को
सनातन धर्म
- लिंक पाएं
- X
- ईमेल
- दूसरे ऐप
The narrative most often repeated by Congress loyalists, Marxist historians, and the larger Islamic ecosystem is this: that Hindutva organizations were responsible for partition, and that the infamous “Two-Nation Theory” was the brainchild of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, remembered by the people as Veer Savarkar. By this logic, Savarkar and the Hindu Mahasabha stand accused of having aligned themselves with the Muslim League, thus paving the way for division.
It is a convenient tale, one that serves both political and ideological agendas. The Congress leadership of the time—Nehru and Gandhi foremost among them—assured the nation that partition would happen “only over their dead bodies.” Yet, when the hour of decision arrived, these same leaders not only accepted partition but went further: they sidelined the vision of cultural nationalism and declared India a secular republic, with Jawaharlal Nehru at the helm as its first Prime Minister. To the leftist ecosystem, this was spun into a noble sacrifice, a shining example that Hindus and Muslims could live together in harmony, that India had transcended the limitations of faith by adopting secularism.
But hidden behind this rhetoric was a profound sleight of hand. Those who could not be loyal to their own faith and culture could hardly be loyal to the Dharma of the nation. And so it was that under the pretense of reason and scientific temper, Hindu deities were mocked in the name of freedom of expression, while criticism of Islamic and Christian practices was met with silence, even suppression. What was tolerated in the case of Hindu traditions was unthinkable when it came to Abrahamic creeds.
The deliberate twisting of history thus became a weapon. Partition was tethered, falsely, to Savarkar’s name, though the truth lay elsewhere. The seed of the Two-Nation Theory was not sown by Savarkar but by Sir Syed Ahmad Khan as far back as 1883. It was he who first proclaimed that Hindus and Muslims were two separate nations, destined never to coexist peacefully. This ideological seed later grew into the political platform of the Muslim League, cultivated skillfully by Muhammad Ali Jinnah into a weapon that split the nation. The Congress, in its shortsighted opportunism, chose to ignore this reality and instead cast Savarkar as the architect of division.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Savarkar’s worldview was expansive, far beyond the narrow confines of communal politics. He had declared: “When you call yourself a Hindu, I too call myself a Hindu; yet in truth I am a citizen of the world.” To accuse such a man of founding the Two-Nation Theory is not merely a distortion of fact, it is a grave injustice to history itself.
Savarkar’s life stands as testimony against such accusations. His seminal work The First War of Indian Independence, 1857 awakened a sleeping nation, transforming what British historians had dismissed as the “Sepoy Mutiny” into a proud saga of resistance and sacrifice. He endured the brutal horrors of Kala Pani—cellular imprisonment in the Andamans—facing torture, isolation, and relentless humiliation without breaking. He exposed the truth of the Moplah massacres, authored works such as Hindutva and Hindu Pad-Padshahi, and built organizations like Abhinav Bharat that infused revolutionary zeal into countless patriots. To suggest that such a man conspired to divide his motherland is not just falsehood; it is slander born of ideological cowardice.
The irony is unmistakable: after his death in 1966, it was not the Hindu right but none other than Prime Minister Indira Gandhi who officially conferred upon him the honorific “Veer.” She released a commemorative postal stamp in his memory and wrote in her letter of condolence: “Veer Savarkar was the symbol of bravery and patriotism. He was an ideal revolutionary who inspired people. His passing away has deprived India of one of its great sons.” (Press Information Bureau, 26 February 1966).
Even this is brushed aside by Savarkar’s detractors, who argue that such praise is customary when a figure passes away. Yet their argument collapses when we recall that fourteen years after his death, in 1980, Indira Gandhi once again wrote of him with even greater admiration, beginning her letter with the salutation “Veer Savarkar,” recalling his resistance to British tyranny, and recognizing him as one of India’s greatest sons. It was she who issued a postal stamp in his honor as early as 1970.
Clearly, Savarkar was respected across party lines—until Congress chose the path of Muslim appeasement. Once that began, the space for genuine nationalist thought shrank, and the ideological vacuum was filled by the Bharatiya Jana Sangh and later the Bharatiya Janata Party. It was never a matter of personal allegiance; it was a matter of principles, of ideas, of whether India’s civilizational ethos would be safeguarded or compromised.
