaghelas (the last Hindu kingdom of the region) allow that explicit expression of intent to pass unchallenged? Could they not read Arabic? Or were they persuaded, as indeed are some academics reading it 750 years later, that it was a “pro forma” statement and did not constitute a threat?In the event, though Somnath was revered enough for the 11th century Chalukya ruler Bhima I to rebuild it after Ghazni’s desecration, local inhabitants naively seemed to have borne no permanent suspicion of Muslims as the Veraval inscriptions two and a half centuries later seems to confirm. But a mere 35 years after those twin plaques were incised, the army of Delhi’s Sultan Alauddin Khilji under Ulugh Khan pillaged and destroyed Somnath yet again.

And that deed was approvingly chronicled by no less than the much-admired (even today) Persian poet Amir Khusro. In Khazain-ul-Futuh (Treasures of Victory), he gleefully wrote in 1310 (after Khilji’s armies attacked again in 1304 and annexed all of Gujarat):

“So the temple of Somnath was made to bow towards the Holy Mecca; and as the temple lowered its head and jumped into the sea, you may say that the building first said its prayers and then had a bath.”

He also added:

“It seemed as if the tongue of the imperial sword explained the meaning of the text: ‘So he (Abraham) broke them (the idols) into pieces except the chief of them, that haply they may return to it.’ A pagan country, the Mecca of the Infidels, now became the Medina of Islam. The followers of Abraham now acted as guides in place of the Brahman leaders. The robust-hearted true believers rigorously broke all idols and temples wherever they found them.”

Khusro also dispelled doubts about the intent of the Arabic Veraval inscription:

“Owing to the war, ‘takbir,’ and ‘shahadat’ was heard on every side; even the idols by their breaking affirmed the existence of God. In this ancient land of infidelity, the call to prayers rose so high that it was heard in Baghdad and Madain while the Khutba resounded in the dome of Abraham and over the water of Zamzam. The sword of Islam purified the land as the Sun purifies the earth.”

That Khusro described Somnath as the “Mecca of Infidels” underlines its primacy as a Hindu centre of worship, reiterating its pride of place as the first of the 12 Jyotirlingas listed in the Shiva Purana. So it is not surprising that every Muslim ruler thereafter who wanted to assert his religious cred and supremacy attacked Somnath, from Muzaffar Shah to Mahmud Begada to Aurangzeb. But it was restored, rebuilt, reconsecrated faithfully by Hindu rulers each time.

What is glossed over by apologists is that Somnath was not considerately left to resume worship. It was converted into a mosque by several Islamic attackers and then reconstructed repeatedly as a temple by Hindu monarchs. It was turned into a domed mosque by Aurangzeb in 1665. And the final rebuild happened in 1951, thanks to the determined efforts of Sardar Patel, KM Munshi and Dr Rajendra Prasad in the teeth of opposition from Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru.

In 1783, the formidable Maratha queen Ahilyabai Holkar had another Shiva temple constructed 200 metres from the original site of Somnath, whose added dome and minaret can be seen in late 19th century photographs now in the British Library. She had done the same three years earlier in Varanasi where the original Kashi Vishwanath temple had been mostly destroyed (only one wall left standing) and rebuilt as “Gyanvapi” mosque, also on Aurangzeb’s orders.

So, what happened during this week 1,000 years ago was not a one-off assault by a greedy Central Asian despot who just incidentally happened to be Muslim. Mahmud’s destruction of Somnath set off a millennium-long assault on it by men who definitely had one thing in common apart from Islam: an animus towards the Jyotirlinga. That it is standing proudly again is indeed a testament to the quiet determination and faith of the children of Bharat Mata, as PM Modi said. – News18, 7 January 2026

›  Reshmi Dasgupta is a freelance writer formerly with the Times of India Group. 
Somnath Temple

Somnath: A thousand years of unbroken faith – Narendra Modi

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Narendra Modi at the Somnath Temple.

If the Somnath Temple, which was attacked a thousand years ago and faced continuous attacks thereon, could rise again and again, then we can surely restore our great nation to the glory it embodied a thousand years ago before the invasions. – PM Narendra Modi

Somnath … hearing this word instils a sense of pride in our hearts and minds. It is the eternal proclamation of India’s soul. This majestic temple is situated on the western coast of India in Gujarat, at a place called Prabhas Patan. The Dwadasha Jyotirling Stotram mentions the 12 Jyotirlings across India. The stotram begins with “सौराष्ट्रे सोमनाथं च…” symbolising the civilisational and spiritual importance of Somnath as the first Jyotirling.

It is also said:

सोमलिङ्गं नरो दृष्ट्वा सर्वपापैः प्रमुच्यते ।

लभते फलं मनोवाञ्छितं मृतः स्वर्गं समाश्रयेत्॥

It means: Just the sight of Somnath Shivling ensures that a person is freed of sins, achieves their righteous desires and attains heaven after death.

Tragically, this very Somnath, which drew the reverence and prayers of millions, was attacked by foreign invaders, whose agenda was demolition, not devotion.

The year 2026 is significant for the Somnath Temple. It has been 1,000 years since the first attack on this great shrine. It was in January of 1026 that Mahmud of Ghazni attacked this temple, seeking to destroy a great symbol of faith and civilisation, through a violent and barbaric invasion.

Yet, one thousand years later, the temple stands as glorious as ever because of numerous efforts to restore Somnath to its grandeur. One such milestone completes 75 years in 2026. It was during a ceremony on May 11th 1951, in the presence of the then President of India, Dr. Rajendra Prasad, that the restored temple opened its doors to devotees.

The first invasion of Somnath a thousand years ago in 1026, the cruelty that was unleashed upon the people of the town and the devastation that was inflicted upon the shrine have been documented in great detail in various historical accounts. When you read them, the heart trembles. Each line carries the weight of grief, cruelty and a sorrow that refuses to fade with time.

Imagine the impact it had on Bharat and the morale of the people. After all, Somnath had great spiritual significance. It was also on the coast, giving strength to a society with great economic prowess, whose sea traders and seafarers carried tales of its grandeur far and wide.

Yet, I am proud to state unequivocally that the story of Somnath, a thousand years after the first attack, is not defined by destruction. It is defined by the unbreakable courage of crores of children of Bharat Mata.

The medieval barbarism that began a thousand years ago in 1026 went on to ‘inspire’ others to repeatedly attack Somnath. It was the start of an attempt to enslave our people and culture. But, each time the temple was attacked, we also had great men and women who stood up to defend it and even made the ultimate sacrifice. And every single time, generation after generation, the people of our great civilisation picked themselves up, rebuilt and rejuvenated the temple. It is our privilege to have been nurtured by the same soil that has nurtured greats like Ahilyabai Holkar, who made a noble attempt to ensure devotees can pray at Somnath.

