Overview:
in India, where faith and politics are increasingly intertwined. Indian liberalism has traditionally rested on pluralism, but today’s discourse pushes people into rigid ideological camps. Is there space for people rooted in faith and committed to a plural, democratic society?
About four years ago, an ex-colleague of mine was reviewing interns for his new media business. He went through an intern’s social media account before interviewing her and saw pictures of a clay Ganesh idol she had carved. “That’s the moment I decided I didn’t want to hire her,” he said.
When I asked why, he explained that anyone who made their religion public didn’t cut it for him; it revealed their political leanings.
Another evening, someone in my family ‘politely’ asked me to fire the person who washed my car. “He belongs to a certain religion,” he said. “You can always hire someone who belongs to ours.” After an argument that ran past midnight, I insisted I wouldn’t fire someone because his religion was different from mine.
It’s no surprise to me that these two incidents are rooted in two different religions in India that don’t get along politically. Amid these religious rifts, what do people like me do? There isn’t a handbook on how secular Hindus should tread this line and why we have to choose.
Gatekeepers of Faith
To be fair to my ex-colleague, it’s his business, his decision. But it got me thinking. I have never posted a religious message publicly; I don’t remember the last time I visited a temple or wore attire that reflected my religious identity.
Extreme points of view about religion worry me. I was assigned the ‘Hindu’ faith at birth, but now the onus of secularism weighs more heavily on me than ever. Not because I don’t call myself a Hindu, or because I don’t want to anymore, but as an educated, scientific-minded individual, I find myself questioning both ends of the spectrum.
Why should anyone showcasing their religion be unfit to hire simply because that religion is affiliated with the ruling party?
Why should religion even dictate employment opportunities?
Why am I sitting across from my family at our dinner table arguing about fairness?
Why do I have to avoid a certain senior in the community who will insist I fire a person who doesn’t pass his religious litmus test?
Why am I unsure about quoting religious references in a conversation, because I fear being associated with certain political leanings.
I find myself trying to convince people that my religion is peaceful and tolerant; that those hellbent on aggression are on the path of self-destruction. Rallies are louder because people have a point to prove; more babies are urged to outnumber the adherents of another religion.
There was a time when celebrating Diwali and Holi simply meant dressing up, playing with colors, and bursting firecrackers in the neighborhood with friends and family. Now, the use of firecrackers and colors has declined because of environmental concerns. Yet some people ignore the realities of climate change and use religion to ‘other’ people of different faiths, insisting that “we must follow our traditions or they will overpower us.”
Cultural homelessness
This polarization has bred a state of what I call ‘cultural homelessness’. As a secular Hindu, one is labeled “anti-Hindu” by the right-wing brigade or viewed with suspicion by the left-wing intelligentsia for any minor expression of faith.
Indian politician and author Shashi Tharoor reflects on this dilemma in his book Why I Am Hindu. He writes that “The Hindu truth is a truth of multiple choice. Hinduism is a civilization, not a dogma,” and that it teaches “to live and let live” and to respect different paths to truth. He warns that turning such a “vast, magnificent, and inclusive faith” into a “narrow, intolerant political ideology” is a betrayal of its essence.
This is the path I subscribe to. I love the concept of worshipping nature found in religious texts, yet hate what we have done to our rivers. I value the idea of syncing body and mind as religious texts advocate, yet I am saddened by the decline in our community’s health. I live with these dualities every day and struggle to keep up with them.
Another interesting argument by author Devdutt Pattanaik on performance-based secular identity in his essay ‘Symbols for the Secular Tribe’ reads, “In India, to prove one’s secular credentials, it is essential to be seen as being always critical of Hinduism.” He adds that his writing on Hindu mythology is often mocked as ‘peddling soft Hindutva’. This selective criticism of certain religions, writes Pattnaik, is “the modern code of secularism.”
Pride & Critique
Why can’t I be proud of my roots and still be critical of how some of my own faith interpret it?
Tharoor captures this powerfully in his book: “A Hinduism that seeks to dominate and exclude others is no longer Hinduism.” He argues that if a single, aggressive interpretation of Hinduism is used to define the nation, and when the religion is used as a political tool to dominate and exclude, it harms both democracy and the faith itself.
In a multi-religious, multi-lingual, and multi-ethnic country like India, no single ideology or faith can define everyone. But the idea of “secularism” also carries a burden. Why does proving my secularism seem to require distancing myself from my own religion?
The Double-Edged Sword
Indian liberalism is not a modern or foreign elite idea; it is the glue that has held a diverse civilization together for centuries. Political scientist Pratap Bhanu Mehta has often written about how polarized public discourse forces people into boxes, leaving little room for liberals. Expressing pride in Hindu pluralism can lead the Left to suspect majoritarianism, while criticizing religious aggression can make the Right label someone anti-national.
Being a secular Hindu today often means worrying that your faith will be mistaken for intolerance, and your secularism mistaken for rejection of your own identity.
Today, secular Hindus are often made to feel ashamed of their faith. But does a truly secular society come from making people afraid to express their beliefs in public? I don’t think so. It only creates more space for political parties to claim ownership of religion.
Historian Ramachandra Guha, while strongly critical of Hindutva, also critiques the rigidity of the Indian Left and secular academics. He has noted that even a positive expression of Hindu identity is often met with deep suspicion.
Can a secular Hindu today say they are a “proud Hindu” without feeling they’ve done something wrong, just as easily as they can say they support a secular state?
The fear for secular Hindus is not about physical safety, but about losing nuance. In today’s India, people are often pushed to choose between being an atheist or being a bigot, leaving little space for those who are religious, proud of their heritage, and committed to a pluralistic democracy.