Savarkar’s literary legacy itself testifies to his vision. Among his notable works are:
My Transportation for Life (Mera Aajeevan Karaavas)
The First War of Independence, 1857
Kala Pani
The Six Golden Pages (Swarnim Shatpadi)
Life-Struggles (Jeevan Sangharsh)
Hindutva
Gomantak
Revenge (Pratishodh)
The Five Vows of Hindutva (Hindutva ke Panch Pran)
Mahamana Savarkar
To read works like Hindutva, The Moplah, and The Six Golden Pages is to realize that to blame Savarkar for partition is not just a falsehood—it is a betrayal of the nation’s truth.
The Congress, Nehru, and their ideological heirs succeeded in projecting Savarkar as the villain of partition, while quietly concealing the actual origins of the Two-Nation Theory. They cast the man who endured torture for the nation as a conspirator, while those who compromised repeatedly with the Muslim League were painted as saints of unity.
This distortion of history matters because it is not merely about the past—it shapes the present. When young Indians are told that their civilizational guardians were divisive, when they are conditioned to see their own traditions as regressive and alien, while elevating the ideologies of their conquerors as progressive and modern, then the nation loses its very soul.
It is for this reason that on this seventy-ninth Independence Day, we must reclaim the truth of our past. We must remember that partition was not Savarkar’s design, nor the product of Hindu nationalism, but the culmination of decades of separatist politics rooted in the ideology of Islamic exclusivism, abetted by the appeasement of Congress leadership. We must recognize that secularism, as imposed upon India, was not an organic principle of coexistence but a political instrument to silence Hindu consciousness while pandering to those who denied India’s civilizational essence.
Only then can we truly honor the memory of those who fought, bled, and died not for a fractured, rootless nation, but for an India whose foundation was Sanatan Dharma itself—the eternal, universal Dharma that alone can sustain the unity and integrity of this land.
Sanatan Dharma as the National Dharma – The Unbroken Pledge of 1947
On the midnight of 14th August 1947, when the clock struck twelve and the world slept, India was said to awaken into freedom. The Union Jack was lowered, and the tricolour of saffron, white and green with the radiant wheel of dharma at its centre was hoisted in Delhi. The event has often been romanticised as the “tryst with destiny.” Yet beneath the ceremonial triumph, an unhealed wound was carved into the body of the nation—the partition of the land, the tearing apart of communities, and the forced exodus of millions. Independence came, but it was soaked in blood.
The official histories written in later decades projected this moment only through the lens of political transfer of power. A narrative was established in which the Congress party alone appeared as the heroic force, and the leaders of the Hindu revivalist tradition were painted as divisive or even traitorous. Among them, the name of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar was placed under a shadow, accused of being complicit in the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi, despite no court of law ever proving such a charge. The intellectual establishment, dominated by Leftist ideologues, ensured that his ideas of Hindutva, his role in revolutionary struggle, and his vision of national strength were relegated to the margins.
Yet the true story of India’s awakening cannot be told by suppressing inconvenient voices. If the nation wishes to understand the pledge of freedom in its fullness, it must revisit the deeper foundation—the civilizational spirit of Sanatan Dharma that had survived centuries of foreign rule, and that inspired countless sacrifices. For India is not merely a political entity born in 1947; she is an ancient nation whose identity has been chiselled through the eternal values of dharma. The spirit that sustained her through invasions, conversions, colonisation, and modern ideological distortions was none other than Sanatan Dharma, the timeless way of life.
It is in this context that the seventy-ninth year of independence assumes a profound significance. To celebrate the nation’s freedom without recalling its spiritual essence is to betray the very pledge that countless martyrs carried in their hearts. The real question before us is not merely who ruled and who resisted, but what was the dharmic foundation that allowed the nation to endure? And when we look through this lens, the shadows around Savarkar and many other neglected patriots begin to lift, revealing a story larger than the simplistic binaries of secular versus communal.
The partition of India was not an inevitable event; it was the result of political compromises, miscalculations, and the steady appeasement of separatist demands. The Muslim League, emboldened by decades of concessions, finally demanded a separate homeland. Leaders like Jinnah played upon religious identity to mobilise masses, while the Congress, weary of prolonged negotiations, agreed to division as the price of immediate transfer of power. Gandhi, who had once declared that partition would only happen “over his dead body,” eventually acquiesced, urging unity but accepting the inevitability of separation.
