Bipolar Nation

When India turned seventy-five, I was struck by how the unresolved face-off between Hindutva and Hind Swaraj would shape the next quarter century of our national life.

This struggle could not be evaded or glossed over. Nor could it be reduced merely to supplanting or substituting the idea of Hind Swaraj with Hindutva, the new ruling ideology. Because the two were—and are—not antagonistic or mutually exclusive. Although that is how the political discourse of the day tries to portray them. Swaraj subsumes Hindutva. Hindutva without Swaraj would be severely limited in meaning, even turning dangerous. Rather, Hindutva ought to be turned, realigned so to speak, to serve the ends of Swaraj.

But what is Swaraj? It is not only self-rule and political independence. It is the full flowering of both individuals and the communities that they constitute. It is nothing short of a new consciousness—personal and national. Leading to a beautiful, equitable and harmonious society.

Yes, Swaraj is an ideal ever since it was articulated, in the very ancient of times. Going back to the Vedas itself, the very first scripture known to humankind. But the flame of this ancient ideal, never snuffed out despite the worst adversities of conquest, colonialism and misrule, was rekindled into a brilliant and burning flame during our independence movement.

Swaraj still shines as a bright beacon guiding our efforts as a civilisation.

Swaraj, in this broadest sense, is not only a project for the political classes or leaders. The latter, even if they call themselves the servants of the people, zealously portray and promote themselves as their saviours. Often, they seem to forget that they are elected representatives, not arbiters of the nation’s destiny. That is why, we, the people, must lead. We must rise as a society, not shifting the burden of responsibility to politicians or demagogues. For the primary concern or consideration of Swaraj is not to seize and hold political power. Given this fact, we have to look elsewhere and elsehow if we wish to walk the Swaraj talk.

Hindutva and Hind Swaraj, in its effort to understand the continuing tussle between Hindutva and Swaraj, adopts the method of aanvikshiki or what I term intermedial hermeneutics, its adaptation to contemporary times.

Using a dialogic form, I explore and work out, in three main parts the key issues, ideas and insights of the continuing contretemps between Hindutva and Hind Swaraj. Parts I and III have fifteen sections or chapters each, while Part II, in the middle, consists of ten.

We might think of this structure as akin to a three-part exercise of pranayama. Fifteen segments of puraka or slow inhalation, ten of retention or <kumbhaka> and another fifteen of <rechaka> or exhalation. Along with the preface and epilogue, this practice is meant to purify and balance the nation’s <prana> or life breath. The lungs of the nation are strong; if they also stay healthy and hold steady, we will be closer to Swaraj.

Part I, Itihasa Mimamsa: Poetics of the Past, is a meditation on history. We must understand and engage with the past in order to explore the present and shape the future. In a deeper sense, Hindutva and Hind Swaraj is a reflection on the meaning of history, of what happened to us as a nation, people and civilisation. Part II, Daksinayana: India Lost and Found, recounts my own rediscovery of India in the Deccan. Especially, its Hindu-Muslim fault lines, which flared up with such murderous rage during Partition. And still animate our subcontinental conflicts as the Pahalgam massacre of April 22, 2025, and the subsequent Operation Sindoor demonstrate.

What follows is the last section, Part III: Dharma-Samsthapanarthaya: Politics of the Present. Its central point is that if we transition from politics to dharma, we might heal the wound in the national psyche. History’s forgotten doubles may thus find lasting integration and transformation. The epilogue, invoking a tradition as old as the Mahabharata, tries to take us to a realm where conflicts cannot persist and all enmity ceases. We might even make this our present truth, rather than our afterlife.

IF THERE IS anything that history teaches us, it is that old antagonisms persist. They do not vanish or fade entirely. We cannot wish them away or deny their existence. But we must carefully work through them before they can be resolved.

Either through conflicts in which one side triumphs over the other and incorporates it into itself. In the Hegelian way. Or through treaties, agreements or covenants. Shall we call this the Kantian manner? The latter may buy peace for a while but must be altered or updated over time.

No doubt there are similar, even superior Indic modes of confrontation and reconciliation, whether Hindu, Buddhist, or Jain.

But sambandh siddhi, to invoke Utpaldeva and his commentator but possibly greater successor, Abhinavagupta, is imperative. It cannot be avoided.

If project India that is Bharat is to succeed, old antagonisms, like unhealing wounds or scabs that bleed again at the slightest scratch, cannot be ignored or hidden under flimsy bandages.

Lest they fester and turn gangrenous, leaving no other option but amputation. Partition was one such gash. Can we afford more?

If the answer is ‘No,’ we must return to old antagonisms. Between Hindus and their Others, especially subcontinental Muslims. But, more importantly, between Hindus and Hindus.

Or, to be more specific, the antagonism between two individuals, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi (1869-1948) and Vinayak Damodar Savarkar (1883-1966).

But these are not just two individuals. Each represents and embodies broader ideological, political and cultural positions as well as major factions of Hindu and Indian society.

Let me reframe this tussle in terms of two crucial conceptual universes or ways of being: as the antagonism between Hindutva and Hind Swaraj.