In the 1890s, Swami Vivekananda visited Somnath and that experience moved him. He expressed his feelings during a lecture in Chennai in 1897 when he said:

“Some of these old temples of Southern India and those like Somnath of Gujarat will teach you volumes of wisdom, will give you a keener insight into the history of the race than any amount of books.

“Mark how these temples bear the marks of a hundred attacks and a hundred regenerations, continually destroyed and continually springing up out of the ruins, rejuvenated and strong as ever! That is the national mind, that is the national life-current. Follow it and it leads to glory. Give it up and you die; death will be the only result, annihilation, the only effect, the moment you step beyond that life current.”

The sacred duty of rebuilding the Somnath Temple after independence came to the able hands of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel. A visit during Diwali time in 1947 moved him so much that he announced that the temple will be rebuilt there. Finally, on May 11th 1951, a grand temple in Somnath opened its doors to devotees and Dr. Rajendra Prasad was present there. The great Sardar Sahib was not alive to see this historic day, but the fulfilment of his dream stood tall before the nation.

The then Prime Minister, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, was not too enthused with this development. He did not want the Honourable President as well as Ministers to associate with this special event. He said that this event created a bad impression of India. But Dr. Rajendra Prasad stood firm and the rest is history. No mention of Somnath is complete without recalling the efforts of K.M. Munshi, who supported Sardar Patel very effectively. His works on Somnath, including the book, Somanatha: The Shrine Eternal, are extremely informative and educative.

Indeed, as the title of Munshiji’s book conveys, we are a civilisation that carries a sense of conviction about the eternity of spirit and of ideas. We firmly believe that that which is eternal is indestructible, as outlined in the famous Gita verse “नैनं छिन्दन्ति शस्त्राणि….” There can be no better example of our civilisation’s indomitable spirit than Somnath, which stands gloriously, overcoming odds and struggles.

It is this same spirit that is visible in our nation, one of the brightest spots of global growth, having overcome centuries of invasions and colonial loot. It is our value systems and the determination of our people that have made India the centre of global attention today. The world is seeing India with hope and optimism.

They want to invest in our innovative youngsters. Our art, culture, music and several festivals are going global. Yoga and Ayurveda are making a worldwide impact, boosting healthy living. Solutions to some of the most pressing global challenges are coming from India.

Since time immemorial, Somnath has brought together people from different walks of life. Centuries ago, Kalikal Sarvagna Hemchandracharya, a respected Jain monk, came to Somnath. It is said that after praying there, he recited a verse, “भवबीजाङ्करजनना रागाद्या: क्षयमुपगता यस्य।”. It means: “Salutations to That One in whom the seeds of worldly becoming are destroyed, in whom passion and all afflictions have withered away.” Today, Somnath holds the same ability to awaken something profound within the mind and soul.

A thousand years after the first attack in 1026, the sea at Somnath still roars with the same intensity as it did back then. The waves that wash the shores of Somnath tell a story. No matter what, just like the waves, it kept rising again and again.

The aggressors of the past are now dust in the wind, their names synonymous with destruction. They are footnotes in the annals of history, while Somnath stands bright, radiating far beyond the horizon, reminding us of the eternal spirit that remained undiminished by the attack of 1026. Somnath is a song of hope that tells us that while hate and fanaticism may have the power to destroy for a moment, faith and conviction in the power of goodness have the power to create for eternity.

If the Somnath Temple, which was attacked a thousand years ago and faced continuous attacks thereon, could rise again and again, then we can surely restore our great nation to the glory it embodied a thousand years ago before the invasions. With the blessings of Shree Somnath Mahadev, we move forward with a renewed resolve to build a Viksit Bharat, where civilisational wisdom guides us to work for the welfare of the whole world.

Jai Somnath! – The New Indian Express, 5 January 2026

› Narendra Modi is the Prime Minister of India and Chairman of the Shri Somnath Temple Trust.

Ruins of Somnath as viewed in 1869

Why are Indian historians in denial mode? – David Frawley

VOI

Indus Script

It is time for deconstructionist historians to be deconstructed. Such historians, whose view of the world is purely outward, do not have the insight to appreciate India. … Their historical accounts reflect the attempt of a recent ruling elite to rewrite history in its own image—and to deny legitimacy for any other group, even if it requires denying the very existence of India before they assumed power! – Dr. David Frawley

India today is a strange country in that, uniquely among the nations of the world, it seems to be afraid of its own history.

If we study current historical accounts, particularly by India’s academic Left, the most important fact about the history of India is that there is no real history of India. This is because such scholars are unable to see the existence of any cohesive entity called India before 1947.

India as a real country in their view is attributed mainly to Jawaharlal Nehru and his followers after independence on a region that, though previously under the umbrella of British rule, was otherwise lacking in unity, continuity or perhaps even civilisational depth.

Such historians are happy to negate the history of their own country. Their accounts of India’s history are largely denials of any enduring country, civilisation or culture worthy of the name. Their history of India is one of foreign invasions, temporary or vanished empires, internal social divisions and conflicts, and a disparate and confused cultural diversity. They regard India as a melting pot or conglomeration of widely separated peoples and cultures coming together by the accident of geography that hardly constitutes any united country or national identity.

Unfortunately, such Indian historians, particularly with political alliances with Left historians in UK and US, are introducing their anti-India ideas into Western academia, which still does not understand India’s very different civilisational model.

Such studies forget that national identity is cultural, not simply political. India did not become a British state under British rule or an Islamic state under Muslim rule. The older Indian/Bharatiya culture continued.

These anti-India views are easily countered by a number of historical facts.

The first is that outside people and countries have long recognised a civilisation called India.

After Alexander the Great came to India in the fourth century BCE, the Greek historian Megasthenes wrote a book on the region called Indika, in which he noted an existing tradition in the country of 153 kings going back over 6,400 years. The Greeks overall lauded the civilisation of India.

Buddhist pilgrims in the ancient and medieval period, particularly from China, honoured India and its great culture during their travels. India’s cultural influence spread to Indonesia and Indochina in the East and into Central Asia, extending on a religious level to China and Japan.

The ancient Romans lost much of their wealth in a one-sided trade with India and the Europeans long sought the riches of India. Columbus, of course, found America by chance while looking for a more direct sea route to India.

Second, India, like many countries, has more than one name. The Indian Constitution says the “India that is Bharat”. Bharat is the main ancient name for the region going back to King Bharat, an ancient ruler long before Rama, Krishna or Buddha.

The Bharatas were the main people of the ancient Rig Veda, who ruled from the Sarasvati region. They eventually split into several groups, one of which, the Kurus, became dominant in late ancient times, as the main people of the Mahabharata.

Modern historians can more easily deny history to the name India than to Bharat and so ignore the other name of the country.