The cost of this compromise was staggering. Entire towns went up in flames. Trains arrived filled not with passengers but with corpses. Women were abducted, families destroyed, temples desecrated, and centuries-old bonds of neighbourhood were torn apart. Punjab and Bengal bled. The soil of Sindh and the valleys of Kashmir shook with violence. Official estimates of those killed hover around one million, though survivors’ testimonies suggest the toll was far higher. Fifteen million people were uprooted in one of the largest forced migrations in human history.
In this crucible of suffering, the spiritual question arose with greater force: What is the identity of this nation? If India is merely a political arrangement, then partition was simply a geographical adjustment. But if India is a civilizational entity rooted in Sanatan Dharma, then partition was a mutilation of her sacred body. For thousands of refugees crossing borders with nothing but faith in their hearts, the hope of survival was not offered by political treaties but by the dharmic resilience that had always bound this land.
The Demonisation of Savarkar
Yet even as the nation struggled to recover from partition, another narrative began to be crafted. On 30th January 1948, Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated by Nathuram Godse, a man who had once been part of Hindu nationalist circles. Immediately, a cloud of suspicion was cast upon Savarkar, who had long been critical of Gandhi’s policies of appeasement. Though the court found no evidence to implicate him, the intellectual verdict was passed in advance: Savarkar was to be remembered as the dark shadow against Gandhi’s light.
This was not merely about one man’s reputation. It was about the ideological control of history. By demonising Savarkar, the Left-leaning establishment sought to delegitimise the very idea of Hindutva, to portray it as inherently violent and antithetical to India’s unity. Textbooks, films, and political rhetoric all contributed to this portrayal. The Congress claimed the sole ownership of freedom, while Marxist historians painted Hindu revivalists as dangerous fanatics. Thus, an entire generation grew up believing that Savarkar was little more than a conspirator, rather than a revolutionary who had suffered transportation for life in the Cellular Jail of the Andamans, who had written treatises on national strength, who had envisioned a militarily and culturally self-reliant India.
The irony is profound. While Savarkar languished in the dark cells of Kalapani, facing torture for his resistance against the British, many who later claimed credit for freedom were still engaged in constitutional negotiations. Yet in post-independence India, his sacrifices were systematically erased, his vision of cultural nationalism dismissed, and his name associated with infamy. Such distortions cannot remain unchallenged if the nation truly seeks self-respect.
Sanatan Dharma: The Soul of the Nation
At this juncture, we must recall what gives India her unique identity. Empires have risen and fallen, rulers have come and gone, but the continuity of this land has been preserved by Sanatan Dharma. Unlike dogmatic creeds that define themselves through rigid commandments, Sanatan Dharma is a living tradition—fluid yet eternal, diverse yet unified. It embraces multiplicity of paths, honours the pursuit of truth, and insists on the balance of duties and rights.
When we say “Sanatan Dharma is the national dharma,” we do not imply a theocracy or the imposition of rituals. Rather, we acknowledge that the guiding ethos of this nation—respect for all life, reverence for nature, the sanctity of family, the pursuit of knowledge, the courage to sacrifice for a higher cause—flows directly from the wellspring of dharma. It is this ethos that inspired the rishis, sustained the freedom fighters, and still gives meaning to the tricolour fluttering in the wind.
The very wheel in the centre of India’s flag, the Ashoka Chakra, is not a political emblem but a dharmic one. It reminds us that the nation does not survive by power alone but by adherence to the eternal law of righteousness. Every revolution, every movement, every struggle for justice in India has ultimately drawn legitimacy from this dharmic principle. Without it, independence would be hollow, sovereignty rootless, and unity fragile.
The Pledge Renewed
As the nation steps into the seventy-ninth year of independence, the need to revisit this truth becomes urgent. Global forces, cultural Marxism, religious separatism, and consumerist materialism all conspire to weaken the fabric of Indian society. Narratives of division, whether in the name of caste, region, or ideology, threaten to overshadow the deeper unity. In such a moment, recalling Sanatan Dharma as the national dharma is not a matter of nostalgia; it is a matter of survival.
The pledge of 1947 was incomplete if seen only in political terms. The true pledge is eternal: to uphold dharma in public and private life, to remember the sacrifices of all who fought—whether under the Congress flag or in revolutionary cells, whether with the pen or the sword, whether remembered in history books or forgotten in dusty archives. The nation’s freedom belongs not to one party, one ideology, or one community, but to the civilizational spirit that animated all.
