The Hindutva nation and its discontents

There is a crude certainty to this Narendra Modi victory that no amount of talk about governance, delivery or economics can hide. Search the map of India for those states where the percentage of non-Hindus approaches or crosses a majority, and you find that this is where the supposed juggernaut of Modi’s governance comes to a halt—Punjab, where the only seats the BJP won were the state’s two Hindu-dominated constituencies; Kerala; the Kashmir Valley; and a few of the states in the northeast. Tamil Nadu is the one state where the simple equation does not hold, but its long history of Dravidian politics is explanation enough.

This victory has marked out the contours of the Hindutva nation, and the regions that are home to its discontents. The conclusion is evident: governance does not stop at the doorsteps of these regions, nor does patriotism. These states in fact contribute far more to the armed and the paramilitary forces than most states, where the passion for Modi runs much deeper. Why do they then not vote for Modi? This is simply because they do not see their faces in this new nation, nor they do consider themselves included.

The people of these states are not alone. The worst afflicted in this new dispensation are the millions of Muslims spread over this new nation, and in lesser measure—but only in comparison—Dalits and tribals. Over the past five years, these communities have been subject to hostility, bigotry and murderous violence; those who pretend to champion them, such as the Congress, have told these peoples to sit aside, be quiet, to not show their face. Despite this, these communities have once again been made the subject of Modi’s campaign of Hindutva self-assertion. It is clear that the response to the Hindutva nation is not the self-effacement the Congress indulged in; this only emboldens those who wield its ideology for their rule.

So if a democratic resistance to the crudity of this verdict is to be constructed, what is the shape it must take? The Congress as it stands is irrelevant to such a project. It is led by upper-caste Hindu liberals, who have come to believe that a channel of their own and a Twitter bubble, where each one of them retweets the other, is representative of the electoral reality of this country. Their reaction to the verdict has been typical—to close ranks, renounce responsibility and tell us that Rahul Gandhi is not the problem.

The complete domination of a supposedly liberal project led by upper-caste Hindus itself is indicator enough of why such an opposition would never challenge Hindutva. The suffering of these elites today stems largely from the fact that their less-anglicised counterparts who hail from similar caste backgrounds are taking their place in positions of power. Do they have a role in what lies ahead? Yes, but that role is more akin to the role Brahmins should play in the Bahujan Samaj Party—either quiet participants or bystanders—than the role they have so far played in the Congress.

There is a singular role available to Hindu upper-caste liberals, or those who identify with Hinduism, one that no one else can play. Faiths yield to questioning from within. The rest of us, who are outsiders, can raise questions but cannot persuade. The questions are evident enough: what this Hinduism is that Modi represents; what it really amounts to; and whether that is all there really is to Hinduism. The questions that have previously been asked of radical Islam now need to be addressed to those who interchangeably speak of Hindutva and Hinduism. Where is that ethical core of a religion that can challenge murder and bigotry in its name? Where is the reality of its much-vaunted claim of tolerance? Where are the sources and wellsprings of Hinduism that will suggest that there is more to it than Modi or the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh—and if they ever existed, where have they disappeared?

The atheist Hindu upper-caste liberal can play no part in such a quest—not of an intellectual or political leader, at least. They are, however, fellow travelers of the discontents of the Hindutva nation, and must know it. Far too often I hear upper-caste liberals proclaim that they will speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. Such grandstanding is good only for retweets. It is far better to help create a situation where people can speak for themselves.

If they see the Congress playing a valid role, then it must be a Congress shorn of its present leadership—that must be led by Dalits who are not Meira Kumars, by tribals who previously never found a place in the central leadership, by Muslims who are not Salman Khurshid, Sikhs who are not Manmohan Singh, Tamils who are not Mani Shankar Aiyar, and Malayalis who are not Shashi Tharoor. And if such a Congress cannot exist, it must give way to organisations that can.

For those who believe this is a utopian project: in one way or another, it is the only project that we are left with. If we stand today in India and look at our neighbourhood, it is not the Hindutva nation that separates us from what lies around us, but its discontents.