Third, India has probably the oldest, largest and most continuous literature of any civilisation. The Vedas with their many thousands of pages dwarf anything from the Middle East, Egypt or Greece of the ancient period.

Geography is an important topic in these texts. The Vedas speak of a land of seven rivers, Sapta Sindhu, extending to the ocean, of which the Sarasvati River was the most important. The Persians in their oldest Zend-Avesta remember the area as Hapta Hindu. Sindhu, Hindu and India are related terms.

The Ramayana, Mahabharata and Puranas outline a sacred geography of India/Bharat from Kailas in the north to Lanka in the south, Assam in the east to beyond the Indus in the west. Buddhist and Jain texts do the same, showing a common culture and geography.

Around this sacred geography, Indians built numerous temples and recognised numerous sacred sites, revealing this vast region and its cultural unity.

Along with these sacred sites are numerous festivals and pilgrimages. We see this in modern India, which has the largest tradition of pilgrimage in the world, notably the massive Kumbha Melas that bring in tens of millions of pilgrims. Pilgrims throughout India visit these sites, with South Indians commonly travelling as far as the Himalayan temples of the north. Festivals like Diwali are elaborately celebrated throughout the country.

Ancient Indian literature contains a calendar system still widely followed, the Panchanga. Indian calendars extend from historical time of thousands of years to cosmic time of billions of years.

Fourth, extensive new evidence of archaeology upholds the cultural continuity of the region. The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) claims that in the Haryana/Kurukshetra/Sarasvati river area there is evidence of a continual development of agriculture and civilisation from 8000 BCE, extending through the Harappan urban era. This area hosts Rakhigarhi, the largest Harappan site, more extensive than Mohenjodaro or Harappa.

The Harappan Civilization—also called the Indus Valley or Saraswati Civilisation—is the largest and most uniform urban civilisation of the ancient world in the third millennium BCE. It ended with the drying up of the Sarasvati River around 1900 BCE, which the Geological Survey of India (GSI) has verified. The Vedas refer to the different stages of the Sarasvati river from an ocean-going stream to drying up in the desert, showing they resided on the river long before its termination.

Consistent with their negative line of thought, Leftist historians ignore this information or accuse archaeologists of political bias in their findings.

Lastly, but equally important, the independence movement drew inspiration from the older history of India/Bharat, with such revered figures as Swami Vivekananda, Lokmanya Tilak and Sri Aurobindo seeking to revive the ancient culture. Even Mahatma Gandhi’s mantra was Ram and his idea of India was Ram Rajya.

Not surprisingly, most of these independence leaders have been ignored by the same group of historians, who have made Nehru tower over them, with some afforded diminished roles and others forgotten altogether.

The Congress party, the main support for such historians, has since named every major institution or initiative in India possible after the three members of the Nehru family who became prime ministers. They have little regard for other Congress prime ministers like P.V. Narasimha Rao, whom they have also almost erased from history.

Yet at the same time today, India’s great culture and civilisation through Yoga, Vedanta, Buddhism, Sanskrit, Indian music and dance is once more influencing the entire world—expanding in spite of this historical denigration.

It is time for these deconstructionist historians to be deconstructed. Such historians, whose view of the world is purely outward, do not have the insight to appreciate India, because it is not a mere political formation but a vast spiritual culture.

Their historical accounts reflect the attempt of a recent ruling elite to rewrite history in its own image—and to deny legitimacy for any other group, even if it requires denying the very existence of India before they assumed power! – Vedanet, 30 June 2016

›This article originally appeared in Swarajya Magazine. 

› Dr David Frawley (Pandit Vamadeva Shastri) is a Vedacharya and includes in his unusual wide scope of studies Ayurveda, Yoga, Vedic astrology, and Indian History.

Mohenjo-daro Graphic

 

Chanakya: Why Devdutt Pattanaik’s pseudo-history falls apart – Prosenjit Nath

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Chanakya & Chandragupta Maurya

Chanakya was real, brilliant, and indispensable to India’s civilisational memory, no matter how inconvenient that fact may be for the modern political fantasist Devdutt Pattanaik. – Dr. Prosenjit Nath

I read Devdutt Pattanaik’s article “A fantasy called Chanakya” in The New Indian Express (9 Nov. 2025). Had Chanakya himself been alive, Pattanaik’s fantasies would have survived about as long as the kusa grass Chanakya famously uprooted when he vowed to destroy the Nandas. Beneath the polished prose and familiar rhetoric lies an old ideological trick: confuse the reader with multiple names, shout “interpolation” often enough, wrap it all in modern caste politics, and hope a historical figure vanishes.

But history does not work that way. The moment one actually looks at primary sources, Pattanaik’s thesis collapses flat.

Let us begin precisely where he does not want readers to look: the Arthaśāstra itself. The text explicitly identifies its author in unmistakable terms: “विष्णुगुप्तेन आर्यकौटिल्येन च सम्पादितम्”—compiled by Viśnugupta, the noble Kautilya. And again: “समाप्तं कौटिलीयम् अर्थशास्त्रम्”—here ends the Arthaśāstra of Kautilya.

Pattanaik’s sleight of hand rests on manufacturing two doubts. First that since the author is called “Kautilya”, Chanakya must be fictional. Second, that if the Arthaśāstra can be pushed centuries later, Chanakya cannot belong to the Mauryan age or guide Chandragupta Maurya. Both doubts evaporate the moment chronology is taken seriously.

Ashoka’s edicts from the 3rd century BCE describe an empire run through mahamatras, welfare officials, judicial ethics, administrative surveillance, animal-protection days, and moral governance—all core elements laid out systematically in the Arthaśāstra. The Mauryan state cannot be built on a Kautilyan framework if that framework supposedly did not exist until 500 CE. The empire itself is the evidence. Kautilya must predate Ashoka, exactly as tradition maintains—at least the late 4th century BCE.

Then comes the Spitzer Manuscript, the oldest known Sanskrit manuscript (1st–2nd century CE), which contains unmistakable references to the Arthaśāstra. Its discovery location is devastating for Pattanaik’s narrative: a Buddhist monastery in Kizil, Xinjiang—thousands of kilometres from any imagined “Brahmin power structure”. Why would Buddhist monks preserve and study a supposedly late “Brahminical propaganda text”? They would not, unless the text was already ancient, authoritative, and indispensable. This single fact shatters the claim that Kautilya was invented centuries later.

But the knockout punch arrives with the Kāmandakīya Nītiśāra (4th century CE), authored by the Buddhist scholar Kāmandaki. He explicitly and admiringly states that Viśnugupta/Kautilya—the author of the Arthaśāstra—was the very strategist who overthrew the Nandas and established Chandragupta Maurya. This is not a Hindu text, nor a Brahminical self-glorification exercise. A Buddhist intellectual, with no incentive to mythologise a Brahmin minister, identifies Kautilya and Chanakya as the same revolutionary statesman. That is the missing bridge Pattanaik refuses to acknowledge.