To recognise this is to do justice to Savarkar and countless others. To ignore this is to continue living under the shadow of a half-truth. The narrative of independence must be reclaimed—not for the sake of pride alone, but for the clarity of future generations who deserve to know that their nation was not born in compromise but in sacrifice, not in appeasement but in resilience.
Sanatan Dharma as the National Dharma: The Pledge of the Seventy-Ninth Independence Day
The seventy-ninth year of Indian independence arrived not merely as the passing of another date on the national calendar, but as a moment heavy with memory, contradiction, and resolve. Seventy-nine monsoons had washed the dust of empire from the stones of Bharat, and yet, the debates over her identity remained unsettled, turbulent as the Ganga in flood. To speak of independence was to recall not only the long chains of colonial domination, but also the bitter divisions that accompanied freedom—the partition, the massacres, the uprooted millions, and the poisoned politics that still lingered in the marrow of the nation.
The air of 2026 carried echoes of both triumph and tragedy. Across the towns and villages, tricolours fluttered in monsoon winds, and schoolchildren rehearsed patriotic songs, their voices innocent of the quarrels that had haunted their grandparents. Yet, in the intellectual corridors and the political assemblies, arguments persisted with the same sharpness as seventy-nine years before: What is Bharat? What is her dharma? What is her destiny?
It was in this context that a solemn pledge resounded among those who carried the burden of civilisational memory. They declared with firm conviction that Sanatan Dharma is not merely a private faith, nor a fragment among many; it is the national dharma of India. To proclaim this was not to exclude or diminish, but to assert what history itself had testified: that the pulse of this land, the very rhythm of its civilisational heart, had for millennia beaten in the name of Sanatan, the eternal order.
The seventy-ninth Independence Day, therefore, became more than a commemoration of political freedom. It became a call to restore clarity to a confused narrative, to lift truth from the shadows of distortion. For in the decades following 1947, an elaborate edifice of untruth had been constructed. Narratives woven by Marxist historians, echoed by secular politicians, and amplified by global forces, had sought to paint Bharat as a land of fragmented identities, where Sanatan Dharma was just one colour among many.
But the truth—persistent, luminous, and stubborn—could not be erased.
The pledge that rose on this Independence Day was framed against the long shadow of betrayal. For who can forget that at the very moment of freedom, Bharat was carved apart by the blades of sectarian demand? The partition of 1947 was not merely a political compromise; it was the bleeding of a civilisation. Millions were displaced, slaughtered, dishonoured, and yet, the dominant discourse that followed did not seek to hold accountable the forces that had demanded separation. Instead, the burden of guilt was shifted onto those very voices that had most strenuously defended national unity.
And here emerged the most tragic irony of independent India: that Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, a man who had endured twenty-seven years of incarceration, a man who had warned tirelessly against appeasement and division, was branded
The Ideological Crossroads: Gandhi, Nehru, and the Compromise of National Spirit
As the sun rose over the newly independent India, the land basked in the fragile glow of freedom. Yet the euphoria of liberation was shadowed by the ideological experiments of its leaders. At the centre of this unfolding drama were two towering figures: Mahatma Gandhi, the moral beacon, and Jawaharlal Nehru, the political visionary. Both were deeply influential, yet both were also agents of compromise—compromise not merely with politics, but with the soul of Bharat.
From the onset, Gandhi’s vision for India emphasized Hindu-Muslim unity. His pronouncements—“Without Hindu-Muslim unity, freedom is impossible”—sounded benevolent, almost lyrical. Yet, beneath this melody lay a troubling reality: the expectation that the majority, the Hindus, would surrender their inherent right to self-preservation and cultural assertion. Gandhi’s endorsement of the Khilafat movement in the early 1920s illustrates this tension vividly. The Khilafat agitation, ostensibly a campaign to protect the Ottoman Caliphate, was inconsequential to India’s struggle for freedom. Gandhi, however, intertwined it with the nationalist movement, asking Hindu masses to subordinate their grievances to the preservation of a foreign religious institution.