The central argument is that this rivalry, not without its antipathies and pathologies, still plays out in our national lives. Both in the political and personal spheres.

At a deeper level, underlying the ongoing struggle between these two contrasting ideologies lie two notions of power, two approaches to the use and abuse of violence in public life, and two notions of nationalist India.

In short, two ideas of India. Two understandings of Swaraj. Two ways of being Hindu. Two ways of being Indian. Both personally and politically.

THIS EPOCHAL contestation is also personified in the two individuals, both uniquely iconic and influential, possibly the greatest makers of modern India, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Vinayak Damodar Savarkar.

Or Mohan and Vinayak.

I allow myself to address them by their first names not to insult them or reduce their stature, but only to make them less formidable, more approachable, more human.

When seen in this light, their similarities are also considerable. Not only contemporaries and patriots, both are also defined by their enduring anti-imperialism and commitment to Indian nationhood and nationalism.

Both possess tremendous willpower, unending stamina, superhuman persistence, inordinate dedication, spartan austerity but contrasting idealism.

Yes, there they were—so very different. This fundamental difference is also reflected in their very different narrative styles. Gandhi’s extended dialogue in Hind Swaraj in contrast with Savarkar’s impassioned didacticism, even sanctimonious hectoring in Hindutva.

Between Gandhi and Savarkar, can the gulf be bridged? Can their differences be reconciled?

As Vikram Sampath, having attained fame as Savarkar’s biographer, says rather late, towards the end of the second volume of his massive biography: “Just as their portraits hang diametrically opposite to each other in the Indian Parliament’s Central Hall, Gandhi and Savarkar remain the perfectly irreconcilable polar opposites that would never meet and whose ideologies shaped the two distinct ‘Ideas of India’.”

More recently, Arun Shourie, once hailed as the intellectual giant of the so-called rightwing, has come to more or less the same conclusion. But from the opposite side. His “factual” account of Savarkar, reminiscent of his earlier scathing attack on Ambedkar, is much more of a takedown than a reconsideration. I might add that Shourie has been attacked, almost equally fiercely, for both. What they also share is his continuing, if not unmitigated, admiration for Gandhi, the bête noir of both, largely on grounds of the latter’s “truth” vs the former’s “lies”. But I am not sure I agree that Gandhi and Savarkar are irreconcilable. At least not totally. I believe that there is a way to mitigate, <sort out>, if not dissolve or deny, their quarrel.

My attempt is not to end their argument but to understand it better.

As the seminal historian, Hayden White, quoting his own guru, says, “In large part, Bossenbrook taught me, history is the story of communities—nations, social groups, families, and so on—defining themselves as opposed to their others, when in reality there are only differences among them.”

After all, both Gandhi and Savarkar were argumentative Indians, in the best sense of the word. And some arguments, we know, run deep. Across centuries, if not millennia. And across continents and civilisations.

But though they have been considered opposites, there were actually only significant differences between them.

Through such a procedure of deep inquiry and understanding we may possibly take baby steps towards resolving some ancient quarrels.

This working out, however, is not a once-and-for-all, fixed in time incident but rather an ongoing process. A continuous exploration of the meaning of Swaraj and the idea of India itself.

The antagonism between Gandhi and Savarkar, from this point of view, needs a new approach. Even if their duel cannot be ended, it might be submerged or engulfed by a new India rising to its true potential and the possibilities of Swaraj.

Theirs is, after all, a family quarrel. Between fellow freedom fighters, who were also professedly fellow-Hindus.

Swaraj was the ideal that both embraced, extolled, and expounded. And Swaraj is their common ground.

Their contretemps, debate, disagreement, dispute, contest, fight—or what you will—was also, ultimately, a deliberation, conversation and dialogue.

An exchange to which we still bear witness and are invited to participate in.

Lest we forget, the dialogic is also advaitic because the two are, ultimately, revealed to be not-so, not-two, not true.

Can we play at this kind of non-dualism with antagonists as inveterate as Gandhi and Savarkar?

What is more, can we succeed? We can’t be sure because no one has tried it earlier.

But must this engagement be assayed? Of course. For that is the imperative of our times. If we are to become a great nation again.

Atha: This Swaraj Samvad may even be seen as contemporary India’s own self-interrogation and self-reckoning.

For, despite any or all of its practical or pragmatic priorities, Hindutva and Hind Swaraj is also a quest for truth. Our truth as individuals—and as a nation.

Thus, let me invoke and invite into this charmed space of our discussions both these grand personalities, both great protagonists—rather than one protagonist and the other antagonist—two of the most unique and outstanding men of our times, Mahatma Gandhi and Veer Savarkar.

I call upon them to join this dialogue for the sake of Mother India—Bhavani Bharati herself—and her children, such as we ourselves are.

Om.

(This is an edited excerpt from Hindutva and Hind Swaraj: History’s Forgotten Doubles by Makarand R Paranjape)

HindusIndian freedom struggleMohandas Karamchand GandhiswarajVinayak Damodar Savarkar