The convergence does not stop there. Buddhist sources such as the Mahāvaṃsa and Divyāvadāna describe Chandragupta’s Brahmin mentor. Jain texts like the Nisītha-Cūrṇi and Hemacandra’s Pariśiṣṭaparvan narrate the same overthrow of the Nandas by Chanakya for Chandragupta. Gupta-era dramas like Mudrārākṣasa assume the identity of Kautilya and Chanakya is already common knowledge. Kashmiri traditions such as the Tantrākhyāyikā immortalise Chanakya as the archetype of political genius. Across Buddhist, Jain, Hindu, and regional traditions—often rivals, sometimes hostile—the same man performs the same acts under different names. That is not myth-making; it is historical convergence, the strongest form of evidence when dealing with antiquity.

Pattanaik makes much of multiple names, as if this were suspicious. It is not. In the ancient world, it was normal. Confucius was also Kong Qiu, Kongzi, and Zhongni. In India, Viśnugupta is the personal name, Kautilya the gotra or scholastic name, and Chanakya the patronymic. One man. Many names. Total consistency. Claiming otherwise is like arguing that Zhongni disproves Confucius.

The remaining tactics are equally flimsy. References to “China” and Roman dināra are used to push the Arthaśāstra centuries forward. Yet scholars like K.P. Jayaswal showed long ago that “Cina” refers to the Sina/Shina Himalayan region near Gilgit, not Han China—hence terms like kauseya and cinapatta, which are not Chinese words. Later interpolations do exist, just as they do in Homer, Euclid, or the Pentateuch. No serious scholar claims interpolations prove the author never existed. Pattanaik deploys this argument selectively because he needs the text to be late to sever it from Chanakya.

Finally, the caste obsession collapses entirely. The earliest sources identifying Chanakya as a Brahmin are Buddhist and Jain traditions—historically critical of Brahmin authority. If “Brahmins invented Chanakya”, why do rival traditions independently preserve the same identity centuries earlier? Because they were transmitting historical memory, not manufacturing propaganda.

To be clear: Chanakya, Kautilya, and Viśnugupta are not three different people. They are three traditional names for one historical genius—the architect of the Mauryan Empire. When multiple competing traditions over two millennia remember the same man overthrowing the same dynasty for the same emperor, coincidence becomes absurd. History, in this case, is unanimous.

Devdutt Pattanaik’s article is not courageous scholarship. It is ideological provocation dressed up as history—a soggy biscuit of pseudo-academia that dissolves the moment primary sources are allowed to speak. And they speak loudly: Chanakya was real, brilliant, and indispensable to India’s civilisational memory, no matter how inconvenient that fact may be for modern political fantasies. – News18, 1 January 2026

› Prosenjit Nath is a technocrat, political analyst, and author. He writes on national, geopolitical, and social issues.

A Fantasy Called Chanakya by Devdutt Pattanaik

Vande Mataram: How an anti-British song became ‘anti-Muslim’ – Ibn Khaldun Bharati

VOI

Bankim Chandra Chatterjee

In the Islamic political praxis, Muslims are nationalist if they are in majority and the rule is theirs. But if they can’t rule the country, they can’t be nationalist either. – Ibn Khaldun Bharati

The Muslim opposition to Vande Mataram is well known. However, the reason behind it is not well understood. Actually, it’s beyond comprehension. Their objection to the national song is formulated in such abstruse theological terms that even an educated Muslim can’t grasp its esoteric nuance. In reality, it’s not so much an opposition to the song as to the idea behind it—the idea of India as a nation. It’s the idea that Hindus and Muslims become an organic whole to form an inseparable political community. The major Muslim ideologues insisted on their separateness, and separate they remain.

To say that saying Vande Mataram (Salutations, Oh Mother) evokes the imagery of idol worship is the kind of convoluted reasoning that defies common sense. Furthermore, to emphasise that the hostility to idol worship is the foundational creed of Islam, and that it’s incumbent on every Muslim to wear this abhorrence on sleeve, isn’t really conducive to diversity, pluralism, peaceful coexistence, and composite nationhood—the ideals in which the Muslims have greater stake than anyone else.

Recently, Maulana Mahmood Madani, the head of the largest organisation of ulema in India, Jamiat Ulema-i-Hind, made a controversial speech, in which he stressed the imperative of jihad in India. He also said, “Murda qaumen mushkilaat mein mubtala nahin hotin. Wo to surrender kar deti hain. Wo kahenge ke Vande Mataram padho to padhna shuru kar denge.” (Dead communities don’t face any difficulty since they surrender readily. When asked to chant Vande Mataram, they willingly do that).

The ferocity with which these Muslims proclaim their revulsion for Vande Mataram, and the grim determination with which they threaten to go to war if its public singing were to be revived, makes one wonder if there is actually something so repugnant in the song that a Muslim can’t countenance it if he were to remain true to his faith.

Is there a problem?

Let’s see if there is anything in Vande Mataram that makes Muslims recoil in horror. Arif Mohammed Khan, the scholarly Governor of Bihar, translated into Urdu the two stanzas that have the status of the national song, and sent the same to one of the most prominent Islamic seminaries, the Nadwa, at Lucknow, for their opinion on it; specifically asking if there was anything in it that was contrary to Islam.

It was presented as an original composition, and not a translation. He had rendered the key words, Vande Mataram, as “Taslimaat, Maa, Taslimaat”. The ulema at Nadwa opined that there was nothing in the song that contravened Islam. One, however, suspects that if they knew it to be the translation of Vande Mataram, they might have had a different opinion. Such is politics and such is the power of narrative!

The reality behind the narrative

The root of the Sanskrit word ‘vande’ is ‘vand’. According to Sanskritist Monier Monier-Williams, depending on the context, ‘vand’ means “to praise, celebrate, laud, extol, to show honour, do homage, salute respectfully; or, venerate, worship, adore”. The primary meaning is not worship; certainly, not the ritual worship. Even if it were, hasn’t Urdu poetry been more extravagant in such expressions. For example, Iqbal, the poet of Islamic revivalism, in one of his earlier poems, said, “Khaak-e watan ka mujhko har zarra devta hai” (Every particle of the country is a god unto me)”. Iqbal’s fans—quite a few of them being fundamentalist fanatics—never saw anything amiss in this.

Can there be a nation without a motherland?

As for mataram, i.e., mother—Mother India—Urdu has a beautiful term, madar-e-watan, the motherland. No Muslim ever found this concept contrary to Islam. In fact, the most literal and yet most exquisite rendition of Vande Mataram has been A.R. Rahman’s song Maa Tujhe Salaam.