The consequences were catastrophic. In 1921, the Malabar region of Kerala witnessed the Moplah uprising, where thousands of Hindus were massacred, women were violated, and temples were desecrated. Savarkar, with his unwavering sense of historical clarity, described it as an organised act of religious violence. Gandhi, in contrast, hailed the perpetrators as freedom fighters. This pattern of selective morality would recur throughout Congress-led politics: the Hindu community’s suffering was often minimised or ignored, while minority grievances, however minor, were amplified to shape policy and public sentiment.
Nehru and the Political Turn
Jawaharlal Nehru’s role further complicated India’s ideological trajectory. As independence approached, Nehru emerged as the symbol of modernity, education, and progressive thought. His supporters often highlight his vision of India as a secular, socialist democracy, capable of balancing tradition with modernity. But a closer examination reveals a different narrative: one of compromise at the expense of the nation’s spiritual and cultural core.
In the 1946 elections, when the presidency of the Congress party essentially decided the first Prime Minister of independent India, the candidacy of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel—widely respected, deeply rooted in Indian tradition, and favoured by provincial committees—was overshadowed by Gandhi’s intervention. Under pressure, Patel acquiesced, and Nehru ascended to power. This was not merely a transfer of office; it signalled a deeper ideological shift. Nehru’s premiership would prioritise a westernised vision of governance over the civilisational ethos that had nurtured Bharat for millennia.
Under Nehru, secularism was not merely a principle—it became a political tool. By embedding secularism into the Constitution, and later expanding it through amendments, Nehru and his successors sought to position the state as a neutral arbiter among communities. Yet neutrality often masked bias. Policies favoured minority appeasement over cultural continuity, and the majority—the living repository of Bharat’s heritage—was asked to adopt silence and restraint.
The Failure of Ideological Balance
The assertion that India could remain harmonious under this model of imposed secularism faltered rapidly. Between 1947 and the subsequent decades, more than fifty-nine thousand communal riots erupted across the country. In Kashmir, Hindus were forced to flee their ancestral homes; entire regions witnessed demographic shifts dictated by fear and coercion. Where Muslims constituted a third or more of the population, local practices, holidays, and civic norms often marginalised Hindu presence. These were not mere accidents—they were symptomatic of a systemic failure to recognise the civilisational roots of India, the very foundation that Sanatan Dharma provided.
This chapter in India’s story also exposes the ideological blindness regarding partition. The blame for the division was often placed upon Hindu leaders like Savarkar, while the real architects—educated, affluent Muslims in urban centres who supported the Muslim League—remained shielded by political narrative. Figures like Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, decades earlier, had sown the seeds of the two-nation theory, explicitly stating that Hindus and Muslims could not coexist politically. Jinnah merely operationalised this idea; yet history, as presented by mainstream narratives, sought to paint the tragedy as the consequence of Hindu intransigence.
The Cultural and Spiritual Cost
The political and social compromises exacted a profound toll on India’s spiritual continuity. By neglecting the guiding principles of Sanatan Dharma in governance, the leaders of the time inadvertently weakened the nation’s civilisational backbone. Economic policies, too, reflected this dissonance. Nehru’s socialist framework, characterised by heavy state intervention, license-permit Raj, and bureaucratic control, stifled entrepreneurship and industry. The result was decades of economic stagnation, culminating in crises that forced India to pledge gold to foreign banks in the 1990s.
Simultaneously, the constitutional embedding of secularism and socialism, often interpreted in absolute terms, created what Dr. B.R. Ambedkar feared: a preponderance of ideological rigidity over practical governance. Ambedkar had argued that the Constitution should serve as a framework for justice, not as a vehicle for imposing social or economic dogma. Yet, the successive political class, prioritising ideology over civilisational wisdom, ensured that secularism became a litmus test for loyalty, rather than a principle of governance.
Reclaiming the National Dharma
The lessons of this era are clear. Political acumen without cultural anchoring leads to compromise; idealism without historical awareness leads to disaster. For the seventy-ninth Independence Day, the call was unequivocal: India’s soul—the dharmic essence that guided her for millennia—must be recognised and restored. Sanatan Dharma, with its timeless principles, offers guidance not merely in ritual or worship, but in ethics, governance, and the social contract. It provides the framework through which a society can balance unity and diversity, freedom and duty, innovation and continuity.
To reclaim India’s destiny, therefore, is not a matter of political rhetoric. It is a matter of acknowledging the truth of history, the sacrifices of martyrs like Savarkar, and the civilisational inheritance that has sustained Bharat against the tides of invasion, conversion, and ideological subversion. Only through this understanding can the nation hope to navigate the modern world without losing her essence.
