Faith, power, and nationhood in conflict

Questions such as whether our Constitution is secular or whether “Vande Bharat” is a patriotic or political slogan are not merely contemporary concerns; they are rooted in centuries of Indian history. To understand current controversies, one must go back to AD 1194, when Mohammad Ghori defeated Prithviraj Chauhan in the Second Battle of Tarain. Some trace the origins even further. Qaid-e-Azam Jinnah once claimed that Pakistan was born the day the first Hindu converted to Islam in the subcontinent.

Muslims came to India as conquerors, guests, or converts who could claim native descent. Among the rulers, some were benevolent, others harsh, and a few destructive. The brightest phase came under Emperor Akbar, whose long and liberal reign brought a rare harmony to India. In contrast, Aurangzeb’s intolerance marked the darkest chapter of Mughal rule.

A puzzling feature of Indian history is the absence of a united Hindu resistance to the Sultans and Badshahs of Delhi. Shivaji stands out for his courage and statecraft, yet his influence remained confined to the Deccan. Maharana Pratap, too, fought heroically against Akbar, but his struggle was limited to Mewar. A pan-Indian uprising never materialised. By the mid-18th century, the declining Mughal order gave way to new powers. The reckless Nawab of Bengal, Siraj-ud-Daulah, alienated his own officers and merchants, pushing them into alliance with the East India Company. Their support ensured Robert Clive’s victory at Plassey in 1757, which opened the gates of Bengal to British domination. Subsequent British victories-over Tipu Sultan in 1799 and the annexation of Awadh under Dalhousie-completed the dismantling of Muslim authority.

The Revolt of 1857 briefly shook British confidence. For a year, large parts of North India were aflame, but the uprising ended in defeat. In 1858, Queen Victoria assumed direct control, and two decades later, in 1877, she was proclaimed Empress of India. The British concluded that Muslims had been the principal instigators and punished them more severely than Hindus.

This perception deepened Muslim resentment and nostalgia for lost power. Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, founder of the Aligarh Movement, even argued that when the British eventually left, they should return India to the Muslims from whom they had taken it. Whether this was foresight or delusion remains debatable. Ironically, the Indian National Congress-often branded a “Hindu party” — was not formed by Hindus at all. It was founded in 1885 by a retired English civil servant, Allan Octavian Hume. Yet, by 1906, Muslims had established their own political platform-the All-India Muslim League-reinforcing the belief that while Hindus were traders and cultivators, Muslims were natural rulers. This sentiment persisted even after Mahatma Gandhi entered the scene in 1915.

Gandhi’s early political strategy was curious. To bridge Hindu-Muslim divides, he supported the Khilafat Movement, launched by the Ali brothers — Mohammad and Shaukat — to restore the Ottoman Caliphate after World War I. Astonishingly, Gandhi even became President of the Khilafat Committee, formed to defend a Turkish sultan thousands of miles away. Many observers saw this as proof that political power in India still revolved around Muslim leadership. Gandhi’s satyagraha, though morally compelling, appeared to many as nothing more than a moral appeal, not really a political challenge to imperial rule.

In 1940, at Lahore, Jinnah declared that Hindus and Muslims were “two distinct nations.” No strong Indian voice publicly disputed this claim. When the premiers of Punjab and Bengal initially opposed Partition, Congress leaders quietly welcomed their stance, believing Jinnah’s plan would fail. Yet, by May 1947, Mountbatten announced the Partition, confirming that Jinnah’s vision had prevailed. Once again, Muslim political will had triumphed. Partition’s aftermath was tragic and uneven. In Pakistan’s western wing, Hindus and Sikhs were virtually wiped out by 1948. The eastern wing (now Bangladesh) saw its Hindu population fall from 33 per cent to barely 8 per cent. Migration was overwhelmingly one-sided-millions of Hindus fled Pakistan, but few Muslims left India. The imbalance revealed the persistent perception that power and initiative in the subcontinent lay largely with Muslims, not Hindus.

This historical backdrop helps explain why, even today, debates such as the one surrounding “Vande Mataram” evoke old anxieties. Some Muslim leaders continue to act as if their community still sets the terms of national discourse. Such illusions are not merely harmless-they perpetuate misunderstanding and hinder social harmony.

India’s past is too complex to be reduced to communal binaries. Both Hindus and Muslims have shaped its destiny, for better and for worse. Yet, national progress demands a sober recognition of facts, not romanticised memories of lost empires or imagined privileges. True secularism lies not in appeasement but in equal accountability. The maturity of a nation is measured not by the volume of its grievances but by its capacity to face history without distortion.

In the final analysis, “Vande Mataram” should not divide Indians; it should remind them of their shared soil and destiny. History may be scarred by conquest and division, but the future must rest on reason and reconciliation. Every citizen-Hindu, Muslim, or otherwise-must realise that the power to shape India’s tomorrow lies not in nostalgia for the past, but in unity of purpose and respect for truth. Only then can the spirit of Vedanta-of oneness and universality, truly prevail.

The writer is a well-known columnist, author, and former member of the Rajya Sabha; views are personal