There are numerous verses in the Quran (7:12, 23:12, 30:20, etc.) which say that we are made of earth, and it is the source of life and the place of origin. It’s implied that, in a deeper sense, the earth is the mother, and one’s own place is the motherland.

In a display of genius that is peculiar to them, the Muslim leaders espied the idol of a deity in the conception of motherland, and flinched from its adoration. Even in Pakistan—which broke away from us, on difference over the Indian nationhood, and the sacredness of the motherland—Asim Munir, the generalissimo, can be seen referring to his country as motherland.

Nowhere else in the world do Muslims have had any problem with the concepts of nationalism and the sacredness of the respective countries. The literal translation of the word ‘Pakistan’ is holy land, which in Hindi translates as punya bhumi. The Indian Muslims, however, can’t accord this status to their own country.

In the Islamic political praxis, Muslims are nationalist if they are in majority, and the rule is theirs. But if they can’t rule the country, they can’t be nationalist either. In a debate that raged between poet Muhammad Iqbal and Jawaharlal Nehru, the former candidly said, “In majority countries Islam accommodates nationalism; for there Islam and nationalism are practically identical; in minority countries it is justified in seeking self-determination as a cultural unit”. (Modern Review, Calcutta, 1934-35)

There’s a deeper reality. Without recognising the country as the motherland, there can’t be a nation. But can the people who came as invaders, conquered the country, and ruled it for centuries, ever accord the status of mother to the vanquished territory? Could the British ever regard India as mother?

The Muslim ideology has been in the hands of the elite descended from the old ruling class. The Muslim masses follow it uncritically because it’s couched in religious idiom, and religion is not to be questioned.

Is Anandmath anti-Muslim?

Regarding Vande Mataram being a part of the novel Anandmath; well, it’s true that the poem, though independently written, has been interpolated in the book. It’s also true that the theme of the book is the Sannyasi Rebellion of 1770s, which was an uprising against the oppressive Muslim rule, and therefore, some passages have clear anti–Muslim overtones. But isn’t it equally true that those Muslim rulers were oppressors, and their religious hostility toward the Hindu peasants was an added factor in oppression? So, why shouldn’t the rebellion against them be seen as a class war of the oppressed against the oppressors, and the fulmination against them should be seen in perspective, and not misconstrued as invective against ordinary Muslims who belonged to the same class as them? Haven’t we seen this kind of class analysis about the Moplah “Rebellion”?

But, it’s not possible despite the fact that a large number of Marxist historians have been Muslim. That’s because, these historians, when it suits them, treat Muslims as a monolith, ignoring their socioeconomic diversities. Thus, a justified diatribe against the Nawabi system is seen as a tirade against ordinary Muslims. What if Indian Christians were to see in the criticism of the British rule the condemnation of ordinary Christians?

By the way, no Indian ever rejected the popular patriotic song Saare Jahan Se Achha just because it’s from the pen of Iqbal, the separatist ideologue.

The genesis

Vande Mataram, set to tune by Rabindranath Tagore, had been sung in the Congress sessions since 1896. No Muslim leader ever found it antithetical to their religion. Even during the Swadeshi Movement, which was a response to the Partition of Bengal (1905), when this song became the anthem of resistance to the British, one doesn’t hear of any objection to its purported polytheistic imagery. This was despite the fact the division of Bengal was on religious lines, and it supposedly favoured the Muslim majority of East Bengal. Even Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, the great Islamic scholar and thinker, who claims to have joined the underground revolutionary movement of the Bengali youth, doesn’t record any religious objections to it.

Even during the Khilafat Movement (1919-24), when the Congress was working on pan-Islamist agenda, Vande Mataram continued to be sung in its gatherings, in the presence of the leading Khilafatist maulanas, who, then, dominated its proceedings.

How an anti-British song became ‘anti-Muslim’

From 1896 to 1937, Vande Mataram was the staple for the Congress. And then, elections were held under the Government of India Act, 1935; and Congress ministries were formed in provinces. After centuries, the natives of India, the Hindus, were in power. The Muslim ruling class could endure British rule, but seeing their former subjects becoming rulers was beyond their endurance. For centuries, they had been conditioned to look down upon the Hindus, and now the same Hindus were ministers. They freaked out, and began hallucinating about the Hindu oppression. As they upped the ante for a desperate fight, their glance fell upon the “Durga” and “Lakshmi” in Vande Mataram, and the Islam-in-danger bogey became ever more palpable.

This situation has been best summarised by a nationalist Muslim, Rafi Ahmed Kidwai. In a statement that was published in The Pioneer on 19 October 1937, that merits in-extenso reproduction, he said, “Mr. Jinnah characterises Vande Mataram as an anti-Islamic song. Mr Jinnah had been a devoted and enthusiastic member of the Congress and of its chief executive, the All-India Congress Committee, for a number of years. Every year, the session of the Congress opened with the singing of this song, and every year he was seen on the platform listening to the song with the attention of a devotee. Did he ever protest? Mr Jinnah left the Congress, not because he thought the Vande Mataram was an anti-Islamic song, but because he had found the idea of swaraj unacceptable.”

Nehru is both Churchill and Chamberlain

The Muslim League, having suffered a rout in the 1937 elections, and further failing to force its way into the government in the United Provinces—not on the basis of the seats won, but as an entitlement for having once been the rulers—suddenly realised that Vande Mataram was idolatrous, and raised a war cry against it.

In the book Vande Mataram: The Biography of a Song, historian Sabyasachi Bhattacharya details the debates in the Congress, and the correspondence between Nehru, Bose, and Rabindranath Tagore. Nehru’s first reaction was: “The present outcry against Bande Mataram is to a large extent a manufactured one by the communalists.” However, soon, in order to appease the communalists, he said that having read the English translation of Anandmath, he was of the opinion that it was “likely to irritate the Muslims”. And so, he set out “to meet real grievances where they exist(ed).” That is how the Congress Working Committee, on 26 October 1937 (just days after Kidwai’s remonstrance), decided to truncate the song, and adopt only the first two stanzas as they were “unobjectionable”.

Such bending backward before the communalists recalls to mind what Atal Bihari Vajpayee once told Nehru about the streak of appeasement in him: “In you, there are both Churchill and Chamberlain”.

Sabyasachi Bhattacharya narrates how this concession couldn’t satisfy the Muslim League, as they insisted on the deletion of Vande Mataram in toto. Jinnah wrote, “Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru cannot be unaware that Muslims all over have refused to accept the Vande Mataram or any expurgated edition of the anti-Muslim song as a binding National Anthem”.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi is right in his analysis that the mutilation of Vande Mataram whetted the appetite of the Muslim League, and became the prelude to the partition of India. It is in the logic of appeasement that instead of resolving an issue, it exacerbates it.