On this seventy-ninth Independence Day, the pledge renewed is more than symbolic. It is a commitment to restore the recognition of Sanatan Dharma as the national dharma, to correct historical distortions, and to ensure that the moral and spiritual compass of Bharat guides her future. It is a recognition that political freedom, however cherished, remains incomplete without the anchoring of dharma, the continuity of culture, and the truth of history.
Partition, Direct Action, and the Assault on Civilisational Continuity
The year 1947 is etched in the collective memory of Bharat as both the moment of liberation and the moment of deepest tragedy. Independence arrived not as a singular triumph, but as a bifurcation, a tearing of the very fabric of the nation. Streets that had once echoed with the cries of freedom now ran red with the blood of innocents, and families that had shared centuries of coexistence were sundered by politics and fear.
The narrative propagated by mainstream histories often obscures the truth: that the creation of Pakistan was not merely the work of distant cities like Lahore, Karachi, or Peshawar. It was made possible by the complicity of the affluent, educated, and politically influential Muslims in urban centres—Lucknow, Bombay, Madras, Aligarh, and Calcutta—who endorsed the Muslim League’s demand for a separate homeland. These were men and women who had the choice to stay in India or migrate, yet many remained, benefiting from properties, wealth, and political influence even as millions of Hindus and Sikhs were uprooted.
The Tragedy of Direct Action
One of the darkest chapters in this period was the Direct Action Day, declared by Muhammad Ali Jinnah in 1946. Kolkata, the jewel of the East, became a theatre of unspeakable horror. Streets turned into rivers of blood as mobs rampaged against the Hindu population, with the authorities standing by in helplessness or complicity. Hundreds were massacred, tens of thousands displaced, and the social order collapsed under the weight of communal frenzy.
The Congress, which led the political management of Hindu society, failed to organise an effective defence. The narrative of secularism, so proudly proclaimed in other forums, fell silent in the face of violence. This was not a spontaneous uprising, but a meticulously orchestrated strategy that revealed the lethal consequences of political appeasement. For decades, these events have been recast in selective histories, often blaming Hindu leaders for failing to prevent partition, while the real perpetrators were celebrated or ignored.
Savarkar and the Unseen Vision
Amid this chaos, the voice of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar remained unwavering. He had long warned of the dangers posed by the appeasement of separatist forces and the consequences of political concessions made in the name of secularism. His writings, from Hindutva to 1857: The First War of Independence, were not mere polemics—they were clarion calls for awareness, self-reliance, and the preservation of Bharat’s civilisational essence.
Savarkar’s insight was profound: India’s freedom could not be reduced to political independence alone; it required the survival of the spiritual and cultural substratum. He had foreseen that without the recognition of Sanatan Dharma as the guiding principle of the nation, the majority would become vulnerable to manipulation, displacement, and cultural erosion.
Religious Conversion and Demographic Shifts
Partition was only the beginning of demographic challenges. In the decades that followed, India witnessed large-scale religious conversions, often orchestrated through mission activities, social engineering, and socio-political incentives. Christian missionary activity in Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Bengal, Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, and the Northeastern tribal regions led to the conversion of thousands, if not millions, of indigenous peoples. Simultaneously, campaigns such as love jihad and differential birth rates within certain Muslim communities further altered local demographics, challenging the continuity of Hindu-majority cultural spaces.
These demographic shifts reveal a critical truth: coexistence cannot be legislated or enforced merely through slogans or constitutional provisions. A culture survives when its people, traditions, and institutions are respected and preserved. The failure to secure this continuity, coupled with repeated political appeasement, has left India in a state of perennial vulnerability, particularly in regions where Hindus have become minorities.
The Human Cost of Partition
The toll of 1947 remains staggering: over one million Hindus and Sikhs killed, more than seventy-five thousand women violated, and fourteen million uprooted from homes they had inhabited for generations. Refugee camps swelled with survivors, bearing silent testimony to the fractures within the nation. And yet, the very political establishments that orchestrated relief and resettlement were also those that propagated narratives absolving the true architects of partition.
In truth, the blame lies not with the masses, but with political elites who manipulated communal identities for power. By turning a blind eye to the divisions they themselves enabled, these leaders ensured that India’s spiritual and civilisational foundations remained compromised.