Even now, the Muslim leadership remains as staunchly against Vande Mataram as it was during Jinnah’s time. So, what is gained by cutting out the better part of the song; and, what’s been gained by acquiescing to the partition?

The way forward

Since 2014, because of the conducive atmosphere provided, the Muslims have been showing an unprecedented fondness for the Constitution, and the sacred symbols of the nation. The Independence and Republic Days are celebrated with gaiety in Muslim institutions, including madrasas; and the national anthem is sung with gusto. Many a time, one can see the national flag waving from the high minaret of a mosque. If a better atmosphere is conduced, the Muslims will sing Vande Mataram with as much fervour as anyone else. – The Print, 12 December 2025

› Ibn Khaldun Bharati is a student of Islam, and looks at Islamic history from an Indian perspective. 

Chhattisgarh Waqf Board orders all mosques and madrasas to hoist the Indian flag on Independence Day.

Rushdie’s Duplicity: A victim of Islamist violence makes Hindu nationalism an easy target – Utpal Kumar

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Salman Rushdie

To watch Rushdie reprimand “Hindu nationalism” after surviving a near-fatal Islamist attack is therefore to witness a tragic spectacle: a man shaped by fear into criticising the safest opponent available. – Utpal Kumar

Soon after Salman Rushdie was stabbed by an Islamist madman in New York in August 2022, Gopalkrishna Gandhi wrote an article in the Hindustan Times, ‘The scorching truth of Rushdie’s ordeal’. While examining the Rushdie stabbing, Gandhi seemed oblivious to the attacker’s identity—the writer didn’t mention even once why the novelist was attacked, who the attacker was, or why Rushdie was forced to stay under cover for years despite issuing several apologies. Instead, he invoked Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination by a Hindu in 1948. His verdict became intriguingly problematic when he wrote, “The attack on Rushdie comes from the same source?”

Really!

Salman Rushdie’s latest warning about the “rise of Hindu nationalism” in Bharat seems to follow the same Left-‘liberal’ pattern—of, first, denying or at least minimising the scale of Islamist violence; and, second, if the scale of violence is too vast to ignore, creating an equivalence in Hinduism. It reads less like a principled stand and more like a man barking up the only tree that never bit him while fastidiously avoiding the forest of blades that left him with one eye less and a badly damaged liver.

The documented record of violence against Rushdie is neither vague nor debatable. It is exhaustively chronicled by many scholars, including Daniel Pipes, who, in his book The Rushdie Affair (1990), coined the term “Rushdie Rules” to describe how “editors, newspapers, publishers, and academic teachers abide by a new set of rules—new to modern Westerners at least—which limit the freedom to discuss Islam with the same methods, terminology and frank inquisitiveness that are considered normal in discussing Christianity or Hinduism”. Rushdie had himself written extensively about this in his 2012 memoir, Joseph Anton.

It was Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa that sent Rushdie into hiding. Then, there was the selective killing of no less than 45 people worldwide associated in one way or the other with The Satanic Verses—this included the murder of its Japanese translator, Hitoshi Igarashi, in 1991. Many were stabbed, including an Italian translator of the book in Milan; a Norwegian publisher was shot in Oslo. And, finally, it was an Islamist radical, Hadi Matar, who in 2022 stormed a stage in New York and plunged a knife repeatedly into Rushdie’s neck and abdomen, leaving him almost dead. All this is a living testament to the fact that Khomeini’s decree, as Daniel Pipes emphasises, “was never simply a religious opinion, but a death sentence with no expiry date”.

In contrast, Rushdie’s affair with Hindu nationalism is not only bloodless, it is anti-climactic in many ways. When he mocked Bal Thackeray and caricatured Hindu figures in The Moor’s Last Sigh (1995), the much-anticipated Hindutva havoc never materialised. Thackeray, far from issuing anything resembling a fatwa, responded with a shrug and the suggestion that his secretary could read the book for him.

This civilisational lopsidedness was noted by Koenraad Elst in his preface to The Rushdie Affair, where he contrasted the Ayatollahs’ unforgiving wrath despite Rushdie’s repeated apology with the quick closure of the Shivaji Maharaj controversy when Khushwant Singh apologised for calling the Maratha hero “a bastard”. In the Hindu case, an apology ended the matter. In the Islamist case, apology merely confirmed guilt. The difference is civilisational, not rhetorical.

Given this stark historical-civilisational difference, Rushdie’s latest denunciation of “Hindu nationalism” appears less like conviction and more like reflex—the reflex of a man who has learnt, through his own bloody experience, which ideologies kill and which merely complain. It is psychologically understandable, even if morally disappointing and intellectually dishonest.

A traumatised man avoids the bully but lectures the weak and gentle. Writers like Ayaan Hirsi Ali have described this phenomenon as the “fear-shaped silence” that hangs over critiques of Islamism. Rushdie may not be totally silent, but he is certainly cautious, careful to look for the safer target while framing his criticisms of Islamism within layers of diplomatic phrasing. He is well aware, better than anyone else, of the one ideology that puts a global contract on life that never gets revoked.

To watch Rushdie reprimand “Hindu nationalism” after surviving a near-fatal Islamist attack is therefore to witness a tragic spectacle: a man shaped by fear into criticising the safest opponent available. It is not courage; it is self-preservation masquerading as principle. And it underscores a deeper truth about our intellectual climate—the willingness of cultural elites to condemn, even cut, the tree that never struck them while tiptoeing around the jungle that nearly swallowed one of their own.

Rushdie’s warning about Hindu nationalism may win him applause in Left-‘liberal’ salons, but it is a misdirection that obscures the true, documented, bloodstained threat that has shadowed him for the past 36 years. If he is barking, he is barking up the wrong tree—and perhaps the only one that never bared its teeth.

Hindu nationalism, after all, did not force Rushdie into hiding. Hindu nationalism did not murder his colleagues. Hindu nationalism did not stab him on an American stage. Hindu nationalism did not declare that repentance is insufficient and that the sentence is eternal. Islamism did all of this, openly and repeatedly—an ideology that celebrates the likes of Hadi Matar.

Perhaps Rushdie the rebel, which he was once in the 1980s, is no more, as he himself had suggested in Joseph Anton. Recalling the moment in 1989 when a fatwa was issued against him by the Ayatollah of Iran, he remembered receiving a call from a woman BBC reporter who asked, “How does it feel to know that you have just been sentenced to death by the Ayatollah Khomeini?” It was a sunny Tuesday in London, but Rushdie had never felt the world so dark. “It doesn’t feel good,” he replied, though inwardly he thought, “I’m a dead man.”

Rushdie, the rebel writer, is long dead. Long live Rushdie! – Firstpost, 9 December 2025

› Utpal Kumar is Opinion Editor at Firstpost and News18 and is the author of the book “Eminent Distorians: Twists and Truths in Bharat’s History”.

Nehru, Patel and the Babri Masjid: Rajnath Singh exposes Nehruvian double-speak – Utpal Kumar

VOI

Nehru & Patel

Rajnath Singh’s remarks on Nehru, Patel, Somnath and Babri Masjid, rather than being fabrications or distortions of history, reflect realities that were suppressed later by the Nehruvian ecosystem. – Utpal Kumar

Truth can often be stranger than fiction. This became obvious when Defence Minister Rajnath Singh’s recent statement about Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel and the Babri Masjid opened a Pandora’s box, pushing the country to revisit the uneasy truths of its early years as an independent entity.

The Congress, quite expectedly and duly supported by its ecosystem, has strongly denied Singh’s assertions, calling them “lies” devoid of archival backing. Yet, when one turns to the memoirs, diaries, and biographies written by contemporaries of Nehru and Patel, a more complex picture emerges—one that suggests history is more often than not written by victors, which in the country’s case were Nehru and his acolytes.

Rajnath Singh’s intervention touches on two sensitive issues: one, whether Nehru had proposed using government funds to build the Babri Masjid; and two, the first prime minister’s alleged reluctance to support a national memorial for Sardar Patel. Contrary to claims that Singh is distorting or inventing history, the fact is that these incidents were explicitly recorded in books and personal documents from the 1950s and 1960s.

The Babri Masjid Question

The most striking material comes from the diary of Maniben Patel, Sardar Patel’s daughter. In one of her entries, she notes that Nehru had raised the question of the Babri Masjid and its reconstruction. According to her account, Sardar Patel immediately made it clear that the government could not spend public money to build or rebuild a mosque. He also reminded Nehru that the case of the Somnath temple had been entirely different. In her entry dated September 20, 1950, Maniben Patel writes,

“Bapu (Sardar) said (the) government cannot give money for building a mosque? He knew it very well so that Junagadh was taken over well in advance, and land [was] obtained from [the] Junagadh government for Somnath, and a trust was created and credited Rs 30 lakh. Panditji wrote a chit to Munshi that [the] government cannot spend money on Somnath, as ours is a secular state. Munshi transferred [it] to him (Bapu). He replied that this is a trust of which Jamshed is chairman and Munshi a member and no government money is going to be used in it. He (PM) was silenced then.”

This diary entry is significant because it directly contradicts the categorical denials made today that Nehru ever entertained any proposal regarding government involvement with the Babri Masjid. It also supports Rajnath Singh’s remark that Patel had explicitly opposed such an idea. The suggestion that Nehru even considered using public funds for the mosque complicates the popular portrayal of him as a secularist who maintained a firm line separating religion and state.

The Somnath Saga

The Nehruvian double standard becomes more acute when one looks at the Somnath temple reconstruction episode. In his book Pilgrimage to Freedom, K.M. Munshi, a key leader in the Somnath project, recounts that when Junagadh acceded to India, Sardar Patel, as deputy prime minister, pledged the government to rebuild the temple. Munshi writes that the Union Cabinet, with Nehru presiding, initially approved the reconstruction at government expense.

It was Mahatma Gandhi, not Nehru, who advised that the temple must be rebuilt not with state funds but with voluntary contributions from Hindus. Sardar Patel accepted Gandhi’s advice and swiftly set in motion the creation of a trust to oversee public fundraising. Munshi himself was appointed chairman of the advisory committee for reconstruction.

What surprised Munshi was Nehru’s conduct after Sardar Patel’s death. He records that Nehru repeatedly criticised him for his involvement, despite the fact that the early Cabinet decision had Nehru’s own assent. Munshi writes that he had to remind the prime minister in a detailed letter that “everything was done … in accordance with the decision of the Cabinet taken under his guidance”.

The Somnath saga thus exposes another, little-known aspect of Nehruvian hostility to things Hindu—that the first prime minister’s opposition to state involvement in temple reconstruction was not a position he held from the start; it emerged only later, especially when he became all-powerful after the death of Sardar Patel. And, more damningly, this secular posturing did not stop him from discussing public support for the Babri Masjid, as Maniben Patel’s diary shows.

The Unfinished Legacy of Sardar Patel

The second part of Rajnath Singh’s critique concerns the systematic neglect of Sardar Patel’s memory and legacy after his death. Here, too, the archival material is extensive.

In his book The Sardar of India, P.N. Chopra describes how a plan to build a national memorial for Patel was approved by the Congress Working Committee. The target was Rs 1 crore. Industrialist G.D. Birla, a close aide of both Mahatma Gandhi and Sardar Patel, raised Rs 50 lakh and handed it to the All-India Congress Committee, while state units began collecting contributions.

Yet the project stalled. According to S.K. Patil, a Congressman, as quoted by Chopra, Nehru “remained passive throughout” and eventually suggested that since Patel had been an “agriculturist” and “friend of villagers”, the collected money should be used instead for digging wells and constructing village roads. S.K. Patil found the suggestion “nonsensical”, as “digging of wells and constructing roads was the normal responsibility of the government. That responsibility could not be shared by the memorial fund”.

Chopra also records that Nehru objected even to raising Patel’s statue at Vijay Chowk. Only after much difficulty was a new site secured on Parliament Street, funded not by the Congress’s official memorial fund but by money raised separately in Bombay, now Mumbai.

More startling is the account related by R.L. Handa in his book Rajendra Prasad: Twelve Years of Triumph and Despair. Handa, who was the press secretary to President Rajendra Prasad, writes that upon Patel’s death in 1950, Nehru issued a direction to ministers and secretaries asking them not to go to Bombay for the funeral. When he requested President Rajendra Prasad to avoid attending as well, Prasad refused. Durga Das, in his book India: From Curzon to Nehru and After, corroborates this, noting that Prasad felt Nehru was attempting to diminish Patel’s stature.

These testimonies strengthen Rajnath Singh’s argument that there was a concerned attempt to diminish Patel’s legacy in the years following Independence—an observation shared not merely by modern political actors but by several of Sardar Patel’s contemporaries.

Rajnath Singh’s remarks, rather than being fabrications or distortions of history, reflect realities that were suppressed later by the Nehruvian ecosystem. They show that the early years of the republic were far from monolithic, carved from Nehruvian stone, as is being projected today, and that the country’s slide towards amoral, soulless secularism detached from ageless Sanatana ethos was neither inevitable nor uncontested. In that sense, the ongoing debate sparked by Rajnath Singh has reopened a window onto a past that continues to challenge our assumptions, proving yet again that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. – News18,

› Utpal Kumar is Opinion Editor at Firstpost and News18 and is the author of the book Eminent Distorians: Twists and Truths in Bharat’s History.