Lessons for the Nation
As India marked its seventy-ninth Independence Day, reflection on these events was essential. The revival of Sanatan Dharma as the guiding principle was not a matter of religiosity alone; it was a call to protect the civilisational integrity that had been assaulted by partition, demographic engineering, and ideological distortion. Recognising this dharma meant acknowledging history honestly, restoring the honour of those like Savarkar who had fought for unity, and ensuring that the majority community—the bedrock of Bharat’s civilisational identity—was neither marginalised nor misrepresented.
This chapter, therefore, concludes with clarity: freedom is incomplete without the survival of culture; independence is hollow without recognition of spiritual continuity. India’s future depends not merely on political sovereignty, but on the conscious preservation of her dharmic soul, the eternal thread that has bound her people, her land, and her history across millennia.
Constitution, Secularism, and the Modern Dilemmas of India
The post-independence era of India was hailed as the dawn of a new civilization—a land freed from foreign chains, stepping boldly into the modern world. Yet, even as the tricolour rose above the Red Fort in 1947, the foundations of the nation were already entangled in a web of ideological experiments that would shape her destiny for decades to come. Central to this transformation were the Constitution, the ideals of secularism, and the economic visions championed by Jawaharlal Nehru.
Nehru, celebrated as the architect of modern India, envisioned a nation that could reconcile tradition with modernity, spirituality with scientific temper, and plurality with governance. To the outside observer, his plan seemed progressive, rational, and inclusive. Yet, beneath this veneer lay contradictions that would determine the trajectory of Bharat’s soul.
Constitution and the Secular Dilemma
The Constitution of India, crafted under the guidance of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, was designed to protect justice, liberty, and equality. Ambedkar’s insistence was clear: the Constitution should not impose any single social or economic ideology upon future generations. It was a framework, a scaffold, rather than a creed. However, the inclusion of terms such as “secularism” and “socialism” in the Preamble, particularly during the Emergency period of 1976 with the 42nd Amendment, marked a subtle but significant shift.
Secularism, as envisioned by Nehru and implemented through policy, often became a tool of selective appeasement. While Hindu cultural practices, festivals, and traditions were scrutinized, debated, or even marginalised, the transgressions of other religious communities were frequently ignored or rationalised. Laws were applied unevenly, and state machinery occasionally shielded certain communities from accountability while expecting restraint from the majority.
This ideological imbalance was not merely theoretical. It manifested in demographic policies, educational curricula, and political discourse, effectively redefining citizenship not as equal participation in the national project but as conditional inclusion based on religious identity.
Economic Policies and Their Consequences
Alongside ideological shaping, Nehru’s economic policies introduced a framework of centralised planning, state ownership, and license-permit regulation. While intended to modernize the nation, these policies often created bureaucratic bottlenecks, stifled entrepreneurship, and delayed industrial growth. India, rich in human and natural resources, remained underdeveloped in comparison to its potential.
By the 1990s, the consequences of decades of constrained economic vision became painfully visible. India faced financial crises so severe that the nation had to pledge gold reserves to foreign banks. The promise of freedom—political, economic, and civilizational—remained partially unrealized. These economic constraints, when coupled with ideological misdirection, left India vulnerable not only to internal challenges but also to external pressures on trade, sovereignty, and cultural identity.
The Cultural Cost of Secularism
Secularism, in practice, often undermined the civilisational ethos that had sustained Bharat for thousands of years. The teachings of Sanatan Dharma, the ethical frameworks of the Vedas, the social wisdom embedded in Upanishads, and the moral guidance of Puranas were sidelined in policymaking. Meanwhile, Abrahamic ideologies—Islam, Christianity, and even Western socialist thought—were accommodated or promoted, regardless of their compatibility with Bharat’s foundational ethos.
This imbalance revealed itself starkly in regions where Hindus became minorities. Kashmir, for instance, witnessed systematic displacement of Hindu populations, with targeted violence, forced conversions, and cultural suppression. The promise of secularism did not protect them. Instead, it sometimes became a tool to justify political inaction, leaving the civilisational core of India exposed to external and internal pressures.