Colonised Minds: Modi didn’t speak the whole truth at Ayodhya – Balbir Punj

VOI

PM Modi raising the flag over the Ram Temple at Ayodhya (Nov.25, 2025).

What Modi said at Ayodhya about the Macaulay mindset is true, but unfortunately not the whole truth. India’s influential political, intellectual, and social elite has long been influenced not only by Macaulay but also by the ideological legacy of Karl Marx. Since independence, this powerful network has worked tirelessly—both jointly and separately—to carry forward the unfinished agenda of these two, who never met but shared a hatred for India’s timeless civilisation. – Balbir Punj

Recently, Prime Minister Narendra Modi vowed to liberate India completely from the Macaulayite mindset. In his words:

“Alongside pride in our heritage, one more task is equally vital-and that is the complete eradication of the mindset of servitude. Nearly 190 years ago, in 1835, a Briton named Macaulay sowed the seeds of uprooting India from her civilisational roots. It was Macaulay who laid the foundation of India’s mental colonisation. Ten years from now, in 2035, that unfortunate episode will complete two hundred years. Only a few days ago, at another event, I urged the nation to adopt the coming decade as a mission-a resolve that in these ten years, we shall free India entirely from this mindset of slavery.”

PM Modi hit the nail on the head, and what better place than Ayodhya to do so. The seven-decade delay in building the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi Temple symbolises the lingering scars of colonised mindsets. The temple could have been constructed soon after independence and marked the conclusion of India’s struggle to reclaim its self-respect and identity.

However, opposition driven by Macaulay-Marxist influences turned it into a Hindu-Muslim issue. Their colonial mindset created misleading narratives, resulting in endless litigation, damage to Hindu-Muslim relations, and the loss of many innocent lives and properties. I have explored this topic in detail in my book Tryst with Ayodhya: Decolonisation of India.

What Modi said about the Macaulay mindset is true, but unfortunately not the whole truth. India’s influential political, intellectual, and social elite has long been influenced not only by Macaulay but also by the ideological legacy of Karl Marx. Since independence, this powerful network has worked tirelessly—both jointly and separately—to carry forward the unfinished agenda of these two, who never met but shared a hatred for India’s timeless civilisation.

Thomas Babington Macaulay was a staunch capitalist and imperialist. In contrast, Karl Marx was the pioneer of Leftist ideology, focusing on class struggle while sharply criticising capitalism. Despite their ideological differences, both shared a common goal: to diminish India’s presence in the minds and hearts of its people. As a result, when the British, in collusion with the Muslim League, moved the subcontinent towards an inevitable partition, the contemporary Left intelligentsia not only justified it but also mused about breaking India into more than fifteen smaller pieces.

Macaulay’s 1835 education policy aimed at shaping a class of Indians who would be “Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals and in intellect”-a group that would support British rule. His policies encouraged Indians to look down on their own civilisational roots and to detach mentally from their cultural foundations. So strong was his disdain that he famously claimed the entire “native literature of India” and learning was not “worth” even a “single shelf of a good European library”.

Macaulay’s project was not merely colonial; it was deeply evangelical. Writing to his father on  October  12, 1836, he declared:

“… Our English schools are flourishing wonderfully… The effect of this education on the Hindoos is prodigious. No Hindoo who has received an English education ever continues to be sincerely attached to his religion. Some continue to profess it as a matter of policy, and some embrace Christianity… It is my firm belief that, if our plans of education are followed up, there will not be a single idolater among the respectable classes in Bengal thirty years hence. …”

Macaulay’s thoughts aligned with the 1813 Charter Act of the East India Company, which encouraged European missionaries’ evangelical efforts in India. From this colonial origin, divisive ideas like the Aryan Invasion Theory, the Dravidian Movement, and the claim that “India is not a nation” arose, still influencing Indian politics and academia.

British rule in India, ironically, fulfilled Marx’s worldview, at least in one way. His satisfaction is evident in his column—“The Future Results of British Rule in India” published on 8 August 1853 in the New York Daily Tribune, where he wrote:

“The British were the first conquerors superior, and therefore inaccessible to Hindoo civilisation. They destroyed it by breaking up the native communities, by uprooting the native industry, and by levelling all that was great and elevated in the native society.”

Mark these words, “… they destroyed it by breaking up the native communities, by uprooting the native industry…” This sentence by Marx, over 170 years old, summarises how India was culturally and economically destroyed by colonial powers. Marx celebrated this destruction of Indian culture and industry as necessary for revolution, as culture and economics are intertwined—destroying one kills the other.

He further added in “The Future Results of British Rule in India”:

“England has to fulfil a double mission in India: one destructive, the other regenerating—the annihilation of old Asiatic society and laying the material foundations of Western society in Asia.”

Marx’s contempt for Indian traditions was further exposed in another New York Daily Tribune article “The British Rule in India,” dated 25 June 1853:

“… We must not forget that these little communities were contaminated by distinctions of caste and by slavery, that they subjugated man to external circumstances instead of elevating man the sovereign of circumstances, that they transformed a self-developing social state into never-changing natural destiny, and thus brought about a brutalising worship of nature, exhibiting its degradation in the fact that man, the sovereign of nature, fell down on his knees in adoration of Hanuman, the monkey, and Sabala, the cow. …”

Marx authored this caricature without visiting India, yet many of his ideological successors spread this disdain in independent India. Sanatan philosophy views man as part of the cosmic order, not its master. India’s Vedic culture, with deep roots, supported a thriving economy from the first to the seventeenth century, acknowledged by global research.

The liberation from the colonial Macaulay-Marx mindset—an emancipation that should have started immediately after independence—only gained momentum after 2014, with some exceptions. The Guardian’s May 18, 2014 editorial highlighted this shift:

”Narendra Modi’s victory in the elections marks the end of a long era in which the structures of power did not differ greatly from those through which Britain ruled the subcontinent. India under the Congress party was in many ways a continuation of the British Raj by other means. The last of midnight’s children are now a dwindling handful of almost 70-year-olds, but it is not the passing of the independence generation that makes the difference.”

Post-independence, there was a unanimous demand in Ayodhya from civil society, the political leadership of United Provinces (as Uttar Pradesh was called then), and the top echelons of state bureaucracy for handing over the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi site to Hindus, but the colonialists led by the then Prime Minister Nehru wouldn’t let that happen.

In this context, the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi Temple in Ayodhya stands as a living symbol of Sanatan resurgence and a national resolve to break free from colonial consciousness.

When, amid Vedic rituals on  November 25, the PM raised the standard of Sanatan in Ayodhya, it was a definitive statement about India’s civilisational renaissance and its quest to dismantle the colonial mindset. No wonder the Macaulay-Marxist pack is in a funk.

› Balbir Punj is an eminent columnist and the author of “Tryst with Ayodhya: Decolonisation of India” and “Narrative ka Mayajaal”.