Reasserting Sanatan Dharma
In this context, the seventy-ninth Independence Day became more than ceremonial—it became a moment of national reflection. Reasserting Sanatan Dharma as India’s guiding principle was not an act of sectarianism; it was an acknowledgment of historical continuity, cultural resilience, and civilizational wisdom. Sanatan Dharma is the ethical and spiritual matrix that has allowed India to integrate diversity, accommodate dissent, and survive waves of conquest and conversion. It is the framework that transforms mere political sovereignty into true self-rule, grounded in dharmic responsibility.
To ignore this reality is to court the repetition of past mistakes: ideological disorientation, cultural dilution, and demographic vulnerabilities. Recognizing Sanatan Dharma as the national dharma ensures that India’s policies, laws, and social frameworks align with her intrinsic identity, not with external models or transient ideologies.
The Imperative for the Future
The seventy-ninth Independence Day offered an unambiguous lesson: freedom is incomplete without dharma, prosperity is hollow without cultural grounding, and sovereignty is meaningless if it cannot protect the civilizational soul. The restoration of Sanatan Dharma to its rightful place is a call to action—one that demands honesty with history, respect for tradition, and courage in the face of ideological pressures.
India’s journey is ongoing. The challenges of the modern era—religious conversions, demographic changes, globalisation, and political subversion—require more than legislation; they require moral clarity, cultural continuity, and civilisational awareness. Only by anchoring herself in Sanatan Dharma can Bharat navigate these storms while remaining faithful to her essence.
This chapter, therefore, serves as both a reflection and a prescription: the Constitution and its provisions, the promises of secularism, and the dreams of modernity must be interpreted through the lens of civilisational continuity. India’s freedom, prosperity, and identity are inseparable from her dharmic foundations. The seventy-ninth Independence Day reminds all citizens that only by acknowledging and embracing this truth can the nation thrive—not merely politically, but spiritually, culturally, and morally.
Sanatan Dharma: The Eternal Soul of Bharat
India’s seventy-nine-year journey of independence has been remarkable, yet fraught with challenges that extend beyond political sovereignty. Freedom was attained, but the civilizational and cultural soul of the nation—the essence that had sustained Bharat for millennia—has repeatedly faced assaults from external invasions, internal ideological distortions, and systematic neglect of historical truths.
From the tragic partition of 1947 to the orchestrated demographic and religious conversions in subsequent decades, the nation has witnessed how the erosion of civilizational awareness can imperil both identity and unity. Events such as Direct Action Day, the forced displacement of millions, the violation of women, and the systematic marginalization of Hindus in certain regions underscore the cost of ignoring historical realities and civilizational wisdom. These were not isolated incidents, but symptoms of a broader ideological imbalance—one where secularism, as practiced, often became a tool of selective appeasement rather than universal justice.
Yet, in the midst of these trials, the enduring vision of Sanatan Dharma stands as a beacon of continuity, resilience, and ethical guidance. It is the thread that binds India’s past with its present and provides a moral compass for the future. It recognizes diversity yet preserves unity, accommodates debate yet anchors truth, and empowers freedom while nurturing responsibility. Figures like Vinayak Damodar Savarkar exemplified this vision through their writings, activism, and unwavering dedication to the nation’s spiritual and cultural essence.
Acknowledging Sanatan Dharma as the national dharma is not a matter of religious favoritism; it is a recognition of reality, history, and survival. It affirms that India’s political independence is incomplete without cultural, ethical, and spiritual sovereignty. It restores the honor of those who sacrificed for the nation’s continuity and ensures that future generations inherit not just a free land, but a nation firmly rooted in dharmic wisdom.
The lessons of history are unambiguous: freedom without dharma is hollow; prosperity without ethical grounding is fragile; and coexistence without civilizational consciousness is vulnerable. By embracing Sanatan Dharma as the guiding principle of national life, India can navigate modern challenges—be it religious conversion, demographic change, or ideological subversion—while preserving her identity, integrity, and unity.
In conclusion, the seventy-ninth Independence Day is more than a celebration of political liberty; it is a solemn reminder that India’s soul, her eternal dharma, must remain at the heart of her nationhood. True independence is not measured merely by the absence of foreign rule, but by the presence of a living, thriving civilizational consciousness. Sanatan Dharma is that consciousness. It is the eternal soul of Bharat—the principle that binds her past, sustains her present, and will guide her future toward freedom, unity, and greatness.
Jay Shri Krishna
टिप्पणियाँ
एक टिप्पणी भेजें